‘I am that man’

INGRAM SMITH, a long-time disciple and friend of J KRISHNAMURTI offers a glimpse of the extraordinariness of JK’s mind, as he describes a rare dialogue in Colombo between a leading parliamentarian and the free-spirited philosopher
The front row of chairs was reserved…for a leading member of the opposition in the Sri Lanka (Ceylon) Parliament — Dr N M Perera, a barrister and a communist recently returned from a booster course in Moscow — to occupy this vantage position. The other seats were for members of the shadow cabinet.

The barrister had seen a full-page newspaper report of J Krishnamurti’s evening meeting in Colombo (Dec 1949 - Jan 1950). He had been profoundly impressed by the fact that the town hall had been packed, and amplifiers placed outside so that those hundreds who couldn’t get into the auditorium could hear the talk on the lawns. No recent political meeting had generated such numbers or such newspaper coverage. He had decided that he and his political colleagues should attend a meeting to see what was so special about the man and to discover what message he had that evoked such a magnificent turnout and so much acclaim. Therefore, the special arrangements about seating were made. Eleven parliamentarians arrived and took their seats. All eyes were on them.

Freedom Debate
Soon Krishnamurti came in quietly, took up his position on a low dais, and viewed the audience. “What would you like to discuss?” he asked. Dr Perera stood up. He said he would like to discuss the structure of society and social cohesion, and that such a debate must include an understanding of the basic principles of communism. He talked on the logic of state control as the supreme authority, and the proposition that those who do the work must directly receive the profits of their labour.

When no one else proposed a subject or question for discussion, it was clear that this man was important. Every Ceylonese citizen in the hall recognised him and the importance of his challenge. Krishnamurti asked if the audience wanted to discuss this.

No one spoke and no other subject was proposed. Everyone was interested in hearing Krishnamurti’s reply. He smiled. “Well, let’s begin.” The barrister took up his political theme. He spoke at length about the basic tenets of communism, of communal use and ownership of goods and property, and the role of labour. It was a clear exposition of the communist philosophy and dialectic. When he had finished and sat down, I wondered how Krishnamurti would deal with the proposition that the state was all, and the individual subservient to the all-powerful central authority.

Krishnamurti did not oppose what had been said. When he spoke, it was as though he had left his place on the dais facing the barrister and crossed over to the other side to view the human condition from the communist’s position and through his eyes. There was no sense of confrontation, only a mutual probing into the reality behind the rhetoric. As the dialogue developed, it became a penetrating search into how the human mind, conditioned as it is, was to be reconditioned to accept the totalitarian doctrine, and whether re-educating the race would solve the problems that beset human beings, no matter where they live or under what social system.

There was mutual investigation into the ways in which the communist philosophy actually operated, and the means by which conflicts were handled. And basically, whether reshaping, repatterning human thinking and behaviour freed the individual or the collective from ego, from competition, from conflict. After half an hour, Dr Perera was still claiming the necessity for totalitarian rule, asserting that everyone must go along with the decided policy, and be made to conform.

Making Martyrs
At this point, Krishnaji drew back. “What happens,” he asked, “when I, as an individual, feel I cannot go along with the supreme command’s decision? What if I won’t conform?”

“We would try to convince you that individual dissent, perhaps valid before a decision is taken, cannot be tolerated after. All have to participate.”
“You mean obey? And if I still couldn’t or wouldn’t agree?”
“We would have to show you the error of your ways.”
“And how would you do that?”
“Persuade you that in practice the philosophy of the state and the law must be upheld at all times and at any cost.”
“And if someone still maintains that some law or regulation is false. What then?”
“We would probably incarcerate him so that he was no longer a disruptive influence.”
With utter simplicity and directness, Krishnaji said, “I am that man.”
Consternation! Suddenly, total confrontation. An electric charge had entered the room....

The lawyer spoke carefully, quietly. “We would jail you and keep you there as long as was necessary to change your mind. You would be treated as a political prisoner.”

Krishnaji responded, “There could be others who feel and think as I do. When they discover what has happened to me, their antithesis to your authority may harden. This is what happens, and a reactionary movement begins.”

Neither Dr Perera nor his colleagues wanted to pursue this dangerously explicit dialogue. Some were now showing nervousness.

Krishnaji continued, “I am this man. I refuse to be silenced. I will talk to anyone who will listen. What do you do with me?” There was no escaping the question.

“Put you away.”
“Liquidate me?”
“Probably. You would not be permitted to contaminate others.”
“Probably?”
“You would be eliminated.”

After a long pause, Krishnamurti said, “And then sir, you would have made a martyr of me!” And what then?”

Krishnamurti waited, and then quietly went through the course of the dialogue. He talked of interrelationship, of the destruction of life for a belief, for some blueprint for the future, for some five-year plan; the destructiveness of ideals, and the imposition of formulae on living beings. The need, not for environmental change, important as that is, but for inward transformation. When he finished, the meeting was over. There was nothing more to be said.

Then Dr Perera rose and slowly wove his way through the packed crowd facing Krishnaji. He walked up to Krishnaji, who had now risen and was standing, watching, waiting.

Stepping onto the low dais, the barrister opened his arms and enfolded Krishnaji. They stood there for a few moments, in each other’s arms. Then, without a word, he returned to his colleagues. The meeting was over.

The Morning After
On the morning after the dialogue….the barrister said he had not expected he would meet a man like Krishnamurti. He said that before the dialogue, he would never have imagined that a man could be publicly stripped of his social philosophy, have his private thoughts exposed to public view, and remain unshattered.

Indeed, he felt so well after the discussion that he had decided to see if he could arrange a meeting, and here he was, ready to go into the whole question of the individual and society with Krishnamurti...Some days later, he was invited to stay at the home of Dr Perera - and he did.

From The Transparent Mind by Ingram Smith of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation
Images and Text, courtesy: KFI