Podcast transcription:
On and For the Record
(Part Two of the Review of Doktorski’s Eleven Naked Emperors)
Analysis of Chapter Three
by Kailäsa Candra däsa
HARIÙ OÀ NAMAÙ
Unless they are too painful, everyone remembers the crossroads moments in their lives. These were the times of decisions of impact, ones which locked in the course of the future in some specific way. To be a crossroads moment, it had to be comprehensive and major in consequence. We may regret one or more of them and, conversely, we may thank our lucky stars (there is truth to that aphorism) that we made the crucial decision we did at that momentous time. In no small part, we have had (or still have) powerful intellectual and emotional responses to these moments on the basis of how things played out after that decision. The Sanskrit for this principle is phalena-paricéyate: Judge by the results.
In relation to any specific crossroads moment, if we analyze our decision in relation to it in an unbiased way, in the vast majority of cases, we shall come to this conclusion: The more that critical thinking was integral to our decision during that moment in our lives, the better the decision was. In other words, with a few exceptions, we did not just luck into a good or a bad result at a crossroads moment.
Applying critical thinking—which actually means intelligence—to a crossroads situation could only have helped. The more, the better. As such, there are three factors here: The crossroads moment, our intelligence in relation to it, and the mind’s decision after undergoing the stages of thinking, feeling, and willing in relation to it.
Critical thinking, from the Vedic perspective, is a kind of misnomer. It is the mind which thinks. Superior to the mind is the intelligence, which discriminates and deliberates. According to the teachings of His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedänta Swämi Prabhupäda, intelligence is defined as fine discrimination, in activity, with good memory. Thinking is from a different, lower level of the mental quantum. However, we shall continue to use the terminology of critical thinking in this presentation, although you should be aware of its context, viz., it is actually intelligence; it is not actually the thinking facet of the astral body.
When intelligence is engaged in trying to serve in Kåñëa consciousness, that is called buddhi-yoga. It begins with the working principles of buddhi-yoga and advances from there. As just mentioned, from the Vedic perspective, intelligence is not merely rumination. On the contrary, it is fine discrimination IN ACTIVITY. Deliberation in Kåñëa consciousness is integral to seva yoga, a synonym for buddhi-yoga.
Let us again consider and return to those crossroads moments. They are most important to us, granted, but these are not at all limited to human beings. There are crossroads moments for communities. There are crossroads moments for corporations. There are crossroads moments for nation-states. There are crossroads moments for organized religions. We could easily fill a multi-part series discussing all of this in the contexts of these categories (along with human crossroads moments), but that would be both diversionary and tangential.
Instead, in this month’s presentation, we are going to consider but one crossroads moment. It was in Prabhupäda’s branch of the Hare Kåñëa movement of Kåñëa consciousness. It was ultra-momentous. It remains controversial, although it should not be so. Its purport and import is so great that it would not be wrong to consider it merely very important. It is on a scale all of its own.
You may say that these judgments are nothing more than your host speaker’s opinion or prejudice, but that would be wrong on your part. These judgments about it are not subjective; they are objective. Since the Spring of 1978, all hell has broken loose in what only superficially appears to be Prabhupäda’s bhakti yoga cult, corporately known by its acronym of ISKCON. That is a very long story in and of itself. Integral to it, however, is an event which took place in late May of 1977, a little less than one year earlier. The issue here is measured in scale in terms of importance.
A bit of clarification is herein best inserted.
Prabhupäda dictated to his leading secretaries (who then transcribed them onto written pages via a typewriter) over 6,300 letters. He personally signed them all. These letters were to his disciples, well-wishers, interested people, corporate entities, so forth and so on. There was a gradation of importance to them. In other words, although opinion (to some extent) could differ amongst his disciples, you could categorize, in terms of importance and revelation, the top ten letters.
For example, while visiting Tirupati, India in late 1974, Prabhupäda dictated a letter. The date was April 28th of that year, and that letter was to Rüpänuga, one of his leading secretaries and prominent governing body commissioners. Except for the Neo-Mutt faction, virtually every Prabhupäda disciple, initiated or otherwise, would agree that this important and historically detailed letter would qualify for the top ten amongst all of those thousands sent out by snail mail.
Similarly, there would be the top ten Prabhupäda initiation ceremonies, where he either directly conducted it or was present for it from his Vyäsäsana. This would be measured mostly in terms of how prominent it was, how many of his devotees attended it, how many were initiated, whether something new was revealed during it, etc. The first initiation in the summer of 1966 would certainly qualify for the top ten. The mass initiation ceremony at the Moundsville compound in the late summer of 1972 would also probably make that list.
Then, there would be the temple dedications which Prabhupäda attended. This would include laying the cornerstone as well as inaugurating the opening. There would be a list of the top ten governmental officers that visited Prabhupäda and had room conversations with him. There would be the top religious or cult leaders who Prabhupäda met with and confronted. The meeting with Yogi Bhajan at the Honolulu center on Coelho Way in the first week of June, 1975 would certainly qualify.
Next, we come the category of room conversations with his initiated disciples and dedicated followers. They entirely took place in one of his rooms at one of his centers and must be considered the most importantof all room conversations. Except for the Neo-Mutt faction, what we will find and acknowledge when it comes to grading the importance of these is one room conversation in particular. Indeed, it stands alone, far above all of the rest. Even throw in all of the room conversations with anyone and everyone, it still stands alone. It is completely on a separate and higher scale all by itself. Sure, it was momentous, but it was much more than that. It was integral to what was supposed to transpire in his movement and what actually went down.
The tape recording of it was secreted away for years, until the summer of 1980. Although all governing body commissioners attended it (and were ordered to do so), only six of them were actually privy to the essential part of it. Only that essence is the part that will be analyzed here. It became known in devotee scuttlebutt as the appointment tape, a consequential misnomer created with an intentional design to mislead.
As just mentioned, in the long run, only a very small portion of it was actually important to the Hare Kåñëa movement. That small part of this particular room conversation–not much more than a minute in duration, if that—is considered controversial. However, if you want to transcend the so-called controversy surrounding it, you are herein given the opportunity to do so. It can be understood, and it must be understood.
If you are sincere and serious in spiritual life and if you identify with Prabhupäda’s branch of Caitanya’s Hare Kåñëa movement, after hearing and/or reading this presentation, you will understand this discussionaccurately and in some detail, be assured.
This multi-part series reviews the second literary work of Henry Doktorski. As an established author who knows well how to order chapters in his literary publications, to his great credit, he quickly proceeds to the controversy surrounding the so-called “appointment tape” recorded in the late Spring of 1977. This is astute on his part.
In the first chapter of Eleven Naked Emperors (henceforth to be referred to by its acronym of E.N.E.), he presents a synopsis of the history of Gauòéya Vaiñëavism and the place of Prabhupäda’s branch in it. He also presents some essential biographical notes mostly connected to Prabhupäda’s beginning his movement in America.
In the second chapter, focusing upon the early days of the movement, he points out how Prabhupäda’s leading men came from entirely mleccha and degraded stock and thus not much could be expected of them. Indeed, that degradation is exactly how the saga played out after Prabhupäda left physical manifestation late in 1977.
It was brilliant of the author, after those first chapters (focused mostly upon the Sixties) to skip far ahead to that important meeting a decade later. E.N.E. thus avoids much clutter of the intervening years, because getting into all of that—what to speak of detailing–the vast majority of what went down within that time stamp would be unnecessary.
As aforementioned, the so-called appointment tape was recorded on May 28, 1977 in Raman Reti, a district near the Yamuna River within the famous devotional village of Våndävan, India. It was recorded in Prabhupäda’s quarters within the Kåñëa-Balaräm temple complex. It was apparently attended by all of the Governing Body Commissioners of ISKCON; at least, all of them had been summoned to attend it.
However, the essential part of this conversation between the great spiritual master and his incompetent leading secretaries was directly witnessed by only six commissioners. That took place in an adjunct room connected to the main area of his personal quarters. Two of them asked questions and made comments, some of those being inane. The other four remained silent, which remains most disappointing. This brief interlude of the essential part of the overall meeting is what this month’s presentation—as well as Chapter Three of E.N.E.—centers upon.
In other words, although some other topics and business issues were discussed amongst the whole G.B.C. assembly, many were of spur of the moment, transitory importance. One of them related (in an obtuse way) to this essential part of the conversation, but the rest of them did not. We shall not devote time or font space to any of that, obviously, although E.N.E. mentions quite a bit of it.
Satsvarüpa Gosvämé was selected (how he was so selected is not clear) to ask two questions of Prabhupäda and seek clarification if need be (and let me tell you, was clarification ever needed!). One of those questions, obviously, was of maximum, raw nerve variety.
It was a bad play by the G.B.C. to pick “Saintly Sutz” for this assignment. The embodiment of humble pie, he was also too laid back to be the lead questioner. Almost any other long-serving commissioner would have done a better job than Satsvarüpa, who could be (and was!) easily overridden by any leading secretary more powerful. Indeed, that is exactly what went down, i.e., he was interfered with and overridden by the powerful nyäsé, T.K.G., who was the personal secretary of Prabhupäda at the time.
You will confirm this for yourself as the analysis proceeds. Early in Chapter Three, E.N.E. points out how Satsvarüpa was a bad pick to conduct the interview:
“Later, he (Satsvarüpa) confessed that he felt ‘shy and uneasy’ and ‘foolish and awkward’ during this important conversation with his spiritual master. Consequently, Satsvarüpa’s questions were difficult to understand. Bhaktivedänta Swämi Prabhupäda’s answers, therefore, were also not easy to understand, and since then, scholars and pundits have espoused very different and diametrically opposed interpretations of this important conversation.”1
Very accurate overview, but it should not be misinterpreted to mean that all of those interpretations are accurate. Most of them are not and are way off! If they are all opposed in some way (which is the case), then either none of them is accurate or, at most, only one of them could actually be called accurate. As such, do not fall victim to the sentimental psychic syrup of giving them all equal credence.
Although the key exchanges between Satsvarüpa, T.K.G. and Prabhupäda will be presented in chronological order, we are not going to continuously post it in unbroken form or in one fell swoop. Instead, your host speaker is going to break it up into sections in accordance with how E.N.E. divided it in that same way in Chapter Three. Accordingly, there will be accurate analysis after each section.
Let us proceed from the beginning.
Satsvarüpa: . . . our next question concerns initiations in the future, particularly at that time when you’re no longer with us. We want to know how first and second initiation would be conducted.
Prabhupäda: Yes. I shall recommend some of you. After this is settled up, I shall recommend some of you to act as officiating äcäryas.
T.K.G.: Is that called rittvik-äcärya?
Prabhupäda: Rittvik, yes.
E.N.E. comments on this opening section as follows:
“Bhaktivedanta Swämi Prabhupäda’s immediate answer is simple and straightforward: He would recommend some of his disciples to act as ritvik äcäryas. None of the G.B.C. members at the meeting could imagine . . . that their spiritual master intended after his passing that the disciplic succession would be continued by ritvik representation. An order to continue the parampara by ritvik representation would have been unprecedented in the history of Gauòéya-Vaishnavism.”2
This is a spot on commentary. It is rather self-evident but nevertheless recognized as such by E.N.E.. Its author mentions that no one in the room could possibly have fathomed that this answer given by Prabhupäda had anything to do with how the movement would be carried on after he passed from physical manifestation. Very correct. This fact was buttressed by Doktorski a bit later in the chapter as follows:
“The devotees assumed that Prabhupäda’s answer regarding ritvik äcäryas referred only to the first question: how will initiations be conducted during his presence.”3
Correct, again. Heavy mäyä then enters the conversation, and it is introduced by Satsvarüpa when he mixes apples and oranges as follows:
Satsvarüpa: Then what is the relationship of that person who gives the initiation and the . . .
Prabhupäda: He’s guru. He’s guru.
Satsvarüpa: But he does it on your behalf.
Prabhupäda: Yes. That is formality. Because in my presence one should not become guru, so on my behalf, on my order. “amära ajïäya guru häna.” Be actually guru, but by my order.
E.N.E. picks up on this mäyä to some extent . . . but far from fully:
“Bhaktivedanta Swämi Prabhupäda explained that a disciple who was sufficiently advanced to become a bona fide dékñä guru would not initiate his own disciples until after Prabhupäda had passed away (“that is formality”). The disciple would be dékñä guru after the departure of the acharya, but not without first receiving a direct order from the spiritual master: ‘Be actually guru, but by my order.’”4
This last quote from Prabhupäda—and the concept underlying it–was integral to the conversation, granted. However, it was particularly reinforced near the end of it. Introducing it here–while commenting on Satsvarüpa mixing up the guru who gives the initiation (and that guru can only be Prabhupäda)–acts kind of like a hanging participle.
However, this is of minor consequence. The main point is that Satsvarüpa is careless with his terminology, and Prabhupäda decides not to clarify his mistake of combining the guru who gives the initiation (which always means the dékñä-guru) and the rittvik, who merely conducts the ceremony. The actual fact is that Prabhupäda, covertly but effectively, dealt with both Satsvarüpa and T.K.G. tersely in this conversation, and both of those men thoroughly deserved that treatment.
TATTVAMASI
Again, there were four other sannyäsés present (Rüpänuga, Kértanänanda, Bhagavän, and Jagadéça), but not one of them spoke up. Of course, as we all know now, the mega-egotistical T.K.G. interjected at this point and made his presence known in order to muddy the waters even further:
Satsvarüpa: So, they may also be considered your disciples.
Prabhupäda: Yes, they are disciples. Why consider? Who?
T.K.G.: No, he’s asking that these ritvik acharyas, they’re officiating, giving dékñä. . . . The people who they give dékñä to, whose disciple are they?
Prabhupäda: They’re his disciple.?
T.K.G.: They’re his disciple.?
Prabhupäda: Who is initiating. He is grand disciple.
Satsvarüpa: Yes.?
T.K.G.: That’s clear.
As clear as mud! This is the middle of the conversation. T.K.G. sees that the rittvik has now allegedly been empowered to also be the dékñä-guru. He sees wrong, but it fits nicely into his desired paradigm. He could easily parlay this misconception into the rittviks transmogrifying into initiating spiritual masters after Prabhupäda “was no longer with us.” That is what he and the others did. He does not seek necessary clarification, because he likes what he is hearing. He can use it, and he did use it.
From this middle part, for all practical purposes, we get nothing. It is a jumble of nonsense, particularly made so by T.K.G. It is loaded with mäyä, and Prabhupäda could not have been expected to have picked through and corrected all of that . . . and he didn’t.
The mäyä, however, could have even dug deeper. Those six men in the room could have concluded that the rittvik äcäryas of the coming present time (eleven of them would be named soon after) would also be making their own disciples even while Prabhupäda was physically present, as absurd as that sounds on the face of it.
In other words, a loose interpretation could have been made that the rittviks, while they were performing the ceremony on his behalf, were also and simultaneously dékñä-gurus of these new disciples. In 2006, this is more or less what was proposed by a then new offshoot faction of the Rittvik heresy known as “Prominent Link.”
Prabhupäda could have cleared all of this up, but he chose not to do so.
I personally glorify him for making that decision. E.N.E. does not get heavy into the potential contradictory juxtaposition, although it does recognize it as muddying the waters with this entry:
“Although T.K.G. says ‘That’s clear,’ he was certainly incorrect in that conclusion, as the whole flow of these questions, interruptions, and interjected opinions by the two sannyäsés made the whole thing very unclear.”5
Thus far, as we make our way through Chapter Three, E.N.E. is accurate and helpful. In one sentence here, excellently constructed, its author has summarized an important conclusion: The two men selected to get their questions answered muddied the waters (particular T.K.G.) with absurd questions, interruptions, comments, and presumptions. Actually, E.N.E. treats them with kid gloves in this comment by calling T.K.G.’s quick summary (“That’s clear”) as merely “incorrect.” It was far worse than that, as it laid the groundwork for future false pre-suppositions.
Doktorski continues, just a bit later, with the following overview:
“Any disciple must first become spiritually advanced and then, just as importantly, receive the personal order from his spiritual master to become a dékñä guru. If he does not receive the personal order, he cannot initiate anyone into the devotional line, because he is not an initiating spiritual master.” 6
To a degree, he is getting ahead of himself here with this comment, but that can be readily overlooked. In the Vaiñëava branch established by His Divine Grace Çréla Prabhupäda, in order to be guru, the guru, the spiritual master, must be a very perfect man. 7
E.N.E. touches upon this truth here and does state that the dékñä-guru must be spiritually advanced.
E.N.E. also states that the guru must receive the order to be an initiating guru directly from his guru. In this case, that would only be Prabhupäda, because this conversation was taking place while he is still physically manifest. We then reach the conclusion of this brief and enigmatic section of the all-important room conversation of May 28, 1977:
Satsvarüpa: Then, we have a question concerning . . .
Prabhupäda: When I order, “You become guru,” he becomes regular guru. That’s all. He becomes disciple of my disciple. That’s it.
We are obliged to spend a good deal of time and font space on this conclusion, because there is so much spiritual substance to it. First of all, it complete obliterates any legitimacy to the illusion that this exchange between Satsvarüpa, T.K.G. and Prabhupäda, just presented, was all about the rittvik-in-absentia concoction. Most definitely that mäyä is smashed here by the statement “disciple of my disciple.”
The term “regular guru” is introduced. Some consider it to be unclear and a bit enigmatic, but it really is not:
“The statements of Thakura Bhaktivinode are as good as scriptures because he is liberated person. generally, the spiritual master comes from the group of such eternal associates of the Lord, but anyone who follows the principles of such ever liberated persons is as good as one in the above mentioned group.
The gurus from nature’s study are accepted as such on the principle that an elevated person in Krishna Consciousness does not accept anyone as disciple, but he accepts everyone as expansion of his guru. . . A person who is liberated acharya and guru cannot commit any mistake, but there are persons who are less qualified or not liberated, but still canact as guru and acharya by strictly following the disciplic succession.” 8
“13. He must not take on unlimited disciples. This means that a candidate who has successfully followed the first twelve items can also become a spiritual master himself, just as a student becomes a monitor in class with a limited number of disciples.” 9
“The second-class devotees are therefore meant for preaching work, and as referred to in the above verse, they must loudly preach the glories of the Lord. The second-class devotee accepts disciples from the section of third-class devotees or nondevotees.” 10
Your host speaker could provide even more conclusive evidence than these three quotes, but these alone should suffice. Notice the following terms and descriptions: follows the principles, as good as (a liberated äcärya), guru from nature’s study (still connected to material nature), less qualified and not liberated, still can act as guru, strictly following (“Little thing. Strictly following”), can also become a spiritual master, a monitor, must take only a limited number of disciples.
Regular means under regulation. Vidhi sädhana-bhakti means under regulation. Such devotees, when advanced, still must be strict followers of the rules and regulations. Where is the difficulty? This devotee is obviously the regular guru spoken of by Prabhupäda in the Q&A of May, 1977. The monitor guru accepts a limited number of disciples. He is not fully liberated. Mäyä is still studying him and has not fully released him, although he is advanced spiritually.
Prabhupäda summed up the whole issue concisely and clearly. He also demolished what would turn out to be the Rittvik heresy about a dozen years later. Did he foresee that? Sure. As such, he crushed it. “When I order” is self-evident, and he never officially ordered any of his disciples to be initiating spiritual masters. There is no official record of that, and that record would be required.
He only appointed rittviks.
As such, Prabhupäda answered both questions. He appointed rittviks in the second week of July of 1977, so initiations in that present time would be re-instituted. And, although he never officially recognized or appointed any initiating spiritual masters, he spoke on the principle. Rittvik got crushed in advance. A tremendous and concise summary by the greatest spiritual master in the presence of dull secretaries, who only muddied the waters with their inane presumptions and interruptions.
E.N.E. then follows all of this up with some more commentary, and, most unfortunately, mäyä enters into it:
“In this passage, Bhaktivedanta Swämi Prabhupäda explains, ‘He [my disciple] becomes regular guru. That’s all.’ But what exactly is a ‘regular guru?’ In the entire Bhaktivedanta VedaBase, this is the only time he mentions ‘regular guru.’ Some of Prabhupäda’s disciples interpret ‘regular guru’ to simply mean ‘çikñä guru,’ and others interpret it to mean a madhyama-adhikäré dékñä guru who has not yet achieved perfection (the uttama-adhikäré stage) and therefore must follow the regulations (the word ‘regular’ appears to refer to ‘regulation’) of vaidhi-sadhana bhakti: devotional service according to scriptural rules and regulations.” 10
Why mention the nonsense opinion that regular guru allegedly refers to çikñä-guru? It is an absurdity! The whole discussion with Prabhupäda centered around initiation. Note that çikñä-guru was never mentioned in it. All of a sudden, Prabhupäda would arbitrarily switch to the topic of çikñä-guru, although none of the previous questions and answers had anything to do with either a vartma-pradarçaka or çikñä-guru?
There are some other comments that do not produce clarity in this chapter, but I see no need to list them. This one lends credence to an idea that rittviks can manipulate into evidence that the whole of the discussion was about rittvik. Only the beginning was about rittvik-äcäryas, and that is self-evident. The other mayikä comments in the chapter are all minor and do not of consequence . . . if they produce any damage at all.
“The important portion of the May 28, 1977 conversation with Bhaktivedanta Swämi Prabhupäda, which concerned initiations at present and after Prabhupäda’s departure in the future, was more or less botched by the two sannyäsés who asked the questions. Although it is very muddled by Satsvarüpa and Tamal Krishna, some claim it still can be conceptually understood.” 11
Your host speaker is one of those who claim that it can be conceptually understood. We understand it, and now, with this presentation, you are also invited to understand it in the same way . . . the same right way.
In other words, to employ an analogy, there is a heavy fog surrounding and encompassing all the various interpretations of this May 28th discussion about initiations in the present (1977) and then initiations after Prabhupäda is no longer physically manifest. We require complete clarity. That only produces the right interpretation. Others are misinterpretations, which are biased and meant to mislead.
E.N.E. removes the heavy fog and it removes lighter fog, also. It leaves a mist, however. As such, Chapter Three cannot be classified as completely valid by any measure in relation to its interpretation. Nevertheless, it is helpful. We require to interpret and realize this crossroads moment event in the Hare Kåñëa movement in the right way. We require to see it and interpret it clearly. We cannot settle for mist. We require to see it just as you see the reflection of the Sun on a placid pond at noon on a cloudless day . . . and that is what you are provided here.
We do not want any mäyä allowed access in relation to the accurate interpretation of this essential discussion of guru, initiation, and initiated disciples. Although Chapter Three does conjure up some of that mäyä (in the name of being fair and balanced?), I have intentionally chosen to only give an example of one such instance.
This detailed chapter of E.N.E. provides too much transcendental good in order to give it an average grade. It is certainly an above-average effort, and, as aforementioned, its placement at the beginning of the book, as the third chapter, is an example of higher intelligence. It merits a straight B, and that is the grade I thus give it.
In summary, here is what you should glean from the correct, unbiased, and accurate analysis of this essential room conversation on May 28, 1977:
1) Prabhupäda was asked two questions, not just one. Although Satsvarüpa foolishly joined these two separate questions with the conjunction (“and”), Prabhupäda was not at all obliged to correct that fault;
2) He was asked how initiations were to be conducted at the present time (meaning, as it turned out, more or less the rest of 1977) and how they were to be conducted after he was “no longer with us.” He answered both questions separately in ingenious and concise ways;
3) When Satsvarüpa conjoined rittvik with the dékñä-guru, mäyä entered in a big way. The interview from that point on was botched, although Prabhupäda did his best to give us spiritual substance despite that flaw;
4) All of T.K.G.’s interruptions and false clarifications were on the basis of the conjoining of rittvik with dékñä. As such, they were all mäyä. They did not produce any clarity whatsoever. On the contrary, they produced heavy fog. When T.K.G. said, “that’s clear,” it was nothing more than subconsciously mocking his own self and fellow sannyäsé. It was not merely a Freudian slip, because he was able to get what he wanted from Prabhupäda, and, having done so, he unsuccessfully attempted to terminate the discussion at that point;
5) Prabhupäda knew T.K.G.’s actual motive the whole time, and, as such, he made no effort to expose it. Instead, he gave all six of them enough rope by which they could hang themselves. This is exactly what they did when they converted, with the much needed help of Swämi B. R. Çrédhar, their appointments as rittviks into appointments as dékñä-gurus, although Prabhupäda never authorized any such transitive pre-supposition;
6) His Divine Grace crushed Rittvik, in advance of its event horizon in late 1989 (which, as tri-käla-jïa, he knew would manifest) via the terminology disciple of my disciple;
7) In principle, Prabhupäda only authorized regular gurus. That means he only authorized madhyam-adhikärés. He never officially, appointed, recognized, or named any regular gurus, what to speak of a Successor;
8) He made it crystal clear that just such a regular guru could only be authorized to initiate new disciples on his order, i.e., they could not become genuine gurus on their own authorization or on the authorization of the governing body;
9) That the tape recording of this essential room conversation was called “the appointment tape” was the misnomer of the 20th Century. That almost no one even knew that this went down in the Spring of 1977 is a travesty. The tape (what to speak of its transcript) was squirreled away in a vault at Los Angeles and hidden from the devotees at large—the real workers—for over three years; this tells you all you need to know about the pathological and deceptive statuses of the “ISKCON” misleaders.
The colossal hoax known as the fabricated, so-called “ISKCON” confederation is a pseudo-spiritual scam. The Hare Kåñëa movement was converted into its doppelganger in the Spring of 1978 when eleven ultra-ambitious sociopaths became fully absorbed in self-apotheosis and took over both the governing body and its movement at large.
They did so via bogus authorizations. One such “authorization” was the phantom of an appointment tape recorded in early 1977. Until years later, virtually all devotees in the movement did not come to realize that this appointment was, in actuality, an appointment that never was. It was a crossroads moment when it went down, and the leaders of the movement failed all of us by taking the wrong path at that crossroads.
In the purport to Çrémad-Bhägavatam, 2.9.43, Prabhupäda specifically states the Vedic truth: “One who is now the disciple is the next spiritual master.”If you have not analyzed this room conversation until now, then you are also at a crossroads moment. Make the right choice and take the fork in the road on the path that leads to light. Such a step certainly entails a rejection of “ISKCON” and a rejection of Rittvik, which both misuse the so-called appointment tape . . . but in vastly different ways.
SAD EVA SAUMYA
ENDNOTES
1 Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement (1977-1987) (p. 72). Kindle Edition;
2 Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement (1977-1987) (p. 73). Kindle Edition;
3 Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement (1977-1987) (pp. 73-74). Kindle Edition;
4 Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement (1977-1987) (p. 75). Kindle Edition;
5 Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement (1977-1987) (p. 76). Kindle Edition;
6 Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement (1977-1987) (p. 77). Kindle Edition;
7 “Now, to take such guidance means the spiritual master should also be a very perfect man. Otherwise, how can he guide?” Platform lecture on Bhagavad-gétä in New York on March 2, 1966;
8 Letter to Janärdana, 4-26-68;
9 Easy Journey to Other Planets, Chapter One: “Anti-material Worlds”;
10 Çrémad-Bhägavatam, 2.3.21, purport;
11 Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement (1977-1987) (pp. 77-78). Kindle Edition;
12 Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement (1977-1987) (p. 72). Kindle Edition.