Podcast transcription:
On and For the Record
A multi-part series
Analysis of Eleven Naked Emperors
(Review of Chapter Twelve)
by Kailäsa Candra däsa
HARIÙ OÀ NAMAÙ
The mid-Eighties, “ISKCON” was embroiled in contentiousness. Kali-yuga was having a field day amongst the various groups of argumentative and disturbed devotees trying to get over. The whole debacle was due to the vikarmic reactions that had been hammering the movement for its many deviations. Kali-yuga saw that it was a time for a change, similar to the big one that went down in the Spring of 1978.
Superficially, there appeared to be two factions vying for institutional supremacy. That was already acknowledged as The Guru Reform Movement versus the Zonals. The reformists were composed of malcontents opposed to the opulent worship of the “ISKCON” gurus, particularly the ten which remained from Ocean’s Eleven. Each of these two warring factions, however, also had sub-factions somewhat inimical to one another within them. As such, there were actually four factions vying for supremacy. One of these four would have to prevail, and that was to be decided in 1986 and verified in 1987.
If the established faction (Ocean’s Eleven and its hatchet men, sycophants, and vested interests) was able to overcome the reformers, then it would remain, although somewhat weakened, its own version of no change at the top of the turtle tank. That still seemed quite likely in 1985. However, by 1986, it appeared to be less so. It might not prevail. Let us call this one Status Quo. It produced The First Transformation of the late Seventies, and launched the apa-sampradäya.
Status Quo was still in power in early 1986: It controlled the vitiated G.B.C., and the majority of “ISKCON” devotees remained bamboozled by it. However, within it, there was another faction. This faction agreed with The Status Quo more than it did not. Nevertheless, its chief point of contention was a desire to expand the number of “ISKCON” gurus. A handful had been added to Ocean’s Eleven beginning in 1982. Status Quo didn’t like that but accepted it.
A minor expansion could be tolerated, but the eleven great pretenders—already whittled down due to Jayatértha’s defection—did not want their scheme challenged. If a mass of newer gurus was approved by this otherwise loyal guard within The First Transformation, then the zonal arrangement would necessarily be jeopardized.
This second group was Status Quo Modified. They accepted that uttama worship of the gurus of “ISKCON” must continue, they accepted that pranäm mantras and concocted labels still be part of the program . . . but they wanted the number of gurus to increase. Status Quo considered them the loyal opposition—and they were that—but nevertheless these two constituted what should be seen in retrospect as an in-house struggle, a milder version of the real fratricidal war.
Then there was Ravéndra’s group. He wrote the position paper on “Ending the Fratricidal War,” but somewhat ironically, that treatise and a follow-up was only the opening shot across the bow. As already mentioned, this warring faction of reformists was also divided, although that internal division would mostly not be recognized as such in late 1986. It would be fully recognized in the next year just previous to the Mäyäpur Annual Conclave of 1987, where many more changes were made.
We shall thus speak of the war of the mid-Eighties as four groups vying for control of the governing body. Besides being called The Guru Reform Movement, this third group can more accurately be called Compromise Reform. It did not want to draw any hard lines which it knew The Status Quo would fight to the bitter end.
Ravéndra called his movement a revolution, but it was never any such thing. It was always nothing more than a proposed reform, amounting only to another transformation when it got over. It would be different from Status Quo, but it would not confront the root issues of the deviation that opened Pandora’s Box and launched the institutional catastrophe just after Prabhupäda left the scene.
Yet, there was a group within the Guru Reform Movement (an absurd anachronism and misnomer if there ever was one) which would eventually oppose Compromise Reform. They were also Party Men, second and third echelon loyalists to the institution, but they were unwilling to compromise on the issue of initiation of the post-1977 newcomers.
Was this one actually revolutionary? Of course not, because it wanted everything to still work through the G.B.C., i.e., it did not recognize that the G.B.C. had been the chief scourge since Prabhupäda’s disappearance from material manifestation. However, in one way—and one way only—they were tapping into a raw nerve: They demanded that all the new disciples throughout the movement be informed that none of them had received a genuine initiation since joining in late 1977.
We shall label this fourth faction Radical Reform.
In summary: In 1986, the four contenders vying for “ISKCON” Supremacy (which would have to include control of the vitiated G.B.C.) were: 1) Status Quo, 2) Status Quo Modified, 3) Compromise Reform, and 4) Radical Reform. You may object that the fourth group should not have the adjective “radical” applied to it. This objection would be legitimate if it stood for a revolution, but because it was advocating only reform, the adjective remains applicable and acceptable.
All four had a strong argument. Which would win?
We continue with our running review of Henry Doktorski’s manuscript, his second book (of twelve, total), entitled Eleven Naked Emperors. This is his most important work to date. It will be referenced by its acronym ENE throughout this presentation.
We have now reached Chapter Twelve, which basically centers around the pivotal year of 1986. The chapter is entitled: “Preparing for Battle.” To some extent, that is accurate, since the conclusion of the war between the four factions would only be known in 1987, also a contentious year. However, the battle was already fully engaged. The preparatory battle stage was throughout late 1984 and all of 1985. No need to quibble about chapter titles, but your host speaker still chooses to mention it.
Let us now segue to some excerpts related to the historical narrative as presented by ENE in Chapter Twelve:
“The public revelation in August 1985 that Bhävänanda had tried to seduce a teenage boy gave the members of the Guru Reform movement renewed determination to dethrone the zonal acharyas.” 1
In 1986, that determination increased exponentially, as Bhävänanda’s status had been suspended, and he could no longer be guru or initiate new disciples. His fanatical disciples in Australia were greatly displeased by this punishment. They were materially productive . . . and loose like him when it came to enjoying sensual opportunities they could easily create for themselves in the cult atmosphere in which they operated. They threatened to crater the whole Australia yatra if Bhävänanda was not reinstated at the Mäyäpur Conclave in the Spring of 1986. They had the power to do that, and the vitiated G.B.C. capitulated:
“The powerful influence of the establishment was manifest when the G.B.C. reinstated Bhävänanda as a guru in good standing, although he had been suspended only six months earlier after being confronted with an allegation of homosexual activities with a teenage brahmachari in Vrindaban, India; an allegation to which he confessed guilt. . . A pretender acharya confessed to having homosexual relations with a minor and within six months he was considered completely pure and able to initiate disciples? The temple presidents were appalled.” 2
The vitiated G.B.C. did not share what the final vote was to allow Bhävänanda back into the club, but the scuttlebutt was that it was razor thin: Apparently, he made it by only one vote. Except for the Australian leaders, almost all of the other presidents were deeply disturbed by this G.B.C. capitulation. ENE relates how one of them, Yasomatinandan, the leader in Gujarat, was particularly appalled:
“We all went back to our temples with our hearts broken and hopes shattered having given Lord Chaitanya a wonderful gift of a faggot guru in his parampara on his 500th appearance day. We were absolutely convinced our leaders were destroying ISKCON.” 3
Of course, “ISKCON” had already replaced and killed the real ISKCON movement by that time. However, those still operating in the cult refused to recognize that . . . except, now it was dawning on them just what was going down. This example of corruption was mind-boggling.
As could only have been expected, the vitiated G.B.C., representing Status Quo, rejected Ravéndra’s latest position paper, entitled “Under My Order: Reflections of the Guru in ISKCON.” This was, of course, the treatise that bucked up against Kértanänanda’s “On My Order” in the confrontation at Moundsville of 1985. However, due to this Bhävänanda brouhaha, there was now momentum generated for Status Quo Modified:
“Also at the March G.B.C. meetings, the G.B.C. gave official approval for twenty-six senior Prabhupäda disciples to begin initiating disciples.” 4
One of these twenty-six was Ravéndra, who actually got his guru approval the previous September at Moundsville. They needed to buy him off. Now they considered that not just him but all of his backers, allies, and potential allies needed some kind of institutional encouragement.In 1986, the zones were made more or less irrelevant, and “ISKCON” was going for guru numbers, abandoning exclusivity completely.
In doing so, it was implicating as many second and third echelon men as possible in its deviations. Compromise Reform demanded more than this, however. Would Status Quo Modified actually prevail in 1986?
There was another modification that was passed in the Spring of 1986 by the vitiated G.B.C.: How gurus at any local temples throughout the world would be worshiped would be determined
by the temple presidents. If they chose to do so, they could restrain the undeserved uttama-adhikäré worship of the high profile äcäryas, particularly the ones who remained from Ocean’s Eleven.
As could have easily been predicted, the so-called vyäsäsan at Raman Reti inside the Krishna-Balaram mandir was removed; indeed, the word got around that, immediately after Mäyäpur, 1986, the devotees at that mandir threw it out of a second story window in order to watch it shatter into pieces. Yet, these changes did not satisfy The Guru Reform Movement very much. They demanded more than this.
Status Quo Modified prevailed at Mäyäpur in 1986, but that was not the end of the story. The prominent gurus—along with the new gurus who strongly backed them (and, in many cases, imitated them)–still controlled the vitiated G.B.C.. And Bhävänanda was a short-term winner, but a big-time, festering sore soon thereafter.
A comment I made about the scandal via a later email to Doktorski was shared by him in Chapter Twelve:
“With such a high percentage of new gurus being exposed for scandalous behavior, the 1986 G.B.C. should have acted with dispatch to reverse the whole scheme. It should have realized the importance of genuine guru—which none of the eleven, along with the other elected men later, were. None of them were gurus, because Prabhupäda said, “’Regular guru, that’s all.’” 5
In other words, simply tweaking the protocol by allowing the presidents to determine whether or not their guru of the zone or a visiting new guru could or would receive (or would not receive) pompous worship did not constitute anything remotely near a root course correction of the real problem haunting “ISKCON” since 1978.
For much of 1986, your host speaker was the Treasurer and chief lecturer at the Berkeley center in California. Many of the devotees there respected me, and some of them questioned me when the word reached us about what went down in Mäyäpur. We had all been cooperating with Ätreya Rishi, the local G.B.C., and Trivikram Swami, the local sannyäsé. We were all thus part of The Reform Movement. I was, of course, a radical reformer, but I mostly (although not entirely) kept that to myself.
We did not think that Ätreya and Trivikram would, in effect, sell us out like that. We thought wrong. Ätreya was immediately made into an “ISKCON” initiating guru, and Trivikram was put on a one-year wait in queue 6 to be automatically approved as dékñä-guru if he remained scandal free when Mäyäpur, 1987 rolled around.
Those who liked me at Berkeley considered all of what we were then informed about to be a betrayal. When we got this news about what went down, I drew up a concise petition condemning the G.B.C.. We considered Mäyäpur, 1986 to be a massive expansion of deviant dékñä-guru by vote, combined with Bhävänanda’s sexual exploits swept under the rug via re-admitting him to the “ISKCON” guru club.
We considered all of it to be a betrayal of Prabhupäda, and most of the devotees there in Berkeley put their necks out and signed the petition. Ätreya and Trivikrama were confronted with an active bee hive of discontent when they returned to the Bay Area in April.
“’I was in Berkeley at that time and, when we heard that Ätreya Rishi and Trivikrama had sold us out and accepted a ‘guru’ appointment, I created and circulated a petition against the G.B.C., which virtually all the members of the Berkeley temple signed.’” 7
The movement had degenerated into a kind of oligarchy that even resembled, to some limited and incomplete degree, a form of fascism. Many of its devotees could no longer sincerely believe in it. They were internally horrified by what was going down.
Yet, they took a risk if they chose to express any of that in an open way. The demand for loyalty and an insistence on humility was demanded of them by the zonals and top echelon. That top hierarchy was loaded with hypocrisy, in no small measure because it was itself utterly devoid of humility. That created a kind of institutional parody or satire, as a once spiritual institution had become anything but.
The lifting of the suspension of Bhävänanda and his provisional re-instatement as dékñä-guru was the most obvious gas fueling discontent amongst the temple presidents. Their anger was being supercharged, and the zonal scheme was not holding. The center—if you consider the center of “ISKCON” to be its vitiated G.B.C.—was not holding, either.
Expanding the number of dékñä-gurus weakened the zonal arrangement. The guru principalities were losing meaning. Bhävänanda becoming free of his suspension, along with his provisional re-instatement as dékñä-guru in his zone, was resolved on unsound, shaky, emotional grounds. The expansion of gurus, along with Bhävänanda being dealt with so permissively, was spelling an end to Status Quo.
And Status Quo Modified gave way to Compromise Reform.
Actually, Bhävänanda was still checked to some limited degree, and rightly so. His probation was lifted, but he was not allowed to initiate new disciples until October of that year. He had to keep his nose clean for another six months. As it turned out, he didn’t. In “ISKCON,” an institutional guru was considered automatically good unless caught in deviation. That rubber-stamp was still in full effect in the Spring of 1986. Bhävänanda had been caught the previous year, but he got provisionally re-instated, nevertheless.
Kértanänanda had not been caught yet, so the underlying institutional hypocrisy was practically all-pervasive at a foundational level. Although previously this realization had been subconscious, it was not entirely so by this point. “ISKCON” was without real honesty, but such had been the case for years. Cheaters all of them, but not all of them had yet been caught in a flagrant act of cheating.
There were indications that Bhävänanda had not brought himself back up to the standard that was demanded of him. He was ordered at a San Diego G.B.C. meeting in August, 1986 not to travel any longer with his young disciple and male companion, Bala. The purport of that order is quite self-evident; his guru reinstatement was not yet solidified.
The zones were becoming shaky entities; as such, the zonal divisions had been re-affirmed at Mäyäpur, 1986. Obviously, they were no longer fully effective. Some token concessions (besides the expansion of gurus) were made to the temple presidents in relation to vyäsäsans, photographic placements of guru pictures on altars, and how the altars were to be arranged. This amounted to nothing much.
Technically, seventeen men (led by Ravéndra) had been given preliminary approval to be dékñä-gurus at Moundsville in 1985, and they all were fully approved (read, re-affirmed) at Mäyäpur, 1986. Seven more received full approval at that conclave. Six more so-called advanced devotees (led by Trivikram) were put on a one-year list to wait in queue. As such, a total of thirty new gurus were either institutionally activated (or soon to be actuated) as per G.B.C. rubber stamp in the Spring of 1986.
The G.B.C. insisted that it was not making new gurus via this method, because authorization was allegedly not the same as appointing or creating gurus. This was and is very weak logic: What is the real difference between making and authorizing? That is a rhetorical question.
Another change was a new rule applicable to how someone became an institutional guru in “ISKCON.” The new G.B.C. mandate required a potential candidate for guru to be presented by at least one G.B.C. man, the minimum requirement. A vote was then taken by the whole of the G.B.C.. If the majority did not object to the nomination, he was put in a one-year queue, after which he was recognized as a full-fledged dékñä-guru. The no-three-blackballs protocol of 1985 was thus abandoned.
TATTVAMASI
Superficially, it appeared that the issue of fairness was at the core of this guru expansion ploy, but that was not the case. It was politics, plain and simple. It was a compromise which kept Radical Reform in check. The radical reformers (what to speak of the revolutionaries outside the cult) were disappointed by what went down at Mäyäpur.
Subsequently in this presentation, we shall present details about the assassination of Sulochan in the fourth week of May, 1986. What is mentioned now is just a prelude. Everyone knew that Kértanänanda was behind the hit and authorized it. He was a recognized “ISKCON” guru, but this was murder!
It was a scandal that required damage control at a different level. Murder is not what saintly gurus are supposed to be implicated in. Compromise Reform, which turned out to be the 1986 triumphant party, received fresh impetus to rein in wild-card gurus, especially since one of them proved capable of ordering hits on malcontents. Icing opponents was not part of “ISKCON” protocol.
After the assassination of Sulochan, Kértanänanda was not institutionally removed as a dékñä-guru from “ISKCON.” However, steps were taken by the vitiated G.B.C. to remove him. A G.B.C. representative received a verbal promise from Kértanänanda, via a telephone conversation, that he would resign from the G.B.C. (which would also mean that his guru status would be revoked) if he was named as a co-conspirator in indictments for either the murder of Sulochan or Cakraddhäré or both.
Two other gurus were exposed in the summer of 1986. Bhagavan resigned as G.B.C. and left his zone to run away with a female disciple. Rämeçvara, disguised by a wig and dressed in karmi clothes, was accidentally seen (read, caught) by one of his godbrothers at a Southern California mall holding hands with a female teenager, probably his disciple.
As could only be expected, the Sulochan murder shook up the whole of the movement. The North American Temple Presidents (NATPA) called for an emergency meeting in Chicago, mostly to request (read, demand) that Kértanänanda be removed from “ISKCON.”
In the wee hours of May 22nd, 1986, Sulochan had parked and turned off the engine of his Dodge van (which he slept in) near an abandoned trestle bridge within a mile of Watseka Avenue. This was the chief avenue of “ISKCON” action in L.A., and the temple complex was located on it. There is evidence that he had enjoyed himself at the house of one of his godbrothers, who lived on a street close to the temple. The man who would murder him had discovered Sulochan’s van parked at that godbrother’s house; he was prepared to find the best spot for an ambush when Sulochan decided to call it a night and drive away somewhere nearby.
At zero dark fifty-seven in Culver City, California on the night of May 22nd, Sulochan was sitting in the driver’s seat of his old Dodge van. According to Doktorski’s research (in a previous book), he was rolling a joint. Unknown to the manhunters pursuing him, Sulochan had given up his campaign against Kértanänanda and the vitiated G.B.C., which still backed the “Bhaktipada.” While living in the mountains near Badger, Sulochan had found a new devotee girlfriend. Her mother, who backed his cause, approved of him, a handsome, thirty-three year old man, who was also well built and interested in starting a family.
He saw no hope in getting his children back, and he had no longer was interested, either sexually or otherwise, in his former wife, who was fully dedicated to his arch-nemesis, Kértanänanda. That “ISKCON” guru had started the whole ball rolling by, without Sulocan’s consent, initiating his wife against his will. Sulochan was now going to start a new life, but the demigods had other plans.
The astral situation at that time was extremely inauspicious. The Moon was conjunct malefic Ketu in Libra. The lunar phase was the third worst possible: The fourteenth tithi of the waxing Moon. It was night time, and evil planets are stronger at night than during the day.
At zero dark fifty-seven on May 22nd, malefic Mars was in the twelfth, the house of loss. The ascendant (Capricorn) was ruled by retrograde Saturn in the sign of revenge, Scorpio. Saturn was casting his full seventh house aspect on the Sun, who was lord of the eighth, the house of death. The Moon was fully under the aspect of Rahu.
Mercury is the planetary karaka for writing and communication. For most of 1985, he was not combust and working for the young man, but that night Budha was completely wiped out by the Sun. Sulochan had lost his mojo. As a result, his sporadic brilliance as a writer was compromised, and he had descended into intoxication, ruled by Rahu.
Sulochan had transformed his attack on Kértanänanda to that of becoming a vociferous critic of the zonal äcäryas, including Rämeçvara. Rämeçvara had hatchet men, and his bodyguards were similar (in their killer mentalities) to the wicked enforcers which Kértanänanda had employed at his Moundsville prison compound in West Virginia. One of those manhunters, a Vietnam vet named Thomas Drescher, was a disciple of Kértanänanda; his Vedic name was Tértha. He was there in Culver City that night. He had tracked his prey and was ready to act.
Kértanänanda and Rämeçvara had reasons to be paranoid about Sulochan, but that is a long story. Sulochan was now in Rämeçvara’s zone, within striking range. Rämeçvara had warned Sulochan that he would be “dead meat” if he did not return all of Prabhupäda’s letters, copies of which he had obtained by surreptitious means through the agency of a godbrother who had access to them. Sulochan was not going to give any of those back, especially since potent excerpts from them were the basis of his upcoming expose, The Guru Business, which your host speaker had edited for him the previous summer.
The wrong idea that the Raman Reti room conversation of May 28th, 1977 had allegedly established eleven Successors to Prabhupäda would be exposed by Sulochan via his commentaries on the partial transcript of that room conversation. He would accomplish far more than that in his book, which was on the verge of being published. He would not live to see it, because he would be assassinated that night, nine years later (almost to the date) of that important room conversation in India.
In Chapter Twelve, ENE reveals the following:
“Sulochan began writing a book about his findings, but he discovered he was not a writer. He badly needed an editor. . . Sulochan contacted a brahmin godbrother who was not only highly regarded as a scholar but also as one who had battled against the zonal acharyas in 1979: Kailasa-Chandra dasa. The two traveled together in Sulochan’s van for three months during the summer of 1985, during which time Kailasa-Chandra edited Sulochan’s manuscript, The Guru Business.” 8
Sulochan fancied himself a ksatriya or warrior, but he was no match at any level to Drescher. Tértha was an accomplished killer in Southeast Asia, had already murdered a devotee (Cakraddhäré) at the Moundsville compound, was being paid to kill Sulochan, and had back-up with him when he advanced upon Sulochan’s van that night. Sulochan had ran his mouth off about the violence he hoped to carry out on gurus (but never did). Despite his change of mentality, the lag effect of that was still attached to him on the psycho-physical plane. He had to pay the price for it.
As already mentioned, the planets were unfavorable to him that Wednesday, which was ruled by Mercury, who was completely wiped out. ENE mentions Sulocan’s effort as follows:
“Sulochan began a smear campaign against Kértanänanda and the other zonal gurus and went so far as to suggest that violence was an acceptable method for removing the zonal acharyas from power. Sulochan, who had a kshatriya spirit, sharpened his marksmanship skills on a target range by shooting a pistol at a picture of his arch-nemesis: Kértanänanda.” 9
Shared by ENE, here is a direct quote from Sulochan:
“Sulochan explained, ‘Kértanänanda lived by violence. He personally authorized so much physical violence against his godbrothers and godsisters that it was no surprise to us that his punishment also came by violence. . . . By failing to rectify themselves at New Vrindaban on September 16th, these gurus more or less declared open season on themselves and they have no one else to blame. It is only a matter of time before each guru is dead or wishes he were. This is just a fact of life. Their fate is sealed by their own actions.’” 10
There are indications that a number of American temple presidents were aware that Sulochan wanted to execute mortal force against what remained of the original eleven zonals. In turn, some of those gurus wanted the same fate for Sulochan. In ENE, Rämeçvara is quoted as follows:
“Sulochan should be given a new body.” 11
An accomplished female disciple of Rämeçvara, who worked at the ISKCON Public Relations Dept. under Mukunda (in Los Angeles), had, somehow or other, negotiated a friendly relationship with Sulochan whenever he was in the area. She is quoted in ENE as follows:
“As far as I know, Sulochan wanted to kill all of the gurus.” 12
Ravéndra was of the opinion, not without evidence, that Sulochan had shifted his focus of violence to Rämeçvara from Kértanänanda, who was heavily guarded at his Moundville compound. ENE quotes Professor Blueblood as follows:
“He wanted to assassinate Kértanänanda but decided it was too hard, and instead said he was going to try and assassinate Rämeçvara, so there were Rämeçvara security agents kind of following this guy around. He was in disguise going from place to place, and then some people came from New Vrindaban to help them. One of them was a guy by the name of Tértha, who had been trained as a killer by the United States government in Vietnam, so he had valuable skills.” 13
Drescher creeped up on Sulochan’s van undetected and fired two bullets into his head at point blank range. Later, he would comment that brain material slowly oozed out from the holes made by the bullets similar to what was depicted in “The Deer Hunter.” It is certain that Sulochan died instantly and possibly became a ghost, as sudden and violent death often results in the astral body remaining on Earth. No conditioned soul can know for sure about that, but it is certain that Sulochan let his guard down . . . and that carelessness cost him his life.
Let us summarize Chapter Twelve as follows: There were key entities (read, sub-movements) and personalities which or who dominated “ISKCON” throughout 1986. The question is: Was there one person who was integral to, or implicated in, all of them? There was all that centered around Bhävänanda, and we have covered much of that. Was there a prominent personality who worked to not only expose him but to make him the centerpiece of discontent?
There was the Guru Reform Movement. Did one person not only dominate it but, by his position papers, more or less inaugurate it? There was the North American Temple Presidents Association (NATPA). Was there one president who was most prominent in it?
There was the vitiated G.B.C.. It added a new member the previous year, who then was privy to what was going on in its contentious meetings. Who was that special individual? Did he also qualify in the other categories just mentioned?
The G.B.C. made a substantial number of new initiating gurus in the Spring of 1986. Was there one of them who got preliminary approval to be an “ISKCON” dékñä-guru the year before and then got fully rubber stamped as guru by the Commish in 1986?
Taking into account all of these lateral octaves operative in “ISKCON” in that fateful year, is there one man—and one man only—who was integrally involved in every single one of them?
The answer is in the affirmative, and you all know that answer. That fellow was THE MAN in “ISKCON” in 1986. He was at the top of the institution’s turtle tank. His name and title is Professor William Deadwyler III, a.k.a., Ravéndra Svarupa das adhikäré.
Over and above all of these inclusions, this man accomplished something else. You could argue that he did so the following year in 1987, but, to a very significant extent, he actually accomplished its leading edge, without question, in 1986. He changed “ISKCON.” Kali-yuga required a change, and Professor Blueblood was Kali’s agent in order to accomplish it. Ravéndra was the inspiration, the seed, and the director of the collegiate compromise, The Second Transformation.
The details of how this came about will be discussed in next month’s presentation by your host speaker, which will center on 1987. Yet, it behooves me now to mention that The Second Transformation was a complete disaster in terms of any hope of Prabhupäda’s international movement returning to square one.
There was a chance for this in 1986. That chance was snuffed out by Professor Blueblood. He wanted a kinder, gentler “ISKCON” free from zonal tyrants. He accomplished that with his collegiate compromise, but he did so by ignoring this obvious truth: A bogus guru cannot transmit a genuine Vaisnava initiation.
We shall cover all of it threadbare next month. Compromise Reform was the winner in 1986, and that fact did not change the next year. Compromise Reform was Ravéndra’s baby, and he took full responsibility for it.
The colossal hoax known as the fabricated, so-called “ISKCON” confederation is a pseudo-spiritual scam. “ . . . if there is lack of knowledge, or if there is forgetfulness, everything will be spoiled in time.”14 It didn’t take much time for ISKCON to be converted into “ISKCON.” It has been a semblance of a spiritual institution for decades. A movement where victory in the turtle tank and political competition to fulfill personal ambition replaces advancement through the perfect knowledge is what “ISKCON” is now.
SAD EVA SAUMYA
ENDNOTES
1. Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: p. 261, Kindle Edition;
2. Ibid, p. 262;
3. Ibid, p. 263;
4. Ibid, p. 264;
5. Ibid, p. 266;
6. Due to its penchant for secrecy, none of us knew that Trivikram had not technically been appointed a dékñä-guru. We all thought that he was, but as a practical matter, it did not mean much that he was put on a one-year waiting list. He and Ätreya were thick as thieves, and they acted in tandem. As such, we considered both of them to be dékñä-gurus in 1986, and they did or said nothing to disabuse us of that notion, although only Ätreya actually received that guru appointment that year;
7. Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors, p. 267, Kindle Edition;
8. Ibid, p. 269;
9. Ibid, pp. 269-70;
10. Ibid, p. 270. Indirectly, this quote alludes to the violence that Michael Shockman severely hurt Kértanänanda with in late 1985 via a rebar from a construction site at the Moundsville compound;
11. Ibid, p. 271;
12. Ibid, p. 271 (Nandini);
13. Ibid, p. 271;
14. Letter to Hansadutta, 6-22-72.