Social Theory and Schisms in the International Society for Krishna Consciousness

Braja Bihārī Dāsa

This paper focuses on ISKCON’s schisms – what attracted ISKCON members to leave the organisation and form their own groups, often in competition with ISKCON. We will examine the history of these groups and apply several social theories to that history – theories that can be helpful in explaining why members take part in schisms. ISKCON provides a particularly useful forum for examining schisms in religious organisations, since events are recent and most of the key participants still alive.

A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda incorporated his International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) in New York within a year of his arrival in the USA in 1965. By the time he died, in 1977, ISKCON had over one hundred centres and thousands of members. ‘Hare Krishna’ by that time had become a recognisable name in most parts of the world. But just as people joined ISKCON, they also left it.

ISKCON schisms¹

Siddha Svarūpa

While individuals came to ISKCON and did leave it during Prabhupāda’s life, ISKCON experienced only one schism, or group departure, before 1977. Sai, later initiated as Siddha Svarūpa by Prabhupāda, was a self-styled sixties guru living in Hawaii. After meeting Prabhupāda, he joined ISKCON, bringing with him dozens of followers. However, Siddha Svarūpa grew weary of ISKCON’s missionary style. The zeal of the young converts was expressed in pushy book distribution, the insistence that all devotees wear traditional Indian attire, and an isolationist attitude toward the world – all of which he disliked. Siddha Svarūpa was interested in a more casual application of Krishna consciousness, and he wanted to teach it to others. He adopted Western clothes, replaced Indian instruments with guitars, and chose to share his faith in a less ‘preachy ‘fashion than his ISKCON godbrothers. He did not insist that converts move into the ashram or that they renounce their jobs or other activities that ISKCON members generally considered distractions.2 It was not long before his original followers and a number of new adherents singled him out as the best among ISKCON’s devotees. Prabhupāda knew this and was concerned about Siddha Svarūpa’s influence over that of Prabhupāda’s other senior disciples. In a letter to one of Siddha Svarūpa’s followers, Prabhupāda wrote: ‘Anyone sincerely serving the spiritual master is a pure devotee, it may be Siddha Svarūpa or others … This must be very clearly stated. It is not only that your Siddha Svarūpa is a pure devotee and not others. Do not try to make a faction.’ (Prabhupāda, 1987)

Prabhupāda faced the challenge of maintaining the standards he had set for his Society, while trying to retain Siddha Svarūpa as a member in that Society. Prabhupāda was sympathetic yet firm. He agreed with Siddha Svarūpa that the devotees were neophytes and over-zealous, but he also appreciated their obedience and sincerity in trying to follow his direction. He made it clear that he wished Siddha Svarūpa to do the same.

Post-Prabhupāda-era schisms

Following Prabhupāda’s passing in 1977, eleven leaders in ISKCON started to function as gurus and accept disciples. All of them were members of the Governing Body Commission (which by then consisted of over twenty members). Prabhupāda had established the GBC as the ultimate managerial authority in ISKCON, but by dint of their positions as gurus, these eleven held a special status in ISKCON – a station above and beyond the non-guru GBC members and everyone else.

The only example of a guru anyone in ISKCON had known was Prabhupāda, a person of great purity and charisma, who had been a devotee of Kṛṣṇa from his birth. He was a scholar of both Sanskrit and the scriptures he translated, and he was steeped in the Vaiṣṇava tradition. It was natural that he should be treated with the utmost respect, and Prabhupāda trained his disciples in the forms by which this respect should be shown. Because of that training, ISKCON members began to respect the new, Western gurus in similar ways.

But obviously there was a difference between these new gurus and Prabhupāda. The new gurus were all under the age of thirty-five – many were still in their twenties – and some had been devotees for only five years at the time of their appointment. Yet they had not only become the movement’s elders, they were catapulted to an absolute status. Their youth and spiritual inexperience, combined with their being treated as absolute spiritual masters, created something ominous.

Beginning in 1980, less than three years after Prabhupāda’s death, guru controversies arose in rapid succession. These controversies generally centred on a guru breaking the regulative principles, especially in regard to illicit sex – most of them were sannyāsīs and had taken lifetime vows of celibacy – and in neglecting spiritual practices. Now only two of the original eleven are still functioning as gurus. Of the additional 92 ISKCON gurus appointed between 1986 and 2004, ten have been relieved of their positions.

As a result of these controversies, many devotees quietly left the organisation, often to return to university studies or to find outside employment. Some chose to create small neighbourhood groups in which members would come together in one another’s homes to chant, discuss theology, and share a vegetarian meal offered to Kṛṣṇa.

Kirtan Hall

The first schismatic group after Prabhupāda’s death was called the Conch Club (later, Kirtan3 Hall). It was formed in Los Angeles in 1978. Members originally belonged to the ISKCON Los Angeles temple. The group first came together for economic reasons; members wanted to help ISKCON develop a financial base that was not dependent on book sales on the streets. As members of the group tried to instil their values in ISKCON’s members, however, they gradually became critical of ISKCON’s direction and leadership; they sought an alternative to the confinements of ashram life and entered more into secular society. For its members, the group served as a ‘mediating structure’ (Robbins, pp. 214–15) between ISKCON and the secular world. Its members ‘… clearly remained largely committed to the practices and beliefs of Krishna Consciousness despite their decision to defect from ISKCON’. (Rochford, 1989, p. 169)

But Kirtan Hall was run democratically and lacked charismatic leadership. Consequently, the group had difficulty in the recruitment of members, which resulted in insufficient financial resources. It folded within two years.

Rochford writes:

Most moved into independent living situations where they practiced Krishna Consciousness within their households, having little or no ISKCON involvement. Others sought institutional alternatives to ISKCON, becoming followers of religious leaders associated with the Gaudiya Math, the organisation founded by Prabhupada’s spiritual master in India. A determined minority joined together to form an insurgent organisation, The ISKCON Revival Movement (IRM), to restore what they considered the ‘true’ ISKCON. Other devotees relocated to self-governing householder communities to distance themselves from ISKCON’s leadership. (Rochford, 2007, p.

The Gauḍīya4 Maṭha5

In 1991, a few members of the GBC began to inquire about Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇava theology from B. V. Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja, a disciple of one of Prabhupāda’s godbrothers, who was then living near Vṛndāvana, India. These GBC members were impressed with Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s scholarship and charisma, which to many ‘… stood in stark contrast to ISKCON gurus, whose authority had been thoroughly routinised in an effort to reduce the volatility of the guru institution’. (Rochford, 2007, p. 13)6 Yet despite their inquiry and the inspiration they were drawing from their contact with Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja, no one in this GBC group wanted to create a splinter group. Some of them tried to keep their visits private, and concealed from the rest of the Society, so as not to attract less-experienced devotees to Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja. Gradually and inevitably, however, a number of ISKCON’s members followed the lead of these GBC members and began to seek spiritual advice from Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja. They saw him as a sādhu (saint) who could guide them in their spiritual pursuits.

Other GBC members then took strong exception to ISKCON’s members learning anything from Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja. They were offended by both Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s inferences and his direct statements asserting that his teachings were higher than those Prabhupāda had given to give his disciples. After all, some of Mahārāja’s statements claimed, Prabhupāda had been teaching them when they were still neophytes, and he could not have been expected to impart to them the full esoterica of Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇavism. In saying this, Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja implied that Prabhupāda’s teachings were somehow incomplete, even inferior to what Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja had to offer, and that Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja would now complete them. Rochford writes:

After a number of high-profile ISKCON gurus and senior Prabhupada disciples began receiving instruction from Maharaja, the GBC passed a resolution in 1995 that, while not specifically mentioning Maharaja by name, nonetheless effectively banned all ISKCON members from associating with him or his teaching. The resolution provided for the possible suspension of ISKCON members who failed to comply. (Collins 2004:222) Averting what would have been a major schism, the offending leaders agreed to desist from any further involvement with Mahārāja. (Rochford, 2007, p. 12)

The GBC was in a difficult situation. Most of its members clearly stated that they did not want to offend Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja. Yet they felt duty-bound to insist, within their own ranks, that Prabhupāda’s teachings and the authority structure he established remain the cornerstone of ISKCON.

The resolution drew a clear boundary. While a major schism was averted, a moderate one did manifest. Others (besides the ISKCON gurus who did comply with the GBC’s directive) chose Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja and his institution over the ISKCON gurus and theirs. They saw the GBC resolution as a direct attack on Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja, though the GBC’s stated attempt was to discipline their own people without casting aspersions on Mahārāja; many left ISKCON with feelings of anger and resentment. The resolution was a turning point both for the GBC, who took a firm stance on an issue about which they had been concerned for several years, and for those faithful to Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja, who found the resolution a justification for their exit from ISKCON.

With faith in ISKCON’s gurus diminishing with each revelation of a guru’s misdeeds, scores of ISKCON members would join Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s maṭha over the next eleven years. These devotees found in Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja someone they could compare to Prabhupāda. An Indian scholar, who, in his seventies, had been celibate for forty years, he was not going to fail them by giving in to sensuality. As ISKCON was trying to make it clear that Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja taught things differently from Prabhupāda, Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s followers published books attempting to show not only the similarity in their guru’s teachings but also that Prabhupāda and Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja had once been the best of friends and that Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja had considered Prabhupāda his guru. In the book, My Siksa Guru and Priya Bandhu (My Instructing Guru and Dearmost Friend), Mahārāja states:

Sometimes it sounds to some that I am speaking certain things that [Prabhupāda] has never said. … It cannot be said that there is any real difference between us, since we are in the same bona fide disciplic tree. [Prabhupāda] has written everything in his books. I am not saying anything new. [Prabhupāda] has planted many seeds of bhakti [devotion to Kṛṣṇa]. Some seeds are sprouting, some are growing, some have leaves … But there are many seeds that are drying up. Many devotees have lost their strength and their faith. These creepers which [Prabhupāda] has planted need water to be sprinkled upon them. I want to see [Prabhupāda’s] movement become healthy and strong. (B.V. Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja, 1999, p. 36–8)

This linking of Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja with Prabhupāda legitimised the devotees leaving the ‘sacred fortress’ (Squarcini, 2000, p. 256) of ISKCON. But those who left ISKCON and took initiation from Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja were banned by the GBC from participating in ISKCON activities.

Ṛtvik theory

The second, major post-Prabhupāda schism in ISKCON was also focused on questioning the capabilities of ISKCON’s gurus. As the news of the gurus’ misdeeds spread, some ISKCON members began to question the validity of Prabhupāda’s appointment of any of them to succeed him in the role of spiritual master. How could Prabhupāda have set up such a faulty system? Using a letter that Prabhupāda wrote four months before his death, and recorded conversations that Prabhupāda had with leading disciples about his succession plans, these persons attempted to prove that there was no need for new gurus; rather, Prabhupāda’s disciples could initiate newcomers as proxies on Prabhupāda’s behalf (the Sanskrit word ṛtvik means ‘officiating priest’). These newcomers would then become direct disciples of Prabhupāda, even though their initiations took place after his death.7

Such a philosophy was attractive to many people. Prabhupāda was clearly seen to be pure, and therefore it was believed that anyone who became his direct disciple did not need to worry that the guru may fall from grace. Also, when he was alive, Prabhupāda was the rallying point for the entire movement. After his departure, some devotees felt his position had been pre-empted by the new gurus, to the detriment of the movement. If Prabhupāda were the only initiating guru, the movement could again gather around Prabhupāda and rediscover its lost unity.

Some ISKCON leaders acknowledged the attractive features of such a presentation (Jayādvaita Swami, 1996) but argued that it went against the Vaiṣṇava tradition, including Kṛṣṇa’s teachings in Bhagavad-gītā. It was a heresy, and ISKCON needed to distance itself from its theology. In 1999 the IRM tried to negotiate an understanding with the GBC. When they were unsuccessful – neither group saw room for compromise – they created their own society, hoping to build their own ‘ISKCON’, the ‘real’ ISKCON. People propounding the ṛtvik guru heresy were then banned from ISKCON (GBC, 1999).

The ṛtvik proponents comprised a number of groups, with slight variations in their philosophical presentations. Over the years, however, one group emerged as the largest and most successful, the ISKCON Revival Movement. But as of this writing there are indications that the IRM is weakening; its main branch, which has been calling itself ‘ISKCON Bangalore’, has now apparently separated from the IRM trunk and stopped financing IRM activities, members, and publications. ISKCON Bangalore is wealthy and is supported by some well-known industrialists in India, who are especially attracted to ISKCON Bangalore’s Akshaya Patra8 project, which distributes over 800,000 vegetarian lunches to school children in a dozen cities on a daily basis. (Akshaya, 2007)

There is quite a bit of animosity between these two schisms and ISKCON. While Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s large following was restricted to non-ISKCON Indians prior to 1991, nearly all his Western followers were previous ISKCON members, and since the majority of his Western followers have left ISKCON, these followers have turned to ISKCON for fresh recruits. This has led ISKCON to consider their attitude and actions predatory. At one point Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s Western disciples were staging demonstrations outside ISKCON temples during the Sunday programmes, distributing flyers to guests announcing that ISKCON was offensive to Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja, or advertising Mahārāja’s upcoming visit to the area. Numerous papers have been written both by Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s followers and ISKCON pundits trying to convey the shortcomings of the other.

The conflict with ṛtvik members has been equally bitter. A number of court cases have been filed, and ṛtviks control the large ISKCON temple in Bangalore. Also, in Kolkata and Long Island there have been clashes between ISKCON members and IRM members.

Other related history

There are other Gauḍīya Maṭha gurus who now have ex-ISKCON followers in their camps, yet except for one (B. R. Śrīdhara Swami), this has not resulted in significant numbers of devotees leaving ISKCON to join them. Śrīdhara Swami passed away in 1985, and while he still has a following, both the level of animosity toward ISKCON and the numbers of apostates now following his maṭha are far smaller than they are with Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja.

Social theory and schisms in ISKCON

Parker et. al. suggest five concepts needed to explain social phenomena: individuals, nature, culture, action, and social structure. (p. 5, 2003) For my purposes, I will concentrate on the first concept, the individual. Though all five are needed to give a complete picture of a social phenomenon (p. 10), considering the individual ‘is a reasonable first move.’ (p. 13) So I will consider the individual in terms of charismatic leadership, rational choice theory, social game theory, and religious capital.

Charismatic leaders

In three of ISKCON’s schisms , two clearly centred on charismatic individual leadership (Siddha Svarūpa and Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja). It is hard to imagine these schisms existing without these leaders’ participation. In Siddha Svarūpa’s case, Prabhupāda was present, making the likelihood of a large schism faint. Had Svarūpa not arrived in ISKCON with his own following, which remained loyal to him, it is unlikely that he would have been able to leave with as many of ISKCON’s members as he did. In the case of Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja we might guess that had it not been for him, another Gauḍīya Maṭha sādhu may have created a similar schism, because ISKCON after Prabhupāda’s death and the guru falldowns was ripe for such an occurrence. Still, despite that likelihood, we cannot discount the fact that ISKCON members joined his organisation in large numbers because of his personality and standing.

In the third schism, that of the ṛtvik group, the leader of ISKCON Bangalore, Madhu Paṇḍita Dāsa, is also an exceptional individual. Yet he came to the group years after the ṛtvik guru philosophy was first propagated in ISKCON. He neither created the ṛtvik presentation nor was he present during the group’s first attempts at gaining and organising adherents. Yet of the various ṛtvik groups, his is by far the most successful in terms of manpower, money, and influence. His success, along with that of the other two schismatic leaders, points to the charismatic leader as a key and perhaps necessary factor in creating a lasting schismatic group. Conversely, the absence of a charismatic leader has been the ruin of other schismatic attempts.

In the case of the failed Kirtan Hall, the schisms had trouble attracting ISKCON members, in part because they lacked a central charismatic figure to lead the group. The Kirtan Hall operated with a democratic governing structure, but without charismatic leadership. The members did not have this ‘principal form of authority legitimating schism’. (Wallis, 1978, p. 186 as cited in Rochford, 1989, p. 10)

The charismatic guru offers the stable source of authority. While there are examples of such leaders in ISKCON, their influence has been diffused by the very number of gurus the movement has authorised, the fact that many gurus have reneged on their vows, and the GBC’s democratic process of decision-making.⁹ ISKCON members have sometimes joined splinter groups to again find a source of authority that they sensed was lost. Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja and the IRM provided that religious authority.

There is evidence that religious schisms rely on strong individual leadership to succeed, and from this small sampling in ISKCON one could argue this point. Historically, splinter groups led by charismatic individuals have even been named after the individual: the Calvinists, Lutherans, and Mennonites serve as examples. Besides these big names, even smaller schisms are seen to be driven by an individual. In 1791, William Hammett, an Englishman, led a group out of the American Methodist Church and started the Primitive Methodists ‘…because he did not feel that Wesley was being shown the proper respect in this country.’ (Tubeville, p. 30) Hammett was clearly the charismatic leader of his group and after his death the Primitive Methodists ceased to exist.

Why do individuals choose to break away from the parent organisation? – RCT

Rational Choice Theory assumes that individuals are self-interested and acting rationally to achieve their self-interest. They are ends-driven. The influence of context is inconsequential; rather, individuals ‘… are the only kind of reality with the necessary and sufficient causal powers capable of generating social phenomena’. (Parker et al, p. 13) Rational Choice Theory holds some truth and is a useful tool in analysing schisms.

Do individuals start or join schism groups because of self-interest? Certainly. As the two post-Prabhupāda schisms developed, the groups were filled with excitement and energy. In contrast, some places in ISKCON were weakened, with small numbers of resident devotees maintaining the centres, facing financial woes, and suffering from a pervading melancholy. People want to be on a winning team, and I suspect some joined one of the schisms simply to find a ‘movement’ that was winning. Others wanted a fresh start; while still others – those who felt mistreated in ISKCON – were looking for relief. Some were even seeking a way to avenge themselves; leaving ISKCON has been a way to both make a statement of discontent and get back at ISKCON’s leaders for the pain they caused. Others needed strong leadership, something they felt had been compromised in ISKCON. Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja and the IRM both spoke with confidence and reassurance – something often missing in ISKCON after so many embarrassing episodes with the gurus. Others who joined schisms were looking for answers, especially to the question, ‘If Prabhupāda was such an empowered saint, how did he make the big mistake of appointing these men gurus?’ The IRM answers: ‘He didn’t! These men were meant to be only proxy gurus; Prabhupāda is the only guru.’

Why do individuals choose to break away from the parent organisation? – SGT

Not all individual choices to join or start a schism can be traced to Rational Choice Theory. Rather, there are motives that fit better into Social Game Theory, which ‘… rejects the notion of a single, universal, utilitarian type of agent’ in favour of actors who are shaped (constrained and enabled) by their ‘different roles, relationships, institutional settings, and cultural frameworks’. In SGT, ‘human agents are seen as fundamentally moral creatures whose moral sentiments – shaped by their relationships and roles – enter into their judgment and action processes’. (Burns, 1994, pp. 202–3 as quoted in Docherty, 2007, p. 13)

Many schismatic members have said that they left ISKCON to better serve Prabhupāda. Because Prabhupāda himself left a dysfunctional institution without dishonouring his guru, they feel that they have followed his example. They add that they have found Prabhupāda’s legacy being carried on more fully in Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s maṭha or in the IRM. Thus they feel that their service to Prabhupāda – not their self-interest – was enhanced by leaving ISKCON and joining an organisation better able to carry out Prabhupāda’s work, just as Prabhupāda did by leaving the confines of the Gauḍīya Maṭha.

ISKCON members could contend that such statements are justifications of Rational-Choice-Theory-related needs. But taken at face value, these explanations direct us away from RCT to a Social-Game-Theory orientation. That is, these individuals were exercising significant agency by going against the ISKCON norms to follow their conscience.

Other members of schisms specifically say that they were seeking the kind of moral standards and ethics they found missing in ISKCON and GBC decisions. Social Game Theory assumes that human agents can reshape social structures by their conscious choice to do so. (Docherty, p. 13) While some joined splinter groups solely for their own betterment, others did so with the express intent of changing a social structure. The IRM members in particular maintain that they are creating the real ISKCON and plan to convene a real GBC.

Religious capital

We can examine self-interest in ISKCON schisms from the viewpoint of religious capital. Finke and Stark offer this definition: ‘Religious capital consists of the degree of mastery of and attachment to a particular religious culture.’ (2000, p. 120) I will use their definition as a takeoff point for something I feel is a key factor in ISKCON schisms – member satisfaction. I first thought of religious capital/member satisfaction as best explained by RCT; that is, that members sought their self-interest only in a religious sense. After further thought, I realised that this might be an example of how we can mix RCT and SGT principles. After all, religious capital can also be influenced by ‘moral creatures … shaped by their relationships and roles’. (Docherty, p. 13)

Why do some ISKCON members join a schism and others do not? Partially, I would suggest, it is related to the degree of religious capital an individual may have accumulated and continues to accumulate as a member of ISKCON. Those who feel spiritually fulfilled in an ongoing way will find less reason to leave ISKCON and join a splinter group even when it might be easy to do so. According to the Bhagavad-gītā, a Kṛṣṇa devotee experiences param dṛṣtva, a ‘higher taste’ – one that makes it easy to refrain from selfish acts and instead be devoted to God. This param dṛṣtva is exhibited as the inner happiness a devotee experiences while chanting; reading scripture; feeling free of lust, greed, and anger; and serving others. I emphasise an ongoing higher taste because, with the seeming loss of the experience of param dṛṣtva, members may become inclined to join schisms as they seek to rekindle the spiritual pleasure they once felt and can no longer seem to find in their life and relationships in ISKCON. Emptiness often translates into a search for happiness elsewhere.

And where would such individuals search? Coincidentally, Finke uses ISKCON as an example in his article, ‘Spiritual Capital: Definitions, Applications and New Frontiers’. He explains: ‘to the extent that religious groups are able to ease entry into the group by accepting existing religious capital and are still able to offer distinctive capital that prevents defections, they will hold a competitive advantage.’ (Finke, 2003, p. 6) He says that in the Western context, it is difficult to become a member of ISKCON, as the religious capital accumulated in another spiritual organisation will be hard to transfer to the Hare Krishnas. Joining ISKCON entails accepting a new sacred text and new religious rituals. These same distinctive features make it just as hard to transfer religious capital back to more mainstream organisations.10

Westerners especially must make a large investment to join ISKCON. They may feel obliged to change their dress, hairstyle, diet, friends, goals, and worldview. Religious capital accumulates quickly with such deep investments. If they then become dissatisfied, they tend to turn to those fulfilling activities that do not jeopardise their religious capital. They remain devoted to Kṛṣṇa and Prabhupāda, and while seeking change, generally prefer not to sacrifice their core values and beliefs. Perhaps recognising this, especially in terms of maintaining a relationship with Prabhupāda, schismatic groups can go to great lengths to show their connection to Prabhupāda and that they represent Prabhupāda’s desires more than ISKCON does.

In his extensive twenty-page ‘Centennial Survey’,11 Rochford surveyed two thousand ISKCON members from 34 countries. Among those who had left ISKCON (either joining a splinter group or simply living apart from ISKCON communities), three quarters (78%) agreed that ‘My [Kṛṣṇa] faith is of central importance and comes before all other aspects of my life’. (Rochford, 2007, p. 9) Furthermore, ‘Nearly six in ten (58%) indicated that they “actively preach to nondevotees at work and/or as part of my daily routine”. This represents a commitment to preaching equal to full-time ISKCON members’. (Rochford, 2007, p. 9)

These statistics suggest that Kṛṣṇa-oriented religious capital is not necessarily sacrificed when members leave ISKCON. And if those who leave wish to join a group of like-minded people, they will tend to choose from among groups with ex-ISKCON members, such as Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s group or the IRM. This is a significant point. These individuals have not been forced to risk their theological worldview by leaving ISKCON. Rochford wrote about the Kirtan Hall members: ‘In rejecting ISKCON as unworthy of their membership, they had not abandoned their Krishna beliefs and way of life. Defection did not involve a process of resocialisation leading Kirtan Hall members to become “recruited back into conventional social networks” (Lewis and Bromley, 1985: 511) and ultimately to the dominant worldview. Members sought, instead, to retain their identity as Krishna devotees.’ (Rochford, 1989, p. 175) Rochford concludes with one of his most often repeated themes about ISKCON and its splinter groups: ‘When people defect from religious or secular movement-organisations for political rather than ideological reasons, they remain members of the movement.’ (1989, p. 175, emphasis in the original)

One may question the validity of discussing religious capital in this way. Is it outside the realm of social theory to legitimise religious experience in this way? Finke and Stark point out that the ‘old paradigm’ in the study of religion from the viewpoint of social sciences would exclude such a consideration: (2003, p. 2) ‘As an epiphenomenon, Durkheim (1915) and others viewed religion as an elaborate reflection of more basic realities. Marx and Engels ([1878] 1964:16) explained, “All religion … is nothing but the fantastic reflection in men’s minds of those external forces which control their daily lives.” As a salve for social ills, religion was a painkiller for frustration, deprivation, and suffering.’ (Finke and Stark, 2003, p. 2) Though Finke and Stark move this discussion in a somewhat different direction in presenting the new paradigm,12 their description of the general invalidity of the old paradigm is helpful in illustrating the point I’d like to make: Accepting, at least theoretically, the tangibility of the religious experience helps us in creating social theory in religious organisations.

Religious capital and the post-charismatic phase of ISKCON

Prabhupāda was clearly a charismatic leader. Weber defines charisma as ‘a certain quality of an individual personality, by virtue of which he is set apart from ordinary men and treated as endowed with supernatural, superhuman, or at least specifically exceptional powers or qualities. These are such as are not accessible to the ordinary person, but are regarded as of divine origin or as exemplary, and on the basis of them the individual concerned is treated as a leader […] How the quality in question would be ultimately judged from an ethical, aesthetic, or other such point of view is naturally indifferent for the purpose of definition.’ (Weber, 1947)

Weber wrote about the post-charismatic leadership era as the routinisation of charisma, which is accompanied by bureaucratisation. ISKCON’s history fits well into Weber’s theory. The gap between Prabhupāda and his successor gurus in terms of spirituality, scriptural knowledge, maturity, and even worldly wisdom was incalculable. Subsequent gurus unsuccessfully imitated Prabhupāda’s charisma. The reaction to that failure (that such a failure was inevitable was clear to many early on in the era after Prabhupāda’s death) was a gradually increasing display of timid leadership accompanied by increased bureaucracy.

Another perhaps less predictable increase in bureaucracy came as a result of ISKCON actually expanding considerably after Prabhupāda’s death. There were just over one hundred temples in 1977; there are over five hundred temples and centres today. But this growth may have had a detrimental effect on religious capital. Leaders, whose integrity was already in question, were simply spread too thin; they found it difficult to maintain warm, personal relationships – an essential factor in increasing ISKCON members’ religious capital. This vacuum, the Weberian bureaucratisation13 that follows after the death of a charismatic leader, and the bureaucratisation needed to manage a far larger and more widespread movement combined to create in many members’ experience a shortage of religious capital. ISKCON members began to look elsewhere. Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja fulfilled the need felt by some for charismatic leadership. He was elderly, Indian, and learned. The IRM adopted the person they considered the best of charismatic leaders, Prabhupāda. For them it was blasphemous to think that Prabhupāda had just ‘passed away’; rather, he was ever-present in his teachings and was still giving initiation through his ṛtviks. ISKCON’s post-charismatic era left itself vulnerable to the birth of schisms.

Benefits of schisms to ISKCON

ISKCON’s disintegrating monopoly on Vaiṣṇavism in the West has had, and should continue to have, a counterintuitive result. We generally think that schisms cause the downfall of a movement. ‘Factionalism is considered a result of poor internal conflict management and a source of organisational decline.’ (Blaser, p. 208) I agree that ISKCON’s splinter groups could draw vitality from ISKCON, but I suspect that their flourishing will ultimately benefit ISKCON. Undoubtedly schisms cause pain. Old friends stop talking to one another; finances and manpower, once united in a common cause, become polarised and, in the end, are often used less effectively.

In the long run, however, there are a number of significant benefits for ISKCON in this newly created competition. ISKCON had become complacent, thinking itself the only link to Kṛṣṇa consciousness outside India. Competition has forced ISKCON leaders to look at issues like caring for devotees and satisfying their needs (religious capital) so that they will not look outside ISKCON for their spiritual fulfilment. These needs are mainly spiritual in nature, and it was a bruise to the ISKCON ego when followers who had defected to groups outside of ISKCON stated that they were now getting more spiritual satisfaction than they had felt in ISKCON, with its corporate structure and falling gurus. Prior to these major schisms, the ISKCON culture implied that it was a fortunate soul who was able to be an ISKCON member and serve Prabhupāda’s mission in ISKCON. While ISKCON devotees still feel this way, the arrogance of yesterday has diminished. Now ISKCON has to make itself attractive and serve its members, for there are many directions in which the disillusioned can now travel.

The other benefit ISKCON derives from these schisms is that they have tended to help the ISKCON organisation and leadership on their journey toward humility. Having a monopoly and showing signs of pride were not a good combination. The impetus to improve and serve waned. Complacency set in. Subordinates described the leaders as living in ivory towers, disconnected from the lesser devotees and the congregation. The schisms forced ISKCON’s leaders to take note of their members and their relationship with them. They began to recognise the hurt that they had caused by their neglect, and they are now taking steps to repair it. Here are three examples of their attempts at repair:

1 A federal class-action lawsuit for child abuse was filed by just under one hundred adults who had once been students in ISKCON’s school system. The case was dismissed, and a Texas case was filed in its place. Instead of contesting the case, ISKCON worked out a plan with the bankruptcy court in which not only those who joined the lawsuit would receive financial compensation but so would all those who responded to the call ISKCON sent out around the world to find any other students who had been mistreated (many of these students did not want to sue ISKCON and had not joined the lawsuit). Over five hundred claimants were found and are now receiving funds.

2. In 2000, the GBC passed a resolution apologising to ISKCON’s women for the mistreatment they experienced in the movement.

3. In 1990, the GBC issued a general apology to all ISKCON members for mistakes made regarding the guru succession issue.

The ISKCON experience shows that schisms can have positive effects on a parent organisation in terms of healthy competition and humility. These positive effects are easily overlooked when too much conflict-borne negativity surrounds a schism’s advent.

Reconciliation attempts

ISKCON has made attempts to improve relations. In September 2007, ISKCON leaders entered into an informal dialogue with one of the schism groups, with the hope of improving understanding and maintaining open communication. Such attempts have a precedent. Just prior to his passing away, Prabhupāda established the Bhaktivedanta Swami Charity Trust. One of the purposes of the trust was to ‘promote unity and cooperation within the Sarasvata¹⁴ family’. (Back To Godhead, 1996) The trust renovated temples managed by Prabhupāda’s godbrothers. A plaque on one such temple reads:

Renovation of the Śrī Saraswata Gauḍīya Maṭha has been done as an expression of love by His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda to his dear God Brother His Divine Grace Tridaṇḍi Swami B. S. Śānta Mahārāja by the Bhaktivedanta Swami Charity Trust in 436 Chaitanya Era – 1981 AD

Recently ISKCON leaders, through a GBC-authorised group called the Vaiṣṇava Community Relations Committee, have begun informal dialogues with schism groups in the hope of improving understanding and maintaining open communication.

Such dialogues will not solve all the issues ISKCON faces in terms of schisms, but they could help relieve some animosity between schismatics and the parent organisation. It seems to me that ISKCON will be dealing continually with schisms – either now or in the future – and will have to walk a fine line between maintaining what it considers fidelity to Prabhupāda and correct theology on the one hand, and minimising acrimonious relations on the other.

Bibliography

A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda. Śrī Īśopaniṣad. Bombay: Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1969.

——Letters from Śrīla Prabhupāda. Los Angeles: Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1987.

Akshaya Patra Foundation. Retrieved 15 March 2006, from www.akhsayapatra.com.

Back to Godhead: The Magazine of the Hare Krishna Movement. Every Town and Village, Los Angeles: Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, 1996.

Blaser, D. B. ‘The Impact of Environmental Factors on Factionalism and Schism in Social Movement Organizations’ in Social Forces, September 1997, 76(1):199–228.

B.V. Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja. My Siksa Guru and Priya Bandhu (My Instructing Spiritual Master and Dearmost Friend). Vṛndāvana, India: Gauḍīya Vedānta Publications, 1999.

Docherty, J. S. Learning Lessons from Waco. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2001.

Docherty, J.S. (2007). ‘The Unstated Models in Our Mind’ in Schneider, A.K., Honeyman, C. (Eds.), The Negotiator’s Fieldbook (pp. 7–16). Washington DC: American Bar Association.

Durkheim, E. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. New York: The Free Press, 1954.

Finke, R., & Stark, R. Acts of Faith: Explaining the Human Side of Religion. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000.

Finke, R. ‘Spiritual Capital: Definitions, Applications, and New Frontiers’ Prepared for the Spiritual Capital Planning Meeting. State College: Penn State University, October 10–11, 2003.

Finke, R., & Stark, R. ‘The Dynamics of Religious Economies’ in Handbook of the Sociology of Religion. Dillon, M., (Ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003.

GBC Society of West Bengal. Minutes of 1999 Annual General Meeting. Resolution 301

Jayādvaita Swami. ‘Where the Ṛtviks are Right’ 1996.

Parker, J., Mars, L., Ransome, P., & Stanworth, H. Social Theory: A Basic Tool Kit. Hampshire: Palgrave, 2003.

Robbins, T. ‘Church, State, Cult’ in Sociological Analysis, 42, 209–26, 1981.

Rochford, B. E. Jr., Hare Krishna Transformed, Forthcoming. New York: New York University Press. 2007.

——Prabhupāda Centennial Survey: Final Report, 1996.

——‘Factionalism, Group Defection, and Schism in the Hare Krishna Movement’ in Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion.1989, 28 (2) 162–179.

——‘Book Review: Hare Krishna Character Type: A Study in Sensate Personality’ in Sociological Analysis, 50 Sum 1989, p 194–5.

Squarcini, F. ‘In search of identity within the Hare Krishna movement: Memory, oblivion and thought style’ in Social Compass, 2000 Jun 47 (2) 253–71.

Tubeville, G. ‘Religious Schism in the Methodist Church: A Sociological Analysis of the Pine Grove Case’ in Rural Sociology. 14.1, p. 30, 1949.

Weber, M. Theory of Social and Economic Organization. Chapter: The Nature of Charismatic Authority and its Routinization translated by Anderson, A.R., & Parsons, T. 1947.

Notes

1. For simplicity’s sake I use the term ‘schism’ here to refer to any group of devotees who left the ISKCON organisation and whose membership was or is comprised mainly of ex-ISKCON devotees.

2. Interestingly, a number of Siddha Svarūpa’s attitudes are now shared by mainstream ISKCON.

3. ‘Kirtan’ refers to congregational singing of Kṛṣṇa’s name.

4. Gauḍīya refers to a line of Kṛṣṇa worship that originated in Bengal 500 years ago.

5. Here ‘maṭha’ refers to a Vaiṣṇava mission led mainly by renunciants. There are many maṭhas that comprise the ‘Gauḍīya Maṭha’. Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja is the leader of just one of those maṭhas, but he has had the greatest impact on ISKCON.

6. During the ‘guru reform’ efforts of 1987 and 1999, ISKCON passed laws to minimise the amount of veneration offered to ISKCON gurus.

7. This is an unusual suggestion from the viewpoint of the Vaiṣṇava tradition. In the Bhagavad-gītā (4.2) Kṛṣṇa discusses the paramparā system, which indicates that the tradition is handed down from one guru to another in succession. Supporters of the ṛtvik concept, however, say it is not beyond the scope of Prabhupāda’s willingness to reframe or rethink Vaiṣṇava traditions in a Western context, since his whole style of presenting Kṛṣṇa consciousness to a Western audience was innovative.

8. Literally, ‘an inexhaustible vessel’.

9. Traditionally, the system has been to have one guru per institution (maṭha). It is an autocratic system. The idea of a GBC deciding matters by vote was first envisioned by Prabhupāda’s guru and was later established by Prabhupāda in ISKCON.

10. Stark and Finke give the counterexample of the Mormons, whose success can be traced to their ability to say ‘We are also Christians’. This makes conversion easier. Yet the fact that they have distinctive texts, revelations, and prophets makes their religious capital unique and not easily transferred back to other Christian denominations.

11. 1996 was the one-hundredth anniversary of Prabhupāda’s birth.

12. Their point in summary: the new paradigm says that plurality of religious choice, urbanisation, and modernity have not weakened religious commitment as earlier scholars predicted it would; rather, the competition created by plurality has increased religious belief.

13. A random example of bureaucratisation: The minutes from the annual GBC meeting in 1991 are six times longer than the minutes from 1975.

14. ‘Sarasvata’ refers to Prabhupāda’s guru, Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura.