A new school
Krishnamurti met with some trustees of the Krishnamurti Foundation America and other friends in Malibu in 1974 to discuss starting a school in Ojai. He continued these conversations with parents, trustees, and prospective teachers in 1975. The two volumes of the book, Unconditioning and Education, present these remarkable dialogues, which led to the opening of Oak Grove School in 1976. Krishnamurti's vision of education is expressed in a statement about the intent of Oak Grove School, of which the concluding paragraph states: "The whole movement of inquiry into knowledge, into oneself, into the possibility of something beyond knowledge, brings about naturally a psychological revolution, and from this comes, inevitably, a totally different order in human relationships, which is society. The intelligent understanding of all this can bring about a profound change in the consciousness of mankind." — Krishnamurti
Nothing is more reflective of a society than the education of its newest members. Naturally, this is where the discussions start—how can education bring about this psychological revolution, a new mind? Education in ancient societies meant something quite different than how we usually think of it in our modern perspective. Many ancient societies were greatly concerned with cultivating the whole child. As Krishnamurti is keen to point out, our word 'school' comes from the Greek word meaning 'leisure'.
Freedom from conflict and authority
While invoking the ancient conception of education, Krishnamurti enquires into whether it is possible to cultivate a new mind. This new mind is something humanity seeks, regardless of society or cultural background. For Krishnamurti, this implies being free of conflict: "From childhood, until we die, we have perpetual conflict: wanting, not wanting, being punished, being rewarded, trying to be something, trying not to be something—this perpetual struggle. Out of that comes our violence. And therefore, no love, no affection, no consideration." (p. 158)
This conflict creates disorder; in this state of disorder, we are hurt; we suffer as individuals and as a collective society. This disorder manifests itself as violence, whether that be against others or ourselves. In our pain, which emanates from our fundamental insecurity, we find refuge in various authorities. As Krishnamurti points out, "…because I am disorderly, confused, and you seem to be orderly, therefore I respect you. I create out of my disorder the authority…" (p. 56). Additionally, our relationship with authority is complicated by function and status. Authority in function is quite necessary; those who know more about carpentry or architecture must lead construction projects. However, "…when out of that function you create a status, the status becomes the authority, not function…" (p. 57). The greatest degenerative quality of authority is when through ignorance, it applies to our own inner spiritual or psychological sphere.
Krishnamurti demonstrates the fundamental tension between self-understanding and authority: "…is there anyone who can teach you about inner knowledge? Only when there is no authority will you learn about yourself… Therefore, I say, authority has its place as knowledge, but there is no spiritual authority under any circumstances." (p. 95)
As Krishnamurti asserts early on in these discussions, "without order, there is no security. The brain can function only when it has complete security. It may seek that security in neurotic habits, neurotic ideas and so on, but it must have order, which is security." (p. 25)
The arts of listening, seeing and observing
Realizing authority's degenerative quality on the psyche, how can a school, with educators and students, be free of this? Krishnamurti says there must be, "…great watchfulness, awareness of oneself…" (p. 57) for this security and order to exist. This is where attention comes in, for the word attention, as suggested by its Latin root, attentio, conveys, 'to attend' or 'pay heed'. When posed with this question, Krishnamurti goes into three arts—listening, seeing, and observing.
Krishnamurti suggests, "Let us find out what it means to listen to the birds, to the wind. Begin objectively and then come closer and closer: can you listen to yourself, your thoughts, your attitudes, your opinions, your like(s) and dislike(s), the whole of that?" (p. 155). The art of listening means not accepting, and not denying, and listening to your prejudices, listening to your judgments. "It is very difficult to see the proportions of the room, the colour of the walls without bringing your prejudices in; just to see the height, the depth of the room, the colours of the books; just to look, not saying you like or do not like. Just to see! … Not only what it means to see objectively, but what it means to see inwardly."
Attention and concentration
Going further into these arts, one learns the difference between attention and concentration. Concentration implies giving your energy to a particular thing, to centre upon something. Whatever the subject, concentration is there, whether grammar and spelling or a mathematical problem. But in attention, there is no centre, but a wide-awake awareness of all that is around and within. By incorporating the arts of listening, seeing, and observing, which are exercises in attention, alongside the traditional academic subjects which require concentration, the student begins to have a sense of the whole movement.
The distinction between attention and concentration parallels a debate that has rung through the ages: What is more important, the outer or the inner? In speaking about this, Krishnamurti uses the example of the commissar and the yogi. The commissar excludes the inner world in favour of the external; conversely, the yogi excludes the external world in favour of the internal. Krishnamurti says, "…we are saying that it is a total movement, that the outer and the inner is one unitary movement. It is like the tide going out and coming in." (p. 19) In this way, the student begins to see, not in a conceptual way, but through insight, the non-fragmentary nature of life.
Observing without the observer
When we examine these three arts that Krishnamurti proposes, we see that each relies on using a perceptive faculty without analysis. In many of his talks, he asks the attendees if they can listen or look at something without naming it, without the network of memory arising. He asks, "When you see a statue, there is a distance between that object and the observer. The observer who sees through the eyes— vision, light, reflection. Now, is there observation in which the observer is the observed?" (p. 155). He further says, "It matters enormously how you observe; whether you can observe yourself without the observer. That means there is no division between the observer and the observed. Then that means no conflict." (p. 157).
Putting knowledge in its right place
In one of the dialogues from this collection, an educator expresses: "I experience the problem as a dichotomy. I experience a division when I am guiding students, trying to lead them towards searching for themselves when I need to disseminate knowledge. To achieve the confluence of those two is what I am searching for. How does one do that?"
To this question, Krishnamurti responds: "The dichotomy is the division between using knowledge and being free from knowledge. The meaning of the word 'art' is to put everything in life in its right place… Learn the place of knowledge and learn the freedom from that, then there is no dichotomy, there is no division." (p. 87)
Can there be an atmosphere of responsibility?
Krishnamurti frequently asks whether in this new school an atmosphere of responsibility can be present. There seems to be a major hurdle here: how do you instill this sense of responsibility without reward and punishment? If such an atmosphere can be created, perhaps then and only then, can there be a radical transformation in consciousness, so that from the earliest ages of children there is not a deep reinforcement of being motivated out of the narrowness of self-interest which dominates our world. This feeling of responsibility is then not a choice, for if it were a choice, it would still be within the realm of desire, punishment, and reward.
Choice and conflict
Krishnamurti highlights this, when he asks, "When do I choose? When I am confused. When I am clear, I do not choose." (p. 73) In discussing the purpose of education in the context of this new school, Krishnamurti said, "I would help my students to find out how to live without conflict because to live without conflict is the most marvellous thing on earth. It means no division in oneself, no contradiction in oneself." (p. 156).
Socrates and Krishnamurti: Some parallels?
In Plato's dialogue Protagoras, Socrates claims, "No one goes willingly toward the bad." According to Socrates, a person never chooses to act poorly or against his better judgment; therefore, actions that go against what is best are simply a product of ignorance of what is good. I believe there is a connection between what Krishnamurti points out with his notion of 'cessation of choice' and Socrates' denial of akrasia, the Greek word that more literally can be translated as 'lacking command'. The importance of this connection is to highlight the divisive nature of choice as it relates to desire. When Krishnamurti says there is no choice without conflict, which is division and thus illusory, my understanding is that Socrates would say there is no akrasia (failure of the will).
The elusive quality of what is
Now you may be thinking about how Krishnamurti often asks his audience whether they, "have the energy to go into all this?" The suggestion is that while many people suspect the illusory nature (ignorance) of their inward and outward securities, they do not pursue 'what is', as doing so will leave them without the security the human mind insists on having.
Bringing about a psychological revolution
This is all to say that in 'intelligence' (what Socrates might call 'virtue'), there is no choice. Krishnamurti often employs examples of immediate action to express what he means, and these examples often include the metaphor of a 'house that is on fire'. As Krishnamurti says, "Can the mind, which sees conflict, have a direct insight into it and see the danger of it? When you see something so tremendously, you end it, it is finished. When you see the actual danger of it, it is finished." (p. 53).
An atmosphere of responsibility may be cultivated through holistically examining the distinction between attention and concentration. Attention is the great work both educators and students do together. It relates not only to subject material (which demands concentration) but centres primarily on ourselves. Perhaps it is in engaging in these processes that an atmosphere of responsibility can be cultivated both in educator and student. And this is what will "bring about naturally a psychological revolution, and from this, inevitably, a totally different order in human relationships, which is society."