# The Lotus and the Robot By Arthur Koestler **URL:** **By** Eric Mack **Published:** June 1, 1974 --- “During 1958-59 Arthur Koestler journeyed to India and Japan to determine whether the doctrines or religions of these countries offered viable alternatives to, or supplements for, elements within Western culture.” During 1958-59 Arthur Koestler journeyed to India and Japan to determine whether the doctrines or religions of these countries offered viable alternatives to, or supplements for, elements within Western culture. Koestler never explains just what he takes the malaise of the West to be. But that is not his concern in _The Lotus and the Robot_. His concern is his search, and the failure of his search, for wisdom in the East. Koestler’s work does not deal with all the myriad views that are important in Indian, Chinese, and Japanese culture and history. He focuses, instead, on the two phenomena most often offered to Westerners as radical alternatives to their own heritage, namely, Hinduism and Zen Buddhism. Koestler’s work is neither a bloodless dissection nor a historical account of these doctrines—religions—ways of being. It is an attempt—a successful one—to get at the fundamental sense and point, if any, of these doctrines—religions—ways of being. Koestler talks with the practitioners, both humble and exalted. He shows the cultural setting and the character of Hindu and Zen practice. He takes us into the world he is investigating. It is this feature of Koestler’s study that accounts for the book’s similarity to a science fiction novel which presents to us distant and alien worlds. Since Koestler’s study is primarily a presentation and not an argument, one cannot give a summary or outline of it. One can only report on some of the scenes in this presentation and some of Koestler’s probing and accurate commentary. Koestler takes us on visits to four contemporary Indian saints of whom my favorites are Krishna Menon Atmananda and Anandamayee Ma. The former is a particularly silly (but very serious) expositor of the traditional Vedantist view that all is Consciousness or Real Self, all else (what else?) is illusion (and not Real Self?), salvation from illusion and suffering consists in realization of Consciousness, which realization is identical with the destruction of consciousness. Koestler gives amusing accounts of his contacts and discussions with Krishna Menon. Anandamayee Ma is, perhaps—none of Koestler’s Indian informants were very clear about this—God, of The Enlightened, or simply Mother. It is difficult to tell, as is indicated by one of the Indian’s chief theologians: “What is really needed is to feel that She is Mother and we are Her children and that as mere children we cannot be expected to know Her as She is but only as She shows Herself to us in response to our cravings.” One of the cravings which Anandamayee Ma satisfied was the craving of one of her disciples to be allowed to lick the pus off a wound on her foot. Koestler also presents us with Yoga practice and theory and current Indian “scientific” research into Yoga phenomena. His discussion of “samadhi” the goal of Yoga practice and the chosen goal of Hinduism is superb: > The dreamless, trance-sleep of samadhi is a homage to Tanatos, an exercise in death while preparing for the “final samadhi”.... The ultimate meaning of Yoga practice is the systematic conditioning of the body to conniving in its own destruction... through the temporary suspension of consciousness, to the ultimate step. The second, and equally good, portion of _The Lotus and the Robot_ brings Koestler to Japan and the study of Zen. Here Koestler’s thesis is more complete. He presents a convincing case for seeing the Zen advocacy of pre-rationalism, total spontaneity, and mindless abandonment to It (do not ask what It) as the counterpoise to the rigidity, predictability, orderliness, and repression of a fundamentally Confucian culture. Koestler draws his evidence for this thesis about the traditional function of Zen from a survey of Japanese manners, culture, art, and psychotherapy. His main evaluative thesis is that a method for relieving the strain and psycho-pressure which Koestler dubs “the confucian syndrome” has mistaken itself for a profound philosophy—a philosophy so deep that it cannot be expressed discussively, but can only be intimated in parables and nonsensical anecdotes. But the real reason for Zen’s inexpressability is not its depth, but its emptiness. Koestler’s extensive discussions of Zen Buddhist training, education, and self-delusion are masterful, as is his development of the implications of a wholly socially-oriented “shame” ethic (i.e., the Confucian ethic). _The Lotus and the Robot_ is a beautifully written book—clear, open, and incisive. It is a remarkable work of (selective) cultural anthropology. _Reviewed by Eric Mack / Philosophy (285 Pages) / BFL Price $2.25_