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From a mundane perspective, the death of Tamal
Krsna Goswami (Thomas G. Herzig) on 15 March 2002 was a tremendous
loss: to his religious community, the International Society for
Krishna Consciousness, and to the world of scholarship in the academic
study of religion. Goswami, as he wished to be called, both in the
Divinity Faculty and in his College, Clare Hall, in the University
of Cambridge, was my doctoral student. In the UK, there is generally
no panel of doctoral advisers, as in North America. There is a single
supervisor who bears sole responsibility for the candidate's academic
progress. As can be imagined, potentially this makes for a close
academic relationship between supervisor and candidate. So it was
with Goswami and myself. Goswami was coming to the end of three
years' research, and I had the opportunity to know him well.
The prospect of supervising Tamal Krsna Goswami was first raised
with me in April 1997. Professor Lonnie D. Kliever, then Chair of
the Department of Religious Studies at Southern Methodist University,
Dallas, wrote to me, commending Goswami as a prospective candidate.
I had met Professor Kliever at SMU several years earlier, and respected
him as a person and a scholar. Goswami had also come recommended
by Professor Kenneth Cracknell, formerly of Cambridge, England,
but now teaching and residing in Dallas. Kenneth was also someone
I looked up to as a friend and scholar. So I decided to give careful
consideration to Goswami's case. Goswami was a renounced monk who
was approaching middle age. If Cambridge and I were to consider
him seriously, he would have to give evidence of having gone through
several academic hoops of training in the academic study of religion
and other criteria of competence. I was impressed to learn that
even at his age he was resolute and mentally flexible enough to
be succeeding in the appropriate undergraduate course conditions:
a good degree and competence in Sanskrit. In the event, Goswami
gave evidence of meeting both requirements. This was accompanied
by excellent references.
In the half millennium history of the Divinity Faculty at the University
of Cambridge, no student of Goswami's background had been accepted
before. There were understand-able doubts about his preparedness
for a senior research degree. As a renounced monk with pastoral
and teaching responsibilities in an organisation with no track record
at the time of successful doctoral candidates in the academy, would
he be able to do what was needed? These were legitimate questions.
But I considered the evidence and had a personal interview with
Goswami. I decided to take him on, and the Faculty's Degree Committee,
after inspecting the evidence themselves, decided to back my recommendation.
Neither I nor the Faculty ever had reason to regret our decision.
Goswami seemed naturally to slip into the academic groove. Accustomed
to giving guidance from a position of authority, he also had the
ability to place himself with the right attitude at the receiving
end educationally. He accepted guidance with grace and humility,
read voraciously, worked with great intensity to deadlines, and
wrote with clarity and power. His doctoral topic was the 'Krishnaology'
of ISKCON's founder, Swami Prabhupada. His personal knowledge of
Prabhupada's teaching was vast, he was extremely well-informed about
scholarship on the Society, and he had innovative and penetrating
ideas. In my view, he succeeded in researching his subject matter
with integrity, the requisite criticality, and much originality.
When Goswami's life was tragically cut short, his thesis was almost
finished. He placed the last chapter of his dissertation on my desk
before he left for India. We were due to discuss it the week after
his return. It is my intention to seek to publish the thesis in
his name after due formalities have been seen to.
If this can be accomplished, the thesis, I am sure, will be of
great benefit to ISKCON and the scholarly world. In a letter to
me, dated 18 April 1997, before he was accepted to study at Cambridge,
Goswami explained his motivations for seeking a PhD. I quote:
They are:
(1) to explore and understand my own religious tradition by means
of the best canons of critical scholarship;
(2) to become an effective interpreter of my own religious tradition;
(3) to become an informed participant in inter-religious dialogue;
(4) to become a participant in the ongoing efforts to understand
new religious movements within the academy;
(5) to share with my own tradition a broader vision of its place
in history and the wider contribution it can make to the world;
and
(6) to participate in the development of higher education within
my own institution.
Here speaks a man of integrity: integrity with respect to his own
personal commitment, and integrity with respect to his commitment
to critical scholarship. Goswami's thesis succeeds in combining
both. From one point of view, ISKCON is in an important phase of
transition. Unless it meets the present challenge of implementing
Goswami's aims, it will gradually and inevitably sink into a mire
of internal and petty squabbles and lapse into the obscurity of
a minor cult. But if it strives to face the world and meet this
challenge in the way outlined by Goswami, it has every chance of
sturdy and healthy growth and of contributing to the wellbeing of
society at large. Though, as some know, evidence of internecine
disagreements in ISKCON has surfaced, there is also refreshing evidence
of a number of other members working seriously in academia to meet
the objectives outlined by Goswami. Much seems to be at stake. In
stating his aims for accomplishing a doctoral degree, Goswami was
a courageous pioneer and a man of vision, and an inspiration, not
only for his Society but also for the goals of scholarship more
generally. I wish to pay tribute to his dedication, courage and
pioneering scholarship.
Julius Lipner
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