1 LOSS OF FAITH FOR FRENCH KRISHNAS Scripps Howard News Service Release date: 7-27-87 Avai

1     LOSS OF FAITH FOR FRENCH KRISHNAS
   Scripps Howard News Service
   Release date: 7-27-87
   Available only to U.S. clients
By ROBIN SMYTH
London Observer Service

   PARIS _ In the 1970s when exotic sects were reaping a rich harvest
of converts in France, the followers of Krishna owned two castles, a
number of other country houses and a vegetarian restaurant in Paris.
   Propagated by an Indian guru, the Krishna cult reached France by
way of the United States in the late 1960s.
   Shaven-headed young monks of various nationalities were to be seen
dancing in Paris streets as they sold expensive copies of their bible,
the Bhagavad-Gita, to passers-by attracted by their message of
non-violence and rural simplicity.
   Today only one run down property, the Chateau d'Oublaisse in the
Indre department of central France, shelters the last 35 believers, some
of them children. With main water and electricity cut off, the sect
faces a $16 million bill from the French tax authorities as well as
claims from unpaid local tradesmen.
   Seeing no way of avoiding disaster, some of the faithful have
slipped away to found new communities. But financial troubles alone
would not have decimated a closeknit body of 300 clergy and laity who
ran their own school so their children would not be corrupted by the
outside world.
   The event which broke the faith of many of the devotees was the
sudden disappearance last summer of their spiritual director, Bhagavan
Das. This young American high priest of the cult renounced the saffron
robe of celibacy to return home and marry his American girlfriend.
   According to leaders of the sect, he took with him $20,000 from
their dwindling funds with a vague promise to give it back one day.
   The Canadian director of the international Krishna cult, Lucien
Dupuis _ religious name Vyshwambhar Das _ who has stepped in to pick up
the pieces says that Bhagavan's desertion in a time of crisis was "an
absolute catastrophe" for the morale of the community.
   He admits that the "gross ngligence" of his predecessors over the
past three years is partly to blame for their present destitution. But
he also accused the French government of hounding them.
   "We are a non-profitmaking religious movement, but the tax
authorities insist on treating us as a commercial enterprise," Dupuis
says.
   The French tax authorities saw no reason to let the Krishna people
get away with a tax-free sale of hundreds of thousands of holy books and
other products of the labors of their flock. A nine year claim for back
taxes put an abrupt end to the reckless spending of the Krishna clan.
   For some years now French public opinion and official policy have
taken a tougher attitude to the new wave of religious sects. Parents
have complained that their children were lured away and then brainwashed
by under-feeding, lack of sleep, repetetively chanted prayers and
promises of spiritual regeneration.
   When a few months ago the Krishna community was forced to sell the
imposing Chateau d'Ermenonville near Paris, local villagers rejoiced.
   When Krishna teachers opened a school for their children at their
Oublaisse, local parliamentarians objected to shaven headed pupils being
subjected to their parents regime of monotonous prayer.
   But ministry of education inspectors found that the Krishna
children's studies were up to standard, and their afternoons, spent
gardening and running in a 176 acre park, did them no harm. They
appeared to thrive on their vegetarian diet. Although they were awakened
at 4 a.m. to pray in the Krishna temple they were in bed by 6 p.m.
   The most persuasive argument of critics of the school was that the
children were completely sealed from any criticism of the beliefs of the
adults around them. They were taught the value of repetetive litanies:
their elders recited the same invocation to Krishna 1,728 times a day.
   Without television, radio or movies, they had no news or pictures
of the outside world that were not served to them by their teachers. The
occasional visits of some of the children to grandparents beyond the
chateau park were more likely to plunge them into strife and
incomprehension than to open new horizons.
   The teachers pointed out that the children are also shielded from
the worst of the modern world _ violence and drugs. And nothing prevents
them, when they are older, from turning their backs on their upbringing.
   But finally loss of faith has hit the cult at a higher level. It
often happens in sects that the rank and file are prepared to undergo
hardship and poverty while their gurus live in luxury. But the charisma
of their leader must never be in doubt.
   The robed Krishna zealots threw themselves face downwards on the
ground when their American spiritual guide first appeared at the chateau
in his BMW. But the way he vanished with _ they say _ the contents of
the safe, opened the eyes of all but the most trusting worshipper.
   The last group of believers hope that when they have sold the
chateau they will be allowed to stay on in the outhouses and continue
growing their vegetables. But their neighbours would not be surprised if
one day they quietly packed their statues and robes and disappeared.

   (Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service.)