Wake up. You are asleep. You cannot perceive reality, as you trapped within your own subjectivity, a mere automaton of the senses, a machine. Only by practicing "the Work” will you able to transcend these limitations of consciousness and awaken. So declared the perplexing, enigmatic Greek-Armenian G.I. Gurdjieff (1873-1949), who, while alternatively described as a charlatan, megalomaniac, Oriental rug salesman, remains among the most important – and controversial – spiritual leaders of the West in the 20th century. In this new biography, which amends earlier biographies with its thorough use of contemporary sources, Tobias Churton, scholar and author of Aleister Crowley: The Beast in Berlin and Occult Paris, takes on this difficult subject, arguing that, for all their occult and esoteric roots, Gurdjieff’s ideas largely represent a patchwork of Gnosticism and reconstituted Masonry. Such a bold claim, while not exactly novel, is certain to rankle Gurdjieff’s followers and admirers, though any book with a title that purposefully foregrounds “deconstructing,” with all its concomitant intimations of exposing flaws or inconsistencies, should be a major red flag for those who question the accuracy of the historical record.
In fact, despite Churton’s best efforts at deciphering what is extant, solid historical evidence remains in short supply. Thus, Deconstructing Gurdjieff, like all preceding Gurdjieff biographies, depends a great deal on interpretation and speculation. For example, not much is known of Gurdjieff’s childhood and background; to date most of the information concerning Gurdjieff’s early years is provided by Gurdjieff himself, and given his tendency toward self-mythologizing, the veracity of this account remains questionable. Raised in the multi-ethnic, religiously syncretic Turkish region of Kars, Gurdjieff was introduced to a number of different cultures and religious ideologies, in particular that of the Kurdish-speaking Yazidis, whose beliefs are comprised of a unique mélange of Zoroastrianism, Christian, Islam, and Judaism. Because of this variety of influences, Gurdjieff came to question dogmatic belief systems, be they religious or scientific. Gurdjieff later claimed that his education involved travels to far-flung regions of the East, including Tibet, India, Egypt, Iran, and Rome, where he encountered “seekers of truth,” namely dervishes, fakirs, and the remnants of the long extinct tribe of Essenes in a Sarmoung monastery. His account of these alleged travels, Meetings with Remarkable Men (1927; published 1963) – complete with a map of an ancient “pre-sand” Egypt – is considered by most scholars to be largely a work of fiction.
Returning to Moscow in 1912, Gurdjieff began to collect the first of his many students, many of whom leaned toward the intellectual, and artistic. Gurdjieff himself exhibited artistic tendencies, particularly toward music, literature, and dance – though he viewed art as a means of achieving truth, and not in possession of truth value in and of itself – composing an allegorical ballet, an "accurate picture of Oriental magic" set in India, entitled The Struggle of the Magicians (1914-1919), which interestingly enough, anticipated his later philosophical texts. An advertisement for the “Hindu”-authored ballet, published in the St. Petersburg paper The Voice of Moscow, attracted the attention of one of its editors, the philosopher, author, and seeker P.D. Ouspensky, who became Gurdjieff’s most important pupil and collaborator, and later author of In Search of the Miraculous (1949), to date the best and most authoritative introduction to Gurdjieff’s ideas. At Ouspensky’s urging, the decidedly non-dogmatic nor systematic Gurdjieff concretized his complex and eccentric system, couched in language that is alternately scientific and occult.
According to Gurdjieff, a human has three different “centers,” consisting of the mind, body, and emotions. Accordingly, each of these centers is cultivated to the detriment of the others, resulting in an imbalance. The three paths to spiritual enlightenment, those of the monk, yogi, and fakir, demanded that the practitioner reject modern life. Gurdjieff’s (or rather Ouspensky's) system, “the Fourth Way,” allowed seekers of spiritual enlightenment to do so without abandoning their 20th century lifestyles. As a correction to deficiencies and imbalances, Gurdjieff’s discipline, called “the Work,” would exercise each of the three centers to create balance and to awaken one from the sleep that resulted from the limitations they imposed.
This system held more appeal for the decidedly intellectual Ouspensky and his disagreement with Gurdjieff over its importance to “the Work” contributed to their eventual split. Ouspensky began his own group, utilizing the “Fourth Way” as its basis, while Gurdjieff’s own philosophy and teachings – in 1921 he established the Institute for the Harmonious Development of Man near Paris – absent the rationalizing influence of Ouspensky, tended toward the extreme. Gurdjieff’s method involved conscious attention to the self, which often depended on physical activity, be it labor or dance. He collaborated with composer Thomas de Hartmann, producing music for a variety of sacred dances, called “movements,” which were intended to increase awareness of the interconnectedness of the three centers. He instituted “stop” exercises wherein students were instructed to physically freeze in place, with the goal of perceiving one’s inner state at that moment. Like a Zen master, Gurdjieff often berated his students, alternating kindnesses and cruelties, attention and ignorance, and so on, in order, he claimed, to keep them from regressing into habits of mind, i.e. a “waking sleep,” a similar desired outcome in Zen Buddhism.
In this sense, and coupled with his grandiosity, demands for obedience, rigidity, aloofness, and charm, Gurdjieff arguably exhibited qualities often associated with cult leaders. Deeply charismatic, he attracted many intellectually gifted followers during his lifetime, including Ouspensky, de Hartmann, Jane Heap, Jeanne de Salzmann, Maurice Nicoll, John G. Bennet, and A.R. Orage. As a result, the Gurdjieffian literature, consisting of lectures, essays, book-length manuscripts, exegesis, and memoirs, is considerable, and the wide-ranging influence of “the Work” – the result, Churton contends, of its being rather syncretic and vaguely defined – has in many ways legitimized its practice. Gurdjieff’s emphasis on stoic introspection and self-examination appealed to Western students during the 20th century, a period when Eastern and ancient philosophies began to be introduced and reintroduced in popular culture. Moreover, his borrowings from occult literature, esotericism, Vedism, and Pythagoreanism – particularly in his enneagram (pictured on the cover to Churton’s book) and Gurdjieff’s belief in a harmonious, vibratory structure to the universe – hold a similar appeal.
Following a car accident in 1924 and resulting intimations of mortality, Gurdjieff began work in earnest on his own contribution to the literature, beginning with a privately printed The Herald of the Coming Good (1933), which outlined what was to be his magnum opus, the intentionally grandiosely entitled All and Everything, the first part of which was the 1,238 page, deliberately obscure Beelzebub’s Tales to His Grandson (composed 1924-1927; not published until 1950), among the strangest and most dense works of 20th century occult literature – written in such a way, Gurdjieff explained, as to demand the reader’s attention. Subtitled An Objectively Impartial Criticism of the Life of Man, the “novel” consists of the philosophical reflections on the history of the human race by an extraterrestrial known as "Beelzebub" to his grandson, recounting during a long return journey to their home planet. From 1927 to 1935, Gurdjieff completed the second and third parts of All and Everything, Meetings with Remarkable Men and Life is Real Only Then, When 'I Am' (1974), though all of these works would be published posthumously in versions edited and translated by his followers. For Churton, these works are “filled with pseudo-objectivity... and arch pretentiousness” and, unsurprisingly, are not to be trusted as sources of autobiography. Instead, he argues, their ultimate value lies in what they can tell us about Gurdjieff as a personality, a teacher, and thinker.
Indeed, Churton’s principal intention with this biography appears to be a simple interrogation of Gurdjieff’s ideas and practices, with the overarching aim of reducing Gurdjieffian thought and the appeal of “the Work” to a cult of personality and mere manipulation. To that end, Churton is at pains to attach these undeniably esoteric writings as deriving principally from Masonic sources; indeed, Churton argues that the “seekers of truth” mentioned in Meetings may in fact be a Masonic Lodge and his three centers has its basis in the Masonic “rule of three.” Given Gurdjieff’s inclusiveness, such derivations, however unlikely, are not outside the realm of possibility. Gurdjieff, for his part, long maintained only generalized derivations from ancient philosophy, primarily Sufism and Yezidism. In many ways, Gurdjieff both as personality and teacher defies easy categorization demanded by the limitations of biographical narrative, especially the thematically-limited variety engaged in by Churton. There is value here in grappling with the historical record, yet what is most interesting about Gurdjieff is the method, and not the alleged madness. -- Eric Hoffman, Fortean Times