Krishnamurti’s reflections on suffering and conflict begin with a radical examination of the mind itself. He distinguishes between the fact of physical pain and the field of psychological suffering—fear, loneliness, grief, anxiety—which is sustained by thought and by resistance to “what is.” At the heart of this suffering lies the constructed psychological “self,” a bundle of memories, images, beliefs, and attachments that seeks security and continuity. This “me,” set over against “you” and “the world,” generates inner division and outward conflict, and its constant movement—seeking pleasure, avoiding pain, pursuing ideals—creates a state of ongoing tension. The mind’s tendency to escape through fantasies, beliefs, and ideologies only perpetuates this turmoil.

For Krishnamurti, the same structure of division that operates inwardly also manifests outwardly in social and collective forms. Nationalism, religious identity, ideological systems, and personal ambition are seen as extensions of the self’s need to define and protect itself, thereby deepening separation and conflict. Comparison and competition, along with the drive to become something other than what one actually is, maintain a subtle but relentless war within consciousness. External conflict thus mirrors inner fragmentation; attempts to reform society without a transformation of the individual mind remain superficial. Traditional solutions, whether religious, political, or psychological, are limited because they arise from the very consciousness that is itself conditioned and conflicted.

Against this background, Krishnamurti proposes not a method or gradual path, but a different quality of attention. He speaks of choiceless awareness: a direct, non-judgmental observation of thoughts, emotions, and reactions, without suppression, justification, or the effort to change them according to an ideal. In such observation, the usual division between observer and observed begins to dissolve; the mind sees its own movement without interference. This direct perception is free of the filters of past conditioning and future projection, and it brings an immediate insight into how suffering is created and sustained. Insight, rather than willpower, discipline, or control, is what allows psychological time—the constant movement between past regrets and future anxieties—to fall away.

When this insight operates, the self-centered activity of thought loses its dominance, and with it the patterns of fear, attachment, and conflict begin to end. Krishnamurti describes the arising of a quality of mind that is no longer driven by becoming or by the search for security in images and beliefs. In that state, there is a natural intelligence that acts without inner contradiction, and relationship is no longer based on demand, fear, or dependence. What remains is often spoken of as love or compassion—not as sentiment or attachment, but as a clarity of perception that does not divide. From such a mind, both suffering and conflict, inward and outward, are fundamentally transformed.