“We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad Gita. Vishnu is trying to persuade the prince that he should do his duty. And to impress him, he takes on his multi-armed form and says: ‘Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’ I suppose we all felt that, one way or another.”
On the anniversary of the Trinity test—the introduction of nuclear weapons into the world—we believe the above full quote from J. Robert Oppenheimer is appropriate. Contrary to popular belief, his invocation of the Gita was not a confession of guilt, nor a simple statement of regret. It was something more complex: an acknowledgment that humanity had crossed a threshold. A moment too immense to be captured by science alone.
J. Robert Oppenheimer, JRO as he is referred to in the family, turned to literature and holy texts not for comfort, but for understanding. These stories—whether from the Gita, the Garden of Eden, Prometheus, or the Christian Trinity—remind us that progress and knowledge always carry moral risk. They all point to a deeper truth: that the divisions we cling to are, in the end, superficial.
JRO believed in science deeply. But he understood that science can explain how something happens—not why. For that, we rely on our consciousness: our sense of connection to each other and to the universe, shaped by our stories, beliefs, values, and experiences.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Arjuna—the warrior prince—hesitates on the battlefield. He sees not enemies but kin, and asks, “Why must I do this? Is it not hopeless?” Vishnu, in the form of Krishna, tells him to act—not out of hatred or vengeance, but out of duty to something greater.
JRO and his fellow scientists of WWII stood in a similar position. They were not Vishnu, cosmic destroyer. They were Arjuna: burdened, uncertain, and called to act. After the war, they did not retreat into silence. JRO, along with many of his colleagues, became outspoken advocates for dialogue, arms control, and international cooperation. Their message was clear: science must serve peace—not destruction.
At the Oppenheimer Project, we carry forward this legacy. We look not only to history and religion but to the scientists’ post-war efforts to steer humanity away from catastrophe. Their work speaks directly to our moment.
Today, our world is still shaped by tribalism and rigid moral absolutism. Each group sees ourselves as righteous, our opponents as dangerous and wrong. Wisdom and traditions teach otherwise—Christianity asks us to forgive; Buddhism teaches us to let go; philosophy and spirituality remind us that our divisions are illusions.
And once again, we face the consequences of ungoverned power. The race to develop artificial intelligence echoes the anxieties of the atomic age. Every actor fears being left behind, and so the pace accelerates. But history teaches us that arms races can’t be won, and that instead they only breed insecurity. Technological advancements will continue, which could bring danger. The best way for us to ensure our safety is through ethical responsibility and a shared understanding of our mutual vulnerability to such danger.
The mission of the Oppenheimer Project is to help carry that torch—by charting a new path forward to guide us through today’s moral uncertainty, and to uphold a vision of science in service of humanity. Just as JRO invoked ancient wisdom at a pivotal moment in history, we believe those same sources of meaning can help guide us now.
His words after the war were as prophetic as the Gita itself. We only have to listen—to him, and to the deep wisdom that has always been there. We think we all feel that – one way or another.