I was a romantic teenager, deeply upset by the end of a love affair. I wanted help and I thought that L. Ron Hubbard could provide that help. A year before, a Zen teacher had warned me to join only groups where all the members had something I wanted. The people I met at the Scientology “Mission” all seemed unusually cheerful. They were confident and positive about life. Qualities I sorely needed. I had met Moonies, Hare Krishnas, and Children of God, but Scientologists had an easy cheerfulness, not the hysterical euphoria I had seen in these “cult” converts.
Within a few weeks, I moved into the house where most of the Mission staff lived. I asked my Scientologist room-mate if he had any pet-hates. He smiled broadly and said, “Only wogs.” I was startled, and launched into a defense of dark-skinned people. He laughed, and explained that “wog” was a Hubbardism for all “non-Scientologists.” This gave me pause for thought, but I dismissed it as an unfortunate turn of phrase. I thought that Hubbard probably did not realize how racially offensive the term is in Great Britain.
I became intrigued by the many claims Hubbard had made about himself. In the 1930s he had been an explorer. A trained nuclear physicist, he had applied the rigorous precision of Western science to the profound philosophy of the East, which he had encountered at first hand in his teens in China, Tibet and India. One of Freud’s disciples had trained him in psycho-analysis. During the Second World War Hubbard had distinguished himself as a squadron commander in the US Navy, sinking U-boats and receiving no less than 27 medals and awards.2The end of the war found him in a military hospital, “crippled and blinded.”3Applying scientific method to Eastern philosophy, and marrying the results with Freudian analysis, Hubbard claimed to have cured himself completely. Out of this miracle cure came Dianetics. Because of his experience of “man’s inhumanity to man”4in the war, he had continued his research and brought Scientology into being.
The young woman who ran the Scientology Mission was attractive, intelligent, and bubbling with enthusiasm. She was a “Clear,” having “erased” her Reactive Mind, and seemed living proof of the efficacy of the system. The five Mission staff members generated a friendly atmosphere. They listened to whatever I had to say and steered me towards a more optimistic state of mind. I was convinced that they were genuinely interested in my well-being, and found their positive attitude very helpful.
Scientology Organizations are eager to make new converts, and all Scientologists who are not Organization staff members are designated “Field Staff Members,” or FSMs, and are expected to recruit new people. Desperately wanting to help, I became a full-time FSM. Before I really knew anything about Scientology, I was recruiting everyone I could. I did “body-routing” from the street, which is to say “routing” people’s “bodies” into the Mission.
I was “drilled” step by step, by an experienced Scientologist. Pretending to be a member of the public, the coach dreamed up situations. If I made a mistake the coach would say “flunk,” and the mistake would be explained. Then the coach would repeat the phrase and the gestures I had mishandled. Through the drills I was meant to become confident in real life situations. The drills often took strange turns. One coach asked if I wanted to “screw” her. I was flunked for not simply excusing myself. She explained that we were not trying to interest prostitutes in Scientology. Homosexuals, Communists, journalists and the mentally deranged were not to be approached either. Scientology’s goal was to “make the able more able.”
I would introduce myself to someone on the street as if I was conducting a survey. I would ask “What would you most like to be?,” then “most like to do?,” then “have?.” The questions were purely a device to start people talking. As soon as they did, I would slip into Hubbard’s “Dissemination drill”5by saying I was a Scientologist, and dealing with any negative response by attacking the person’s source of information. If someone said, “Didn’t the Australians ban Scientology?” I would say, “Where did you hear that?” They would almost inevitably say, “In the newspapers.” This could often be dismissed with “Well, you can’t believe anythingyou read in the papers,” diverting attention from the complaint. It sounds remarkable, but many people would agree, and abandon their criticism. This trained tactic underlies Scientology’s self-defense: divert the critic, attack the source not the information.
Next, I was told to direct the person to their “ruin”; whatever they thought was ruining their life.