Scientology Showdown
Featured Book
South Park dissed them big time in a memorable episode. You’ve probably had them offer you a free e-meter audit at the mall. And maybe you were even one of those unlucky few who got snookered into watching Battlefield Earth. Yes, Scientology is nutty as hell, but it’s also undeniably fascinating, in the best tradition of American nuttery.
This winter, curious readers have been blessed with the publication of two books on the religion. In Lawrence Wright’s Going Clear, the New Yorker writer and Pulitzer Prize winner offers a comprehensive history of the religion, digging up plenty of dirty secrets in the best tradition of investigative reporting. Beyond Belief, written by Jenna Miscavige Hill — niece of Scientology’s current leader, David Miscavige — is in many ways the opposite: It doesn’t have Wright’s historical breadth, but it does give the personal details of day-to-day life in one of the religion’s most high-profile enclaves that Wright’s book lacks.
While Going Clear is much more hard-hitting than Beyond Belief, both make it clear that Scientology is a frighteningly repressive, conformist institution that has done all sorts of bizarre and nasty things, ranging from the merely immoral to the flagrantly criminal. Just as clear is the fascination that Scientology has held for (possibly) millions of adherents over the years, as well as its undeniable impact on the modern world. You’ll probably be shocked and disgusted after reading these books, but you’ll also come away with an understanding of how Scientology embodies much of the subconsciousness of postwar America, channeling our fascination with science fiction, authoritarianism, and self-help into a religion that represents many of our best and worst tendencies.
Arguably the Most Awful Thing L. Ron Hubbard Did, Out of Many Candidates
By the time you reach the end of Going Clear, you’re likely to think that there’s not a single awful thing that L. Ron Hubbard didn’t do. From adultery to kidnapping, theft, pathological lying and child abuse, it’s all here. It’s hard to choose the single most despicable deed, but this is my pick: With the publication of Dianetics in 1950, Hubbard’s career was finally beginning to take off after a series of failures, and he realized that in order to reach the next level it would be more advantageous if he were not married (at the time he was with his second wife, Sara Northrup Hollister). But he also realized that divorcing his wife would be a bad career move, so he found a simple solution: Hubbard asked Sara to commit suicide to further his career. When Sara, understandably, declined the offer, Hubbard then abducted both her and their child, attempted to have her committed to an insane asylum, and then claimed to the FBI that she was a communist, a serious allegation at the height of the Red Scare. Ultimately, Hubbard was given a divorce due to Sara’s “gross neglect of duty and extreme cruelty.” Point: Going Clear.
Strangest Form of Child Abuse
Miscavige Hill was a church member from age seven, when she was asked to sign its infamous “billion-year contract.” (Since all Scientologists know that we live one lifetime after another, forever, just pledging one lifetime is hardly a sign of dedication.) She details all sorts of acts perpetrated on her by the church as a youngster, from brainwashing to hours of manual labor to being forced to stare for hours at Hubbard’s “policies” written on the wall. Here’s one of the oddest: Miscavige Hill attended one of the church’s schools, where classes featured an OCD-level focus on looking up words. As Hubbard explained, all failure to learn derives from not knowing the meaning of words, so it logically follows that students who are having trouble must look up every single word they don’t know. Because of this, Miscavige Hill and many of her fellow students came to dread school, which was essentially hours of searching through the dictionary that made it impossible for her to actually learn anything. Point: Beyond Belief.
Freakiest Tom Cruise Moment
You knew we couldn’t get through a feature on Scientology without mentioning Tom Cruise, right? As Wright reports in Going Clear, Cruise is an admirably dedicated member, even helping so-called pre-clears take the steps necessary to reach the status of “clear,” a major milestone in one’s progress through the church. Wright explains that on one such occasion, Cruise was unable to get a reading from a pre-clear on the church’s e-meter in order to begin a session. In a sweet-but-unseemly moment of personal generosity, he offered the pre-clear a snack from an array of goodies the church provides its Hollywood elite with. As the pre-clear sat in amazement, Cruise offered up all sorts of treats, not realizing that he had been given special treatment and that normal members of the church subsisted on barely adequate, tasteless offerings. The most bizarre of the special dispensations made for Cruise? The church planted a field of wildflowers in its rural California enclave so that he and then-wife Nicole Kidman could run through them, apparently a long-held fantasy for the couple. Point: Going Clear.
Most Heartbreaking Moment
Miscavige Hill makes being raised by the Scientologists sound like something out of 1984: The kids are encouraged to rat out one another; they get “chits” for minor infractions that quickly add up to draconian punishments (a mere three chits means you have to clean your room well enough to survive a white glove inspection); they are made to endure painfully hot saunas and drink cups of vegetable oil for bizarre health rationale; and their school, named “Chinese school” after Hubbard’s experience with the Chinese, was a not-so-subtle form of brainwashing. As she tells it, Miscavige Hill did her best to endure these trials, but she had it worse than most: Her parents were high-ranking functionaries, which meant that she was separated from them for months at a time, and when they did visit they received whitewashed reports of how she had been treated. This all adds up to the book’s saddest moment, when Miscavige Hill and a friend decided to run away. Trying to escape on tiny legs and with their pockets stuffed full of croissants, they have no chance whatsoever, but that still doesn’t stop the grown-ups from humiliating them by blaming the ruination of a song and dance show on the little girls. Maybe instead of pulling out all the stops to punish them, they might have wondered why the girls felt pushed to such a drastic step. Point: Beyond Belief.
Biggest WTF? Moment
In Scientology no one is too young to work, nor, apparently, is anyone too young to do jobs they’re ridiculously unsuited for. Case in point: As a child, Miscavige Hill was appointed to perform medical duties for her fellow Scientologists. Fortunately, Scientology’s cure for most ailments involves eradicating bad thoughts from one’s system and hiding oneself away behind closed doors, à la the 18th century, so there was only so much damage our young doctor could do. But, as Miscavige Hill points out, had one of her “patients” been seriously ill, there’s a good chance she wouldn’t have realized or would have known what to do. She might have had a death or a lifetime disability on her hands — thank God nothing happened. Point: Beyond Belief.
A Few Final Facts About L. Ron
Lawrence Wright has done his research, and it really shows. Among other revelations, he tells us that on numerous occasions Hubbard declared, “I’d like to start a religion. That’s where the money is.” (Wright also explains that self-help is only so lucrative, because once you solve a person’s problem you lose their business — but with religion you can have them for their whole life, or a billion years.) He also informs us that upon hearing of the apparent suicide of his son Quentin, he exclaimed, “That little shit has done it to me again!” Even by the time Hubbard was becoming an infirm old man and Miscavige had taken over day-to-day operations of the church, he could still spend: ensconced in a mobile home in California, he reportedly received $1 million from Miscavige every week. Scientology may tell us the secrets of where all our bad thoughts come from, but it surely can’t tell us how an old man in a trailer can spend $1 million every week. Point: Going Clear.
Result: TIE. But there’s enough Scientology wackiness to fill a library, let alone these two books. Both are essential reading.
