a me na a Features October 30, 2002 Crack Scientology The McGill Daily ventures into the belly of the beast, emerges enlightened Kirsten Weld The McGill Daily MONTREAL (CUP)—I am, quite understandably, afraid. I'm standing outside of Montréal’s Church of Scientology, and I’m beginning to seri- ously doubt the viability of my plan, not to mention its wisdom. The original idea? To waltz into the place undercover, posing as an interested and eager potential convert. I wanted ‘fo see what these Scientologists would do to me. Would they brainwash and indoctrinate me with utopian, sci-fi visions of an alternate reality? Would they black- mail me into signing my life away? Or would they simply demand the entirety of my meager savings account in exchange for promises of spiritual fulfillment? Suddenly—tealising that I am armed solely with stereotypes and a sizeable dose of paranoia—the whole venture starts to seem ill-conceived. Toying with the dark and mysterious forces of a pop religion that has been widely condemned as a dangerous cult, merely for the sake of gonzo student journalism, no longer appears to be worth the effort. The place doesn’t even look like a church, but instead like a decrepit hardware store. | take a deep breath and summon forth all my faculties of rational thought and analysis, as well as my courage. Steeling myself, I stride through the glass door, only to be confronted with an array of glossy pamphlets and two or three mild-mannered, rel- atively normal-looking people sitting calmly at their desks. PLAYING WITH FIRE AND BRIMSTONE Tenter, fully expecting a weird and unsettling experience. The Scientologists do not dis- appoint. Immediately, a man approaches me, inquiring as to my business. I play inno- cent, citing an interest in Scientology that remains unquenched by my casual Internet surfing. He offers to show me an hour-long instructional video that he hopes will answer some of my questions, and I accept. He ushers me into a special viewing cubicle, where I sit among stacks of videos with names like The Deterioration of Liberty, Operation Manual for the Mind and The Dynamic Principles of Existence. The video I watch consists entirely of a 1966 inter- view with L. Ron Hubbard, the charismatic founder of Scientology. He has ‘cult leader’ written all over him: a friendly Nebraska drawl, intent eyes, an avuncular air. I do my best to conceal my reporter's notebook in which I furiously scrawl notes, convinced that I am being watched. In the video, L. Ron—as he is affectionately known in Scientology circles—explains that the practice of his new religion, which to my eye seems like a harmless mix of futuristic techno-spirituality and crack psychotherapy, can improve my reaction time, alertness, overall happiness and IQ. He discusses Scientology therapy, or “processing,” as well as the training involved to become a full practitioner, or “auditor.” It all sounds terribly Orwellian to me, but I keep listening. What I discern to be the basic premise of the faith is the following: human beings, in their unconscious or “reactive” minds, accumulate memories of painful experiences, which Scientology calls “engrams.” The presence of these engrams impedes personal development and happiness in one’s later life, and so they need to be expunged, or “cleared,” in order to achieve mental and emotional well-being. Murky logic aside, I remain ill at ease. The second the movie concludes, a second unidentified man appears behind me. “I need to speak with you now,” he says. I follow him into a different cubicle and sit opposite him at a desk, looking up at a garish and oversized portrait of L. Ron himself: In the next room sits a massive, faux-bronze L. Ron bust. The walls are covered in gaudy Scientology posters of rising suns, slogans, and happy white families. I furtively look around and map out possible escape routes. The man—Alain—and I talk for some time. He is rather non-threatening. He asks about any potential engrams I may be harbouring, and I quickly invent a tale of a trou- bled relationship with my parents. He nods and recommends that I take one of the instructional courses offered by the Church, which he assures me will improve my interpersonal relations. I don’t bite right away, so he offers to give me a standardised personality test. In the box for my name, address and telephone number, | provide a battery of fakes, as friends had warned me that the Scientologists would stalk and black- mail me if I gave them my real vitals. Whatever the case, I don’t want to take any chances. I tend to consider myself sound in judgment and fairly mentally stable. My test results, it would seem, disagree; Alain gravely informs me that I am in serious emotional trouble. The graph I am shown indicates that the majority of my personal traits are in the “Unacceptable State” zone, and the several pages of analytic print-out—only parts of which I am permitted to see, and then only after begging and wheedling—tell me the following: “You have an unstable character...you are a person on whom no one can count...you are in a total nervous state...you do not know how to control yourself, even in ordinary circumstances.” The report goes on to tell me that I am irritable and “can the other pres become hysterical or violent” in my everyday actions. I am “totally irresponsible,” a well as “totally insensitive and without heart.” That hurts. Alain tells me that my condition is urgent, but that—conveniently—Scientology cay help me. As I start to wonder about the legitimacy of the test, Alain becomes altoge er more aggressive, demanding what I plan to do about the advanced state of mise and moral turpitude in which I have found myself. Deciding that I have had enoug I extricate myself from the situation, citing budgetary constraints and a need to thin things over. I promise to return later in the week and quickly walk out, vowing neve to return. Afraid of being followed, I take a circuitous route home. SOME FACTS, FOR ONCE One can't really be blamed for holding biased, stereotyped views of Scientology. Th cult-cum-religion is a favourite punching bag of the mainstream media, particular] given its penchant for recruiting celebrities. Isaac Hayes, John Travolta, Tom Cruise Chick Corea, Juliette Lewis, Jenna Elfman, Lisa Marie Presley and Nancy Cartwright the voice of Bart Simpson—can all be counted among its converts. Scientology is also frequently targeted as being a racket; much is made of the hig] prices charged for training, materials and buying various levels of devotion or enlighy enment within its hierarchy of faith. Attaining “Gold Patron Meritorious” status, th top of the Scientology food chain, costs one million dollars. As a result of its shady dea ings, the organisation has found itself the target of investigations in the United State by the Food and Drug Administration, the Internal Revenue Service and the Federz Bureau of Investigation, among others. Ever wondered what Scientology was really all about? So had I. Prior to my churc] visit, I tried to find legit information about Scientology online, to no avail. Everythin I found was either eerie Scientologist propaganda or anti-cult fear mongering. Among the ‘facts’ I learned: that adherents can buy immunity from nuclear blastg that the supreme religious level of “Operating Thetan” involves spiritual immortali that L. Ron Hubbard has “dangerously hypnotic” eyes, that Scientologists are frighte ing stalkers, that Scientology treatments can help me fully get over the death of a pa ent in just one visit, and more. It was only after my paranoid jaunt to the Church of Scientology that I bothered t seek out any credible information regarding my experience, not to mention about th| sizeable organisation behind it. I was pleasantly surprised to discover a number of lead ing authorities in the field of new religious movements (NRMs) who actually suppot Scientology as a bona fide religion and who see the term ‘cult’ as a total misnome regarding the evolution of L. Ron Hubbard’s brainchild. “Scientology is definitely a legitimate religion,” attests Professor Susan Palmer, a expert on modern religions who teaches a course called “Cults and Religio Controversy” at Concordia University. “A religion is a group of people who address th ultimate questions of meaning and life.” Palmer believes that the word “cult” has bee abused and employed, particularly in the media, as an excuse to isolate and persecu nascent religious movements. “On the whole, Scientologists are people who are ver well-integrated into society—they no longer have a charismatic leader, they do demand that their adherents drop out of society, they use modern medicine,” she says “They're not a cult.” Douglas Cowan, professor of Religious Studies and Sociology at the University d Missouri, Kansas City, agrees. “In the early 1950s, when Scientology was first gettin, started, it was not a religion—it was more like Freudian psychoanalysis with a techn twist,” he comments. “But now it’s evolved. It accords with all the accepted definitio © page 18