>From Salon.com, at:
http://www.salon.com/2013/01/17/going_clear_scientology_exposed/
<http://www.salon.com/2013/01/17/going_clear_scientology_exposed/>

The first and second bolded phrases below (bolding mine), interestingly
enough, were also my first impressions upon picking up "Dianetics" in a
Westwood bookstore and thumbing through it for a few minutes. The third
bolded section at the end is the link I see between Hubbard's craziness
and that we see in other cults.
                                  "Going Clear": Scientology
exposed                            
<http://www.salon.com/2013/01/17/going_clear_scientology_exposed/>
Lawrence Wright's enthralling, meticulously  fact-checked account of the
insular church and its celebrity members
By Laura Miller <http://www.salon.com/writer/laura_miller/>
Several years ago, for a series of Salon articles about Scientology, I
was asked to review the founding text of the church, "Dianetics"
<http://www.amazon.com/dp/140314446X/?tag=saloncom08-20>   by L.Ron
Hubbard, first published in 1950. The book seemed so clearly  the work
of a man suffering from particular and pronounced mental health  issues
that I became, for the first time, curious about its author.  Like most
self-help books, "Dianetics" frequently invokes case histories 
or hypothetical scenarios, but unlike most self-help books,
Hubbard's  stories featured an alarming amount of violence,
specifically domestic  violence.

Over and over, when imagining a childhood source for an 
individual's problems, Hubbard spins tales of unfaithful wives and 
husbands who beat and verbally abuse them, sometimes kicking their 
pregnant bellies. Perhaps we can attribute some of this to a 
preoccupation with prenatal trauma; "Dianetics" insists that
fetuses can  understand damaging statements made to the women carrying
them.  Nevertheless, to me, the most striking thing about the book —
besides  Hubbard's belief that it is "not uncommon" for
women to make "twenty or  thirty" attempts at a self-induced
abortion with orange sticks and other  implements — is its
author's assumption that such beatings are a  commonplace aspect of
most people's home lives.

I wanted to find  out if Hubbard had grown up amid such abuse, or had
experience of it in  his adult life, so I went online to poke around.
What I found, on  assorted anti-Scientology websites and discussion
forums, seemed so  outlandish and extreme that I decided not to refer to
those charges at  all in my review. I couldn't be sure they were
substantiated.

Scientology  has involved preposterous claims from the very start —
from before the  very start, actually, since "Dianetics"
(published two years before the  foundation of the church) promises that
a "clear" (an individual who has  succeeded in using the
Dianetic "technology" to free him- or herself of  all impairing
"engrams") will attain assorted superpowers. These  include
healing his or her own disabilities and illnesses, as well as  perfect
recall, the capacity to perform "mental computations" at 
lightning speeds and various forms of mind reading and control. 
Scientology's critics, on the other hand, accused Hubbard of —
yes —  domestic violence (including an incident in which he demanded
that his  second wife kill herself to prove she really loved him), to
bigamy,  lying about his service in World War II, engaging in black
magic rituals  and throwing followers who displeased him off the high
deck of his  ship. The church has countered such attacks by flinging
accusations at  its critics, from public drunkenness to adultery and
homosexuality.

The  whole mess seemed like a seething farrago of bizarre fantasies, 
vendettas and nightmares, indistinguishable from whatever grains of 
truth lingered here and there. A phenomenally diligent and rigorous 
investigator could probably sort it all out, but the Church of 
Scientology is notorious for using nuisance litigation to hound 
skeptical journalists to the brink of destitution and despair. Who'd
be  up for that?

Lawrence Wright was, and my long preamble is all by way of explaining
why his new book, "Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood and the
Prison of Belief,"
<http://www.amazon.com/dp/0307700666/?tag=saloncom08-20>  is so
invaluable. There have been other exposés of the church —
including last year's fine "Inside Scientology: The Story of
America's Most Secretive Religion"
<http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00A7K68UY/?tag=saloncom08-20>   by Janet
Reitman, a book Wright praises in his own — but this one  carries
the imprimatur of both Wright, a Pulitzer Prize-winner, and the  New
Yorker magazine, where Wright first wrote about the church in a  story
on its cultivation of celebrity members, as exemplified by movie 
director Paul Haggis.

The church adopted its scorched-earth policy  toward critical
journalists back when Paulette Cooper published "The  Scandal of
Scientology" in 1971; she was subsequently slapped with 19 
lawsuits, as well as subjected to a harassment campaign with the stated 
intention of seeing her "incarcerated in a mental institution or
jail."  What the organization did not foresee was that the
effectiveness of such  tactics could never be more than short-term. So
ominous is the  reputation of the Church of Scientology in this respect
that when a  major news organization of legendary rigor committed itself
to an  exposé, there could be no doubt that it was fact-checked to a 
fare-thee-well. The result, extended to book form by one of that 
organization's most esteemed journalists, is completely and
conclusively  damning.

Not that Wright is the least bit intemperate in his  account of the
improbable rise of Hubbard from an unimpressive career as  a naval
officer and pulp science-fiction writer to a millionaire guru  presiding
over a high-seas empire of slavish devotees to reclusive  leader holed
up in a well-appointed mobile home. He doesn't have to be. 
Hubbard's outrageous shenanigans and flagrant misdeeds speak for 
themselves, so Wright need only convey the facts with a minimum of 
hoopla. He strives to be fair, noting all the ways that Scientology 
resembles other religions that began as suspect or fringe movements, but
he catches church spokesmen in so many lies and unearths so much 
evidence of malfeasance that his caveats do tend to get swamped.

It  turns out that even the craziest stuff I read on the Internet back
in  2005 is essentially true, and that the history of the church under
its  current megalomaniacal leader, David Miscavige, is, if anything,
even  more disgraceful. (Hubbard died in 1986.) Wright has assemble an 
overwhelming number of confirmed reports of Miscavige punching, kicking 
and otherwise attacking church leaders, often without warning or 
explanation. He details a well-developed system of isolation and 
indoctrination imposed on the members of Sea Org. (Scientology's 
equivalent of a clergy), creating a population that provides the church 
with virtually free labor and submits to extravagantly harsh and 
humiliating punishments, such as cleaning bathroom floors with their 
tongues and scrubbing out dumpsters with toothbrushes. Meanwhile, 
Miscavige lives in luxury, bathed in Kim Jong Il-levels of totalitarian 
hagiography, at the church's secluded base in rural Southern
California.

Wright's  particular interest is in how the church courts and
coddles its  celebrity members. These Scientologists are carefully
shielded from the  harsher conditions and uglier aspects of the
organization. Tom Cruise,  John Travolta, Anne Archer and Jenna Elfman
number among the church's  most prominent trophies, as did Haggis
— before he became disgusted with  the leadership's refusal to
denounce an anti-gay ballot proposition in  California and decided to
dig beneath the flattering, gleaming face it  presents to its celebrity
members. Wooing emerging actors and  entertainment-industry players was
one of Hubbard's most inspired  initiatives, and the church
continues to deploy such people  strategically, introducing balky local
politicians to movie stars and  fostering the impression that a
Scientology affiliation will help  Hollywood aspirants climb to the top
of a ruthlessly competitive  profession.

I could go on and on, listing Hubbard's tall tales,  paranoid
delusions and eccentricities, as well as Miscavige's  brutalities
and tidbits from the famously wacky and decidedly  unscientific
Scientologist cosmology. All of it makes for a wild ride of  a
page-turner, as enthralling as a paperback thriller. But I keep  coming
back to my original impression of "Dianetics," and the sobering 
realization that one man's personal damage can, if transmitted with 
sufficient charisma and intuitive skill, infect tens of thousands of 
people, many of whom believe they've been helped by it.

Hubbard,  as Wright acknowledges more than once, was a charmer, with a
knack for  manipulating people. He knew, somehow, that there is no
behavior more  likely to foster fascination and dependence than
intermittent  reinforcement, enveloping approval and assurances of
future bliss shot  through with unpredictable episodes of domination,
insults and terror.  That is the dynamic of the abusive family, a
dynamic that prevails in  Sea Org. and the hidden enclaves of
Scientology. From what Wright  reports, it looks like my curiosity about
Hubbard's earliest years will  never be satisfied. But now I can
make an educated guess.





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