My 9 Lives in Scientology

The Commodore Arrives

When I first arrived aboard Flag in May, 1973, Hubbard was not aboard.  Nobody but a few people knew where he was.  Years later, I found out that he had been living in Queens, New York with two other people.  When Hubbard returned in September, discipline increased.  I was very excited about Hubbard's return and seeing him in person for the first time.  He kept his distance from most of the people aboard the ship, even top leaders who had come to Flag for training from outer orgs.  He rarely spoke to anyone, except for his messengers and his top aides who worked directly under him.  Sometimes, however, he would say hello to me when we passed.  I would say "Hello, Sir" and he would nod in acknowledgment of my greeting.

I had thought that things would improve on the ship with Hubbard's arrival, perhaps, get more humane.  I couldn't have been more mistaken.  We,as Flag interns, were about to get a good strong taste of what it was like to be so close to "source".  (LRH was often referred to as Source).  Several new disciplinary policies were instituted within a few weeks of his arrival.

There were several personnel changes in our department.  Jeff Waltker, a Class 12 auditor from New Zealand was made intern supervisor; David Mayo, also a Class 12 from New Zealand was made Senior Case Supervisor; Quentin Hubbard and Russ Meadows were case supervisors under David; and Cathy Cariotaki was made Tech Sec, the executive in charge of the Technical Division, the division that dealt with auditing.  Cathy Cariotaki presided over a new ritual that was invented as punishment for auditors who goofed up — the ritual of sacrifice to the goddess Kali, goddess of death and destruction.  An altar, with a hideous painting of Kali over it was built in the internship classroom.  If an auditor had a bad exam report, the following ceremony would take place in a candlelit room:

A chorus of other interns and auditors would sing a hymn to the goddess Kali, sung to the tune of "Rock of Ages".  The offender would come forward and kneel before the altar and say he/she was a worshiper of the goddess Kali and wanted chaos, death and-destruction.  The person was then given a knife and a fake preclear and told to "stab the preclear" at which time the person had to thrust the knife into the folder.  I had to participate in such a ceremony twice.  It was very humiliating and upsetting.  We all deeply resented what was happening, but nobody dared to speak up or refuse to participate.  Such refusal would probably result in getting kicked off the ship in disgrace, a fate worse than any punishment.  By that time, I had been so thoroughly indoctrinated in Scientology propaganda, that to be outside of Scientology was to live in a hell on earth and that my soul would be condemned to a very low level of existence for all eternity.  Ultimately, I had to go along with any punishment that was meted out, although,at times I fought hard against it.  I became known as a troublemaker on the ship, because if I saw something I didn't like, I spoke up.  I got into trouble more times than anyone on the ship, it seemed.  There was still a part of me that had not been conquered that was fighting the manipulation inflicted upon us and that part of me was furious.  Here I was on Flag, having reached a goal I had worked [illegible] hard for and that dream had become a living hell.  I was emotionally, mentally and spiritually devastated.

This devastation took its toll on me for years after leaving the group.  When I first joined, I had been a bright, adventurous 18-year-old with high ideals and shining goals on the horizon of my life.  I was willing to give my all to achieving those goals.  I just didn't take no for an answer.  If I had channeled all that energy into a legitimate career for myself, I would have been well on my way to a happy, rewarding life.  However, all that vital energy was sucked up into the whirlpool of a cult, dominated by a madman.  I was drained.  To me, subconsciously, success and achievement of my goals meant devastation because that is what happened to me when I achieved my goals in Scientology.

For years after leaving Scientology, I couldn't seem to get any sort of career off the ground.  I would start to pursue something but never follow through.  It is only now that I am getting counseling from people who understand cult phenomena that I am able to see what happened to me, put my life back together and get on with it.

Fortunately, there was a healthy part of me that fought very hard to stay alive and was never completely killed, but there was also my cult identity, which, was equally strong.  My cult identity condemned the healthy part of me for my outbursts.  I was constantly asking myself, "What's wrong with me?" "Why is it that everyone else seems so content with their life on the ship and I feel so angry?  There is something very wrong with me, and I have got to wipe it out."

Years later when I read accounts of other people in the same predicament, I realized that I was not the only one on the ship who was unhappy; I just expressed it more than other people.  Recently, I spoke with a woman who was one of the top auditors on Flag and has since left Scientology.  She never got into trouble, but, according to what she said, she was not happy with the situation on Flag.  She hated the Kali ceremonies.  To deal with it, she told herself that it wouldn't last.  The Kali ceremonies didn't last for long, but there was always another atrocity to replace the earlier ones.

It always amazed me and other people on the ship that I got away with saying so much without getting kicked out.  One person who couldn't stand me commented that I seemed to have "nine lives" and that I should have been kicked out long ago.  It never happened, however.  Even when I left, I was invited to come back a year later with no ethics penalties.  I have a theory as to why this was the case.  Several years after leaving the group, I took a course on family therapy.  I learned that in dysfunctional families, there is one member of the family who has symptoms and acts out, while the rest of the family might seem normal.  That person, usually a child, is seen as the sick one.  Perhaps the child has attempted suicide, has a drug problem, or is having trouble in school.  What is actually happening, according to this theory, is that the child's behavior is a symptom of a dysfunction that exists in the family, as a whole.  By working with the entire family, the child's problems can be greatly alleviated.  I think that this theory can be applied to dysfunctional groups, i.e., cults.  Cults seem to have a few people around that constantly cause trouble and speak their mind,but don't get kicked out.  I was playing such a role in Scientology.  I was considered a trouble maker and, therefore, sick.  In reality, however, I was really only manifesting symptoms that were due to dysfunctional group.  The group, as a whole, seemed to have a need to have someone around to act out what, deep down, everyone was feeling.  This is one reason why my behavior was so upsetting to people in the group.  I was expressing what they felt, but didn't want to admit to feeling, but at the same time, the group needed for me to express these feelings.  My expression served as an outlet for the group as a whole.  I observed this same phenomenon at work on a recent Sally Jessy Raphael show on the Hare Krishnas.  There was a woman on who was a former member, who was always considered a troublemaker in the group.  There were members of the Hare Krishnas in the audience, one of whom commented to the woman, "You always did exactly as you wanted in the group."  The woman answered that she felt she had been the only one to speak up when she saw atrocities occurring, such as child abuse.  It appears that she played a similar role to the one I played in Scientology.  I would like to look at other groups to see if this phenomenon exists.

Expressing emotions on behalf of the entire group did not make life easy for me, to say the least.  Things continued to get worse for me.  One night, around midnight, I had just fallen asleep when we were all woken up and told we were to go to the classroom and write letters to the paying public, telling them about how great things were on Flag and to invite them to come to the ship for auditing.  After all I had been through with the Kali ceremonies and other nonsense over the past few months, promoting Flag was the last thing I wanted to do!  This was the Last straw for me.I completely lost control of my temper and blurted out, "If I wrote the truth about how things were here, nobody would want to come to Flag."  I was immediately assigned a condition of Treason by Cathy Cariotaki.  To speak in such a blasphemous way about the home of L. Ron Hubbard was considered an act of Treason to the group.  Free speech was not a right we enjoyed.  I had to wear a red armband, identifying me as a traitor to the group and do amends in the galley.  Making a statement such as the one I had made was unthinkable to most people in the group, but, deep down, I think many people were feeling the same way I was, but didn't dare admit it, even to themselves.

One might ask, if I was so aware of what was going on, then why did I stay?  The truth was that I was just as indoctrinated as anyone else.  I still believed very strongly in the purpose of Scientology and my cult identity was very strong; it was just that the healthy part of me had not yet been suppressed and, as a result, I felt an intense inner conflict between my real identity and my cult identity.

Things continued to go downhill for me.  One day, which happened to be my 21st birthday, I had the morning off (just a coincidence, we weren't given time on our birthdays).  Were were on the island of Tenerife, which is one of the Canary Islands owned by Spain, located off the coast of Africa.  I went ashore to see the town and do some shopping.  One of the things I most liked about being on the ship was getting to visit such exotic places.  When I returned, I found out that I was in trouble.  It seemed that my PC had a bad exam report and I was not supposed to have left the ship before handling the situation.  I had to participate in a Kali ceremony.  I can remember thinking to myself, "This is not how I ever expected to spend my 21st birthday, a time when most people are out celebrating being officially an adult."  But then I chided myself for having such "wog" thoughts, reminding myself that I had chosen to live an extraordinary life with an extraordinary purpose — that of Scientology.  After the ceremony, I was sent to spend four hours in the crows nest.  The crows nest was the equivalent of at least a four story building and I had to climb up a very narrow ladder to get there.  I felt shame, guilt and a great deal of anger.  While I was climbing, I had the thought, "All I have to do is let go of the ladder and that would be it?  What if I just let go?

That thought really terrified me and I held on even tighter.  I really didn't want to die.  When I got up there, I was shaking all over.  I was supposed to spend the four hours thinking about what I had done and writing up my overts and withholds.  The view from up there was beautiful, but I was too upset to enjoy it.  I was dreading the climb back down, but I got through it.

Later that day, the ship sailed.  It was a very rough trip and we were lost for three days in a storm.  I got very seasick and stayed in my bunk the whole time, unable to get up, except to go to the bathroom.  After a few futile attempts by Jeff Walker to get me out of bed, nobody bothered me because everyone else was either in the same condition or on watch.  When we finally arrived, those of us who had been seasick were severely chastised.  From the first trip, I had been prone to seasickness if the sea was at all rough and had been told it was my fault I was seasick.  Dramamine was made available to us, but if I took it I felt drowsy and spaced out, so I tried to avoid taking it.  Besides, Dramamine was a drug and taking any drugs, even over-the-counter ones was frowned upon in Scientology.  I sat through many sessions with preclears turning green, not knowing if I was going to make it through the session.  Somehow, I always managed to make it.  I would end the session and make it to the bathroom just in time to avoid disaster.

Although things continued to get worse for me, there was one bright spot for me: the friendship that was developing between Quentin Hubbard and myself.  I got to know Quentin when we all did TRs together and sometimes he would be my partner.  Quentin and I liked each other from the start.  For one thing, we shared a sense of humor and that was unusual on the ship.  We always found ways to make each other laugh in a place where there was so little joy and laughter.