ONTD

LOSING MY RELIGION: A day in the life of a Scientologist



I'm at a Scientology church and the Scientologists are pinching me.


They've even left a mark, they're going at it that hard. Although I'm not entirely sure what they're hoping to achieve.

I'm in a bit of pain here, at a Sydney Scientology church, because I'm on a tour they've offered to journalists.

Earlier this week, the Church fired off an email to reporters offering private tours of one of their six Australian places of worship.

Why? Most likely in an attempt to improve their public image.

Because while the Church of Scientology is a household name - thanks to celebrity believers Tom Cruise and Kirstie Alley - they have a terrible problem.

Many Australians think they are absolutely bonkers. For a number of reasons, the most significant being that they apparently believe that 75 million years ago, an alien warlord brought negative spirits to Earth which plague humanity to this day.

Then there are the allegations that their supposed 'science' is a crock, that they're in it to make money, that they exploit child labour... which Scientologists generally say are malicious lies told by former believers.

And then there are other public image problems, like Tom Cruise's prominent role in the Church.

There are signs that this negative perception has damaged the local Church. Last year one of the Church's most prominent figures resigned, taking a dramatic swipe at the Scientology leadership.

And figures from the latest Census report that the number of Scientologists in Australia dropped significantly over the last decade – by more than 13 per cent between 2006 and 2011. (PRAISE MY COUNTRY)



So I took the Church up on their offer of a private tour because I wanted an answer to a simple question.

Are these people really as crazy as they're made out to be? From their unusual uniforms to a strange pinching examination, today news.com.au takes a firsthand look.

One thing stands out when you walk into a Scientology church -- this isn't your traditional place of worship.

It's futuristic. Some would even say it's cool. Don't think of wooden pews, or kindly old men offering confession. (And no, there aren't any stained glass windows of Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch).

Imagine a military base in a sci-fi thriller. There's a dash of Star Wars in the air, with all the fluorescent lights around. The concourse roof is a mirror. And nearly everyone is dressed like they're in the Navy.

I walk in and step towards their reception desk when the Church's long-time Australian spokeswoman, Virginia Stewart, pops up out of nowhere.

"Daniel? I saw you come in," she says, shaking my hand and beginning to show me around the facility.

But first, I've got a few questions. Men and women are milling around in white-collared shirts, black pants and shoes. Kind of like they were inspired by Cruise in Top Gun. Some even have patches on their shoulders indicating their high-ranking. What's with the dress code?

"The staff in this church are members of the Sea Org," explains Ms Stewart -- one of the few people dressed in your typical business-wear.

The "Org" are the Church's most dedicated members, who have committed their lives to the religion.

That explains why ranks in the religion are military-based. For instance, the founder of Scientology, science fiction author L. Ron Hubbard, held the Church's top rank - "Commodore".

The Org even have a cruise ship anchored in the Caribbean, the Freewinds, which they use as a religious retreat, says Ms Stewart. (A poster in the church has the vessel PhotoShopped into Sydney Harbour. It's never visited Australia.)

But you really can't get too far into a conversation with a Scientologist without asking about--

"--the alien thing?" Ms Stewart sees where I'm steering our conversation and rolls her eyes. "We only ever hear about that from the media.

'The alien thing' is what's popularly known as Scientology's creation theory -- their 'Jesus moment'.

Ex-followers have spilled to the media that Scientologists believe, in a nut shell, that an alien warlord brought evil spirits to Earth 75 million years ago.

Warlord Xenu's galaxy was overpopulated, so he dropped billions of aliens in Earth's volcanoes and hydrogen bombed them to smithereens.

Their disembodied souls apparently exist today and produce warped emotions in humans -- unless humans follow Scientology beliefs.

The Xenu thing has been mocked relentlessly, most memorably by an 8-minute segment on South Park.

The Church of Scientology has strenuously denied the alien story, claiming that people only cite it to ridicule them. (smh at this oppression :'() And their Australian arm says: "Scientology has no religious belief that we are descended from aliens or have aliens living inside us."

If the Church does follow alien beliefs, as has been indicated, it's something the Church wishes to keep top secret.

In 2008, a Church of Scientology promotional video featuring Tom Cruise was leaked onto the internet. Cruise said: "I think it's a privilege to call yourself a Scientologist, because it's something you have to earn."

As far as I can see, "earning" the right to be a Scientologist involves a lot of hard work... (One wall of the Church even has a 'star chart' - like you would see in a primary school classroom - that monitor how far individual Scientologists have progressed in their coursework.)

And some money, too, that goes into maintaining the Church. They compare it to parishioners funding a Reverend.

At the beginning, though, it seems like a walk in the park. New recruits go through what is essentially a three week detox involving vitamins, tests and sitting in a sauna.

But there is a reason part of the Scientology Church building is more reminiscent of a university library than a religious institution.

To be a Scientologist, you have to study the "scriptures" of the religion in the chronological order L. Ron Hubbard wrote them, by participating in various courses.

Some of the courses can take weeks to complete and are sold as lessons that can improve your life, such as "How To Get Motivated" and "How to Improve Relationships". The upper limit is between $700 and $1400.

I peak into one of the classrooms. Everyone looks very absorbed in what they're studying. What are those two Sea Org officers doing at the head of the classroom, though?

Ms Stewart tells me the officers are monitoring for "physiological signs" that the students are "not understanding" the course content.

That is, if the supervisors see that you look bored or tired or listless, they'll be sure to get you back on the straight and narrow.

It's a hardcore study camp.

The Scientologists were not the only ones being monitored. I am too.

Another Church spokeswoman, Sei Broadhurst, follows me around holding a white iPhone in her hand. I believe she is recording our conversation.

Unusual practices

As a Scientologist, you have "the ability to create new or better realities", Cruise explained in his famous leaked interview.

And Scientology's spokeswoman Virginia Stewart gave me a practical demonstration of another part of the process they are required to follow to reach that point.

They use a method they call "auditing".

We're walking down a long corridor in the "auditing" wing of the Church. And Ms Stewart is explaining how auditing is essentially the religion's twist on counselling.

It involves the use of an "E-Meter", a low voltage electrical device which (the Scientologists say) can measure changes in electrical charges in the body that are caused by "emotional distress". A counsellor walks a Scientologist (or prospective one), through the implications of the machine's results.

A pamphlet explains the process is designed to help "guide you onto your personal path to success ... ultimately becoming an expert on the subject of you".


Once a newcomer has completed the auditing process they are judged as reaching a "state of Clear" – when somebody is no longer affected by irrational fears.

Little booths branch off from the corridor we are standing in, with two chairs, a table and an E-Meter in each one.

But I can hear an eerie, white noise coming from the corridor.

What is that sound? I wonder. "Is that noise from the E-Meters?" I ask.

Oh, that. The Scientologists explain the noise is all about privacy. Ms Stewart says it's used to block out sound so people cannot hear what's going on in the booths. And so they don't get disturbed by things happening outside.

In Scientology, no one can hear you being audited.

"Every corridor has the white noise," she explains, matter-of-factly.

The final test

Given what I've just seen, it's with some hesitation that I'm submitting to an E-Meter test. Plugging yourself into an electrical device for a strange religion is unnerving.

I'm gripping onto the handles of the device and I can feel an electrical sensation beneath my fingertips.

The Scientologists get me to "think about a recent argument I've had".

That's supposed to make the meter on the device move. It doesn't, leaving the Scientologists disappointed.

They tell me that pain is apparently supposed to get a reaction from the device. So Ms Stewart starts pinching me.

It does nothing. They keep at it, but all it does is leave a mark on my wrist.

"Have you had any drugs or alcohol?" one of their spokespeople asks me after another lacklustre result. Nope. It's 11am on a Thursday.

The meter does jump dramatically when I think about another incident in the past that gets me a little worked up...

But honestly, I reckon that might have been because my hands might have moved during the process.

Ms Stewart says the process does not work if someone is a non-believer or not interested.

Maybe that was it. Maybe I'm just sceptical. Or maybe it's all a complete hoax.

It's worth pointing out the American Psychiatric Association has advised against psychiatrists practising Scientology techniques.

A different kind of people

The Scientologists emphasise that they're well-meaning. And they're perfectly friendly. They send volunteers to disaster zones like Queensland after the 2011 floods. They don't stop talking about spiritual growth.

"It helps us know real answers to what life is," Ms Stewart says as we start to wrap up.


But they've also been ridiculed in the media, and slagged as a "criminal organisation" in federal Parliament by Senator Nick Xenophon. Any attempts to rehabilitate their image will take years - if they can.

They worry about being "treated unfairly" by the media and reckon their religion isn't all that different to any other.

Around the end of our chat I ask Virginia Stewart, who has been the Church's spokeswoman since 1996, how long she's been with the church. Turns out she has been with them all her life.

But to an outsider like me, the Church's practices just seem bewildering.

It's lucky they pinched me.

If they didn't I probably would've had to do it myself -- so I wouldn't pass it all off as a strange dream.

With or without aliens.

source: http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/losing-my-religion-a-day-in-the-life-of-a-scientologist/story-e6frf7jo-1226562246647


i bolded the important parts, imho it's a really interesting read. this shady ass cult needs to gtfo.