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A rare insider view of the Church of Scientology, meeting the high level defectors from L Ron Hubbard’s organisation

It’s 10am on a wet Saturday in Dublin All is quiet, apart from the faint hum of a few eager shoppers and some people heading into work. As I make my way towards the Teacher’s Club on Parnell Square, I spot a small group of men, sporting masks and balaclavas, loitering outside the door. They greet me pleasantly, from behind their disguises, as I walk in by them unfazed. We are here for the same reason, after all, they are members of Anonymous, an anti- Scientology activist group. We are all here to attend the Dublin Offlines Conference, which aims to highlight `the danger of Scientology’: As I make my way into the function room, I notice two gardai sitting in the hallway with their bikes propped up against the wall. Later I’m told that the gardai are there because of a threat that advised the venue’s owners against hosting the event, suggesting it was “not in their best interests”.

As I settle in, I notice a variety of accents; people have travelled from far and wide. Organiser Pete Griffiths, a former Scientologist from the UK who now lives in Westport, sports an iridescent silver suit; he circulates, making housekeeping announcements and checking on the sound. There is a certain contingent in the room whom I imagine would fit in quite well at a Star Trek convention.

I wonder for a moment if this is a serious conference or simply an indulgence of collective paranoia and fear. As the audience takes their seats, there is an almost trippy atmosphere. I watch as one lady adjusts trendy black-veil-and-hat combination covering her face, which she has accessorised with dark sunglasses. Before the cameras go on, many others studiously follow suit and cover up, but a minority choose to go undisguised.

Just as things seem to be getting started, there is a sudden flurry of activity. A lady enters, announcing that there are two suspicious individuals sitting outside in a car, filming people as they arrive. She requests a camera so that she can run out and film them back. People look around nervously; there’s an intensity in the air.

Scientology has created controversy since its foundation but it has also created an equal amount of curiosity, with big-name celebrities such as John Travolta and Tom Cruise signing up to the faith. For some, it is a dangerous cult; for others, it is a lifeline. The organisation’s secretive nature has led to much negative publicity. Just weeks ago, following the initiation of divorce proceedings between Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise, a Scientology spokesperson was forced to deny claims that the organisation was keeping tabs on the soon-to-be ex-wife of one of its most notable members.

Despite its trendiness among modern celebrities, Scientology had quite humble beginnings. In 1950, the organisation’s founding father, L Ron Hubbard, invented a self-help system, which he called Dianetics His book, Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health, is the textbook or Bible equivalent for the Church of Scientology, written by Hubbard following a successful career as a science-fiction and fantasy writer. Critics believe that it was only when Hubbard turned his mind to writing about Scientology that he created his best works of fiction.

John McGhee, a Meath man who works as an embalmer, tells me that while Scientology was initially a source of curiosity, it cost him dearly in the end. “Because of my work, I’m always questioning the meaning of life,” he explains. “I’m naturally a seeker of different spiritual paths. I never leave anything alone. After trying many different spiritual paths throughout my life, this was my next port of call. They didn’t have to get me off the street like they usually do. I went in and said, `Give me everything you’ve got! I want Dianetics. I want the personality test. I want the stress test!”

After a few short courses, John began to feel like he belonged. “They completely `love-bomb’ you;’ he tells me “They make you feel really special and really important and the really worthy of the counselling and courses that they want to bestow on you. For a hefty price, by the way. It promises you the sun, the moon and the stars. So you figure, Well, if it does all that, what’s a few hundred quid?’”

But, €10,500 later, John began to smell a rat. “I was actually lucky that was money I had” he explains, wincing a little. “I saw friends in there remortgage their homes and spend money they didn’t have. But it’s 10 and a half grand I wish I had now, you know. It’s bit by bit as well. You’re sold a series of counselling — an intensive — and it’s €1,000 per 12 and a half hours. They told me I needed two intensives and I figured at the time, `Look, they know what they’re talking about, they’re professional!’ By the way, they’re not professional; they have no background in psychiatry, psychology or even counselling.”

While the promise of self-betterment held particular appeal for John, he soon began to question some of the beliefs. “Scientologists tell you that you’re a homo novus, a new man, and you’re better than the rest of the wog world,” he says, “Outsiders are called wogs. That’s a derogatory term Scientologists have for us. So I was looking at my friends and began thinking, `You’re not really good enough!’ I was a real arsehole.”

John was also uncomfortable with how he claims the religion views those with disabilities. “People with any disabilities, Scientologists’ attitude is that they deserve that, because they pulled it in from past-life mistakes and sins, if you will,” he explains. “So they will look at someone on the street and say, `He’s a degraded being’ It’s like a twisted form of karma. They are emotionally dead people. It’s stripped away from them.”

John officially left the Church of Scientology last year, but his heart had not been in it for some time before his departure. “I was really active for three years and then I spent the last two years spying on them. I don’t mind them knowing that now I have no problem going against them because I’ve seen the damage they did at a local level. I’ve seen three people remortgage their homes —one in particular who lost absolutely everything, couldn’t even afford his electricity bills at the end of it. They live in communal housing because they tell you the most important thing in your life is Scientology.

“They speak in their own cult-like language. They have abbreviations for everything, you know,” he explains. “‘Have you got a PTP?’ means ‘Have you got a present-time problem?’ Whereas we might say, ‘Is something up with you?’ They have a course for absolutely every complaint you can have in your lifetime. Having a problem in your marriage? They’ve a marriage course. If you don’t like your job, they’ll make you do the ‘problems at work’ course. It’s supposed to make you enjoy work and pull in extra money. They’re living in a dreamland because most of them are unemployed,” he adds. “I know them personally. I have loaned them money.”

Like others I meet at this conference, John believes that the Dublin Offlines event is being monitored closely by Scientologists. “They’ve sent in the big guns now because of this event,” he says, “We’ve been checking on the mission in Dublin the last number of days and they have members of the Sea Org over from England”

Sea Org is Scientology’s elite wing, initially created at sea in the late Sixties, when some Scientology members, including Hubbard, operated and lived on ships, travelling around the world. In 1975, the ships were sold off and Sea Org created land bases.

Sharone Stainforth was six years old when her parents became involved with Scientology. As a 10-year-old, Sharone signed up to a billion-year contract to join the Sea Organisation in 1967 on board their ship, the Royal Scotsman, later known as the Apollo. Sharone worked as a personal messenger for Hubbard on the ship and says she was, at times, tasked with bathing his feet and dressing him.

“I hate all Scientology, every aspect of it,” she tells the crowd, after a speech cataloguing various abuses of power she claims to have witnessed on board. “I spent my childhood in it,” she concludes in tears. “It’s not right and we can’t have it anymore.”

Gabrielle Wynne walked into the Dublin Scientology centre for help with a college project when she was 19. Within months, she was working on the staff. “I was doing a PLC course for a year and, as part of my course, I had to do a project on a World religion or religious movement;’ she tells me outside. “I was googling stuff and I came across Scientology. The only thing I knew was that Tom Cruise and John Travolta were part of it, so I thought, ‘This could be really fun!’”

The more Gabrielle learnt about Scientology, the more impressed she became. “It sounded so cool,” she admits, a bit sheepishly. “I’m mad into faith and spirituality and stuff like that. A few days later, I called back to get the free Personality Test. They sounded like they knew what they’re talking about.”

But, after two years the veneer began to wear off. “There were two reasons why I left,” Gabrielle explains, “one was money and the other was that they asked me to disconnect from my mam because she was a `suppressive person’.”

According to Hubbard’s teachings, a `suppressive person’, or SP, is defined as being anyone who seeks to damage Scientology or Scientologists. Family members who express criticism of the organisation are often deemed to be SPs.

“At the time they were moving buildings and they needed money for a loan and asked me to take out a three-grand loan” Gabrielle adds. “I work in Penneys, so I’m not loaded! I made it very clear that I wasn’t taking the money out, then they said, ‘Oh, it must be your mother. She’s a suppressive person and you have to disconnect from her because she’s stopping you from advancing in Scientology’ That’s when alarm bells went off.”

Anne Robinson has been speaking out against Scientology for more than a decade. Her brother, Tony Phelan, eventually disconnected from his family after joining Scientology in 1988.

“At the time he was working in California, and our mother became very seriously ill and died quite suddenly,” she explains. “He came home for the funeral, but we believe he was still in shock when he went back. Our understanding afterwards, is that around that time there were leaflets dropped into the apartments where he was staying about Dianetics — that’s what drew him into it. We started getting concerned after we noticed changes in his personality. He had become more defensive and had got less emotional, very objective in the way he was talking.”

In 1991, Anne came across an article in Time magazine on Scientology entitled The Thriving Cult of Greed and Power. “That’s what really opened our eyes,” Anne says. “When we started questioning him about it he became quite defensive and wouldn’t really engage in any kind of conversation with us. At that stage he had come back to Ireland. He had completed courses in Dianetics in Dublin. He had also gone to Saint Hill in the UK and had done more courses over there.”

From 1992 to 1994, Anne and her family went to great lengths to try to ‘exit’ Tony from Scientology. “Nothing we did privately could get through to him. He was just pulling more and more away from us,” she explains, “In 1994, we decided that maybe the only way for him to realise how concerned we were was to go public. So we did a protest outside the Scientology offices on Middle Abbey Street.”

“When we voiced our concerns with Tony” another sister, Marie Fahy, recalls, “he would always say, ‘Thank you for sharing that. Let me think about it. Then he might make a phone call or he’d come back the following day with a response. It was never free thinking.”

In 1995, Anne, Marie and their family went on The Late Late Show to voice their concerns. But after this TV appearance Tony disconnected from them even further.

When their father died in January 2002, the only way Tony could be contacted was through the personnel department of the company he was working for in Boston.

“We had no idea whether he was going to come home for the funeral,” Anne says. “I remember we walked into the church on the morning of the mass and, five minutes before the mass started, he arrived up to the top of the church. So there was no opportunity to talk to him at that stage — we were literally about to start. I remember introducing him to my kids.”

Tony was accompanied by what his sisters refer to as a ‘minder’ at the funeral; a person whom they believe was there to keep an eye on him.

“After the funeral, we went back to a local pub where we had a meal laid on;” Anne adds. “Tony spent a maximum of two minutes talking to every individual in the room. He literally worked the room — he smiled at all the old neighbours, he smiled at the aunts, the uncles, and he engaged for approximately two minutes with everybody.

“That was 2002, and we haven’t seen or heard from him since’ Anne tells me, her voice beginning to quiver slightly. “He has completely disconnected from us. So that’s why we’re continuing to campaign. We are hoping that Tony will come home — that’s our biggest hope — and we would hope that anybody who might be thinking of joining Scientology and who might hear the story will withdraw from it.”

The unspoken guest of honour at the Dublin Offlines Conference is Jamie DeWolf. It is hard not to notice him as he works the room in a blazer, purple check trousers and trilby hat. He has his great-grandfather’s signature red hair. DeWolf, a slam poet from California, is perhaps Scientology’s loudest critic, as well as being the great-grandson of its founder, L Ron Hubbard. He is also something of a shining light for those who have left the organisation, a beacon of hope from within the source’s own bloodline.

Jamie’s grandfather, L Ron Hubbard Junior, changed his surname to DeWolf in a bid to distance himself from his father, L Ron Hubbard Senior, and from the church.

“A psychiatrist once asked me if I had a history of mental illness in my family. I had to say, ‘Yes!’” Jamie rallies the crowd.

Jamie claims that Scientologist OSA (Office of Special Affairs) agents visited the homes of his mother and his former girlfriend to ask about him, when he first began to perform poetry, mentioning his family connection to their church.

Growing up, Jamie’s family never discussed the members of his family who remained within Scientology’s church. So what’s the one word he would use to describe his great-grandfather? “Hustler,” he answers, without even blinking, and lets the word hang in the air.

Jamie claims that when L Ron Hubbard Senior died, Jamie’s grandfather, L Ron DeWolf, was approached by the Church of Scientology with “shut-up money”, and a confidentiality agreement. Jamie believes that L Ron Junior eventually relented. He believes this is because L Ron Junior had suffered a life of alleged harassment from his father, L Ron Senior, for his dissent. L Ron Junior was also faced with mounting medical bills for his son, who had Down syndrome.

“My grandfather was a broken man at that point and needed the money for medical bills;’ Jamie says. “They had just destroyed him and hounded him his entire life. “Even now Scientologists parade that document and say he admitted every single thing [his criticism of Scientology] was a fabrication and lie,” Jamie laments. “It’s kind of a sad tragedy to me that that happened. That will not happen with me”

Later, Gerry Armstrong, the former personal secretary to L Ron Hubbard Senior, takes to the podium. Gerry was one of Hubbard’s most senior disciples for decades. However, his tipping point came when he was asked to research and assemble materials for Hubbard’s biography.

According to Armstrong, large discrepancies began to emerge between what he had been told about Hubbard’s life, and the man’s actual educational and military record. These revelations enabled Armstrong to “de-programme himself”.

“It is clear from these documents that Hubbard was a pathological liar,” he said.

For Ireland’s Scientologists, such campaigns against their beliefs, detractors and even defectors are the result of bigotry and religious persecution, which in their view is rife in Irish society.

“I have heard about the ‘conference’,” Gerard Ryan, Scientology’s spokesperson in Ireland, told me. “For whatever reason, sectarianism has been a bugbear on this island for centuries. One could speculate at length as to why this is so, but its history is pretty grim. This is not always recognised by those who are either not from Ireland or lack a historical perspective generally. In 19th-Century America, a burning issue was Catholicism — which was portrayed as akin to Satanism by Protestant apologists. Conferences were organised in which former Catholic nuns and priests were paraded with ‘their story’, which invariably involved `black masses’ and ‘sexual malpractice’ in the Vatican. Whether the claims are true or not is not really the point. It is that ‘conferences’ attacking particular religions tread a well-worn path”

Later, Ryan tells me: “Really, the conference tells more about the individuals organising it than anything else. What sort of person seeks to promote hatred against law-abiding minority religious communities?”

McALESTER, Oklahoma – An Oklahoma rehab facility is under fire following the deaths of three patients.
In the past 12 months, three people have died while being treated at Narconon Arrowhead near McAlester.

The most recent, 20-year-old Stacy Murphy from Owasso, was found dead Thursday morning.

“This is a drug addict,” Robert Murphy said as he showed a photo of his daughter, Stacy. “It’s not the perception you think of a drug addict, and people have to realize, it can be their own child.”

Robert Murphy is coming to grips with Stacy’s death.

He said she was a vibrant, bubbly girl with the world at her fingertips — until she fell in with the wrong crowd.

“Stacy grew up in the church, she did the sports,” Robert Murphy said. “So sweet and so bubbly, you just don’t know what the struggle is that [was] going on inside of her and she was seeking help.”

Robert Murphy said when Stacy’s prescription drug addiction escalated to heroin, she agreed to seek treatment at Narconon Arrowhead, a drug and alcohol rehab facility with treatments inspired by teachings of the Church of Scientology.

“We went there for her to be cured, safe,” Robert Murphy said. “She had so much potential.”

Stacy was found dead Thursday morning.

Her father said she sneaked in drugs to the facility following a one- day visit home.

“My first thought was, ‘Well, Stacy did what she did to herself,’” Robert Murphy said. “But after hearing what [Narconon] did know, there was no reason for her to die.”

Murphy said Narconon employees knew Stacy was on the verge of an overdose, but instead of providing her with the medical attention she needed, his daughter was put in a room and left to die.

“They did not call us as parents; they did not call a medical team,” Robert Murphy said. “There was a shift change apparently at 7 o’clock. Nobody found her until 9:20.”

Two other patients have died at Narconon this year, including another Oklahoman, Gabriel Graves.

“In Narconon’s 20 years of operation, there [have] been three deaths at the Narconon facility and those have been within the last 12 months,” CEO Gary W. Smith said in an email to News On 6. “The rampant abuse of prescription medications and drugs like Spice, bath salts and host of other designer drugs has presented new and greater challenges for treatment providers.”

The Pittsburg County Sheriff’s office, along with the OSBI are investigating all three deaths.

Pittsburg County Sheriff Joel Kerns said criminal or negligence charges are possible, though the investigation is still the early stages.

“We just hate it for these families ,” Kerns said. “I just feel for them, that they’ve lost a child.”

And for Stacy’s family, Robert Murphy said it will continue to cope, while searching for answers and demanding change.

“All I can say is it’s not safe,” Robert Murphy said. “My daughter’s death could have been prevented, easily, easily. And I don’t want her death to be in vain.

“They don’t have a physician on 24-hour staff. I’ve been told he only goes in once a week. There’s procedures that either have to be changed or this place has to be shut down.”

When News On 6 reached out to Narconon, Smith supplied the following statement:

“Out of respect for the law and to remain in full compliance with 42 CFR (Code of Federal Regulations) and HIPAA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act) which are laws specifically designed to protect past and present clients or their family members right to privacy, I cannot disclose any information about past clients.

It is always deeply saddening when drug addiction takes a life or destroys a family. It hurts when a young person passes away before their time. For the family the pain of losing a loved one to addiction is unimaginable and our deepest sympathy goes out to those families. Our prayers are with them. For those who have committed their lives to saving people from drug and alcohol addiction the loss of not being able to help a person overcome addiction takes an emotional toll on us as well. It is a sad day for everyone when something as unfortunate and devastating as this occurs.

There are very precise local and state guidelines established with law enforcement and state agencies that come into play if and when there are any critical incidents concerning a person in our, or any other healthcare provider’s, care. In the event that these circumstances arise, Narconon Arrowhead fully cooperates with these agencies.

Narconon Arrowhead is an established Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center that has been in operation in Oklahoma since 1992. The Center employs 190 rehabilitation and nursing staff and has serviced over 10,000 people in its rehabilitation program since it was first licensed and opened its doors over twenty years ago. Narconon has remained accredited by the nationally recognized accreditation agency, CARF (Commission on The Accreditation of Rehabilitation Facilities) for 20 years and is certified by the Oklahoma Department of Mental Health and Substance Abuse to deliver non-medical detoxification services.”

According to the Centers for Disease Control, drug overdose death rates in the United States have more than tripled since 1990. In 2008, more than 36,000 people died from drug overdoses, and most of these deaths were caused by prescription drugs, the agency reported.

The Oklahoman reported earlier this year that drug overdoses now kill more Oklahomans than motor vehicle accidents — an average of two per day, and drug overdoses in the state have more than doubled in the past 10 years.

Oklahoma is No. 1 in prescription painkiller abuse, according to a 2011 study.

The stigma attached to drug abuse is one that Robert Murphy said he wishes on no family.

“It’s embarrassing to say your child is a drug addict or an alcoholic … but this is everybody’s daughter, son, father, brother. People need help,” Robert Murphy said.”They’re not crazy people. They’re addicted, and sometimes no fault of their own. But if it happens, it happens, and they need help. Safe help.”

http://www.businessinsider.com/this-man-alleges-he-was-held-for-months-in-a-scientology-reform-prison

Former members of the Irish Scientology branch tell Kim Bielenberg about experiences they had in the Tom Cruise cult

They believe mothers should be silent when they give birth, and they purify themselves by sitting in a sauna for a month. The most advanced followers of Ireland’s Church of Scientology think that human problems are caused by an intergalactic overlord called Xenu.

Scientology scriptures say he sent evil creatures down to earth by crashing them into volcanoes.

The fallout from the break-up of the marriage of the cult’s most high-profile member Tom Cruise to Katie Holmes has continued to focus unwelcome attention on the church this week.

There was more speculation that one of the reasons for the split was his wife’s wish to protect her child Suri from the cult.

The divorce could not have come at a worse time for the Dublin mission, which has suffered heavy financial losses and years of bad publicity. Latest accounts seen by the Irish Independent show a deficit of €687,000.

While its leaders remained steadfastly silent this week — refusing to answer questions on the doorstep of the mission in Middle Abbey St — ex-members are increasingly vocal.

Dubliner John McGhee spent three years in the Irish church before the psychological and financial pressures became too much.

He started off with a stress test where he was hooked up to one of the cult’s favourite tools — the Electropsychometer.

On the E-meter, members are interrogated while they are attached to electrodes. A needle supposedly moves at times of high emotion.

He also took the personality test where potential recruits are asked 200 questions including: “Do you browse through rail-way timetables, directories or dictionaries just for pleasure?”

“At first they love bomb you to get you to stay,” says John. “They are saccharine sweet.”

The first courses are cheap at around €25, but costs mount dramatically — and can reach over €30,000 per course.

“They were desperate to get money off me,” says John. “At one stage they actually picked me up from work and drove me to the bank to pick up money?’

John paid €1,600 to do a “purification rundown”.

At mission headquarters he sat in a sauna for 30 days sweating. Every day he also had to run to the Point Depot (a mile away) and back, and take high doses of vitamins. This procedure is supposed to boost intelligence.

John spent hours undergoing auditing, where members follow commands that lead them into a sort of hypnotic trance.

“They asked me the same question again and again — like ‘what did you do to your mother?’ They’ll continue with the question until there is a sign of stress. I said I stole money out of her purse and they dwelt on that.

“They have an obsession with sex and wanted to know every explicit detail of an encounter with a girlfriend.”

On one course John was asked to talk to an ashtray.

On another occasion he and a “twin” member had to walk from one end of a room to another for hours on end, and touch the wall each time.

“My partner in the activity seemed to suffer some kind of mental breakdown, and he needed help. They told him he would have to pay €5,000 for ‘repair auditting’.”

It was at this stage that John became disillusioned with the church and began to distance himself in 2009.

Tom Cruise’s prominence in the cult is regarded in the church as a double-edged sword.

It has given Scientology a touch of glamour, but it has also highlighted some of its loopier teachings.

In 2004 Cruise declared in a notorious video that in a traffic accident a Scientologist was the “only one that can really help.”

The cult’s belief that mothers should stay quiet during birth also causes controversy. On the church’s website an Irish member, Zabrina Collins, tells how she had a silent birth when her daughter Navarra arrived nine years ago. Members believe words spoken during birth have a harmful effect later in life.

Like many others, teenage student Gabrielle Wynne had her interest in Scientology piqued by stars such as Cruise and John Travolta.

“They aroused my curiosity,” said young ex-member from Whitehall. Gabrielle originally approached the cult when she was doing a project on world religions for a Post-Leaving Cert course.

“I interviewed a member and he made it seem spiritually cool:’

Soon afterwards, the 19-year-old did a personality test and within a short time she had joined the staff.

“When they are doing the tests they find something that you are not happy with — like a relationship — and they concentrate on that.”

Gabrielle helped to sell books and courses, but she says she became alienated when the church tried to get her to distance herself from her mother, who was critical of the cult. Any critic is labelled a “suppressive person”.

“They wanted me to disconnect completely, which would have meant leaving home.

They also wanted me to get out a loan of €3,000 for a course, and I decided I’d had enough.”

Another ex-member said the cult’s heyday was in 1980s and 1990s. He said the Irish mission now has no more than 20 active members.

Ever since Scientology’s founder L Ron Hubbard first opened a Dublin office in 1956 it has had to face criticisms from breakaway members.

Bernie Green, an early follower of Hubbard, revealed how the visionary drained the Irish operation of money when he lived here for a short time.
According to Green’s account in New York magazine, Hubbard spent a fortune on cigarettes, camera equipment and renting a plush house over-looking Dublin Bay .

“He bled us white, and left me holding the bag,” said Green.

Hubbard is reputed to have declared that the best way of making money was to start a new religion.

But ex-members complain that a vast bulk of the money goes to the top in Britain and America, and there is certainly little sign that the Irish church is prospering.

CHURCH RELUCTANT TO ANSWER QUESTIONS

The church declined to answer questions about its practices and about its Irish operation which were put to it by the Irish Independent. It referred to a section on its website answering some frequent allegations.

The church denies that it engages in mind control and adds: “Scientology frees people and enables them to think for themselves.”

The church says a person who disconnects (from a family member, for example) is “simply exercising their right to communicate or not to communicate with a particular person”.

Justifying the cost of courses the church says: “Scientology does not have hundreds of years of accumulated wealth and property like other religions.”

‘I SAW FILE ON VAN AND BEATLE GEORGE’

Corkman John Duignan saw secret Scientology files on celebrities, including Van Morrison and George Harrison, when he was part of the cult’s elite group, Seaorg.

Duignan rose to a position of Commanding Officer in Seaorg, a special unit that dresses in naval uniform.

He told the Irish Independent that the church had unsuccessfully tried to recruit Van Morrison and he had shown an interest. The sleeve of his 1983 album, Inarticulate Speech of the Heart, has a tribute to the founder, L Ron Hubbard.

Duignan said: “They kept files on everyone, particularly those who were famous. I was involved in putting them on computer in London.

“They were trying to involve Van Morrison, but the problem was that that the auditor who was supposed to be looking after him was starstruck, and seemed only interested in talking to him about his career?’

Later on they approached Van again, but he did not join, according to John Duignan.

He said the 1960s file for George Harrison showed that the Beatle had bought one Scientology book, but did not persist with the cult.

Although he rose to a senior position, John said he worked long hours for minuscule wages. For much of his time in Seaorg, he said he lived in dormitories on a diet of beans and rice.

Duignan broke away in 2006 after he became disillusioned with the gulf between the opulent lifestyle of the church’s senior figures and its rank-and-file workers.

Interview with John Mcghee for a documentary in production called Wall of Fire by Irish film maker Brian Madden.

Latest video of Gerry Armstrong addressing the conference @ Dublin Offlines.

Gerry was the former personal secretary to L. Ron Hubbard. While in this role he was tasked with assembling materials needed for producing a biography for Hubbard. Reading these documents, and particularly given the large discrepancy between what these documents showed and what Hubbard had claimed regarding his life, allowed Gerry to, in his own words, “deprogram himself”

Who: Tourettes Without Regrets founder Jamie DeWolf, the great-grandson of L. Ron Hubbard.

Neighborhood: Oakland.

Years in the Bay Area: Life.

Current Gig: DeWolf is the host and founder of one of the best underground performance art shows in America, Tourettes Without Regrets. Part poetry slam, part circus and part rap battle, the event incorporates audience participation and an open mic, billing itself as “the fight club of underground art.” (Battle rappers and contortionists share cigarettes outside.) And it’s all run by the curious ringmaster: the red-headed stepchild of Scientology, DeWolf.

An outspoken critic against Scientology and his great-grandfather, DeWolf openly shares the tragic story of his grandfather, who fled the church and changed his name to protect his family. Now DeWolf channels his experience into his art, his movies and his show, which runs the first Thursday of each month and is now celebrating its 13th year.

On Thursday, DeWolf will host Tourettes’s annual XXX show at the Mitchell Brothers O’Farrell Theatre. And if the monthly series is any indication, DeWolf won’t hold much back. (“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted into the microphone on a recent Thursday. “We’re about to play one of my favorite games on the planet: what’s in my pants!”)

DeWolf took a minute to sit down with The Huffington Post to talk about the future of Tourettes, the evolution of his art and why Scientology sucks.

So how did Tourettes get started? It started out of revenge because I kept getting kicked out of every open mic night in my hometown for reading disturbing material. The first time I went to a poetry slam, it was the only place that people wouldn’t kick me out; they would just give me low scores. I remember my first one, I read this really long, confessional piece and the judges just crucified me. One judge gave me a four and clarified that it was a “what for?”

Ouch. And this didn’t make you want to give up? I felt like there was no place for the mutants of art, and I wanted a clubhouse with all of them under one roof. The first incarnation was this really chaotic thing and I quickly learned that actual chaos isn’t very entertaining. When we decided to scrap it, we billed our final show as “the worst show ever.” Our goal was to get kicked out of the venue, the Stork Club in Oakland. We lit things on fire, cleared the place out with a fire extinguisher and at the end I had everyone come outside and urinate on me.

Did you get kicked out? No, they asked us back! The bartenders said they were sorry they didn’t have to piss otherwise they would have joined us outside. Those guys are impermeable.

So what was the goal for the new show, the current one? More like rough sex instead of just a punch in the face. We wanted something that still felt wild and raw but incorporated rituals to bring everyone together and keep things orderly. The fact that we host legitimate rap battles for cash that get intense in downtown Oakland and we’ve never had a fight tells me that’s what we’re doing.

How do you think your location has influenced the show? Oakland has this sexy veneer of violence and menace intermixed with this Burning Man kind of art scene. And people perform just to perform. If we were in LA you’d have all of these rappers looking to get signed. Here, we just want a playground.

Do you have a day job? I do. I’m a producer for NPR’s Snap Judgment. And I have a bunch of other projects. I have a film called “Smoked” about a cannabis club robbery coming out at the Oakland Underground Film Festival. And I make a lot of art that is a bit more thoughtful than some of the stuff I do at Tourettes. It isn’t all gold dildos and flying meat.

So from Scientology to an artist… There it is. [Laughs.] You know I was just on Inside Edition talking about Scientology. They asked me three times about “the one thing I would say to Katie Holmes.”

And your answer was? I said I’d apologize for what my great grandfather did and commend her for escaping while she still could.

Were you raised in Scientology? I was not. My grandfather spent his entire life trying to get away from Scientology. I’m the only one in the family who will go on record and speak out against it.

Why is that? My mother watched Scientology destroy both her grandfather’s life and her father’s. When I first started talking about it publicly they said I needed to be careful. I went on Snap Judgment to perform a story about it and it went viral. Immediately I had the church coming after me. They came to my house even though I didn’t have a listed address, they posed as performers at shows and they hired private investigators. It was scary, scary stuff. It seems like a fun piece of trivia–”Oh you’re L. Ron Hubbard’s great grandson, how crazy!” But it’s not for people who lost 20 years of their lives to the lies of my great-grandfather and his brutally engineered confidence scam. It’s devastating. But I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let that quest consume me or my art.

So what’s next for Tourettes? I want to get it on a national stage somehow. Maybe get it filmed in a professional way and host it on a network. I’ve thought about a tour but I’m not sure if that would work logistically, especially with no budget. If I had a budget, we would make shows that would destroy.

Tell me your dream Tourettes lineup. The ghost of Andy Kaufman and everyone I’m working with now, but with a lot more money.

Check out Tourettes Without Regrets at the Mitchell Brothers O’Farrell Theatre this Thursday, or at Oakland Metro the first Thursday of every month.

Special picture. This features Lady Margaret McNair and the Dublin mission Ethics Officer, Zabrina Collins  nee Shortt. She is is the daughter of Frank Shortt who was the victim of a miscarriage of justice and who was financially compensated by the Irish state.   Lady Margaret McNair and the Dublin mission Ethics Officer, Zabrina Collins leaving after they tried on Thursday to talk the venue out of hosting the conference:

Read more at Dialogue Ireland here.

https://dialogueireland.wordpress.com/2012/07/03/organising-a-conference-a-couple-of-tips-in-how-to-neutralise-scientology/

Better luck next time Margaret,but please go easy on Parker!

The Church of Scientology has awarded just 80 people their coveted Freedom Medal, which recognizes “exemplary courage and determination…for bringinggreater freedom to mankind.” But only one person in the Church’s 60-year existence has ever won their Freedom Medal of Valor award: Tom Cruise, the Church’s Golden Boy, who was recruited in the eighties and groomed to be Scientology’s best advertisement. And so it proves ironic that the religion, which has historically been so adept at squashing bad press through lawsuits and intimidation, now finds itself under an onslaught of negative scrutiny — and it’s largely thanks to Cruise. Once the Church’s most treasured member, he may now prove to be its greatest liability.

Read more @

http://www.vulture.com/2012/07/will-scientologys-golden-boy-be-its-downfall.html