"Paul Haggis vs. Scientology," Lawrence Wright

I don't have much use for religions. They encourage a way of thinking that elevates faith above questioning and rational inquiry. Where rational inquiry is of no help -- say, concerning what happens after death -- that's not a problem, but too often faith takes primacy even when rationality is critical, as with our species' response to overpopulation, for example.

But Scientology is appalling even as religions go.

Lawrence Wright's extended piece in The New Yorker is centered on Hollywood screenwriter and director Paul Haggis's departure from the church of Scientology. Haggis reflects on his multi-decade membership in the church and what led him to renounce it in 2009. Briefly, the final straw was the church's refusal to denounce California's Proposition 8, which outlawed same-sex marriage in the state. Haggis felt the church's position was morally indefensible and personally offensive to him as the parent of two gay children. The church's recalcitrance led him to investigate how it was perceived by others, which in turn led to his discovery that church officials lied to outsiders about church practices. At that point, he felt he had to leave.

Wright uses Haggis's story as a framework into which to weave the stories of other ex-Scientologists, all of whom tell harrowing tales of escaping total domination by the organization. In some cases this domination included physical abuse at the hands of the church's current de facto leader, David Miscavige.

The church of Scientology denies the allegations of abuse and coercion lodged by its former members. Although the allegations inspire disgust, they are, unfortunately, not well supported by evidence that impresses the legal system: most of the cases against the church have been dismissed. Because of this, the church has been able to claim its accusers are untrustworthy and spiteful:

The church characterizes Scobee, Rinder, Rathbun, Hawkins, De Vocht, Hines, and other defectors I spoke with as “discredited individuals,” who were demoted for incompetence or expelled for corruption; the defectors’ accounts are consistent only because they have “banded together to advance and support each other’s false ‘stories.’ ”

A presumption of innocence is due to Scientology as much as to any person or organization named in a lawsuit. Nevertheless, the idea that these people would bother to conspire with one another is tough to swallow. The fact that so many people have accused Scientology of coercive, abusive behavior tells me that either

1. Scientology is good at recruiting vengeful, spiteful people who will band together to discredit it for no apparent reason (and waste a good deal of time, money, and emotional energy in the process); or
2. the accusers are right.

Wright pressed Scientology spokesman Tommy Davis on the church's attempt to discredit ex-members:

I asked how, if these people were so reprehensible, they had all arrived at such elevated positions in the church. “They weren’t like that when they were in those positions,” Davis responded. The defectors we were discussing had not only risen to positions of responsibility within the church; they had also ascended Scientology’s ladder of spiritual accomplishment. I suggested to Davis that Scientology didn’t seem to work if people at the highest levels of spiritual attainment were actually liars, adulterers, wife beaters, and embezzlers.

Scientology, Davis said, doesn’t pretend to be perfect, and it shouldn’t be judged on the misconduct of a few apostates.

That's one way to look at it. Or you could believe that the church's denials are sounding a little desperate.

It would help Scientology's credibility if the church could point to an ex-Scientologist whom it didn't have to vilify.

Let me rephrase that: it would lend Scientology its first scintilla of credibility if it could find such a person.

Don't hold your breath waiting.

If the deeply disturbing revelations of child molestation by Catholic priests have done nothing else, they have reminded us that the more religious organizations distort the normalcy of human lives, the more likely are terrible consequences. Scientology has its share of weird and unhealthful practices, and they're often directed at its adherents, not those who serve in a clerical role. For instance, in many cases the church demands its adherents cut themselves off from nonbelievers, including immediate family: the church claims too much contact with non-Scientologists will interfere with its adherents' quest to be better Scientologists.

Another example is the church's "Sea Org."

The Sea Org became the church’s equivalent of a religious order. The group now has six thousand members. They perform tasks such as counselling, maintaining the church’s vast property holdings, and publishing its official literature. Sea Org initiates—some of whom are children—sign contracts for up to a billion years of service. They get a small weekly stipend and receive free auditing and coursework. Sea Org members can marry, but they must agree not to raise children while in the organization.

It's bad enough that married couple cannot raise children in this group. Just leave that aside for a moment.

What is the possible justification for permitting a child to contract him- or herself to the church for what is effectively his or her entire life?

I can't imagine a child being handed over to act as clergy for any religion. And yet, this and other alleged (but sadly, credible) disturbing practices within Scientology will go on, unchallenged by Scientology's adherents, because they believe.

Wright elaborated on this point when he was interviewed by Terry Gross on NPR's Fresh Air. In the course of the interview Gross asked Wright about the "notice of separation" Hubbard received from the military upon his completion of service in World War II. The church of Scientology produced one version of the document. It stated Hubbard had been grievously wounded, a key fact because Hubbard claimed to have discovered the basis for Dianetics, and thus Scientology, while recovering from those injuries.

Wright received a different notice of separation from the U.S. military in response to his queries. That document makes no mention of the injuries Hubbard claimed.

The church claims Hubbard's official military record was sanitized because Hubbard was a covert intelligence officer, but its claim rests entirely on the analysis of an ex-intelligence officer who "worked as a consultant for Scientology" and who died in 2001.

It's hard to believe the church could magically gain access to Hubbard's supposedly secret, true military record if it had been sanitized by the intelligence community. Moreover, the church cannot explain why the notice of separation it produced wrongly claimed Hubbard had completed college with a degree. In short, its version of the document screams, "Forgery!"

From NPR's transcript of the interview:

GROSS: So, the document that you have, L. Ron Hubbard's notice of separation, what impact do you think that is going to have on Scientology?

Mr. WRIGHT: It's hard to measure, because we're dealing with a religion, and people are drawn to it because of faith. And if it were simply a matter of reason, then one could put this document down in front of you and say: Here is conclusive proof that the founder of Scientology lied about his military record and lied about his injuries and lied about the very fundamental principles out of which he created the Church of Scientology.

But that may not matter to people who are involved in it, who may feel that they are gaining something from their experience, either because they feel like the truths of Scientology enhance their lives or because the community of Scientologists that they live among is something like their family. So they intentionally shield themselves against knowing these kinds of things.

Faith trumps rational inquiry.