| Scientology Rare Book Library | Dr. Christopher Evans - Cults of Unreason |
FOR SOME TIME the Master of Saint Hill had owned a small yacht, the pretty ketch Diana (formerly Enchanter and renamed after Hubbard's good-looking daughter). This was a spruce little craft equipped with diesel auxiliaries, echo-sounders and expensive ship-to-shore radio, and on this in weather fair and foul Hubbard and his family would explore the coastal waters of Britain and the Eastern Atlantic seaboard. Its 30-ton displacement had also allowed L. Ron to take along with him the occasional Scientologist, sufficiently high up in the hierarchy to attract his attention and keen enough on the salt sea breezes to make the trip tolerable.
Sometime in 1966 or 1967 the Hubbard Exploration Company, one of the very many registered companies small and large which make up Ron's straggling empire, made a more ambitious purchase - the 414-ton trawler Avon River, which had originally plied its trade in the North Sea out of Hull. Then in 1967, when many Scientologists must have been speculating slightly nervously on what possible use a 400-ton trawler could be to their movement, came an announcement which was received with some surprise.
For a reported sum of £60,000, the Hubbard Exploration Company had landed an even bigger fish - the 3,400-ton farmer Channel ferry, Royal Scotsman, which was at the time lying in berth at Southampton. Naturally it wasn't too long before the press got to hear of this unusual investment and a great mystery grew.
On 19th November reporters from the Sunday Mirror - a newspaper with an ear acutely tuned to the dafter doings of this world - visited Southampton hot on the trail of the usual rumours which follow the Scientologists wherever they go. The rumours mainly concerned the planned role for the new boat - some stated that it was going to be a floating casino, others that it was to be staffed entirely by women, others again that it was going to be involved in some dramatic undersea exploration.
In fact it was to be none of these things, though the Mirror representatives were surprised (not unpleasantly) to find themselves welcomed aboard by a good-looking girl, aged about twenty-five, who introduced herself as Mrs Jill Van Staden, the ship's third officer. Dressed in a smartly-cut uniform of a naval type and with a dashing peaked cap on her head, Mrs Van Staden allowed herself to he photographed alongside the ship's wheel. Questioned about the ship's ultimate destination - assuming that it was ever going to leave dock - the third officer indicated that in 1963 Hubbard had done some `survey work' in the English Channel with promising results, and that the ship's mission would be to study `the geology of the sea floor where recently much oil and gas have been found'. Most of their work, however, would be done in the Mediterranean. The sharp-eyed reporter commented that notices pinned up in the saloon, signed by `L. Ron Hubbard, Commodore', declared that the ship was going to be run on `Scientology lines'.
The first sign of things not being quite what they ought to be came from the Board of Trade, who ungenerously refused to re-certify the thirty-one-year-old vessel as fit for a sea voyage unless certain alterations were made. For two weeks the Scientologists pressed their claims without avail, and then, evidently giving up in despair, the Royal Scotsman hauled down the red duster and replaced it with the national flag of Sierra Leone. The boat had been re-registered in Freetown, and was thus outside the Board of Trade control.
On Tuesday 29th November, the flagship of the Hubbard fleet pulled out of port and set sail towards the Bay of Biscay. On board was the Commodore himself, and as the boat left speculation was rife that the Scientologists were pulling out of Britain - a possibility which seem heightened when it was learned that earlier in the month the former trawler, Avon River, had left Hull. This also headed southwards, arriving after some misadventures in Gibraltar.
The story of the trawler's first voyage under the auspices of the Scientologists as related in the Daily Mirror is a weird one. Wisely it had been decided not to attempt the trip through some of the stormiest waters of the world with an untrained Scientological crew, and the skipper appointed was a Captain John Jones, who was supported by the only other professional seaman aboard, the chief engineer. Before they had got under way Captain Jones had been warned that he had to run the ship according to the rules of The Org Book - a handy manual written by Hubbard to tell people, among other things, how to manage boats. To the Scientologists aboard this was a book of rules, the words of the Prophet, and consequently to be obeyed to the letter. Describing the hair-raising consequences of this on his return, thirty-nine-year-old Captain Jones told a Daily Mirror reporter:
`It was the strangest trip of my life. My crew were sixteen men and four women Scientologists who wouldn't know a trawler from a tramcar. But they intended to sail this tub 3,000 miles in strict accordance with The Org Book.
`I was instructed not to use any electrical equipment, apart from lights, radio and direction finder. We had radar and other advanced equipment which I was not allowed to use. I was told it was all in The Org Book which was to be obeyed without question.'
There were, however, at critical times, strange tests with E-meters (another interesting role for this marvellous device). `We tried these methods', the skipper recalled. The result was that `getting out of Hull we bumped the dock. Then, using The Org Book navigation system based on radio beams from the BBC and other stations, we got down to Lowestoft before the navigator admitted we were lost. I stuck to my watch and sextant, so at least I knew where we were.'
At this point there was a huge row about who was in command, and as a result when the boat pulled in to Falmouth for fuel the chief engineer and skipper began to pack their bags intending to walk off. After a great flap, and lots of telephoning to East Grinstead, the Senior Scientologist was ordered ashore by Hubbard and Captain Jones resumed command. `He begged and pleaded', said the skipper, `but he had to go. Hubbard had spoken.'
On the voyage south, during which many of the crew were seasick, Captain Jones had leisure to observe some of the Scientologists' odd habits, including their frequent recourse to the E-meter and The Org Book. The sleeping arrangements were another strange feature, all the Scientologists sharing the same saloon with a blanket dividing the men's section from the women's. There was no fear of impropriety, however, for The Org Book said that `anyone guilty of sexual misconduct would be instantly sent back to the Scientology headquarters at East Grinstead' - easier said than done!
With his mind reeling slightly, Captain Jones left the Avon River at Gibraltar, to take a post as navigation officer on another boat. He decided to leave The Org Book behind.
Things were just about as daft aboard the Royal Scotsman, if we are to believe The People of Sunday 18th February, which reported the ex-channel ferry's voyage from Southampton to Valencia.
`AHOY THERE!', shouted the headline gleefully, `it's the craziest cruise on earth!', adding that the Chief Officer was carpenter and the `skipper' (L. Ron of course) `says he's been to Venus'. Accompanying the text is a photograph of the Scotsman in berth with, in the foreground, the ubiquitous Mrs Van Staden again. This time she is not only wearing a peaked cap and uniform, but boots as well. She has a stern expression on her face and is clearly taking everything very seriously.
The Chief Officer in question was Mr Stanley Churcher, a twenty-four-year-old carpenter, who was hired by Hubbard to serve on the ship in a purely professional capacity. At first he had no reason to suppose this was anything other than a perfectly normal voyage until he found that the big boat was manned by Scientologists who had never been to sea before, and that there were only two or three other professional seamen aboard - including the chief engineer and the boatswain. On arrival on board he was accosted by an officer who accused him of being a journalist, but relented after he had seen his seaman's log. It wasn't long before someone discovered that Churcher knew a bit of navigation, and in one dramatic day he found himself rocketed from carpenter to Chief Officer. This promotion, which probably made naval history, was duly recorded in his log. After this he set the ship's course most of the time and generally ran things pretty well as he pleased.
There were seven other officers, four of them women, all resplendent in uniform, peaked caps, etc., but `knowing next to nothing about seamanship'. Hubbard, who was on board as 'Commodore', had `four different types of peaked cap', and his wife, Mary Sue, also `had an officer's uniform made for her' Everyone, according to Mr Churcher, seemed to enjoy playing sailors, and when he offered to give them all seamanship lectures they reciprocated by giving him a free beginner's course in Scientology! This completely baffled the Chief Officer, who told The People: `I was given a test on their E-meter, a sort of lie detector, and a woman officer asked me a lot of personal questions, including details of my sex life. I could never make head or tail of their instruction but I played along because it made life easier!'
The former carpenter found the whole thing so blooming mysterious that he questioned some of the Scientologists about what they were doing on board. He got some odd replies. One elderly lady of seventy-five told him that she was there because she was convinced that Mr Hubbard would fix her up with a new body when she died.
Eventually when the ship arrived in Valencia, Churcher himself was declared to be in a `Condition of Doubt', as was the boatswain. This didn't prevent them both from packing their bags in a totally decisive manner and leaving the ship.
It is now time to consider the evolution of Scientological ideas at about this time and attempt to explain the curious hierarchy of the movement and various `Conditions' in which an individual or group may have been said to find himself or itself.
In all his writings Hubbard has continually stated that first Dianetics, and then Scientology, were exact sciences with a rigorous logic and an extremely high success rate when applied correctly. A close study of the logic reveals that it is anything but rigorous, and the illusion of coherence is achieved only by Hubbard's adoption of a specialized jargon which makes it impossible frequently to decide whether a particular statement is meaningful or meaningless. Within the system there is probably a limited coherence, but this soon collapses when an attempt is made to integrate it with the other philosophical and technical systems which exist outside.
Now the admitted deficiencies in Scientology are attributable, according to Hubbard, not to flaws in the system or the ideas, but rather to their implementation. In other words if some individual, or some organization in Scientology, is failing for some reason it is not because Scientology is wrong, but because it is being inappropriately applied at some point, or not being applied at all.
There are three possible sources of success or failure which in the Scientology jargon are known as `Ethics', `Admin' and `Tech'. To give an example of the strands of interaction here one can imagine an individual who is well trained in the techniques of Scientology (in which case he would have a high `Tech' rating) and who is good at carrying out or administering these techniques (he would then have a high `Admin' rating). This same individual might, for one reason or another, have a less than positive attitude to Scientology, in which case his `Ethics' rating would be low. Now Scientologists believe that an individual can be located fairly accurately on the rungs of a ladder on each of these ratings. When an individual or an organization (Org) have high ratings in all three, then by the principles and theory of Scientology, that individual or Org will be successful in all spheres of activity.
Conversely, one can reason that if an individual or Org shows signs of inefficiency or of failing to succeed, then this must be because somewhere, someone or something is lacking in either `Ethics', `Tech' or `Admin'. The location of this weakness and its eradication or enforced improvement will then cause the system to continue on the success road once more.
Hence the aims of Scientology are to `get Ethics, Admin and Tech in to 100% level' - at which point, inevitably, nothing will be able to stop the expansion of Scientology.
Since `Tech' and `Admin' are largely a matter of training and teaching, weaknesses are far more likely to lie in the sphere of `Ethics' according to Hubbard, and thus the decision to form a Scientology Ethics Department with the hierarchy of Ethics Officers who may have very considerable power. For this vital arm of the movement a headquarters safe and secure from physical and psychological assaults on the part of the non-scientology world (the `Wogs' to use the cult's homely descriptive term for outsiders) is required. For this reason, it seems, the `Sea Orgs' were brought into being.
Thus one of the first tasks of these boats was not, as the press had assumed, to evacuate all Scientologists from Britain, but to form an elite central body, a special `police force', who would sally out from their mobile headquarters to any land-based Org suffering from what are known as `Down Statistics'. The boats are euphemistically known as `Mission Schools' which can dispatch `missions' as required to recalcitrant Orgs. Their task is to seek out the suppressive person who is the cause or to find the `Out-admin' or `Out-tech' who is applying the brakes.
It would be a mistake to underestimate the intensities of belief in operation here. To the detached individual reading about these odd capers, the comic and ludicrous side is always apparent. Scientologists take all this in deadly earnest and the members of an Ethics Mission, arriving at a Land Org dressed in naval-type uniform with high boots and peaked caps, strike something very close to fear in the hearts of the suspected suppressives. To get some idea what they look like, a small photograph in The Auditor, Number 42, shows three tough-looking characters with peaked caps like American police, open-necked shirts, lanyards and grim-looking expressions on their faces. The caption reads: `Sea Orgs officers specially trained by Ron as Supervisor Class VIIIs are teaching the Advanced Org Class VIII course.' Hubbard has written that missionaries must be tough, and to that end judo is taught and also, according to some ex-Scientologists, karate.
In the chaotic days when the Ethics Department was at the height of its power, and an atmosphere of paranoia was beginning to permeate the world of Scientology, even the famous headquarters at East Grinstead suffered visitations from missions, about which we shall hear more in a moment. At the successful conclusion of a mission, incidentally, the retiring Ethics Officers, with a charming gesture, were wont to fix a notice to that effect to the Land Org's notice board with a Sea-Org throwing knife.
The decision to send out an Ethics mission, or to take any form of disciplinary action, is based on an assessment of the relative severity of the suppressive individual, or Org's condition. If things are merely slightly stagnant, then no direct action other than the dispatching of some pep-up letters (Scientology Orgs are great letter writers) will be taken, but if the Org is sliding in some way, a mission will be launched.
On 11th July 1968 the staff and students of the London Org in Tottenham Court Road learned, no doubt to their dismay, that a `Worldwide Mission to London' had been instigated with `TOTAL ETHICS POWER' (to quote their special Bulletin, Mission Order 22) `to get Ethics in and production rearing'.
In an unpleasant letter signed by `Jon Rappoport, Mission-in-Command', the London Org was warned that a `Suppressive Person attempts obsessively to stop this goal [of Total Freedom] from being achieved' and that the `effect of a suppressive person on an individual can be quite harmful to his state of being', and therefore that all contact with this individual must cease. There followed a list of over a hundred names of various people, some longstanding disciples of Hubbard, from whom all Scientologists were to disconnect themselves immediately and totally. The letter closed with the ominous reminder that `refusal to disconnect from a declared Suppressive Person is a Suppressive Act'. Thus might friends be cut off from friends and a man severed from his family - if he wanted to remain in Scientology.
The sliding scale of success or failure is an interesting one and each level on the scale has its own punishments or rewards, as the case may be. At the top of the scale is the Condition known as `Power' (one rarely achieved) carrying very special privileges such as a pay rise with bonuses and `free gifts'. These may be quite valuable, such as a typewriter or tape recorder.
One step lower down is the still exalted condition of `Affluence', when special pay bonuses are again granted, and there are also some free gifts, though less magnificent than those awarded to the power people. In fact the free gifts are rather marginal, such as hair-do's for the women and free razors and bath soap for the men. (The emphasis on soap, etc., will become slightly clearer as we proceed down the ladder.)
Most people working away in an Org are likely to be in the Condition of `Normal Operation'. Here they are given normal pay and (I quote from a Scientology bulletin): `can shave, wear make-up, bathe, wear decent clothes and have hair-do's'. They have to pay for their soap, however.
Below `Normal' is a Condition known, dramatically, as `Emergency', and there the bonuses metamorphose into penalties. Members of an Org in this Condition find themselves not only deprived of their lunch hour but also expected to put in overtime without pay. Their pay scale is also reduced. Small wonder that anyone labelled as `Emergency' struggles hard to move back up the ladder and, perhaps even more, fights to avoid shipping down further to the unhappy rung of `Danger'. At this level things get decisively worse, the penalties reflecting the cranky outlook that lies skin-deep in most Scientology philosophy. Those in `Danger': `may not bathe, wear make-up, have hair-do's or shave'. They have no lunch hour, of course, and are expected to work at night. They are on the lowest pay scale of all.
Grimmer yet is a still lower Condition with the tragi-comic title of `Non-Existence'. Here not only are bathing, shaving, make-up, etc., barred, but individuals must wear old clothes which they may not change. Nor may such individuals leave the premises of the Org. The farcical Condition of `Non-Existence' (which is taken completely seriously by Scientologists) is not, incredible though it may seem, the lowest. Further on yet come the states of `Liability', `Doubt,' `Enemy' and `Treason', and according to former Scientologists these are socially and psychologically demoralizing. In a condition of `Liability' for example, no uniform may be worn and a dirty grey rag must be tied around the left arm. One is also supposed to eat only stale food and drink only water. Worse yet, in the condition of `Doubt' Scientologists are supposed to wear handcuffs on their left wrist (the ex-Scientologist Cyril Vosper claims that these could be `symbolic', being made of paper clips). One can also be locked up or ejected from the Org premises. There are many reported cases of erring Scientologists being literally cast overboard, presumably when in a condition of Doubt or worse. Auditor No. 41, for example, publishes a picture captioned `Students are thrown overboard for gross out-tech and bequeathed to the deep'. It is a relief to learn that they are fished on board again afterwards. In the dreaded condition of `Treason' Scientologists or `suppressive persons' are stated to have become `Fair Game' and in the weird words of Hubbard's original dictum `may be deprived of property or injured by any means by any Scientologist without any discipline of the Scientologists. May be tricked, sued or lied to or destroyed'. This penalty, plus `all penalties for all lower conditions' and all other relics of what Mr David Gaiman was to describe in court as Scientology's `puritanical' period, were abolished in 1970, no doubt in the face of pressure from within and outside the movement. One feels that there are few people, whether Scientologists or outsiders, who will regret their demise.
Details of life on the Scientology boats are hard to come by. The application to join a Sea Org involves filling up a long form composed of questions which seek to ferret out one's background and anyone suspected of being a journalist or in any way hostile to Scientology is unlikely to get aboard for any length of time. Once on board one's first obligation is (or was until quite recently) to sign a document binding oneself to the Sea Org for a billion years. This preposterous piece of paper, which is decorated at the head with the picture of two sea horses, reads:
I,...do hereby agree to enter into employment with the Sea Organization and, being of sound mind, do fully realize and agree to abide by its purpose which is to get ETHICS IN on this PLANET AND THE UNIVERSE and, fully and without reservation, subscribe to the discipline, mores and conditions of this group and pledge to abide by them.THEREFORE, I CONTRACT MYSELF TO THE SEA ORGANIZATION FOR THE NEXT BILLION YEARS.
(As per Flag Order 232).
As ever with Scientologists, whether on land or sea, a rich thread of unconscious comedy is laced through their activities. But there can be a black side as well. Boats are boats and, when at sea and outside territorial waters, are little empires in themselves. Scientologists who have left the Sea Orgs (and Scientology as well at the same time) have spoken of their terrifying feeling of isolation from society and of their awareness that they were effectively totally committed to an encapsulated Scientology world-in-miniature. And indeed the outsider and the non-Scientologist can think of few less welcoming environments than that on a boat of Mr Hubbard's strange fleet as it ploughs the waters of the world on its enigmatic mission
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