The Church of Fear: Inside The Weird World of Scientology (18 page)

I don’t think I am brainwashed, I said, weakly. I went on to say that was because my mind is open to stuff, for example, I read the internet, blah blah.

‘It is not that I am not open to criticism,’ she said. ‘It is that there is so much crap in the world, why would I want to open myself up to being in a bad mood or why would I want to open myself up to reading nasty stuff about something that has helped me? We are not hurting anybody, we are doing just the opposite. We are helping people.’

Some people say that is not true.

‘Well, that is bullshit, Baby-doll,’ – I do wish she hadn’t called me that.

She spoke about the success of Narconon, Scientology’s drug treatment programme questioned by the doctors in San Francisco, and defended the Church to the utmost: ‘We really don’t give a crap. We know that we are helping people. Do you understand what I am saying to you? You don’t have to say it is a brainwashing cult. Is there any other religion that would put up with this kind of talk? This kind of bigotry.’

I queried the number of Scientologists the Church claims, worldwide: 10 million people. I’ve looked through the windows of more Church of Scientology buildings than anyone else I know, and they always seem empty: a few souls, workers, hanging around the entrance. But no flood of people, coming to and fro.

‘OK, there isn’t 10 million in the building.’

I still looked sceptical.

‘Oh, you caught us, you know, it’s nine [million].’

She was playing with me. We batted on for a bit.

One last question, I said.

‘OK, make it good. You haven’t even got me riled up yet.’

I am not here to rile people up.

‘I thought you were a little spicier,’ she was taunting me.

I am very tame, I said. What is your view of L Ron Hubbard?

‘As a man who cares. A man who cared about mankind. He has given me a gift.’

We carried on some more. I mentioned the c-word and she cut in, gently: ‘Stop calling it a cult, it is just not nice. It is disrespectful you know.’

But they say it is, I said.

‘I hear what you are saying. But as a journalist and as an Englishman I think it would do you better to stop using that word. It is just disrespectful. I would never say it to somebody. I would just hope that we as human beings would respect each other’s beliefs. And it is just not something to say over and over again and it just pushes someone’s buttons and that is really not the purpose of doing an interview.’

It is a criticism that the Church of Scientology does not want made, I said. It is a word you don’t want the word used.

‘Baby, it is not that. It is just about respect. You can call it whatever the hell you want. I personally don’t give a shit. But what I am saying is it is about a respect. I would never say that to another person.’

Leah Rimini was the most subtle defender of the Church of Scientology I met.

They had filmed us continually. Mole, Bill and I were desperate to have some time to think alone, to work things out, to process stuff. But they never gave us a break. Somewhere in a gap between interviewees I set off towards the loo, but signalled for Bill and Mole to come with me. I sat down on the toilet seat and Bill and Mole crammed into the rest of the loo. Bill framed me perfectly, looking up from the toilet seat, whispering in fear, directly into the camera: ‘We’re just having an editorial conference in the loo because it’s the only place where we can escape from them.’

That’s all I had time to say because Tommy had sniffed us out: ‘Are you guys OK in there?’ He was up against the door, the proximity of his voice adding an extra dimension to our sense of dread. It was as if we were in ‘
Jurassic Park
’ when the Velociraptor sniffs out the humans hiding in the kitchen.

‘Yes,’ I replied, quietly despairing.

‘All three of you in the bathroom together?’ To say his tone was mocking was an understatement. ‘Is this like BBC policy or something?’

‘It’s a BBC requirement,’ I said, po-faced. The Church of Scientology is the Church that hunts you down, even on the toilet. And then it was back to work.

Five million dollars is a bob or two in anyone’s language. That’s reportedly what Kirstie Alley gave to the Church of Scientology in 2007, the very same year I interviewed her at the Church’s Celebrity Centre. Five minutes was the time, off-camera, Tommy said I could have with her. Kirstie sat down in the ‘are you a member of a brain-washing cult?’ hot seat opposite me, and treated me to a look of amused contempt, a tigress surveying a mouse dropping. She has a $1.5m waterfront property in Clearwater. Her fame rests on the hit TV series,
Cheers
, set in a bar in Boston. She is a big woman with big hair and big attitude and, had I encountered her in a different setting, we may have become big friends. But not that day.

Is Scientology a force for good? Or a brainwashing cult?

Her snort of derision could have been heard in Moosejaw, which I suspect is somewhere far away from Florida. ‘I am just so glad you are asking me something other than why do I get so fat?’ (The American media are obsessed with Kirstie’s weight, which yo-yos around somewhat.) ‘So I am glad you are asking me about religion. Here is the deal. I chose my religion because for me it gives me the most workable tools to handle life.’

The critics say that if you are a practising Scientologist then you must be brainwashed?

Enter the Nazis. ‘They assassinated millions of Jews, and their view was that these Jews had horns, they told their children they have horns, they are spawns of the devil. And they created such chaos, and such hatred and such fear that camps were actually built to murder millions of people. So what a human society can do when it is under fear is mind-boggling…’

Fair enough. From there, she changed tack: ‘People have the right to believe what they want to believe. And no matter how much you persecute them, no matter how much you beat them into submission, they will not give up what it is innately true to them.’

People who have been in Scientology say that there are effectively dungeons of the mind, I said, places where people that have annoyed the management, David Miscavige…

‘…People say there are Martians. Look, I am the tabloid queen. It is….

It is not true, I asked?

‘That there are no Martians?’

That Scientology has got punishment camps?

‘John, I can’t take you seriously…’

That is just not true, you have never heard of it?

‘To my knowledge it is not true, but I can’t take you seriously. It is like me asking you when was the last time you saw a Martian. Because I know some people in Oklahoma who told me they see Martians in their backyard. And there are those people. Not all Okeys.’

Kirstie is originally from Kansas, immediately due north of Oklahoma. I’m guessing, but presumably Okeys are a byword for credulity and foolishness in Kansas.

Let’s talk about aliens, I said. Her first film role back in 1982 was
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
, playing the half-Vulcan/half-Romulan Starfleet officer Lieutenant Saavika, but that wasn’t what was on my mind.

Which level are you on?

‘Scientology level or which alien level?’

Operating Thetan…?

‘Thetan… Does the audience know what Thetan means? Because it means a spirit.’

I am worried that we have only got five minutes, I said. So Operating Thetan…?

‘You are not really worried, we can help you with your anxiety.’

Thank you. What level are you?

‘I am on OT7, which is an upper level in Scientology.’

So let’s talk about aliens, I said. Is it true that Scientologists are told at OT3 that Xenu, the galactic warlord banished souls, alien souls, banished them to earth and then blew them up next to volcanoes?

‘That would be not true, John, that would be not true. Now I have heard other interviews because I have been sitting upstairs and everyone has told you that is not true.’

It was good of Kirstie to confirm that the celebrities had been able to watch the previous interviews. Nothing wrong with that, but until now, no-one had explained that was what was going on.

Kirstie continued, echoing my question: ‘“But is it true?” This is what I am asking you, this is why I find this fascinating. You guys as journalists keep doing the same story. You have the same ten Scientology defectors and I know their names. They are like the ten Scientology celebrity defectors. They run around the world, they probably make money off it, they certainly get all the attention that they would ever get in their life off it. It is not like there is millions…’

What is not true?

‘It’s not true. I have already told you it is not true. Leah told you it is not true. Every person is telling you it is not true. Do you still beat your wife, John? Do you still believe in aliens? Do you still keep slaves in your basement, John? Because I heard people say you do. It is not hard to poison people’s minds and make them afraid of things. It is the easiest thing in the world. And as far as religion goes it is the super, the easiest thing in the world. All you have to do is to say something sort of freaky about somebody’s religion and suddenly you can get people up in arms, oh my God, we are so fearful. And then you have things happen like the Holocaust.’

I had, if you recall, asked her a question about Lord Xenu. With great energy and passion, Kirstie seemed to me to be suggesting that I might have a penchant for singing the
Horst Vessel
song and heel-clicking my shiny black boots. I don’t think being sceptical about Xenu makes me a Nazi, but that seemed to be the implication. Still, she was on a roll.

‘…I could go on and on about religion through history and show you where people like to incite fear so that people will attack. So I can’t say that I see that you are doing anything other than trying to incite fear. Because if you wanted a real story, that’s Scientology. Look if I wanted a real story about what Christianity was, I would read the Bible. And then I would go talk to ministers, and I would talk to parishioners. I would not go interview Judas.’

Well, I would you see, I said. Because it [an interview with Judas – Why I Betrayed My Friend Jesus] is a good story.

Tommy: ‘Seven minutes.’

Kirstie: (to Tommy) ‘I’m fine.’ She turned her attention back to me: ‘It is not a good story, John. I tell you what, a thousand people have done it.’

I would interview Judas.

‘You might and you might fall in love with Judas but if you want to find the upside of Judas, would you be trying to find the upside of Judas because he doesn’t exist.’

Never mind Judas, I said, thoroughly confused. I would like to interview David Miscavige. You are an actress. You are happy to talk to me. Why can’t the leader of Scientology talk to a journalist on camera. Not since 1992?

‘Because they see crazy things like you. You may not be a bigot but the question is, would you ever ask a Jewish person, would you ever sit with a Jew and say what was…?’ We were talking over each other.

‘… less than half a century ago there was a whole group of people and you would have been over there interviewing. Right now, you would be researching the Nazis to find out about Judaism instead of reading the Torah.’

Are you saying that I am an equivalent of…

‘I am saying you are the equivalent of a bigot yes. Because this is what bigots do.’

Are you calling me a Nazi?

‘I am calling you a bigot. Did you not hear me? I am calling you a bigot. You are a bigot. Would you ever sit with a Jew and tell them that their religion was a cult?’

She sounded very angry. I did not raise my voice, but I found what she seemed to be implying offensive.

No.

‘Why?’

Because Judaism, I said, is bigger than that.

I went on to raise with Kirstie the case of the Kabbalah Centre, which critics say is a sinister religious cult, a kind of ‘Jewish Scientology’, a charge it strongly denies. Kabbalah’s most famous adherent is Madonna. In 2005 a TV investigation found the Kabbalah Centre selling Zohar books and bottled water at very high prices. They claimed they could cure cancer with their water. One undercover investigator was told how the Kabbalah water worked, with a devotee explaining: ‘We start with the purest artesian water and then we do the various meditations, injecting energy into it.’ The Kabbalah Centre website explained that a process called Quantum Resonance Technology ‘restructures the intermolecular binding of spring water’. The investigation discovered the water actually comes from CJC Bottling, a bottling plant in Ontario, Canada, which was the subject of a public health investigation in 2002 into how its water was tested. CJC was ordered to improve manufacturing techniques, though there was no suggestion that they ever sold polluted water. The investigation was shown in a BBC documentary called
Sweeney Investigates: The Kabbalah Centre
, directed by Nobel prize nominee Callum Macrae. One of our undercover investigators was Mole, allowing me to broadcast the following line: ‘so we decided to send in a Mole…’

I left all of that out, but I did put to Kirstie that the Kabbalah Centre was, its critics said, a cult.

‘I am not a Kabbalist,’ she said, ‘but I can tell you it is not, and I can tell you some of the finest people I know are Kabbalists. So why do you think it is a story? Journalism isn’t about the finding the most hideous things in life. You should go to prison,’ – I guess that was a verbal slip – ‘you should go into a prison and you should interview people of different religions and ask them if they have anything to do with why they are in prison, that would be a better story.’

My job is to ask questions, I said. People who spent many years of their lives in Scientology have told me that it is a rip-off, it tells people rubbish and it warps their minds.

‘Are you really concerned about that, does that bother you?’

And I am asking you as a public face of Scientology why is it that the leader of Scientology, David Miscavige is so terrified of that question that he won’t give an interview?

‘See the way you say this, this is how bigots…’