Scientology in the UK Media

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This is a story I never wanted to tell - of my vulnerable son James and how we nearly lost him to the scientologists

Daily Mail, 17 September 1996

By WILLIAM ODDIE

I HAVE been deeply reluctant to make this story public because of the unpredictable effect on my son, James, were he to see this article. But he is out of the country this week, staying with family friends, so here is my opportunity.

It is a story of tragedy averted, but what it proves beyond any doubt is the unscrupulousness of the Scientologists, that quasi-religious cult, who last week were given the go-ahead to run advertisements on two British satellite channels.

There is no question in my mind that they cynically batten onto the vulnerable. For vulnerable is what my son James is, so obviously vulnerable that only an utter scoundrel would exploit him.

He is 23, tall and handsome; you would not know at first that he had any problems at all. But when the Scientologist recruiters spent two hours performing a 'personality test' on him, they could have been in no doubt as to what they were doing.

He is a manic-depressive (a condition controlled by drugs). As if that were not enough, he has learning difficulties and other personality problems. As a teenager, he twice suffered severe mental breakdowns.

He will probably never marry or have a normal job, though he longs for both. He has, above all else, a longing for that 'happier and more fulfilling life' the Scientologists so glibly promise. He has enormous courage, plus an indomitable appetite for self-improvement, and so far has had good reason to trust those who have helped him.

So he was an apple ripe for the picking by the Scientologist recruiters prowling around a shopping centre in Poole, Dorset, earlier this year, selling correspondence courses in happiness and fulfilment.

The Scientologists' television advertisement is designed for maximum reassurance and would appeal to young people like James. A succession of smiling people in national costume will be seen, each saying just one word in their own language: 'Trust'.

Inspirational music then swells beneath the voice-over: 'On the day we can fully trust each other, ' it says, 'there will be peace on earth. The Church of Scientology provides practical wisdom which it believes can help you to lead a happier and more fulfilling life.' Then it gives a telephone number. The real question about the advertisement, however, is this: 'Can we fully trust the Church of Scientology?'

Ian Howarth is the general secretary of the Cult Information Office which gives advice and information to families about various cults.

'I am very concerned,' says Mr Howarth, 'for the welfare of anybody who might finish up being interested in going to a Scientology meeting after seeing this advertisement. It is a group about which we are deeply concerned, and it is most unfortunate that the advertisement has been allowed by the Independent Television Commission.' If it weathers the storm on satellite, the advertisement could later appear on ITV and Channel 4. The decision coincides with a controversy in Germany over the cult's activities. In Bavaria, members of the 'Church' of Scientology are now to be banned from joining the civil service. According to Bavaria's Prime Minister Herr Edmund Stoiber, Scientology is 'a subversive, intolerant, racist organisation that wants to replace our society with a totalitarian regime'. There is a growing campaign in Germany for a boycott of the film Mission Impossible, because its star, Tom Cruise, is a Scientologist.

According to a statement issued by the US State Department, the German response to Scientology is 'disproportionate' and the United Nations Human Rights Commission last year censured the state of Baden-Wurttemberg when it cancelled a concert by pianist Chick Corea on the grounds that he is a Scientologist.

So are the Scientologists dangerous, or are they not? Of what are they accused?

Firstly, of high-pressure sales techniques, often employed on vulnerable young people befriended in public places. The victims are given a 'personality test', the effect of which, one victim told me, is to unleash unhappy and vulnerable feelings.

Then they are persuaded that if they sign up for a course in something called Dianetics, they will be on the way to solving all their problems. Scientologists have been accused of a discipline so strict that it has caused mental breakdowns and suicides. Parents trying to rescue their children have used anti-cult kidnappers.

There are claims that they use quasi-psychological techniques that may be illegal and potentially dangerous. In 1994, the Californian Court of Appeal accepted that the techniques of Scientology constitute 'brain-washing' and 'thought-reform' similar to that practised by the Chinese against American prisoners in the Korean War.

But the US State Department still says all this is exaggerated. So, how much of it is really true?

Well, some of it, at least, I can confirm from my own experience, or rather that of my son: the accusation that Scientologists hang around in public places and entrap vulnerable young people by promising (to quote their TV ad) 'practical wisdom which . . . can help you to lead a happier and more fulfilling life'

I learned about James's involvement when I found him scratching his head over a booklet entitled The Components Of Understanding, and trying to answer questions that had been set: the first lesson in his correspondence course. I realised what had happened with a sense of outrage and disgust. In fact, he could not understand a word of it. It was full of stuff like:

'Scientology consists of specific axioms that define the underlying causes and principles of existence.'

'What's an axiom, Dad?' he said. But he had got the message that here was the key to self-improvement, if only he could somehow puzzle it out. I gently tried to break it to him that he would not find it here.

'But Dad, ' he said in a desperate tone, 'I want to do a course. You did a course.'

'What do you mean?'

'You did a course to be called Doctor.'

He meant the years of higher education leading to my doctorate, a level of educational attainment I had always taken for granted, but which was for him in the stratosphere.

The point was that he wanted in some way to emulate me, an ambition in a son of which many fathers would be proud, but which for me was little short of heartbreaking. I asked James if he had been given the course materials. 'No, ' he replied, 'it cost a lot of money.' He showed me the invoice: over UKP30. James's income was UKP5 a week from the sheltered workshop where he makes simple wooden toys; he had a little savings account that he could access with a card. I asked him why he didn't say he couldn't afford it.

'Because, ' he replied simply, 'they told me I had to go to the bank and get the money out.'

'But why didn't you refuse?' I knew the answer before he replied. 'Because they told me I had to give them the money. They made me.'

What had happened was obvious. The Scientologists, who probably had a daily quota to keep up, had realised that here was easy prey. They were looking for vulnerability - and they had certainly found it.

I cannot say what exactly would have happened to James if he had followed up the sect's approaches. But I do know that James is vulnerable and could easily have been led astray, even drawn away from the closely knit loving family of which he is a part. I believe my son was saved by two things. The fact that he has parents he trusts; and the fact that he lives at home. Further communications from the Scientologists have been consigned to the rubbish bin.

But what about all the vulnerable people who this week will be watching television, perhaps alone in bedsitters, when those good-looking smiling Scientologists come on to the screen with the word 'trust', promising the happiness and fulfilment that are only a telephone call away?

For them, I have a simple plea: don't trust the Scientologists an inch; and don't even copy that telephone number down, let alone dial it.

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