Subject: Battle Creek Enquirer: Scientology's Comin' to Town
Date: 25 Feb 2001 19:57:34 GMT
Message-ID: <97bo3e$4ig@netaxs.com>
Scientology in Battle Creek: Church's workings a mystery to many
Battle Creek Enquirer
Sunday, February 25, 2001
Tools for living form a key part
By Matt Galnor
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/news/stories/20010225/localnews/310867.html
ANN ARBOR - Parishioners trickle into a recent Sunday service, some forced
to stand in the cramped quarters as the folding chairs are quickly filled.
Those in attendance on this frigid, winter afternoon come from across
Michigan and surrounding states to the 12:30 p.m. Church of Scientology
service.
Some shuffle in from the classrooms in the back. Others stand in the
hallway just before the service, trying to rush a quick lunch before the
service begins.
Many of the 30-some parishioners traveled several hours to come to the
church. There's a few from Indiana, a handful from northern Michigan and
plenty from the Ann Arbor region.
Yet when the 25-minute service concludes, there isn't a rush to get out to
the back parking lot in this suburban-like strip mall section of Ann
Arbor.
For many Scientologists this Sunday, their day is just beginning - or
reaching the halfway point.
The service is just a highlight of a day filled with study, course work
and counseling. And even in a relatively small congregation, space is
tight.
That may soon change. The Church of Scientology plans to buy the former
Hart Hotel in downtown Battle Creek, much larger than the small office
building it has leased in Ann Arbor the past eight years.
The move is also important for geographic reasons, said Mike Delaware, an
executive secretary for the Church of Scientology and overseer of the move
to Battle Creek. The church has two locations in Michigan - one in Ann
Arbor and the other about 25 miles to the east in Farmington Hills.
Delaware said many of the parishioners who come to Ann Arbor live on the
west side of the state.
The new location will cut travel time and be more convenient for
parishioners, who are expected to spend plenty of time at the church
studying the writings and life-improvement techniques of Scientology's
founder, the late L. Ron Hubbard.
Mention the Church of Scientology to average residents and they typically
know a couple of basic facts: that the church has a somewhat controversial
image and that actors John Travolta and Tom Cruise are among Scientology's
large contingent of celebrity members.
The Church of Scientology is a relative unknown to those who haven't
studied it thoroughly, and descriptions vary dramatically from the words
of Scientology officials and the often harsh words of critics.
The words Delaware speaks during the Sunday service - both his own and
those he recites of Hubbard's work - relate to tips for Scientologists to
live their lives.
Church officials say Scientology is "inter-denominational," meaning it
has members who also practice other religions.
When asked if God has a part in Scientology, Delaware says, "Absolutely,
God has a part in it."
During his service, neither "God" nor "Jesus Christ" was mentioned often.
The service begins, as it does every week, with the minister reciting the
Creed of Scientology. (See "The Church's Creed" on next page.) Delaware
then reads one of Hubbard's articles and gives a sermon based on that.
RULES FOR HAPPINESS
Delaware, one of 10 ministers who alternate at the Ann Arbor church,
highlights the "two rules for happy living" featured in one of Hubbard's
voluminous writings.
The rules: "Be able to experience anything" and "cause only those things
which others are able to experience easily."
The rules sound similar to the Golden Rule - originated by the Buddhist
religion and adopted by several other faiths - yet Delaware said Hubbard
did not believe the Golden Rule was all-encompassing because it does not
explain that "to be happy, one must be able to confront."
"Unhappiness is only this," Delaware said at the lectern, with a bust of
L. Ron Hubbard seemingly looking over his right shoulder, "the inability
to confront what is. If you can't confront, you won't be happy."
Parishioners of the church are then asked to share their thoughts and ask
questions about the rules and the sermon, such as how they've applied them
in the past week.
"Who could rule you with evil," Delaware asked as he concluded the sermon,
"if you knew these rules and practiced them?"
Many Scientologists then head to study those and other rules and courses
after the service. Sundays usually consist of at least three hours of
study and course work for parishioners, partly because many commute for
the weekend and cannot come during the week.
The students are gradually working their way up the elaborate and lengthy
"Bridge to Total Freedom," a journey that requires a strong work ethic and
dedication. When parishioners are taking a course, they are required to be
in the church studying or taking other services at least 12 hours a week,
said Margarita Davis, executive director of the Church of Scientology Ann
Arbor.
While midweek visits to churches of other denominations may consist of
choir practice or a few hours of Bible study, Scientologists can be found
in their church - which is open from 9 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. seven days a
week - at all hours taking courses or being counseled in "auditing"
sessions.
While no collection plate is passed during the weekly Sunday service,
money changes hands for the services. The courses and the auditing
sessions, which are one-on-one counseling periods for the members, can
cost up to $3,200 for 12 1/2 hours, according to a course list provided by
the church.
Scientologists readily compare the cost of the church's courses - all
written by Hubbard, who wrote in a variety of genres, including science
fiction - with the cost and benefits of a college education at a four-year
university.
Church officials point to thousands of success stories showing people
who've benefited from Hubbard's techniques or studying and improving
communication skills.
Critics, including former members of the church, say Scientology is a
"destructive cult" and both sides seem entrenched in a bitter war to
discount the other's credibility.
Where does it come from, this controversy that surrounds this religion,
which has more than 150 churches internationally and nearly 50 in the
United States?
The foundations of the church stem from Dianetics: The Modern Science of
Mental Health, Hubbard's signature book first published in 1950. The book
details a philosophy that formed the basis for the first Church of
Scientology that sprouted in 1954 in Los Angeles, a city that still serves
as the headquarters, or "mother Church," for the religion.
Hubbard's writings and lectures on Scientology - more than 500,000 pages
of writings contained in dozens of books and hundreds of lectures - make
up the church's "scriptures."
Church officials say Scientology is an "applied religious philosophy."
As Davis explains, "We address every individual as a spiritual being."
"In that sense, it is a religion and that's why, in principal, it is a
religion," she said.
The Internal Revenue Service agreed in 1993, granting the Church of
Scientology and all its secondary programs full tax-exempt status. Church
officials considered it a major victory, especially coming off the heels
of a 1991 article in Time Magazine depicting the church as a "cult of
greed." The church then sued Time -- another long-standing legal battle.
This time the courts, most recently the U.S. Court of Appeals for the
Second Circuit in New York in January, ruled the suit should be dismissed,
according to Church of Scientology International vs. Behar.
The major tenets of the Church of Scientology don't shed much light on the
origin of controversy. The creed of the church includes beliefs that "all
men have unalienable rights to their own lives ... their sanity ... to
think freely, to talk freely, to write freely their own opinions and to
counter or utter or write upon the opinions of others."
The tenets more closely resemble a philosophy for life, and members of the
church speak glowingly about how the teachings of Scientology, which they
say are so simple in nature, have made monumental differences in their
lives.
A glimpse at a course list echoes that simplicity and the self-help aisles
of Any Bookstore, USA: Success Through Communication, The Way to
Happiness, How to Improve Conditions in Life.
STRIVING TO BE 'CLEAR'
Halfway up the "Bridge to Total Freedom" lies the state of "Clear." The
term refers to "a person who no longer has his own reactive mind and
therefore suffers none of the ill effects that the reactive mind can
cause," according to the What is Scientology? book based on the writings
of Hubbard.
Students must take a series of courses to become "Clear," and there are
seemingly infinite combinations of courses and audits that parishioners
can take to get to that state. On average, it will cost between $18,000
and $35,000 to become "Clear." The process can take anywhere from three
months to a few years, depending on how often the student takes courses,
Davis said.
John Green of Flint said he was first drawn to Scientology in the 1970s by
Hubbard's methods for study. Green, a former teacher, now works as a
learning consultant for General Motors companies.
"All of a sudden, it led me to wonder what else is here since I built my
career on that first course," Green said. "One of the basic things you
find yourself doing every day is communicating with other people, and
there are so many ways Scientology can help with that."
Those services likely will be available soon in Battle Creek, triggering
the curiosity of some local residents. The Battle Creek Enquirer has
received about 10 letters from residents - about evenly split between
church supporters and critics - regarding the church's plan to move here.
Todd Phipps of Battle Creek authored two of the letters and was greeted
with a surprising message on his answering machine less than a week after
the second critical letter appeared in the paper.
The message was from John Carmichael, president of the Church of
Scientology of New York. Carmichael, in Battle Creek at the time,
requested to meet with Phipps to speak with him about why Phipps, an
Evangelical Christian, was so opposed to Scientology.
"He was trying to get me to a point where I would be quiet and play nice,"
said Phipps.
Phipps, who gathered information through the Internet from former members
and other critics of the church, said the meeting lasted about two hours.
Carmichael declined to comment on the details of the meeting. "That's just
between him and me."
Is it common practice for a high-ranking church official to meet with a
private citizen who writes two letters to the local newspaper?
"I don't know that it's common practice," Carmichael said. "If I find
someone who's got a problem with Scientology, I talk to them. The way the
Church of Scientology deals with people who don't know about the Church of
Scientology is to educate them.
"In every case, we feel we can resolve misunderstanding through
education."
Phipps said he was somewhat surprised by Carmichael's phone call but added
there was also a part of him that expected it, from what he's heard about
the church's aggressive nature in talking to critics.
"If an organization feels it has to do these kinds of things, coming in
from New York to talk to me because I wrote a couple of letters to the
editor, they have to be hiding something," Phipps said. "There has to be
something to it, or their reaction wouldn't have to be that adverse."
Carmichael said he had a variety of things to attend to in Battle Creek
and also visited with the Battle Creek Enquirer several times.
COMMUNITY PRESENCE
Chuck Trammell, who grew up in Battle Creek, lived in Clearwater, Fla.,
for 16 years and moved back home in August. His main reason?
"To get away from the Church of Scientology," he said. "They never did
anything to me personally, I just don't like what they do. I want the
people of Battle Creek to know that once they're in, they're in for good.
"They ruined the city of Clearwater," Trammell said. "It wasn't bad when
they first snuck in there.
"They slowly took it over ... All the Scientologists are going to do for
this city is make it look like a busier city. That's all they'll do -
bring more people in that don't spend any money."
The church's spiritual headquarters are based in Clearwater and the church
now owns more than 38 parcels of land in Pinellas County, which includes
Clearwater, according to Pam Dubov, chief deputy property appraiser for
the county.
The land has a total value of about $43 million and the church, while
tax-exempt, is required to pay taxes on about a third of the property,
Dubov said. The church has several buildings it uses as hotels for
parishioners from out of town who come to Clearwater for courses and the
church must pay property taxes on that land, Dubov said.
The church pays about $350,000 a year in property taxes in the county,
Dubov said.
Clearwater and Los Angeles are home to Scientology's two advanced
organizations in the United States, where parishioners can take higher
courses, including the Operating Thetan (OT) levels that are confidential.
The higher levels are kept confidential, according to What is
Scientology?, because parishioners must have the information from the
other courses to understand fully the upper levels.
"Scientologists believe that one must be properly prepared - spiritually
and ethically - to receive these materials and that premature exposure
could impede spiritual development," according to the book.
Clearwater, Los Angeles and New York City are the only places in the
country the church has more than one building, Delaware said, and stressed
the church only has plans for the Hart Hotel here.
"We're not going to hide the fact that we have a giant presence in
Clearwater," Delaware said. "This (Battle Creek) will never be like that.
That's like our senior organization on the planet, that is a completely
different scenario."
Delaware disagrees with Trammell's account of the church's effect on
Clearwater, saying the Church of Scientology has revamped plenty of
crumbling buildings in the city's downtown area.
"Clearwater, prior to the church's arrival in the 1970s, was a dying city
filled with vacant buildings, and the church has really changed that,"
Delaware said.
In regard to revamping an older, historic building, there is a similarity
between Clearwater - where the renovations began with a historic hotel -
and Battle Creek.
The church's local plans are to restore the former Hart Hotel, built in
1930 by W.K. Kellogg, to its original state, Delaware said.
While Battle Creek Mayor Mark Behnke said about six residents have
contacted him with their concerns, he said he does not see a problem with
the church locating in Battle Creek. He applauds the willingness to
renovate a historical landmark.
"I think you need to look at the economic development factor, and that's
exactly what they're doing," Behnke said. "They're coming into a
community and renovating an existing landmark that has not been practical
for anyone else in the community to rehabilitate."
The church has not been a problem at all in Ann Arbor, according to the
city's mayor, a University of Michigan spokeswoman and a family that owns
a bakery right across the street from the church. They say you wouldn't
even know the church was there if it wasn't for the sign in front of the
building.
Yet nationwide there are dozens of staunch critics of the Church of
Scientology - including former members and mental health professionals who
say Scientology controls its members' minds and urges people to separate
from their friends and family.
"Scientology is one of the most destructive cults separating our country
today," said Steve Hassan, a licensed mental health counselor and author
of Combatting Cult Mind Control. Hassan's statement echoes those in the
Time article, the case which appears to be over after a nearly decade-long
legal battle.
WHAT ARE THE EXPECTATIONS?
What can Battle Creek expect when the Church of Scientology comes to town?
"Unfortunately what they can expect is people to come in and recruit their
loved ones and friends," Hassan said. "The best possible thing for them to
do is to educate themselves on this group and how its members operate."
Church officials, however, say Battle Creek can expect a group that will
beautify a now-vacant building, a group that will be active in
volunteering throughout the community and a group that will contribute to
the quality of life by holding concerts and other events in and around its
church.
Scientology is extremely active in defending itself from critics.
Carmichael discounts the claims of Scientology's detractors. He says for
every person who speaks critically of Scientology, there are thousands of
success stories.
Scientology officials say those who speak against the church have a
"vested interest" in doing so. When asked about specific claims,
Carmichael produces arrest records against those making the claims.
Carmichael calls the reports "false information correction packs," but
when asked directly, he did say they have also been referred to as "dead
agent packs," the term Scientology critics used to describe the reports.
Carmichael said the term "dead agent" is borrowed from Art of War, by
Chinese strategist Sun-tzu.
"When somebody is out there telling lies, you can prove they are telling
lies so they are considered 'dead' for the enemy," Carmichael said.
Stacy Brooks and Jesse Prince, both former Scientologists, are among the
most vocal critics and also considered "dead agents."
Both now work for the Lisa McPherson Trust in Clearwater, Fla., a group
that has as its mission statement: "to expose the abusive and destructive
practices of the Church of Scientology and help those who have been
victimized by it."
Carmichael said both Brooks and Prince are "paid anti-Scientologists" and
are making up stories about the church.
"How come these two people are spending their lives saying lies about
Scientology, saying vile things about Scientology? You've got to ask
yourself that," Carmichael said. "I'm telling you why: because they can't
get another job and they're getting paid well to do this."
Carmichael says the church does have files, which include criminal
records, on critics of the church.
"Do church attorneys employ private investigators to keep up on people who
are making a dedicated effort to attack the Church of Scientology?"
Carmichael asked before answering his own question. "Yes. We find all
kinds of things when we look into these people."
Delaware says Scientology's stance against drugs - including all
psychiatric drugs such as Prozac - makes the church an easy target.
"We don't believe that you can achieve spiritual awareness if you are on
any mind-altering drugs, including psychiatric drugs, and that's not a
very popular opinion with the drug companies," Delaware said.
The controversial image isn't likely to end for the Church of Scientology,
now approaching its 47th birthday, a young age considering the centuries
of history behind most mainstream religions.
The success stories aren't likely to end either as hundreds of thousands
of Americans - and hordes of parishioners across the globe - are dedicated
to the teachings of the church and continue to practice Scientology and
its beliefs.
"Our belief is that our technology works," Delaware said. "We have a
technology of communication where people learn to communicate and state
their views and not back down from it."
Photo
Margarita Davis, executive director of the Church of Scientology Ann
Arbor, would head the church in Battle Creek if the Scientologists close
the deal to buy the former Hart Hotel on North Washington Avenue.
Photo
The Church of Scientology in Ann Arbor is located in a strip mall district
across the street from a bakery.
Editors Note
In contrast with many religious organizations, the Church of Scientology
is young and has a presence in relatively few cities. Later this year,
though, Battle Creek is expected to become home to one of the two
Scientology churches in Michigan. In this special report, the Battle Creek
Enquirer examines Scientology's origins, its belief systems and workings,
its plans for Battle Creek and the criticisms leveled against it.
From: rkeller@netaxs.com (Rod Keller)
Subject: Battle Creek Enquirer: Church's teachings spark a bitter debate
Date: 25 Feb 2001 20:01:42 GMT
Message-ID: <97bob6$4ig@netaxs.com>
Church's teachings spark a bitter debate
Battle Creek Enquirer
Sunday, February 25, 2001
By Matt Galnor
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/news/stories/20010225/localnews/312188.html The red velvet rope fronts a spectacular office - one so ornate it looks out of place in the plain but well-kept building. Behind the massive desk, the black office chair is tilted slightly to the right, as if its occupant had just stepped out to lunch. A glance down to the nameplate, however, shows the name of a man - L. Ron Hubbard, founder of the Church of Scientology - who has been dead for 15 years. An office similar to this one in Ann Arbor is a staple in all Church of Scientology buildings since the 1960s, when Hubbard was Scientology's executive director and requested an office when he came to town. One could be coming to Battle Creek, along with the church, this spring. The Church of Scientology is in the final stages of buying the former Hart Hotel built in 1930 by W.K. Kellogg. The structure has had various uses in recent decades and is now vacant. The desk and the tradition behind it are only part of the unique nature of Scientology, a religion that has seen its share of critics, especially in recent years. Scientologists speak glowingly of how its teachings have drastically improved their lives, yet critics contend Scientology is a "destructive cult." The two sides paint sharply contrasting pictures. Scientology officials say their staunch drug-free stance, which includes condemning all psychiatric drugs such as Prozac and Zoloft, has fueled a campaign against them that is funded by "vested interests," a term several Scientologists used to describe all critics. "It is a multimillion dollar industry, and when you're a group that does not support that, you can run head-on into some opposition," said Mike Delaware, an executive secretary with the church now based in Ann Arbor. "Those that oppose us usually have a vested interest behind it." It's the "vested interests," Scientology officials say, who are viciously spreading lies that range from people being held against their will to the church luring members to give it thousands upon thousands of dollars. Critics, including some in the mental health profession and some former members, speak of innocent lives being ruined and bankrupted by the church. "It all seems very innocent when you first start, and then you're needed to fight psychiatry, fight the big drug companies, fight the government because they're taking away man's only chance at freedom," said Jesse Prince, a former Scientologist who has come under heavy criticism from church leaders. "A person quickly gets into a frame of mind that they're in a battle." Critics speak of being on "24-hour watch" by church officials, who respond by producing voluminous documents about the critics' criminal histories and describing them as "paid anti-Scientologists." So where does the truth lie? FINDING SUCCESS, TACKLING LIFE Success stories are in abundance. There's Jai McFall of Milan, about 20 miles south of Ann Arbor, who turned to Scientology while going through a divorce and says she improved her landscaping business because of the church; Teresa Atkinson, who now lives in Toledo, Ohio, who credits the teachings of Scientology for giving her the courage and will to end a struggling business relationship while living in Italy in the early 1980s; and several others with whom the Enquirer spoke at length. "Scientology gives you the knowingness you need to help yourself," Atkinson said. "When you see it works, you want to know more and you want to know more. If you are done with yourself, you want to start helping others." John Stout and John Green, both members of Scientology for more than 25 years, say Hubbard's teachings on the method of study have proven extremely beneficial. Stout, who owns the computer firm Stout Systems, first read Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health, the foundation of Hubbard's writings that began Scientology, in 1975. The Ann Arbor resident has been an active member of the church since and says the teachings have helped him become a successful businessman - something he hadn't envisioned after graduating from the University of Michigan with a master's degree in music. Stout says he has spent money on various Scientology courses and auditing sessions, yet he said he could not estimate how much over the past 25 years. "It's insignificant to me," Stout said. "... Anything I have spent has been rewarded for more than I have spent. I have been able to make more money because of the teachings of Scientology." Like Stout, Green, of Flint, attributes his success as a learning consultant to learning how to study through a Scientology course called "The Student Hat." "I thought I knew how to study. After all, I was a college graduate. What more can you learn about the subject?" said Green, who had taught math and chemistry to middle school students in the early 1970s. "I discovered I hardly knew anything about the subject at all, and most of what I had learned, I learned was false." Green has since worked as a consultant, mostly for General Motors and its vendors, using Hubbard's study techniques to help teach employees new policies. "I've spent darn near 25 years now using basically what I learned in the first course to build my career," Green said. "Once you've learned how to study, you begin to tackle life. It's basically how to handle life, that's what all the courses are about." 'A POWERFUL SCAM' Around the same time Stout and Green found Scientology, Stacy Brooks did as well. Brooks was an aspiring writer in Atlanta in 1975, struggling a bit as many do. She recalls having dinner with some people who were Scientologists and mentioning some of the problems she was having. They suggested she take some courses that could help her communicate better and get her career off the ground. "They seem to have whatever it is you're needing," Brooks said. She began with four free lectures and paid $50 for a communications course - the first course most people take in Scientology. She then went through some "auditing" sessions, a type of therapy that uses an Electropsychometer (known as an E-meter) to measure a student's mental state or changing mental state using a small electric current that runs into the body. The E-meter helps identify thoughts, such as a traumatic childhood experience, that need to be addressed to help the student get past that event or fear, said Margarita Davis, executive director of the Church of Scientology Ann Arbor. After several auditing sessions, "gradually, my whole life sort of became oriented around Scientology," Brooks said. She started growing emotionally apart from family and friends. She then physically moved away, joining the Scientology staff in Los Angeles later that year. "There were a lot of very stringent rules, very long hours, people not being able to sleep a lot, people being given a diet of rice and beans if they didn't earn enough money (through recruiting) for Scientology," Brooks said. "I didn't agree with it, but I thought it was just people who didn't understand what Scientology was supposed to be. "I tried to get high enough in the organization to teach people what Scientology was supposed to be." Brooks says she then tried to speak out about conditions, but was told to be quiet and was threatened with separation from her husband. "It became a very closed world," Brooks said. "If something was a violation of your civil rights or your human rights, you weren't allowed to go to anyone outside of Scientology for any recourse." The couple then began to play by the rules, Brooks said, and both were promoted to work as assistants to those in the upper levels of Scientology. It was then, Brooks claims, they saw the "real" Scientology. "It's a very powerful, very wealthy scam which even people in the lower levels of Scientology don't know about," Brooks said. Brooks now lives in Clearwater, Fla., and works as president of the Lisa McPherson Trust - just across the street from Scientology's flagship building in the waterfront town. The trust is named after a woman whom some critics charge was starved by members of the Church of Scientology in Clearwater. The church denies the allegation, and criminal charges against the church were dropped in June. A civil wrongful death suit is still pending in Florida. The trust's mission statement: "To expose the abusive and destructive practices of the Church of Scientology and help those who have been victimized by it." Brooks says Scientology will try to silence its critics with allegations of criminal wrongdoing. "What you're getting is a very carefully orchestrated plan to make us look like criminals," she said. "We are characterized as criminals because we are criticizing and exposing the abuses and deceptions that are going on within Scientology. "Scientology is not willing to listen to critics. All they want to do is destroy their critics." STANCE AGAINST DRUGS "I've heard what Stacy says and she lies through her teeth," said John Carmichael, who is president of the Church of Scientology of New York and handles some public relations work for the church. "It really exasperates me because it's so far from the truth." Carmichael has been involved with the church for more than 30 years and says the church would not be around today if allegations such as those made by Brooks and by Prince -- also a Lisa McPherson Trust employee who described similar experiences in the church -- were true. "The Church of Scientology would've been swept away years ago if people were being held against their will," Carmichael said. "It's just not happening." Carmichael calls the trust a "hate group" and added, "I think anyone who makes a career out of harming a good group that helps people is evil. "They are paid to say bad things about the Church of Scientology." But policies dealing with Scientology's detractors did exist. Among Hubbard's writings are thousands of policy letters, which are indexed and available at any Church of Scientology. One letter dated Feb. 25, 1966, and not included in the index is titled Attacks on Scientology. Davis, who joined the church staff in 1989, said she was not aware of such policy. Carmichael was. "It's from a time when Scientology was under a very real attack from the United States government, when the Church of Scientology was on the United States government enemies list," Carmichael said. The policy details investigating those who are speaking against Scientology and feeding the findings to the press. "It was a time when we were growing up tough, from a time that said, 'Find out who's attacking you and why,' and we still do," Carmichael said. "If someone wants to make a career out of attacking Scientology, we want to know why." Carmichael describes the motives of Brooks and Prince simply. "They look back and see how they were genuinely helping people and making a difference in people's lives and they want that back," Carmichael said. "They weren't afraid to leave. Anybody can leave Scientology, and they did. "Then, five years later, they decided they had a hard time leaving and decided to be paid anti-Scientologists." In a broader sense, Scientologists contend that much of the criticism can be traced back to Scientology's stance against drugs. "We don't believe that you can achieve spiritual awareness if you are on any mind-altering drugs, including psychiatric drugs, and that's not a very popular opinion with the drug companies," Delaware said, adding the church does not support its parishioners using psychologists or psychiatrists. The church, through several other nonprofit extension agencies, is fighting against war and crime, which also puts them at the forefront for attacks, Scientologists say. "If you look at those three aims, a world without war, a world without insanity, a world without crime, and you look at how much money is in those three interests ... we are talking big money," said Laurie Gailunas, a Scientology minister who represents the church on the Interfaith Roundtable of Washtenaw County, which includes 31 churches in the county. "I've seen for myself over the years, Scientology is really making inroads in these areas. "Every single attack can be traced back to someone's money. Follow the money." Prince, now executive vice president of the Lisa McPherson Trust, said Scientology officials have been trying to follow the money of the trust in the organization's 13 months of existence. That's why he says he won't disclose how much he and the trust's other six full-time employees are paid. "It's really a matter of privacy," Prince said. Yet some small details of the trust's funding by Robert Minton came out in court last week in a case involving the trust and church officials violating court orders to stay more than 10 feet away from each other. Minton, a retired New England investment banker who now lives in Clearwater and is chairman of the trust, told the court he has given $1.3 million to the trust since January 2000. "I can tell you that less than 20 percent ($260,000) of that goes to staff pay," Prince said. "We're not getting rich here like they say we are. "What makes this trust so expensive is us in court with them, us having to pay lawyers to be in court with them." Carmichael said the church will aggressively try to protect itself from "lies and false statements" in court, and he described the trust as the primary source of those statements. "The point is, if one person is dissuaded from getting help because of the lies these people told, as far as I'm concerned, that's too many," Carmichael said. In terms of following money headed into the church, Scientology officials and some parishioners acknowledge the services are not cheap, likening it to the cost of a college education. Students are working to reach what the Church of Scientology calls the state of "Clear," and can take a variety of different classes and services to reach that level, Davis said. That can cost between $19,000 and more than $30,000, depending on the route the student takes, Davis said. 'THEY'LL GET YOU IN THE DOOR' The money members pay the church is among the things Steve Hassan, a licensed mental health professional in Massachusetts, follows. He says he's counseled hundreds of former Scientologists in his 23 years in the field and sees the same patterns again and again. "Essentially, this is a group that wants to take over the world," said Hassan, author of several books including Combatting Cult Mind Control. "This is a group that will extract large sums of money from people, this is a group that will encourage its members to disconnect, that's their term, from family members and friends that raise questions about the church." The term "disconnect" is referred to in different court cases involving the Church of Scientology, including Padgett v. Padgett, a divorce and child custody case in Kentucky stemming from a man who left the church while his wife stayed. The man then sought custody of his two children, both raised in Scientology. Potential parishioners are lured in by Scientologists whom Hassan says claim to have all the answers people need in life. "They often act friendly and whatever you're into, they'll push it. If you're into making more money, they'll push that. If you're looking for a better relationship with a person, they'll push that. They'll get you in the door and they'll begin controlling things." "I think on one level, one could grant it status as a religion, but I look at it as a destructive cult." Delaware said the church, which has run more than 25 advertisements in the Battle Creek Enquirer since late December, will not recruit anyone who is not interested in the Scientology material. "The only recruiting that would occur for new staff would be for people who are interested in it," Delaware said. "If they are interested in it, they'll come in. If they aren't, they won't. "It would be no different than any other religion." Hassan claims Scientology leaders have tried to destroy his career and reputation for speaking against them. "They are very effective at creating fear," Hassan said. "I've had private investigators follow me. They go through my trash. They've threatened to sue me." Hassan's latest book, Releasing the Bonds: Empowering People to Think for Themselves, features his "BITE Model" to determine if a group practices mind control. The model tests to determine if the group practices behavior, information, thought and emotional control. If it has components of all four, which Hassan says Scientology does, the group practices "destructive mind control." Hassan said the mind control is geared to make money for the church. "Typically it runs in the tens of thousands into the hundreds of thousands to climb the 'Bridge to Total Freedom,' that's what they call it," Hassan said. "Unlike legitimate religions where they tell you what the beliefs are up front, this religion makes you pay and get through these processes before they tell you what the beliefs are." 'NOTHING MYSTERIOUS' Scientology officials contend there's no mystery about their beliefs, saying all of the philosophies are in Hubbard's massive volumes of writings. "We don't have any secrets. Nothing is shrouded," said Davis, the executive director in Ann Arbor. "Anything is available in the books. All you have to do is read the books. Many of our critics have not even bothered to read a book." Critics will always be there, said Delaware, who strongly disagrees with those who use the word "cult" to describe Scientology. "The term 'cult' has been used to describe religions throughout the centuries," Delaware said. "The term 'cult' does not apply to Scientology. Cults don't survive after their founders pass, and ours has." Delaware and other Scientology officials encourage people to simply pick up a book and read it or visit a Church of Scientology before criticizing something they know little about. "There's nothing mysterious about it," said Andrew David Harrison, a Royal Oak attorney and Scientologist who is now chief executive officer of Troy-based Good Herbs Inc., which makes more than 500 health food products. "Just pick up a book and read it, go to a service -- it's a very open thing." Photo Mike Delaware, an executive secretary of the Church of Scientology, will oversee the proposed relocation of a church to Battle Creek. Photo John Carmichael, president of the Church of Scientology, visited Battle Creek in February.
From: rkeller@netaxs.com (Rod Keller)
Subject: Battle Creek Enquirer: Jesse Prince
Date: 25 Feb 2001 20:06:45 GMT
Message-ID: <97bokl$4ig@netaxs.com>
Perspectives on church clash: Ex-member claims he was locked up
Battle Creek Enquirer
Sunday, February 25, 2001
By Matt Galnor
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/news/stories/20010225/localnews/310879.html Jesse Prince, a high-ranking Scientologist for 16 years, says he knows he's at the top of the church's list of enemies. When asked about Prince's allegations against the church, John Carmichael, president of the Church of Scientology of New York, produces a nine-page document that includes Prince's mug shots from a 1997 drunken driving arrest and information about three other arrests. Carmichael did not include information on Prince being convicted of any crime. Prince laughs when told of the allegations. "They are so predictable, that's why it's so funny," Prince said. "They'll use the law. They'll make a mockery of the law." Part of the documentation includes a charge of "contributing to the sexual delinquency of child," from 1976 - just before Prince joined Scientology. Prince did not appear in court and the court ruled against him for failing to appear. After the charge, which Prince says the church knew about, Prince was elevated in 1982 to inspector general of the Religious Technology Center - among the highest ranking positions in the church. "They weren't saying that crap about me when I was leading the legions of their deluded followers," Prince said. "... They knew everything then that they are telling people now. Then how do you explain how I rose to such a high-ranking position?" The allegations also include a 1997 "driving under the influence of alcohol" charge in Boulder, Colo., a charge that Prince says he did plead guilty to. Prince is now executive vice president of the Lisa McPherson Trust, a Clearwater, Fla., organization with the mission statement: "To expose the abusive and destructive practices of the Church of Scientology and help those who have been victimized by it." Prince spelled out his criticisms of the church in an affidavit filed in U.S. District Court in Denver in 1998 and in several interviews with the Battle Creek Enquirer in recent weeks. The affidavit was in connection with Bridge Publications Inc. v. F.A.C.T. Net Inc., involving copyrighted Scientology materials being posted on the Internet. Bridge Publications publishes the various Scientology books and materials. Prince was 21 when he joined Scientology in San Francisco in 1976. He then was transferred to Los Angeles three months later. Within five months, Prince says he was working manual labor for 18 hours a day in a building surrounded by barbed-wire fences and armed guards. Prince decided he'd had enough. "I said, 'I'm leaving,' and they said, 'No, you're not,' " said Prince, who claims five men then grabbed him and dragged him to the seventh floor of the building. "They pretty much locked me up in a room for three months until I was sufficiently brainwashed and didn't want to leave," Prince said. Prince said he was aware of various crimes going on within the church, such as wiretapping people's rooms - claims that Carmichael emphatically denies. "(Scientology founder) L. Ron Hubbard long, long ago stated that the way to run any organization is to follow the rules and regulations of the law," Carmichael said. In 1992, Prince said, he was still trying to escape the Scientologists. He and his wife, Monika, carefully planned an escape and fled to St. Paul, Minn., where they hid in her brother's house. "We were barely able to sleep that week and a half we had it planned," Prince said. "That's how much they scare and threaten you." Their long-awaited freedom had a short life. "They found us," Prince said. "Six of them came up there and took us back." For the next three months, Prince and his wife were under guard by Scientology officials, interrogated about their "evil intentions," he said. Finally, after several other failed attempts, Prince and his wife got away for good on Halloween - Oct. 31, 1992. Prince says he was held captive, which Carmichael emphatically denies. In order to leave, Prince said the church forced him to talk about how Scientology helped change his life for the better in an interview, which was included in the packet Carmichael presents. "At that point, my wife and I were willing to do whatever they said, say whatever they wanted us to say so they'd let us out," Prince said, "and they let us out." Carmichael strongly disputes Prince's claims. "People are not held against their will in the Church of Scientology," Carmichael said. "It's against the rules of the Church of Scientology. It's against church theology and against church policy. "This is bogus and invented."
From: rkeller@netaxs.com (Rod Keller)
Subject: Battle Creek Enquirer: Jesse Prince
Date: 25 Feb 2001 20:08:53 GMT
Message-ID: <97bool$4ig@netaxs.com>
Classes offer Scientologists 'Bridge to Total Freedom'
Battle Creek Enquirer
Sunday, February 25, 2001
By Matt Galnor
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/news/stories/20010225/localnews/310880.html The Church of Scientology's teachings consist of dozens of levels, shown in the "Bridge to Total Freedom," akin to a course list a student may encounter when entering high school or college. The bridge has two sides: training and processing, both designed to reach the most common goal of becoming "Clear." According to the What is Scientology? book, based on the works of Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard and compiled by the church's staff, "a Clear is a person who no longer has his own reactive mind and therefore suffers none of the ill effects that a reactive mind can cause." Training levels are mostly attained by taking various courses through the church, which includes "auditing," a type of therapy in which students have one-on-one counseling with a trained auditor. The auditing sessions range in cost from about $200 to several thousand dollars for 12 1/2-hour blocks, depending on the type of training, according to Margarita Davis, executive director of the Church of Scientology Ann Arbor. The blocks are called "intensive" sessions and all the hours must be completed within a week, Davis said. Students are taught to co-audit each other in Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health, the foundation of Hubbard's writings on Scientology. Many levels can be attained through co-auditing, although Davis said the process takes longer that way. The processing side of the bridge is based more heavily on auditing with a trained auditor using an Electropsychometer (known as an E-meter) that uses a small electrical current to measure the impact of different thoughts and emotions. The auditor then reads the change in the current on the meter to determine which thoughts and answers may cause concern for a person and should be addressed, according to What is Scientology?. Students must take courses up to Class V - 10 courses in all with a total cost of between $19,000 and $33,000, with course materials - to become a certified auditor, Davis said. When students are taking a course, they are required to come to the church to study at least 12-1/2 hours a week, Davis said. On average, if a student takes classes regularly, it will take between 18 months and two years to become "Clear," Davis said. Students also can become "Clear" by just taking the processing side of the bridge, which usually takes about 150 hours of auditing and students can buy in bulk for $26,400. Taking just the processing side is discouraged, Davis said, thus the high cost, but it could be done in about three months. "We want them to train as auditors and once they're trained, they can co-audit and become Clear and, at the same time, they can help another go Clear," Davis said. Most students pay for some auditing to speed the process, Davis said. The first five courses on the training side of the bridge are not given a class level, according to the church. Further steps are given a class number, beginning with Class 0 and on up to Class XII (12). The upper echelon of the bridge is compromised of 12 Operating Thetan levels, known as OT levels. The OT levels themselves are confidential. According to What is Scientology? "... a very small portion of the scriptures that deal with the advanced levels of spiritual counseling is restricted to those parishioners who have attained the prior levels of spiritual awareness. "Scientologists believe that one must be properly prepared - spiritually and ethically - to receive these materials and that premature exposure could impede spiritual development." The church in Ann Arbor, and the church that is planned for Battle Creek, only offer courses up to Class V. Higher courses can be taken at larger church organizations in either Los Angeles or Clearwater, Fla. Photo L. Ron Hubbard's book "Dianetics" is in the background while Teresa Atkinson talks to her 6-month old daughter Nicole. Atkinson travels from Toledo, Ohio, to Ann Arbor to attend Scientology classes.
From: rkeller@netaxs.com (Rod Keller)
Subject: Battle Creek Enquirer: Ann Arbor
Date: 25 Feb 2001 20:11:15 GMT
Message-ID: <97bot3$4ig@netaxs.com>
Church blends quietly in progressive Ann Arbor
Battle Creek Enquirer
Sunday, February 25, 2001
Parish kept a low profile By Matt Galnor
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/news/stories/20010225/localnews/310881.html ANN ARBOR - Here in Ann Arbor, the impact of the Church of Scientology is minimal. Neighbors across the street from the church say they've never heard a peep. The mayor, a lifelong Ann Arbor resident, say he knows the church is there, but has never heard of any problems. A longtime city councilwoman gives the same response. A Lutheran pastor in the area says, although he's somewhat surprised, the Church of Scientology doesn't seem to have much of a presence in the diverse, university town. Many attribute that to the progressive nature of Ann Arbor, a city known in the Midwest for its accepting attitude toward a variety of cultures. "You could be in Ann Arbor in a religion that required you to walk down the street wearing purple socks and no shirt, and no one would even notice," Mayor John Hieftje said. "Ann Arbor is the kind of place that attracts all sorts of people of diverse backgrounds. It's the kind of place where everybody really fits in." Will Battle Creek be the same way? The Church of Scientology plans to move from its Ann Arbor location at 2355 W. Stadium Blvd. to Battle Creek's former Hart Hotel this year. Church officials say they hope to have at least part of the historic building renovated by late April to begin moving some of its office staff to the Cereal City. Critics of the Church of Scientology say the church often looks to recruit young people who are away from home, such as college students and those in the military. Yet officials from both groups in Ann Arbor speak to the contrary. "There have been no reports of any problems that we are aware of with that organization and our students," said Julie Peterson, a University of Michigan spokeswoman. "We haven't had anyone complain that people from that organization were where they shouldn't be," such as in dormitories or in a booth on campus without a permit, she said. Peterson added there also have been no reports of students complaining to any counselors or the Dean of Students' office about the group's recruiting. "I'm not aware of it at all, either here in Michigan or nationally," said Lt. Col. Christopher Lucier, chairman of the Army Officer Program at U-M, who has been in the military 20 years and in his current position for the last 3 1/2 . "I've never run across it." Much of that could be attributed to the small number of Scientologists that actually call Ann Arbor their home. About 100 people visit the church each week, said Mike Delaware, an executive secretary with the Church of Scientology. Only about 20 members live in Ann Arbor, while the majority commute from places as far as Toledo, Ohio, and northern Indiana, Delaware said. The Church of Scientology has a representative, Laurie Gailunas, on the Interfaith Round Table of Washtenaw County. The executive director of that organization said Gailunas' participation has been welcomed. "I think image and stereotypes are counteracted by first-hand engagement, and our first-hand engagement with Laurie has been nothing but positive," said George Lambrides, a Protestant chaplain at the University of Michigan Hospital. He oversees the roundtable that has delegates from 31 churches in the county. Mark Schulz, minister of worship and community outreach for the Saint Luke Lutheran Church in Ann Arbor, said he is aware of the church and its critics but he says he also has not run across any problems with Scientologists. "It doesn't have a very high profile as far as I know," said Schulz, whose church does not participate in that particular roundtable. "It's sort of surprising, actually, that they don't have a higher profile." While Schulz is familiar with the beliefs of the church, Cynthia Royal and Nikki Swap - two sisters who own Dough Boy's Bakery across the street from the church - are not. "I don't know anything about the philosophy, but as far as being neighbors, we've never had any problems at all," Royal said. "You would never even know they were there. It wouldn't be something for anyone to be concerned about. We've never had any problems or concerns ever." Photo Mark Schulz, a minister for the Saint Luke Lutheran Church in Ann Arbor, assesses the impact of the Church of Scientology in Ann Arbor.
From: rkeller@netaxs.com (Rod Keller)
Subject: Battle Creek Enquirer: Restoration Plans
Date: 25 Feb 2001 20:13:20 GMT
Message-ID: <97bp10$4ig@netaxs.com>
Restoration planned for hotel
Battle Creek Enquirer
Sunday, February 25, 2001 Mayor sees development as a plus By Matt Galnor
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/news/stories/20010225/localnews/310882.html The Church of Scientology describes ambitious plans for the former Hart Hotel, involving not only renovations but how it will be used. The church plans to have several rooms in the downtown Battle Creek building where parishioners, many of whom come from out of town, can stay during weekends, said Mike Delaware, a church executive secretary who is based in Ann Arbor and will oversee the move to Battle Creek. Also in the works are classrooms and the renovation of the former ballroom, which Delaware says will be available for the public to rent for various activities. The church hopes to be a visible part of the community and is looking at holding concerts and festivals either in the building or across the street at McCamly Park. "One of the things I can say is that wherever the Church of Scientology has had a property, whether purchased by the church or not, the community has always seen improvement in the community and the people in it," said Margarita Davis, executive director of the Church of Scientology Ann Arbor . "If there are people in Battle Creek that are looking for the answer to a problem, they do not have to be a Scientologist to get counseling in the church." The sale of the former hotel to the Church of Scientology should be completed within weeks. Old Kent Bank is selling the building to the church, and a closing date has yet to be determined, said Peggy Janei, an Old Kent spokeswoman. She declined to estimate when the deal may be finished. The church has had an option to buy the building, which it plans to restore to its original state, since December. Delaware, who said he found out about the building on the Internet, adds he anticipates about 10 church staff members moving to Battle Creek in the beginning stages of the move. Many probably will buy homes in the area, he said. Mayor Mark Behnke and Janei said they've heard little from residents about the Church of Scientology moving into the former Hart Hotel building. Janei said the bank has not heard complaints from any residents about the pending sale. "We don't have any concerns about the Church of Scientology," Janei said. "They are planning to restore the building to its original state and that's a great thing for the City of Battle Creek." Behnke said he's had about six phone calls and letters since the Church of Scientology's plans became public in late December. He said he doesn't have any concerns about the church, either. "Absolutely not," Behnke said. "I think you need to look at the economic development factor, and that's exactly what they're doing. They're coming into a community and renovating an existing landmark that has not been practical for anyone else in the community to rehabilitate." Another potential buyer, the Milford-based PM Investment Corp., was interested in the former hotel more than a year ago for an apartment complex for senior citizens. The group was unsuccessful in its applications to earn tax credits from the state and decided it could not afford the renovations, said Larry Wilkinson, president of the development company. Janei would not reveal how much the Church of Scientology has agreed to pay for the building, how much the PM Group planned to pay nor if the two figures were the same. "That's irrelevant to us," Janei said.
From: rkeller@netaxs.com (Rod Keller)
Subject: Battle Creek Enquirer: Celebrities
Date: 25 Feb 2001 20:16:13 GMT
Message-ID: <97bp6d$4ig@netaxs.com>
Celebrity members
Battle Creek Enquirer
Sunday, February 25, 2001
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/news/stories/20010225/localnews/310883.html Several popular celebrities in the performing arts are members of the Church of Scientology. One who's been in the news recently is actor Tom Cruise, who earlier this month filed for divorce from actress Nicole Kidman after 10 years of marriage. According to the church's book What is Scientology?, these are among other celebrities who are members and what they have to say: Chick Corea, musician and composer: "One of the first simple successes was that I learned to handle and remove my own self-imposed barriers and restraints." Jenna Elfman, actress: "In Scientology, you discover for yourself what is true for you." Giovanni Ribisi, actor: "I have the ability to comfortably communicate with anyone in any situation and be certain of my goals." Isaac Hayes, composer, musician and actor: "The more time and effort I invest, the more I receive." Photo Kirstie Alley, actress: "To tell you the honest-to-God truth: without Scientology, I would be dead." Photo John Travolta, actor: Besides saying that Scientology played a major role in his success as an actor, Travolta adds that "I have a wonderful child and a great marriage because I apply L. Ron Hubbard's technology to this area of my life." Photo Juliette Lewis, actress: "It has allowed me to experience life in a way I only imagined."
From: rkeller@netaxs.com (Rod Keller)
Subject: Battle Creek Enquirer: LRH
Date: 25 Feb 2001 20:19:45 GMT
Message-ID: <97bpd1$4ig@netaxs.com>
L. Ron Hubbard
Battle Creek Enquirer
Sunday, February 25, 2001
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/news/stories/20010225/localnews/310886.html He wrote in a variety of genres, delivered thousands of speeches and a handful of films. Yet L. Rob Hubbard's name and likeness will forever be remembered alongside his signature book Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health. That book sparked the beginnings of Scientology, an organization founded in 1954 that now plans to open a church in Battle Creek. Just as there are vocal critics of the Church of Scientology, there are several of Hubbard. He has been the subject of several books, including the 1987 Bare-Faced Messiah by Russell Miller that chronicles the life of Hubbard through eyes other than those of a Scientologist. Miller's book examines Hubbard's professional and personal life, which includes fathering seven children with three wives. All of the church's scriptures, including a massive 18-volume research collection, are the work of Hubbard, who died in 1986. The church appears to continue to grow even after his death and the bookstores in Scientology churches are lined with various books, lectures and videos that are his life's work. While Hubbard, born Lafayette Ronald Hubbard, is not "worshipped" by Scientologists, he is clearly honored and highly regarded by them. A bust of Hubbard rests in the corner of the bookstore in Ann Arbor, overlooking the podium from which the Sunday service is given. The following account is gleaned from the What is Scientology? book, based on Hubbard's work and compiled by Scientology staff. Born March 13, 1911, Hubbard spent most of his youth in Montana and began traveling the country and parts of the world as a teen-ager. Hubbard enrolled at George Washington University, where he wrote for the student newspaper, and continued his travels through the Caribbean and the West Indies. He launched his fiction writing career in 1934, with his work published in a variety of magazines through the 1930s. Hubbard then joined the U.S. Navy, serving briefly during World War II, then returned to his writing career in 1946 after being discharged from the military. In 1950, Hubbard released Dianetics, which served as a catalyst for more than 10 books and nearly 1,100 lectures in the next four years. The first Church of Scientology was founded in Los Angeles in 1954. Hubbard resigned from all directorships and management of Scientology churches in 1966, yet continued his research on topics including the spiritual nature of people and the causes and effects of drug addiction and use. In the early 1980s, Hubbard resumed his science-fiction writing with the 10-volume Mission Earth and the lengthy Battlefield Earth: A Saga of the Year 3000, which recently was made into a movie by famous Scientologist and actor John Travolta. Hubbard died Jan. 24, 1986.
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to Shy David's Scientology Page.