God! Was I tired!
I’d been working for eleven solid, ghastly days. And not just days; eleven nights too. With maybe two hours’ sleep on a hard floor in Saint Hill every twenty-four hours. I hadn’t had a bath or a square meal in all that time either. I felt like death.
It was Saturday, 30th, August, 1968. August Bank Holiday.
I had two jobs at Saint Hill – Dissemination Secretary, World Wide and Dissemination Secretary, Evening and Weekend Foundation. For all the big titles, I still felt like death.
An Open Weekend was going on at Saint Hill over the holiday and I conned my way into getting home because I was beginning to look and act like a zombie. It’s not at all good for Scientology’s public image for visitors, newcomers and newspaper reporters to see a zombie walking about the place.
Why had I been there for 264 hours non-stop?
Because on one or other of my jobs I had been in a Condition of Liability and under the justice system of Scientology, when you are in a Condition of Liability, you just stay there and work your way out of it.
I didn’t give a damn for Scientology or all its sweet little Ethics systems. If I had told any of those crazy Scientologists what they could do with their Condition of Liability, I’d have been declared an even lower condition – Enemy, a Suppressive person; then I would have had to disconnect from my children. I had been declared an S.P. in April 1968 and had not seen my children for a week. I couldn’t stand the thought of going through all that again. Mindbending self-recrimination, degradation. No. I would go ahead and act out my part and hope to get out of Scientology painlessly.
I got home at 8.30 p.m. The children were asleep. I went up to see them. They were so beautiful it hurt. I felt I had failed them. If they woke up now and saw me like this, I’d feel ashamed.
I went downstairs again, to bed. Ever since I had been declared a Suppressive Person in April, I had not been allowed to sleep with Rosalie. After all, she was the Assistant Guardian and I was an ex-S.P.!
I fell into bed and into sleep.
A loud thumping on the door. It went on and on, imperiously. In this half-awake, half-asleep state, I was terrified. What in God’s name was going on? I tried to shut the noise out but it still went on.
Finally it stopped and I heard Rosalie opening the front door. After a few moments she came in.
“There’s an Ethics Officer outside, Cyril.”
I reached for my watch. “It’s half-past ten! Tell him to go away.”
“He wants you to go for a Committee of Evidence.”
“Tell him to get lost. I’m bone tired. I’m in bed. I’m asleep. I may need some things right now but I do not need a Comm. Ev.”
Ros sat down on the bed. It was the nearest we had been to each other in months. She looked concerned – almost affectionate. Ye Gods! What a life!
“You had better go. It could be hard for you if you don’t go.”
“Ros, do something for me. Tell that stupid bastard at the door that if he doesn’t get out of my house now, I’ll call the police and charge him with malingering, breaking and entry, attempted murder, trying to rape my wife and otherwise making a bloody nuisance of himself.”
Rosalie fixed me with a pitying look and went out to talk to Peter Warren, Ethics Officer World Wide.
I tried to get back to sleep but it was only acting. There was a cold and resigned fear in me. I knew I would go to Saint Hill and give evidence at their Comm. Ev. and I had a deep foreboding that this would be the end for me.
Ros came back.
“Go out and talk to him. Do it for me.”
Do it for Rosalie. Do it for my wife. Do it because she used the same surname as me. Do what any good Scientologist would do. I jumped out of bed. I had pyjamas on which was nice for Ros.
“Since he is such a thick-brained nit, I’ll go and tell him myself or maybe I’ll just kick him a few times.”
I went into the hall with a stern look to my face but really just wishing they would all clear off and leave me to get some sleep. These people needed to be put over somebody’s knee and spanked hard.
“Peter, I’m not going to Saint Hill or anywhere else with you. I was at Saint Hill two hours ago and if you wanted me you should have got me then. Right now I’m here and you had better clear off rapidly or I’ll do something violent to you like castrating you without anaesthetics.”
He adopted that patient, pitying look that’s a stock-in trade of Scientologists, especially ones like Peter Warren. He was dripping wet from the rain and I thought that was justice even if nothing else was.
“It will go very bad for you if you don’t come. In any case I have been given very strict instructions to bring you in.”
“You take your instructions right back to the idiot who gave them to you and tell him you failed. For once the Scientology Gestapo failed.”
That was as withering as I could make it with my eyeballs burning with tiredness, but it did not shake his determination. After all, he had the weight and majesty of Scientology Ethics behind him. I nearly vomited.
“I must bring you back for this Comm. Ev. There’s a taxi outside and I must bring you back.”
“For Crissake, don’t you understand anything? I was asleep. I haven’t slept properly for eleven days. What the hell are you trying to do – kill me?”
“I’m not trying to kill you. You must come to Saint Hill with me to give evidence at a legally convened Committee of Evidence. The more you argue, the worse it will be for you.”
Cyril Vosper had been a Scientologist for 14 years when this happened. He knew the organization about as well as any living person. But in the end he found it was not a system of knowledge, it was a system of abuse. Would it raise humanity to a new golden age? Vosper did not think so, it was more likely that if the world used Hubbard’s tech it would sink back into the dark ages.
This book was published in 1971, long before the current rash of “tell all” books about this cult. At that time the “fair game” tactics of Scientology had some real teeth and it took a lot of real courage on his part to get this book into print. Of course Hubbard went wild at this attack and used ever means, fair or foul, to stop Vosper from telling his story.
This book provides an answer to those who say how wonderful Scientology was back when Hubbard was in control of things. All of the wrongs and evils listed in this book were the result of Hubbard and nis minions; little David Miscavige cannot be blamed for anything listed between the covers of this book. Too bad Free Zoners. Hubbard had feet of clay.
This book is available for online reading; http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~dst/Library/Shelf/vosper/