Ex-Scientologist Story #404, “What Are Your Crimes?”

Robert Robinson ran afoul of an IAS fundraiser which is never a winning position.  No matter that he had the proper directive by L. Ron Hubbard to back him up.  After all, Hubbard was dead but the lickspittles of David Miscavige are very much alive.  And there is nothing dearer to Little Davy’s heart than raising funds for his personal slush fund.

So Robert spent nine hours being badgered by screaming fanatics in a security or “sec” check.  These infamous sessions usually last for hours or even day and are given for one purpose only, to break a person down.  The answers to the questions mean little; it is the psychological stress that is important.  This from the “religion” that is the “bridge to total freedom.”  Here is what Robert says about his time in Scientology.

The Reason I Left Scientology

The reason I left Scientology can be summed up in three words.  I was Terrified.  I have been out for 17 years and I am still terrified.  Every day.  I still wake up crying from nightmares at least twice a month.  Just by writing this I am opening myself up for attacks from the Church of Scientology and it’s Office of Special Affairs.  I am sure they will be spreading lies about me like
they have others who have left the “church”.  But you, dear reader, deserve to know the truth.

Here is how it happened.  I had never been a Scientology public. (client or parishioner).  I started out by applying for a job as a book seller and moved up very fast.  But I came to believe that Scientology was the only way we were going to fix the world.  Many Scientologists still believe this.

I had been on staff in Scientology for about six and a half years.  First in a mission and then transferred to the Scientology Organization (herein after called the Org), in Las Vegas, Nevada.  I was the Public  Executive Secretary.  This is the person who is in command of the division responsible  for bringing new people into Scientology and I was good at it.  Maybe too good, as my heart was really with Hubbard on the way to build up a great Org, and indeed all of Scientology was to keep getting new people in.  This thought was soon to get me into big trouble.

What happened was this.  The Executive Director of the Org was taken off post for reasons I never knew.  This was a command decision from way up and a lowly Executive Committee didn’t have a need to know.  They (command) decided that I was to be the new Executive Director and that I was to appoint the receptionist to the post of P.E.S.  We were both to
report to Los Angeles (Big Blue) for training on our new posts.  We were there for three days and the training was intense.  We had three days to learn what most people learned in three months, but we both buckled down and did it.  Another big problem that I will get to next.

Throughout my life I have been blessed (cursed?)  with an almost perfect memory.  What I have read once, I remember.  I can tell you what we talked about several years ago, on a certain
occasion.  So because of the things that I had learned in my P.E.S. training, and the things that I learned on my E.D. training, I knew a lot of Hubbard’s policies that the average Scientologist didn’t know.  I even knew policies that many Sea Organization (The Elite command structure) personnel didn’t know.

I had been on this post for about three months and things were going fairly well.  The Org was making money and we had new people coming in.  One day, a Sea Org mission came into the Org to set up an event for the International Association of Scientologists (I.A.S.).  Now I didn’t really like this idea because first, I could not find in policy where it should even exist,
and second, I had attended their events before and the only reason they had these events was to make money for the I.A.S.  Once a person was at this event, he was going to donate something.  Or he wouldn’t be allowed to leave.

Although I didn’t like it, I didn’t have too much choice in the matter, so I filed it in my mind to write up later.  What happened was that they started pulling all my staff members off of their posts to do an all-hands call-in for this event, which we were supposed to make happen in three days.  I also didn’t have too much to say about that except certain posts that I knew we
had to have in order to keep the Org running.  Then they tried to pull my P.E.S.  off post to do call in for the event.  That was when I put my foot down.  I knew the Hubbard’s order on this was clear.  You do not stop the Public Division for any reason.  I told him to go back to what he was working on and I would handle it.  I told him that if they gave him any flak about it, they could come and see me.  When they came into my office, I was ready for them with written policy to back me up.  They told me it didn’t matter.  I told them that if they continued pressuring my people they were out.

One hour later I received a telex to report to Los Angeles the next day by 9 A.M. , at my own
expense, for a Committee of Evidence (which is a nice way of saying Kangaroo Court).  I made it there on time and walked into the hallway where it was to take place at 8:45.  Once in the hallway, it was locked with a guard at the door.  They kept me waiting until Noon.  I had gone into the restroom a couple of times, it was a room off the hallway so I couldn’t get out that way,  It didn’t have any windows anyway.

I was escorted into a small room a set at a table opposite the door.  Although it wasn’t a jury of my peers, it would have to do.  My judges were three Sea Org members who were also high up in the Security Command.  It wasn’t too bad at first, and I had to give my enemies credit, in that short time, they had managed to get several of my staff to send in reports on me.  When they read me the charges on these reports I handled them all, as they were as false as grannies teeth.  I felt good.  I thought that I had settled any concerns that they could possibly have.

The person who had been asking most of the questions nodded and said “end of committee of
evidence”.  I though I was going to leave.  I was wrong.  He told my to pick up the cans. (these are the leads to the e-meter).  For the next 9 hours they screamed questions at me rapid fire.  “What are your crimes? What have you done to Scientology? What have you done to Hubbard?  What have you done to David Miscavige? Etc. etc. etc”  each question on the tail of the last with no time to answer in between.  The only times I was allowed to leave the room was to use
the restroom and I was escorted there and watched.  Also, I could not have run because of the locked door and guard at the end of the hall.

9 hours seemed like a lifetime.  And by the end, I was broken.  I would have sworn my allegiance  to the Devil at that moment to get out of that room.  I would have agreed to anything.  At that moment, I would have agreed to kill to get out of there.

I later learned that this process is not in any policy written by Hubbard.  It is something that is used anyway.  This process (which is called a gang back security check) is designed to do only one thing.  To break you.  To make you a pliable little staff member.

They told me that I could return to my Org.  That I was going to go back as the P.E.S.  Which made me a little happy because I had never wanted the E.D. post.  At that time, I knew that I
only had another three months to go before my contract was up, and I also knew that I would not be signing another one.

They also told me that I was never to tell anyone what had gone on it that little room (oops, I blew that one didn’t I).

You think my story is bad?  It is.  But there are many Scientology Sea Org members and staff that are going through worse than this even as you read this post.

To read this go here: http://nomoreliesscn.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-reason-i-left-scientology.html

Sec checks are a big part of Scientology.  This site talks about the infamous “Jo’burg” sec check.  http://www.solitarytrees.net/racism/joburg.htm

Ex-Scientologist story #403, Disconnection Strikes Again

Derek Bloch tells his life story to the Village Voice blog on 2/16/2012.  As a child whose parents became fanatical Scientologists he saw the real face of Scientology.  This is not the smiling face that it shows the public; no, you have to be a member to see the teeth and hear the snarl.

Scientology, “Disconnection,” and Homophobia: Derek Bloch’s Story.

“Derek Bloch just wanted to share his story.

He wanted to tell other people what he’d been through, growing up in Scientology, getting kicked out of its hardcore “Sea Org” when it turned out that he was gay, and then increasingly becoming disaffected with his parents’ religion as he became more educated and learned something about human psychology.

He wanted to say all that, but he didn’t want to harm anyone, particularly his parents, who were still convinced Scientologists.

So Derek hid his identity, writing a lengthy and emotional description of his life growing up a Scientology kid, and posted it in February at the Ex-Scientologist Message Board (ESMB), using the screen name “Adam7986” to disguise himself.

Someone reading ESMB, however, recognized the people in Derek’s story and contacted the church, which excommunicated Derek for writing it. Derek’s parents, in turn, “disconnected” from him immediately. In other words, they threw him out of their lives.

Yesterday, I called up Derek’s father, Darren Bloch, and told him I wanted to talk about his decision to choose his religion over his own son.

“It’s really none of your business,” he said before hanging up. . . .

From L. Ron Hubbard’s classification of homosexuality as a “perversion” in his early Scientology texts — considered sacrosanct by the church — to the way a young member like Derek Bloch is treated in what is supposed to be a more enlightened era, Scientology’s homophobia runs deep.

But there was another reason to ignore Darren Bloch’s declaration that this story was none of our business.

That reason is Derek Bloch, who very much wants us to tell it.

“If you do talk to him,” Derek said to me when I told him that I’d be calling his father, “tell him I just want to know one thing: When exactly did he stop loving me?” . . .

Heavy pressure was put on him to join the Sea Org.

The next two years I spent crying, fighting, screaming, being kept up until two in the morning, practically kidnapped by these people. They would follow me to school, follow me after school, chase me on PAC Base. Call me at all hours of the night. I had no support from my parents during this time. My dad blamed me for “pulling it in” and my mom would only tell me how proud she would be if I joined the Sea Org. At 14, I was completely at the mercy of ruthless psychological torture, including mild forms of sleep deprivation and starvation. I felt abandoned by my parents, and I felt like I would never have their respect unless I joined the Sea Org.

The Sea Org recruiters as he soon found out tell outrageous lies in order to fill their thinning ranks.

After my parents so generously abandoned me to the church I spent a month on the EPF. Here I was introduced to the dark side of Scientology. I almost immediately wanted to go home. I spent every day going through the psychological torture of never being good enough and the old cult trick of putting you down one day and building you up the next day. Switching between screaming at you and being your best friend. It has done a copious amount of psychological damage to me.

After a month of being brainwashed while cleaning dishes and bathrooms and running everywhere, I was put “on post” at AOLA, where I quickly found out that I wasn’t allowed to make personal phone calls unless I spent some of my $30-a-week salary on it. I was put in a room with 30 other men and boys ranging from 14 to 60 in age. It smelled horrible, there was no A/C or heating, and I was exposed daily to the company and sight of naked boys my age and older men, while I was going through puberty. This is relevant later. I worked 15- to 20-hour days, with maybe one day off a month, if I was lucky. I was supposed to be going to school but that didn’t happen. I did eventually get my high school equivalency, though. I was screamed at daily about how worthless I was while at the same time being told I was important. It was awful. I was in constant fear of being caught doing something human, like getting sick, eating, taking a dump, or having a non-post-related conversation.

I hardly got to see my parents for the next 2.5 years. Eventually I was sent to train at Flag [Flag Land Base, Scientology’s spiritual headquarters] in Clearwater, FL. This whole time I wanted out but I couldn’t mention it to anyone. I had to bury the feeling and hide it from everyone. I couldn’t even tell my parents how I felt or what I was going through because it is considered a high crime by the religion. Keep in mind, I was still a child.”

Eventually Scientology found out he was gay so they tossed him out.  This was a bitter pill for him to take as it soon led to a break-up with his parents.  But it did spare him further humiliations and deprivations in the Sea Org.

To read the rest of the story go here:

http://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninscared/2012/05/scientology_and_6.php

Ex-Scientologist story #402, Another Child of Neglect.

Children are often looked at as some sort of bothersome  encumbrance or roadblock in the way of fanatical Scientology parents who have bought into Scientology’s “Bridge” to “Total Freedom.”  This is especially true of parents who are in the “Sea Org,” which is hell on earth in its own right.  Children are alternately exploited or neglected; this can have tragic results as in this case.  A son of Scientology parents suffered mental illness which manifested itself in conspiracy theory thinking.  From conspiracy theories he went to bomb making.

Serge Obelinsky

 The following is taken from “Operation Clambake,” to read this and the follow-up posts go here: http://ocmb.xenu.net/ocmb/viewtopic.php?t=17633

“What I’m about to tell you is a true story. Serge Obelinsky is a real person who grew up in the Sea Org. His stepmother Debbie Obelinsky worked in the Treasury Division over at CC International, Scientology’s premier org. They used to call CC the “Oasis of Creative Freedom” whatever that means.
This story begins with Serge working as an RPF slave renovating CC International (The Manor Hotel as well) until the Great and Benevolent Douche Miscavige granted all the RPF slaves an amnesty, and then, all the RPF slaves became Manor Hotel slaves.
So, Serge was working in the Manor. He would alternate between working as a galley-slave and housekeeper slave. Basically, he worked where ever he was most useful.
Serge wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was a nice guy. He was, and to my knowledge still is a very nice guy. I barely knew him though. I sat out in front of the PAC canteen after work around 11:00 p.m. a few times. We would smoke and shoot the shit. I would always ask, “How’s Debbie doing?” I just thought she feisty and had nice boobs.
One day I noticed Serge had a book. It was “None Dare Call It A Conspiracy.” Elron used to sell it in the bookstores of all the “churches” in the late 70’s and early 80’s before the Douche Miscavige overthrow. Elron sold “None Dare Call It A Conspiracy” because he went all Jim Jones in the late 70’s—Jim Jones was the guy who put cyanide in Kool-Aid and forced his cult members at gun point to drink it. I make this harsh accusation because Elron told everyone in the late 70’s a nuclear war is only a few months away, and he needed a bunch of money so he could try to stop it—I’m not kidding. (It’s just another tidbit Douche and his dwindling numbers of henchmen have whitewashed in an effort to prevent the newcomers from really learning how paranoid and evil $cientology’s history really is.)
So, Serge was reading highly conspiratorial books, and I began to notice his sanity slipping quite dramatically.
He would make muttering oddball comments. It was obvious to anyone who saw the young man—he was cookoo-for-coco puff’s. It was really sad to watch.
But, you see, Serge wasn’t much older than 18, and he was living completely on his own in an insane environment with no help from his mom or dad because they were too busy with $cientology’s bullshit. So, I believe Serge was acting the way anyone who didn’t have an education and whose parents were completely absent for the majority of his life would react. He simply didn’t have the constitution to deal with what was going on in his head.
Did his mom or dad or anyone else take time off and help him get his head put on straight????—not to my knowledge. Afterall, they were all members of the elite Sea Organization where ‘only the tiger’s survive’. So, poor Serge was off-loaded out of the S.O. without pity or remorse. In the blink of an eye, Serge went from “elite S.O. member” to freeloading degraded being. Serge was safely out-of-sight-and-out-of-mind as far as the cult was concerned.
I wish I could say this was where the story ends—I wish to god I could, but I can’t—this sad tale only gets worse.
A few years past by, I hadn’t really given dear ol’ Serge a second thought—I was off doing my thing. I just assumed he went off and got a job as a janitor somewhere or something.
So, one day I was strolling down Los Feliz Blvd, minding my own business. It was getting late. The sun reflected through trees that lined the side-walk, and I was headed home with a bag full of groceries I had bought at the health food store.
Then I saw Serge coming the other way. Serge Obelinsky didn’t have any arms!!! It was one of the most horrible visions I have ever seen. He had those mechanical arms with the stainless steel pincers in the place where his arms used to be. A lady was walking beside him with an arm around him—it could have been his biological mother. She looked like she was assisting him.
He didn’t recognize me. I just walked by him, and went straight home. I was mortified. I really didn’t know what to think or say. It was just awful. I felt so bad for the guy.
At the time I had a roommate who was ex-S.O. I said, “Dude, do you know who Serge Obelinski is?” He said, “Yeah.” Then he said, “He blew his arms off making pipe bombs.” WTF?? OMG?? You have got to be fucking kidding me. Holy shit!!!
And that was it. I only saw him a few more times. I started to say I saw him ‘thumbing through a magazine at 7-eleven’, but then I realized what I was about to say. I did see him at 7-eleven trying to look through a magazine with his pincers. Again, I didn’t talk to him–I felt too sorry for the guy.
I mean….what do you say to someone, “Hey, I heard you blew your arms off making pipe bombs…..Bummer.”
Poor Serge. This is one of the saddest tragedies I have ever witnessed.
I’d like to see Tommy Davis explain this one away to a reporter…..”He was an adult who made a bad choice.”
No, Tommy, you blind ignorant douche, he is another victim of the cult of heartlessness, $cientology.
mb”