A half hearted defence of Scientology

With all the fuss about Nick Xenophon's recent badmouthing of the good people over at Scientology HQ, I figured this would be a good opportunity to tell you a story about my own brief flirtation with the religion... although, when I say flirtation, I do actually mean 'cynical exploitation for journalistic purposes', or perhaps even more accurately, 'shits and giggles on a Tuesday'. Ah, to be a student.

It was early 2006, and the Church of Scientology and its attendant flyerers had long been a fixture and curiosity of Perth's inner city. Day in, day out these neatly-attired, perma-smiling men and women could be found standing outside the front of Perth's Church of Scientology and wordlessly handing out poorly cut A6 slips of paper advertising - in glorious Comic Sans - the availability of 'Free Personality Tests' through the doors behind them. Over the years most people had probably received tens of the things, but still to the best of our knowledge, noone had ever been inside. Or at least noone had ever been inside... and returned to tell the tale [DRAMATIC MUSIC]

So naturally myself and another girl, Gemma, found ourselves delegated by a local University paper to actually take one of these Free Personality Tests and see what the deal was. And to see if we'd return either brainwashed... or dead. [DRAMATIC MUSIC]. So, what did we find? Well, it's actually a lot more prosaic than you're most conspiratorial fantasies would have you believe. Which isn't that surprising really, but I tell you now, as we ascended the 'church' stairs for the first time there was definitely a part of us that was quietly convinced we'd never see our families again.

The personality test itself was astoundingly long, clocking in at 200 vaguely repetitive questions to which one had to answer yes, no or maybe. Not always easy when the test would ask you questions such as 'Do you sometimes find it difficult to concentrate for extended periods of time?' Ummmm... maybe? By and large the test followed a mould of pop psychology nothingness, although occasionally there would be a more left-field offering, such as 'Do you get easily startled by loud noises?' or 'Do you believe in the punitive system of imprisonment?' Ummmm... maybe? Meanwhile, there was a loud persistent drilling noise coming from one end of the corridor in which we'd been stationed, while periodic bursts of applause would erupt from behind various doors, usually followed by the same cluster of 10 or so perma-smiling staff bustling from one room to another. Cue more applause. Apparently these were celebrations for people who had successfully completed self-improvement courses. I'm quietly convinced it was done solely for our benefit.

Once we were done with the test (which took around 45 minutes. I ended up with a fucking parking ticket), we were taken down to a subterranean chamber, located behind a previously locked door -  at which point we really became convinced that we were never going to see our families again - to have our test results assessed by a Scientology expert. After spending ten minutes watching an informative DVD, which played much like a Tuesday 4 am self-help infomercial, Gemma and I were hustled into adjoining cubicles to have our results interpreted. The test marked you between +100 and -100 on ten binary criteria (i.e. happy/depressed, stable/unstable, accepting/critical) and the experts used these as the basis of their questioning. I had done quite well on most of the criteria and it seemed like the woman I had been assigned wasn't all that keen on the prospect of converting me to the cause. Vaguely insulting really. Our conversation started weakly and began to taper off, at which point we can hear Gemma and her guy getting into an increasingly heated debate about the validity of Scientology's foundation in 'repressed trauma' pseudo-psychoanalysis. I felt like yelling: 'No, don't question their beliefs Gemma, it will only make them angry! There's still time for us to be brainwashed yet!' The lack of any obvious escape routes was also weighing quite heavily on my mind at this point. But I'm glad she did, because shortly afterwards we hear the resident Scientologist shrilly and very clearly respond to Gemma's questioning with the immortal line 'Well, I dunno, say you'd been raped by your grandmother'... I'm sorry, you fucking what? Raped by your grandmother? Seriously, of all the possible childhood traumas to pick from, you had to go with grandmother rape? I mean, perhaps I've missed the most recent crime epidemic to be sweeping our suburbs, but really, grandmother rape just seems like the offence least likely.

We left shortly after.

But in the end, unexpected allusions to being raped by your grandmother aside, the lasting impression of the centre and the experience in general was one of overwhelming beigeness. There were plastic plants, off cream walls and blue carpet. One of the lights in the opening hallway had a virulent fluorescent flicker. It was, in short, a basic office space populated by quiet, unassuming humans who suited the environment perfectly. And I think that's probably the actual, banal truth of much of the Scientology phenomenon. To most of those affiliated with the religion, it's not about Xenu and intergalactic travel and secret conspiracies. By and large, these are just needy people, trying to find a certain amount of meaning and drive in their lives and Scientology is providing it. In exchange for a prescribed fee. I mean, most religions work like that at a certain level (money has to come from somewhere), but Scientology has just come out and said it: you give us money, we'll make you feel better. Which is potentially why it has so much appeal to celebrities. They live their lives as tradable commodities, so it only makes sense that personal well-being can be traded as well.

Xenophon's statement does make for somewhat harrowing reading, and there certainly seem to be a number of potentially criminal acts alluded to within, but Scientology is far from the first religion to have allegations of fraud, intimidation and violence levelled against it over the years. The Catholic Church leaps to mind. And as Noel Pearson points out, the High Court decreed Scientology to be a Constitutionally protected religion back in 1983 and, barring an unlikely over-turning of that decision, a religion it will stay. Given that it contains a belief in a higher power and sets out certain rules by which its members should live, under the fairly liberal protections afforded by s 116 of the Constitution, it would be almost impossible to actually distinguish on a fundamental level between Scientology and any other of the less notorious fringe religions (Hillsong anybody?). Or mainstream religions for that matter. And, to be honest, such a distinction probably shouldn't be made either. Because unpalatable as I find Scientology's practices, and ridiculous as I find its worldview, the free exercise of religious belief is still a pretty fundamental human right and I think we should be very careful letting Government get overly involved in decisions as to whether one belief system is more or less valid than another.

Now, who wants to help me take the case for 'Jedi' to the High Court?