Scientology emerges not as a religion, but as an expensive placebo for the great unwashed

There’s a reason why dog-eared copies of “Dianetics” are for sale at every New Jersey garage sale: History. Trace the roots of Scientology, and you’ll end up on the NJ Turnpike, where science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard (1911-1986) launched his self-help-movement-turned-religion after the 1950 publication of “Dianetics,” his mind-over-body bestseller.




The Church of Scientology was incorporated in none other than Camden, after the Hubbard Dianetic Research Foundation was started in Elizabeth in 1953.

“Inside Scientology” by Janet Reitman is an amazing book. She was an embedded reporter, got information and much insight into what’s now known as the celebrity’s religion.

Actually, she wasn’t fully embedded. She asked, but the Scientologists said no. So she figured out a way to get the story by joining the “church,” albeit with a few lies here and there. There are plenty of former Scientologists who have an ax to grind, but she walked in — and out — without bias.

Don’t expect a full tell-all. Her book is mostly a masterful telling of the church’s history and the division among its members due to current Scientology leader David Miscavige.

Miscavige was a follower of Hubbard. He assumed control at 25 when Hubbard died — alone, a California recluse under investigation by the IRS. Miscavige turned that around and got rid of the IRS, and the once self-help movement is now a bona fide, tax-exempt religion.

Dianetics — which purports to explore the metaphysical relationship between the mind and body — has some sound points in Reitman’s eyes. How it became a religion — well, that’s the genius of Hubbard. To many people, he made sense in that long-ago book, a time when the Cold War was in full freeze, when people were frightened of the bomb, when things began to feel out of control. But Hubbard also saw an opportunity for a religion, a nonprofit. Maybe he didn’t want to pay taxes, maybe he saw himself as a sort of God. No one will ever know for sure.

Reitman’s book seems to suggest that Hubbard saw himself as a savior of sorts, and as he aged, his religious movement almost failed, which is when Miscavige stepped in.

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More than 25 years since Hubbard’s death, the movement remains a religion, still working, collecting big bucks from such celebrities as Tom Cruise (who can forget his jumping around Oprah’s couch in 2005?).

Cruise is only one of many celebrities who embrace Scientology. There’s Kirstie Alley, Catherine Bell, Jenna Elfman, John Travolta and his wife, actress Kelly Preston. It’s a long list. But, Reitman points out, there are many followers who have no such status; they simply follow and pay. And pay. And pay.

Reitman said in an interview that Hubbard was the first Oprah. And it’s the Oprah-figure he remains in every country except the United States. It’s only here, Reitman points out, that his philosophy is an actual religion. Other countries? It’s still a self-help movement, nothing more.

In the end, Reitman decides that although the belief system may work, she realized it’s only for the uneducated and desperate. Her interviews reveal that Scientology isn’t much more than jargon. Anyone with a liberal arts education will soon see through it, how its “science” is stolen from philosophers who are unknown even to Scientology recruiters. Still, she says “they” — the ones who exhaust a potential follower with long lectures — can sound quite convincing, especially when people are desperate.

The question is: How desperate are we?

“Inside Scientology” gives insight about how desperate times can influence the masses. The May 21, 2011, “Rapture Day” was a prudent reminder.