In the summer of 2007, Mike Rinder, one of the highest-level leaders within the church of scientology, traveled to London to do some press for the organization. Rinder— a stoic, often intimidating man— had been dubbed “Mr. Scary” by Rolling Stone journalist Janet Reitman in a profile on scientology. In many respects, Rinder was scientology’s fixer, a Roy Cohn-esque figure who used his intelligence, media savvy, and legal knowledge to intimidate, silence, and suppress critics of the church. But by the summer of 2007, the decades of lying, abuse, and dogma wore Rinder down, and he decided to leave the church. “I had reached a point where anything was better than the life I was living,” Rinder wrote in his new memoir, A Billion Years: My Escape from a Life in the Highest Ranks of Scientology, “I could no longer tolerate the mental and physical stress that had been mounting after years inside the highest echelon of scientology’s international hierarchy.” As a member of the Sea Organization (or Sea Org), scientology’s ecclesiastical order, Rinder couldn’t just quit the church; scientology has an entire procedure for Sea Org members who wish to leave. They call it “routing out.” Those who leave without routing out are said to have “blown,” or left the church hierarchy without proper authorization.
Rinder knew too much about the organization, its leader David Miscavige, and its abuses that his request to properly leave the Sea Org would never be granted. In fact, he had spent much of the early 2000s under surveillance for supposed “crimes” against the organization. He also wasn’t sure if his wife and two adult children would come with him, for they were as dedicated to scientology as he had been. Therefore, he knew the best way to leave would be to “blow,” which is what he did in June of 2007. He took what little cash he had, his passport, and a few other belongings and traveled from scientology’s base in East Grinstead to London, where he turned off his cell phone, jumped on an underground train, and left the church of scientology for good. “That day in London,” Rinder described, “I broke out of a cocoon that had surrounded me for nearly half a century. It began a metamorphosis, slowly transitioning me from a fanatical follower of the cult I had been raised into a dedicated whistleblower about the abuses I experienced, witnessed, and committed.” Mike Rinder’s journey out of scientology was a slow and arduous process, but once he dedicated himself to the cause of mental freedom, he never looked back.
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Founded in the 1950s by pulp science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard, scientology is one of the most elusive groups in the world, proclaiming millions of members and billions of dollars worth of assets and real estate. (In reality, scientology likely has only 25,000-35,000 members around the world, according to estimates from Rinder and other critics of the church.) Rinder grew up in scientology, as his parents brought him into it as a young child in Australia. “They were attracted by the promise of eradicating unwanted emotions and insecurities, having better relationships, raising successful children, and maybe even saving the world,” he wrote of his parents’ interest in Hubbard’s book, Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health. Hubbard claimed that the cause of most, if not all, of human problems stemmed from what he called “the reactive mind,” and through a process of “auditing,” which to outsiders looks much like hypnosis, you can become “clear,” free of the reactive mind and achieving what he referred to later as “cause over life.” This pastiche of Freudianism, carnival tricks, and folk wisdom was universally panned by the mainstream psychiatric establishment, causing Hubbard to denounce psychiatry and developing scientology as a sworn enemy of the field.
Nevertheless, Rinder’s parents were hooked, and soon they were practicing scientologists. While he went to regular schools, young Rinder would also attend scientology classes starting at a very young age, becoming a part of a small but dedicated community of scientologists in his hometown of Adelaide. This became more difficult after 1965, when the government of Victoria, a state within Australia, banned scientology, concluding in a report that “Scientology is a delusional belief system, based on fiction and fallacies propagated by falsehood and deception.” This pushed Rinder and his family’s dedication to scientology underground, which he said “gave the whole movement an us-versus-them mentality— the enlightened against the unenlightened, good versus evil— which only amplified everyone’s resolve.”
Despite being so inculcated in scientology, Rinder attended a private christian school through late adolescence. He reflects on this bifurcated life in the following passage:
Each morning we gathered in the school chapel to sing hymns and recite the Lord’s Prayer. I don’t know what the other boys were thinking as they sat in the pews, but I thought it was weird to be talking to and singing at a God who was supposed to be all-knowing and all-seeing. If he is the creator of all, then why does he need us to say anything out loud to him or ask him for things? But I maintained the appearance of a happy chapel-goer because I didn’t want anyone to know that I was most definitely not a Christian believer.
As with many members of cults, Rinder couldn’t apply the searing logic he used on Christianity to his own belief in scientology— but that would come later. He was also involved in many activities that teenage boys would do, like surfing, sports, and dating, which remained a core memory of his that aided his leaving of the church. “The early exposure to the real world I gained through those teenage activities,” Rinder recalls, “helped me in the end to escape scientology.”
At seventeen, Rinder was poised to attend the University of Adelaide on a full scholarship, but instead of pursuing an education, he joined scientology’s most elite group called the Sea Organization, or Sea Org. “Only a tiny percentage of the best and most devoted scientologists were part of the Sea Org,” Rinder noted, “and children raised in scientology were perfect candidates.” With the enthusiastic blessing of his parents, Rinder left the world of his youth behind and became a Sea Org member, signing the billion year contract in 1973. The billion year contract in scientology is less a legal document and more of a ecclesiastical promise. Since scientologists believe that they are immortal spiritual beings, a billion year contract is seen less as a permanent fate and more as a solid commitment to the future of scientology and its aims to “clear the planet,” or freeing humanity of all negative influences and barriers to what they call “spiritual freedom.”
The Sea Org started as a way for Hubbard to continue running scientology while avoiding the authorities. Throughout the 1960s, government officials became increasingly interested in the dealings of Hubbard and scientology, especially around tax issues. “The best place” to avoid this scrutiny, as Rinder recalled, “was in international waters.” In 1967, Hubbard bought three boats and created a bureaucratic class within scientology that could run these ships as well as the organization. He christened it the Sea Organization and used its sprawling apparatus to control every aspect of scientology— and its members. As Rinder wrote, “Hubbard, a master of manipulation, quickly made the Sea Org something his followers would hold in mystical awe, and made sure scientologists knew he wanted the most dedicated to commit themselves to this prized group. . . .” Rinder saw himself as one of the “most dedicated,” further writing, “I pledged myself to an eternity in service of achieving Hubbard’s aims, devoted to assisting him, in cooperation with the other Sea Org members, with the enormous and important job at hand.”
Rinder spent the next few years sailing the seas with Hubbard and the rest of the Sea Org, quickly rising through the ranks to become of the organization’s youngest core leaders. His first position was as a “communicator,” or assistant to the head of the Commanding Officer Flag Bureau. (A quick aside: everything in the Sea Organization is based loosely on the United States Navy, which Hubbard served unceremoniously in during World War II.) While the position wasn’t that glamorous, Rinder recalled its importance, saying, “I was now a vital cog in the organization’s machine, no longer an expendable.” He eventually took over all external communications at scientology’s Flag Land Base in Clearwater, Florida after Hubbard came back ashore in the mid-1970s and went into permanent exile to avoid the authorities. It was here that Rinder first met David Miscavige, the young, fresh upstart that would one day take over the church. As Rinder would recall later, “from day one, he seemed to be determined to kick, scratch, and claw his way up the ladder.”
By the mid-1970s, scientology experienced the peak of its popularity, and with it came critics. Two of the most prominent during that era were journalist Paulette Cooper, whose book, The Scandal of Scientology, educated the world on this elusive and authoritarian group, and Clearwater’s mayor Gabriel Cazares, who was none too pleased with scientology coming into town. It’s here in his narrative that Rinder outlines the policy of “Fair Game,” which Hubbard developed “to investigate, harass, and destroy anyone deemed an enemy or critic of scientology.” Most of these activities were carried out by the Guardian’s Office (GO), and they used every dirty trick imaginable to go after Cooper, Cazares, and anyone else who spoke out against the church. Cooper was framed by scientology as a suspect in an alleged terrorist plot against Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and Cazares resigned from office in 1978 due to harassment from the church. All of these activities would culminate in Operation Snow White, one of the largest infiltrations of the U.S. government by an organization in the country’s history. Their goal was to purge documents from multiple federal agencies that spoke negatively of Hubbard and scientology. Authorities eventually caught scientology in the act and many high-level operatives of the GO would go to prison, including Hubbard’s wife, Mary Sue. These events underscore that the ends justifies the means in scientology; nothing is seen as immoral as long as it silences critics and glorifies the church.
L. Ron Hubbard died in 1986, leaving no clear successor to take over scientology. It was assumed that Pat and Annie Broeker, who were his two closest confidantes in the final years, would assume leadership. However, that never happened. A coup occurred within the ranks of Sea Org leadership, led by David Miscavige, which forced the Broekers and their supporters out. As Rinder detailed, a January 19, 1986 letter from Hubbard, penned five days before he died, proclaimed that Pat and Annie Broeker were to take over the church. Miscavige “claimed it was a forgery and had all copies destroyed. What was clear with this sudden retraction was that Miscavige had other ideas about who was going to step into Hubbard’s shoes.” Scientology now had a new leader, David Miscavige, and the Broekers were unceremoniously removed from positions of power and excommunicated from the church. Rinder, who was in the Office of Special Affairs (OSA; formerly the Guardian’s Office), became one of Miscavige’s most important deputies— ensuring that no one would challenge his power.
Throughout his career in scientology management, Rinder would do a variety of things, from public relations to legal consulting. He also got to know many scientology celebrities, including John Travolta, Kirstie Alley, and Tom Cruise. Despite his dedication and talents, Rinder was always on the outs with leader David Miscavige, who assaulted him on many occasions, both verbally and physically. Recalling the first time it happened, Rinder wrote, “Miscavige burst out of the door and rushed at me like a bull charging a red flag. He pushed me into some bushes and I toppled over backward. He lunged at me again, hitting me in the face and kicking me while screaming. . . .” Abuse from Miscavige became standard operating procedure, according to Rinder, and “there would be dozens of incidents of Miscavige physically assaulting me to follow, and many, many more with him hitting, kicking, or throwing objects at other senior executives in scientology.” No apologies were given and staff were expected to take it “like a man,” so to speak.
While Rinder was dealing with the challenges of working with Miscavige, he was also working on one of his most challenging projects: helping to secure scientology’s tax-exempt status. The organization owed millions to the IRS and Hubbard specified that the majority of his estate would go to scientology only if they had tax-exempt status. Therefore, scientology did what it almost always does in situations like this: acted like a bully. Scientology harassed and sued the IRS, including its commissioner, Fred Goldberg, relentlessly for over 6 years, with Rinder becoming one of the key operatives in charge of the operation. Finally, the IRS succumbed to the pressure and granted scientology its tax-exempt status in October of 1993. Rinder described this as “the single most significant thing to occur in scientology since its formation”, single-handedly securing the church’s future both financially and ecclesiastically, as tax-exemption came with the presumption of first amendment protections as a “legitimate religion.” To this day, scientology benefits greatly from its tax-exempt status, using its massive coffers to buy large tracts of real estate, financing a television network, and covering the operations of each of its facilities.
While the tax-exemption fight proved positive for the church, the Lisa McPherson situation did not. In 1995, Lisa McPherson, a member of the church with a history of mental health issues, died in the care of scientology. Over two weeks before her death, she had a breakdown and was taken into a hospital for psychiatric treatment, which is not acceptable in scientology. Members of the church got her out of there and put her into scientology’s own treatment for mental breakdowns, which resulted in her being severely isolated from others. Her death was originally ruled as “undetermined,” which left open the possibility that scientology was responsible. This led to criminal investigations, a civil lawsuit by her family, and a wealthy philanthropist, Bob Minton, interested in taking down scientology. As Rinder recalled, “prosecutors were going after scientology institutionally and I fully understood what an enormous threat that presented. A felony conviction would be grounds for undoing the tax-exempt status of scientology. ” The church went into overdrive, fighting the legal cases and going after Minton’s attempts to harm it. Rinder was a principal figure in this, using his position within the church to make Minton’s life a living hell and get prosecutors off of the case. Eventually, Minton gave up, McPherson’s death was ruled an accident, and the church could breathe easy knowing it had escaped ruin, for now. Despite these victories, doubts about scientology and the leadership of David Miscavige began to set in with Rinder, who started to question whether all he had done was right.
By the early 2000s, Rinder’s life in scientology began to unravel. He fell out of favor with Miscavige, having to complete the rehabilitation project force (RPF), a forced labor and reeducation camp within scientology for “troublesome” Sea Org members, multiple times. While this sounds awful, it is not the worst punishment for Sea Org members; that label goes to what Rinder experienced first-hand: “The Hole.” Rinder described it as a “POW camp” with “no defined end point and is often the venue for brainwashing.” “The Hole” consisted of “two eighty-food-long double-wide trailers side by side, joined by a conference room and connecting hallway that had been constructed between them.” He received multiple physical and mental abuses while in “the Hole”, from horrible eating and sleeping conditions to other leadership within the church assaulting him. After his days in “The Hole,” he knew his days with scientology were numbered. When he was finally released in 2007 to do public relations for the church in London, he used that opportunity to leave and never go back.
Today, Rinder is one of the most high-profile whistleblowers and critics of scientology, regularly speaking about its abuses on podcasts, television, and films. He served as an executive producer and co-host of the award-winning series, Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath, of which he won an Emmy. He is also the co-founder of the Aftermath Foundation, an organization dedicated to helping former Sea Org members get their lives back together after leaving scientology. While he’s now remarried and the father to two young children, he has no communication with his ex-wife and two adult children still in the church. They have “disconnected” from him, a scientology custom similar to shunning where people are not allowed to speak to “suppressive persons,” or critics of the church. He hopes that one day they might leave scientology and reconnect with him, and writes, “if they ever do, unconditional love and a whole new world await them.”
Mike Rinder’s story is one of redemption; he has spent most of the last fifteen years of his life making up for all the horrible things he did while in the leadership of scientology. He recognizes the hurt that he’s caused and has made amends to many he’s harmed, including philanthropist Bob Minton, BBC reporter John Sweeney, and journalist Janet Reitman. He’s also found a life outside of the church, one filled with joy, purpose, and above all else, freedom. He writes of when he left:
. . . most of all, I felt the embrace of the realization that suddenly, I was answerable only to myself. I felt the elation of freedom for the first time in decades. Nobody to tell me what to do. Nobody to criticize or punish me. Nobody looking over my shoulder, second-guessing everything I did. I had never been in that position before and it sure felt good.
Cults can take so many things from a person— their money, their dignity, their ability to think critically— but the most powerful thing a cult can take is someone’s freedom. If you can take someone’s freedom, you can take anything else. Rinder learned this firsthand being involved in scientology, a cult that destroys families, degrades its staff, and swindles its members, and has dedicated his life to exposing scientology’s pernicious effect on the world. In rejecting the dogma of scientology, Mike Rinder embraced freedom, the most precious thing one can ever have.