Bare-Faced Messiah (PDF) - Apologetics Index

Chapter 8
The Mystery of the Missing Research
'In 1948, Mr Hubbard's first writings on the nature of life and the human mind began to circulate
privately. Passed from hand to hand, word quickly spread that he had made a revolutionary
breakthrough . . .' (L. Ron Hubbard, The Man and His Work, 1986)
• • • • •
After their wedding in Maryland, Hubbard and his young bride returned to California and found an
apartment at Laguna Beach, a resort much favoured by artists and writers, half-way between Los
Angeles and San Diego. John Steinbeck lived there when he was writing his first major novel,
Tortilla Flat, a factor Ron no doubt took into consideration when he was looking for a place to settle
down and resume his career as a writer.
The problem was that he could neither settle down nor write. Indeed, to judge from his bulging file
at the Veterans Administration, in 1946 Ron largely directed his literary talents to the diligent pursuit
of a bigger pension. On 19 September, he limped into the VA medical centre in Los Angeles with a
miserable litany of by now familiar complaints: 'Eyes are sensitive to bright sunlight and I can't read
very much and I have severe headaches . . . My stomach trouble keeps me on a very rigid diet - can
only eat milk, eggs, ground meat and strained vegetables . . . I tire quickly and become nauseated
when I work hard . . . My left shoulder, hip - in fact the entire left side is bothered with arthritic pains -
can't sit any length of time at typewriter or desk . . .'
Once again, the doctors did not seem to be able to find anything markedly wrong with the veteran,
other than calcified bursitis, a touch of arthritis in his ankles apparently causing him to walk with a
'hobble-like gait' and 'minimal duodenal deformity'. On the examination report it was noted that
there were no scars or indications of gunshot wounds or other injuries.[1]
It was perhaps just as well for Ron that the Veterans Administration did not have access to his
private journals, for a very different picture was presented therein. Several scrawled pages were
filled with 'Affirmations', many of which concerned his health. Had he been a little more
circumspect, the 'Affirmations' could have been viewed as a brave attempt to make light of his
ailments, or to cure himself through sheer strength of will, for in some of them he seemed to be
trying to convince himself that he was fit:
'Your ulcers are all well and never bother you. You can eat anything.
'You have a sound hip. It never hurts.
'Your shoulder never hurts.
'Your sinus trouble is nothing.'
Unfortunately for his place in posterity, he frequently chose to elaborate. Thus he confessed that his
stomach trouble was a device he had used to get out of punishment in the Navy, his bad hip was a
pose and his foot injury was an alibi: 'The injury is no longer needed. It is well. You have perfect and
lovely feet.' A few of the Affirmations were also stamped with the faintly sinister mark of Aleister