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Bare-Faced Messiah (PDF) - Apologetics Index

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individuals and organizations around the country with a covering letter claiming that 'authorization'<br />

had been received to release the material after the FBI had been supplied with a copy.<br />

While Hubbard was skirmishing with the FBI, he was also tightening his grip on the Scientology<br />

movement and urging his followers to take action against anyone attempting to practise<br />

Scientology outside the control of the 'church'. He derided apostates as 'squirrels' and<br />

recommended merciless litigation to drive them out of business. 'The law can be used very easily<br />

to harass, and enough harassment on somebody who is simply on the thin edge anyway, well<br />

knowing that he is not authorized, will generally be sufficient to cause his professional decease,' he<br />

wrote in one of his interminable bulletins, casually adding, 'If possible, of course, ruin him utterly.'<br />

In the same bulletin he offered the benefit of his advice to any Scientologists unlucky enough to be<br />

arrested. They were instantly to file a $100,000 civil damages suit for molestation of 'a Man of God<br />

going about his business', then go on the offensive 'forcefully, artfully and arduously' and cause<br />

'blue flames to dance on the courthouse roof until everybody has apologized profusely'. The only<br />

way to defend anything, Hubbard wrote, was to attack. 'If you ever forget that, you will lose every<br />

battle you are ever engaged in.'[3] It was a philosophy to which he would adhere ardently all his life.<br />

At the end of September, the Hubbards packed their bags once again, closed the house at Silver<br />

Spring and departed the United States with their three young children for another extended visit to<br />

London. Hubbard had taken a lease on a large apartment in Brunswick House, a mansion block in<br />

Palace Gardens Terrace, a few minutes walk from Kensington Gardens. It became, temporarily, the<br />

address of the Hubbard Communications Office, which maintained links with embryonic<br />

Scientology groups in other countries (satellite churches had already been established in South<br />

Africa, Australia and New Zealand).<br />

Hubbard immediately took over the day-to-day running of the Hubbard Association of Scientologists<br />

International, which was still operating from its dreary premises at 163 Holland Park Avenue,<br />

although it had grown considerably in size. There was now a full-time staff of twenty auditors, most<br />

of them young, like Cyril Vosper, who had been a nineteen-year-old biology student when he first<br />

read about Dianetics and was a qualified professional auditor by the time he was twenty.<br />

'I had no doubt that Hubbard's arrival in town was a historic event,' he recalled. 'I believed in him<br />

totally, believed he was a genius and was convinced he knew a lot more about the human species<br />

and the human condition than anyone else. The only reason I had any slight difficulty in accepting<br />

that he was the world's greatest human being was that, to English eyes, he didn't look like a<br />

<strong>Messiah</strong>. He used to wear very brash American clothes - loud check jackets and bootlace ties and<br />

brothel-creepers. It wasn't quite the image we expected. But he gave a number of public lectures<br />

around town and was interviewed by the media and was pretty well received. The newspapers at<br />

that time were quite complimentary, they viewed him as an oddball who might just have come up<br />

with something good.<br />

'Ron presided over the staff meeting at the HASI at five o'clock every afternoon. It was all Christian<br />

names at the HASI, everyone called him Ron, but there was no doubt he was absolutely in charge.<br />

He wouldn't brook any other input: all the books were written by him, all the policy letters were<br />

written by him. No one would ever question anything he said or wrote. I had read The History of Man<br />

and I knew, as a biology student, that it was a load of bleeding nonsense but I explained it to myself<br />

as an allegorical work. In any case, I could never have said to him, "Now listen, Ron, that's just not<br />

true." No one would ever have done that.<br />

'One of the things that began to worry me about Ron was that he was unpredictable. He could be

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