Full Text COPYRIGHT Psychology Today Magazine 1988 L. Ron Hubbard: Messiah or Madman? "Writing for a penny a word is ridiculous," L. Ron Hubbard told a group of his fellow science fiction writers in 1949. "If a man really wants to make a million dollars, the best way would be to start his own religion." Hubbard was supposed to have been joking. Five years later he founded the church of Scientology, which, at its peak, was reportedly bringing in that million dollars--every week. L. Ron Hubbard: Messiah or Madman? (Lyle Stuart, $20) by Bent Corydon and L. Ron Hubbard Jr. is a fascinating if strident look at the sinister inner workings of Scientology. Corydon, once a high-ranking church member, bases his book largely on his own harrowing experiences and on interviews with other disillusioned ex-Scientologists. His purported coauthor, Hubbard's son, appears only as one of the interviewees. Scientology had as its foundation Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health, which Hubbard published in 1950. A strange mixture of Freud and Buddhism, Dianetics sought to locate traumatic moments or memories of illicit acts in the "reactive mind" (subconscious) and transfer them to the conscious mind, where they could be rationally evaluated. When all of these "overts" were located, the person reached a state of "clear" and became an "operating thetan"--living completely in the here and now, able to remember anything that had happened in his or her many lives, free of all psychosomatic ills, which Hubbard claimed make up 75 percent of all ailments. In order to reach this exalted state, of course, one paid through the nose to be counseled by Scientology "auditors." Messiah or Madman? is less a coherent account of L. Ron Hubbard's life than a catalogue of cultish horrors: the bizzare Sea Org, a fleet of Scientology-run ships where "Ron's" word is law, mischievous children are locked away in damp cabins and disobedience results in food or sleep deprivation; the harrassment and framing of those who seek to leave the church or expose its darker side; and Hubbard himself, bigamist and opium addict, surrounded by nubile teenage "messengers," plotting to destroy the World Federation of Mental Health and to bug and burglarize the Internal Revenue Service. Corydon conveys a heartfelt belief that Dianetics is a good thing corrupted, in the end, by Hubbard's megalomania; there are many in the book who agree with him. We good readers are clearly supposed to symphatize with the plight of these purer Scientologists. Instead we are left to wonder why it took them so long to wake up and smell the coffee. The book itself is disjointed, told by too many people in no discernible order. Confusing Scientology jargon appears in early chapters, only to be explained in later ones. The hysterical tone eventually wears thin. Although Hubbard died in 1986, his legacy, the church, lives on. Anyone attracted to the slick television ads that still run for Dianetics would be well advised to read Messiah or Madman? first.