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#Post#: 25--------------------------------------------------
My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: Sarah Fazeli Date: August 30, 2013, 11:44 pm
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So. Is it a cult? Technically, no. But, if it walks like cult,
talks like a cult, and preys on people like a cult, it just
might be Landmark.
Everyone told me not to go.
"It's a cult, Sarah. Don't get sucked in!"
“The Landmark Forum? It’s like 'Scientology Light.' Run the
opposite direction!”
I'd just begun a trial separation from my husband. I was
heartbroken, confused and vulnerable. That’s when my good
friend, Ed, a fantastically positive, well-put-together human
being, told me emphatically that The Landmark Forum had changed
his life and invited me to a free seminar.
Eager, I went online to check it out, and began to worry.
On the net, opinions and experiences ran the gamut. There were
warnings against Landmark, video testimonials about
how-Landmark-saved-my-life, letters of both support and
condemnation from psychologists, priests and university
scholars.
I had other friends who all but begged me not to go, citing it
as destructive and dangerous. Now, I was intrigued. Such a range
of reactions and emotions! I had to find out for myself.
Still, something didn’t feel right. On the day of the free
seminar, I had a sinking feeling deep in my gut. Don’t go. But
I'd told Ed I would see him there and felt bad bowing out. I
explained my conflicted feelings to another friend who advised
me to “Go, just don’t part with any money.”
Huh. Why would I part with any money?
I left late (subconsciously on purpose? Hoping it would be half
over when I arrived?) and drove with trepidation to the
location, a crappy hotel by the airport.
There, I was greeted by what seemed like an endless supply of
grinning volunteers. Each name-tagged little helper gushed how
happy they were to see me. After tacking a nametag across my
chest, they ushered me into a dank, depressing ballroom. Heavy
draperies kept out the light of a gorgeous California day.
On stage, people stood in line to give witness to how Landmark
changed their lives. I thought it would be over -- I was almost
an hour late -- but it was nowhere near over, and would go on
another two hours.
Somehow, despite my skepticism, halfway through I ended up
sobbing my marital sadness to the two Landmark women with whom I
was put into a small group. And by the end of the afternoon, I
had written a check for $300 (merely a deposit) and registered
for the course.
I know.
By the time I got back on the highway, I regretted it. What the
hell was that? I asked myself aloud. I called to get a refund.
At first, the Landmark rep on the phone acted as if a refund was
no problem. Great, I thought. That was easy. But when she
smoothly launched into a series of circular questions, I didn’t
have a chance.
“Mmm, this refund, let’s talk about this. Why do you feel this
way? What could you be resisting in your life? What if 'I want
my money back' is just a story you are telling yourself?”
Hm. Gosh. Never thought if it that way.
And she seemed so nice. So caring. I said I’d think about it and
hung up.
Every single day for the next month, I was barraged with phone
calls and messages from Landmark. It was like having a
collection agent who also needed to buy crack from you. I had
been willing to consider doing the course, but now I was pissed.
The phone rang yet again. I saw the Landmark name (I had labeled
it on my phone as a warning to screen the call) and picked up.
This time I would give them a piece of my mind!
Of course, the Landmark rep, “Paul,” wasn’t having any of it.
“Sarah, can you honestly say you are where you want to be in
your life?"
Uh, well.
“What is really going on here? What are you resisting?”
Apparently, “resisting,” as they labeled my decision to get my
money back, was proof of how much I needed their help. You know,
the help I needed to stop resisting THEM. Get it?
“I just want a refund,” I stumbled, somehow getting roped back
into another big ass, circular conversation. They’re really good
at that.
After almost 20 minutes on the phone it was clear I wasn't
getting my deposit back. Paul “reframed” it for me: essentially
I could lose the $300 or pony up the additional $200 and just
see what the fuss was all about.
Even then, as I was agreeing to pay the balance, I could feel my
heart pounding, stuffing down a little voice that said, This
isn’t right. Don’t go.
“All righty!” Paul interrupted my inner monologue. "So the total
on your Visa will be…” he slowed down. “Oooh, Sarah,” I could
hear him inhale through his teeth, “It looks like since you
registered last summer, but didn’t complete the forum, we can’t
honor your deposit.”
What?
“And, it looks like the price of the course has gone up since
you registered.”
"Seriously?" I balked.
“I hear you, Sarah, but I want you to be open to the
possibilities that lay ahead for you.”
I didn’t feel open to new possibilities. I felt taken advantage
of, swindled, even a little bullied. But bullied in a really
nice way.
As the seminar weekend approached, the feeling in the pit of my
stomach returned. But I had spent the money. I was going. The
schedule was as follows: Friday 10am-Midnight, Saturday
10am-Midnight, Sunday 10am-Midnight.
The leader, a stern, non-nonsense woman I’ll call Chris,
explained the contract we must all agree to: no use of alcohol,
drugs. No problem. I agree.
They went on to reject the use of coffee, caffeine, painkillers
like Advil, and snacks. Coffee? Snacks? Tylenol?
Also, there would be very limited breaks. As in one meal break
for the 13-hour day. I didn’t think this was a big deal until
I’d been sitting for four hours in a hot room in a stiff row of
people in a very uncomfortable chair. One person got up after
about an hour, presumably for the bathroom, and Chris made quick
work of explaining all the reasons this was not okay. The tone
was set: You followed the schedule; you did not veer from the
group.
Later, after spotting a few travel mugs of coffee in the
audience and more unofficial bathroom breaks, Chris exploded.
“You can’t control yourselves? Geez, you’re like babies here
whining about going to the bathroom and having your snacks.” She
mocked us in a high-pitched voice. Then, she got very serious.
“You get up and take a break? Don’t blame me if come Sunday
everyone else 'gets it' and you don’t. I can’t guarantee the
transformation that will happen Sunday at 5pm unless you are
here and present every second.”
Within the first hour of the seminar we were pressured to take
the $800 “advanced course.” To push us along, the drones in the
back of the room came up and gave testimonials like “I was like
you once! Skeptical, unsure.”
I look around the room. Does anyone else see what’s going on
here? A few do -- we make eye contact and quickly look away
before the drones can see us connecting and possibly staging a
rebellion.
Nametags: They were very strict about them. I mean hardcore. You
had to have your nametag on and in view at all times. They were
collected anytime you left the room. Presumably to keep tabs on
who had returned (or were late returning) and who had not. It
was weird.
Also within the first few hours, we were “challenged” to
“powerfully enroll our friends and family in the possibilities
Landmark is giving you!” This would mean using the few and far
between breaks we did have to call our friends and “get
complete” with them. Then we were supposed to bring them Sunday
night to our own “completion” where they could hear about our
transformative weekend (and pay their own $300 deposit).
One woman raised her hand.
She was handed a microphone, and was thus allowed to speak. “I’m
sorry,” she started, her voice wobbling in preliminary apology,
“but do we have to tell them about Landmark? All of this feels
like a big commercial for Landmark.”
By the time Chris was done with her, this young woman had shrunk
about two inches and said, “I guess I wasn’t seeing the
possibilities,” she smiled hopefully, “Thank you.”
Cheers and applause broke out. “Yes! Look at that, people! She
just grew tenfold!”
But, not everyone was buying it. A man raised his hand. I'd
noticed this man before because it seemed whenever I was sighing
or looking askance he was doing the same thing.
In a very reasonable, professional manner, he raised his hand
and said, “Excuse me. I’ve been here for a little over three
hours now. And the only thing I’ve heard is how I should sign up
and pay for more Landmark classes.”
A small wave of nods rippled across the room.
In a roller coaster two minutes, Chris lauded the man for his
honesty, encouraging others who felt this way to show
themselves. Then she went in for the kill, spinning it around so
anyone who questioned the program or its tactics was
“resisting.”
The second day, the man expressed the same feeling. This time,
the mic was ripped out of his hand, campaign manager style, “We
are not discussing that right now!” Chris snapped
On the third day he was “asked” to leave.
All of those things were freaky, but none truly scared me until
we go to this rule:
NO WRITING.
This was when the little hairs on the back of my neck came to
attention. Writing, whether it’s journaling, taking notes, even
just having a pen in my hand, is how I process the world.
When I expressed my concern over this, I was used as an example
of someone who is clearly resisting the work by choosing not to
follow the rules. Others around me, who only moments before had
echoed my feelings, now clammed up. They wouldn’t even meet my
gaze.
So, after we’d all been given our East German Stasi cards --
oops, I mean our nametags -- we were reminded that if someone is
doing something they’re not supposed to (taking notes, taking
unofficial breaks), you say something. Hold them accountable.
Yes, we were asked to police our neighbors.
About15 minutes after this “reminder,” the woman next to me
tapped me hard on my arm. “Yes?” I looked up, assuming she
wanted to borrow something or ask for a piece of gum.
“No writing!” she said, and waved her finger back and forth in
my face.
I almost stabbed her with my Bic Roller Gel.
I nearly walked out so many times, usually during the abusive
interactions between the leader and whatever emotionally wracked
person onstage. These were serious emotional breakdowns being
handled in five-minute increments by this Landmark leader. Not a
well-trained, experienced therapist in a safe environment but an
arrogant, would-be dictator who egged on these breakdowns, gave
them a quickie “tool” to get over their childhood trauma, and
moved right along to the next person.
There were first-time revelations of childhood molestations,
my-father-murdered-my-mother divulgements, I-think-I’m-gay
moments. The words that best sum up Landmark’s catch-and-release
handling of these fragile situations are dangerous and
irresponsible.
I’ve done self-help work. I’m an actor, for Christ’s sake!
Introspection and being alone on stage is what we do! So I asked
questions in response to “the work” and was struck down,
humiliated and branded “uncoachable.”
Chris mocked me, "Oh, you have questions? You’re questioning me?
How long have you been leading the Forum? Do you think I know a
thing or two more than you about it?” I could literally hear
cackles from various part of the audience. It was fucking Animal
Farm in there.
It went on like this as I watched others get worked over. It was
abusive, demeaning. Yet, people kept coming back for more!
The only reasonable explanation is Stockholm Syndrome. You are
trapped like sardines in rows with random people, after hours
without food or daylight, put into a high-pressure emotional
situation, and told the only way out of the emotional
basket-case-ness that they have instigated, is for you to pay
for and take more of their seminars. (And to “powerfully enroll
others to do the same.”)
Looking back, I can’t believe I stayed as long as I did. I
suspect some people stay out of curiosity, a
wanting-to-get-your-moneys worth feeling.
I might have stayed even longer but then I heard this:
Everything in your life is your fault, including your rape.
They were SUCH assholes to me onstage after I'd bared my soul,
and talked about everything from being raped to my husband never
wanting to have sex with me. The upshot was essentially, Guess
what, bitch? It's all your fault!
Streams of people came up to me after I got up to do "the work"
(translation: get emotionally eviscerated/abused in public).
"The way she talked to you up there made me sick."
"After witnessing that, I don't think I can come back for
another day."
"That was unconscionable."
Yet, they all stayed. Why? Like a crowd around a wagon back
medicine show, they were desperate to see this "transformation"
they had been promised (over and over again) all weekend.
("Don't leave! You are this close to "getting" it.)
That was Saturday night. I could have just gone home and not
returned for the third day, but something in me woke up. That
pit in my stomach? It was on fire. And it wasn’t going to go
quietly. I had to make a statement.
As homework the night of Day 2, we were supposed to write a
letter to someone we’ve “been inauthentic with.”
I went home and wrote out three pages on a legal pad. I returned
bright and early Sunday morning, on time and sitting in my seat
(lest I be scolded) like all the other good little sheep.
When it was my turn, I went up to the microphone and began to
read:
“Dear, Sarah -- I realize now I have been inauthentic with you."
I could feel sympathetic nods up and down from the crowd. I
continued.
“When I first heard about Landmark Forum, I had this terrible
feeling in the pit of my stomach. An instinct. A sense of dread.
I ignored my inner voice. I let myself look past all the
unethical business practices, the high-pressure sales tactics,
the abusive, emotional manipulation --"
“-- Turn off her mic! Turn off her mic!” Chris shouted, her arms
raised arms up and down like a stiff Henny Penny, and the
drones scurried do her bidding.
A Mack truck couldn’t stop me. I didn’t need a microphone, just
my own authentic voice. The drones went berserk, buzzing around
in the back, bumping into each other over the sound equipment.
Someone finally just ripped the cord out of the wall.
Chris raced toward me. She tried to shuffle me offstage --
physically. I calmly (maybe too calmly) told her not to touch
me. The audience gasped. Gasped! As if I had done something to
HER! Wow, they were goners.
I went on with my letter.
She interrupted, shouting, “What do you want? Do you want a
refund?”
I said, "Hell, yes!" and then got the hell off stage.
Three people booed me. Yes, BOOED ME. Another three came to the
back of the room to shake my hand, clap me on the back, and tell
me that I had just articulated everything they were thinking.
Soon enough, though, the drones broke up the conversation.
“I have to ask you to stop this conversation because you are
just creating another 'racket,'" which is Landmark-speak for “a
persistent complaint with someone or something that leads you
into a habitual way of being, thinking, feeling, or acting.”
“See?” I said to the three would-be-defectors. You take issue
with something Landmarkian? You are labeled as having a
“racket,” “resisting,” or -- my personal favorite -- being
“uncoachable.”
So. Is it a cult? Technically, no. But, if it walks like cult,
talks like a cult, and preys on people like a cult, it just
might be Landmark. If this is what people call “Scientology
light,” I’d hate the get anywhere near the real thing.
I have since discovered that a couple of my friends have
actually done the basic Landmark Forum. I still don’t understand
quite how they couldn’t see through all the
mindfucking-disguised-as-enlightenment, deceptive business
practices, Stockholm Syndrome-y seminars or the constant,
hard-sells to get more involved.
That said, if they got something positive out of it, I am truly
glad for them. (And a little in awe.)
One of them asked me, hopefully, “But, Sarah, you must have
learned something from it?”
I thought for a moment. “Yes,” I said. “I learned that I should
trust my instincts.” Like the time my gut told me, "Sarah, run
fast. It’s totally a cult.”
#Post#: 26--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: Anton Mackay Date: August 30, 2013, 11:47 pm
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Oh man, Landmark. At my old job, my boss tried to get me to go
to a Landmark workshop. She was really offended when I told her
that I wasn't comfortable with it and didn't want to go. I
thought it was SUPER inappropriate for her to try to recruit me
in the workplace. She tried to recruit another co-worker and
probably would have kept going but we complained to the Board of
Directors and then she shut up. I was relieved when she quit a
few months later.
This is the article that made me wary of Landmark and its ilk in
the first place:
HTML http://www.citypages.com/2001-...
#Post#: 27--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: Karin Badt Date: August 30, 2013, 11:48 pm
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Thanks for the link to the article. Very interesting.
#Post#: 28--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: heyletsevolve Date: August 30, 2013, 11:49 pm
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That is incredibly offensive of your boss to even think that was
okay to ask you to go to that. Boss-worker relationships are
awkward enough without adding religion to the mix. (The power
balance alone is difficult to deal with.) Also, that article is
terrifying! Thanks for the link!
#Post#: 29--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: Thomascino1 Date: August 30, 2013, 11:51 pm
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!!! That is so creepy.
#Post#: 30--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: Lanse Date: August 30, 2013, 11:53 pm
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Thank you for writing about this and for being brave enough to
get up in front of everyone and read that letter. An
acquaintance of mine did this course and I had wondered if it
was like this ... and it seems it's worse than I suspected.
#Post#: 31--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: Tillamook Date: August 30, 2013, 11:55 pm
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This is fascinating and scary as crap. Thank you for writing
this! I think it's really scary anytime a 'religion' or 'way of
life' FORCES you to do something. Super super creepy.
#Post#: 32--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: ConsueloG Date: August 30, 2013, 11:57 pm
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I have to admit, I don't totally understand why you are saying
this isn't a cult. It sure sounds like one...
#Post#: 33--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: jasonmannington Date: August 30, 2013, 11:59 pm
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I think of it as being a hybrid between a cult and a multi level
marketing scheme.
#Post#: 34--------------------------------------------------
Re: My (Scary, Destructive) Brush With Scientology Light
By: blueraven Date: August 31, 2013, 12:02 am
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Okay, I guess I can see that.
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