Page Two

3. What is the RPF?

What is the RPF's RPF?

As I have already said, one is not free to leave the RPF, one must escape from the RPF. One would be tempted to say it is a prison whereas detention conditions and current rules in use in industrial countries prisons would be similar to those existing in Club Meds (French vacations clubs located on paradisiac beaches) compared to RPF's detention conditions. Gulag is the word, military detention camp, forced labor camp, re-education camp.

People abusingly sent to those camps are cult adepts who would begin to ask questions about finances or about workability of technical pratices. Someone (registrar) not bringing enough money or someone who would have rightly called his senior in rank a fool, someone who would have decided to have sex with his or her chosen one by- passing a prior authorisation, even more serious someone who would want to leave the cult.

In the "Modern Management Technology Defined", p. 441, from Hubbard we can read among other obscure definitions the following:

" The RPF has been created by the Commodore (the guru had self- named that title) so that redemption can occur".

Redemption from latin redemptio meaning redeem. Redeeming or being redeemed, deliverance or rescue especially from evil ways. (Oxford Advanced Dictionary)

There is a Flag Order (policy) 3434RB, 7/1/ 1974, called "The Rehabilitation Project Force" about 10 pages long which is confidential and is not to be found outside the RPF. It consists mainly of the RPF rules of which nobody can have a free access to that delicious reading - Here are the broad lines.

Roughly speaking, the person not only is fallen from rank but also from his civil rights, social rights and even family rights. The RPFer-as he/she is called- is not allowed to live with his/her spouse and children, is not to have a sexual relationship even with husband or wife. He/she can't use a car or a bicycle, can't talk to people unless being spoken to. The RPFer is some sort of sub-class man deprived from freedom of speech. The person only receives a third of his pay which is already quite meager and finds him/herself with 4 or 5 dollars a week if no other disciplinary sanction has been taken against him/her. The person must take meals segregated from the rest of the group provided that the meals are consisted of leftovers from other's meals. The person must sleep in the worst accomodations and must put on black and dirty clothes on. A distinctive mark; the person is to wear a black ribbon to signify he/she is ostracized. (P. 302 on the admin dictionary: " personnel without privileges of etiquette"). The RPFer is to answer" yes sir " to any communication adressed to him/her ( even a woman) is not allowed to walk but must run at any time. The RPFer must slave away 7 days per week, 10 hours a day with 30 minutes a meal, 3O seconds for a shower and must suffer special gulag indoctrination 5 hours every day. The RPFer is to perform the hardest work of renovation and menial work. It can consist in falling down a wall by a section (name given to a small group of RPFers) formed by young ladies- one of which might be pregnant- but who cares if she has an abortion in the "process" (as it already happened) Or it can be the garbage detail which is quite hard when one has a fragile morphology and even dangerous without gloves, without adequate clothing or a garbage collector training! The RPFer is denied the right to question anything whatsoever. If anything else than "yes sir" should unluckily go out from his/her mouth, the RPFer would immediatly be ordered to run preferably under a blazing sun around a tree or a pole for an unlimited number of laps - only deciding the " garde chiourme" in charge until RPFer's complete and total allegiance is obtained.

The "Running Program" is the severest punishment. It consists of running for 8 hours long around a pole until the person becomes a robot. Constant watch over is kept and no privacy is tolerated. A "twin" ( buddy or rather companion in misfortune) is assigned to him/her. It is a very efficient system to keep control of the RPFer moreover, it is quite Machiavellian; each one keeping a close eye on the other one does not allow solidarity.

The RPFer has no day off, no spare time, no music, no radio, no games, in short he can only hope to achieve his "program" decided "up lines" whose long-lasting period can reach years. An average from 3 to 4 years would be quite respectable...

Anyhow, let it be quite plain to everyone it 's by far preferable to be emprisoned anywhere else except perhaps in China, North Corea or Siberia...

To whom adore exact references here are some real gems of the gulag's famous interne ruling. It is a 10 pages long Flag Order called The Rehabilitation Project Force 3434 RB, 7 January 1974.

" A member of the RPF is a member of the RPF and nothing outside of it, till released." (sic)

Do we have to conclude that being emprisoned, the member of the RPF no longer belongs to mankind and will only regain his human condition once released?

Follows a catalogue of restrictions. The first list is entitled: "Restriction of RPF from Flag crew" , which is followed by a list called: "The RPF do NOT * (sic) whose turn comes to a long list with a charming title: " PERSONAL RESTRICTIONS AND PENALTIES" *(sic) on number 17, it is written: " And if dismissed from the Sea Org is to sign a confession of his crimes before leaving the Base."(sic)

There are 45 restrictions and penalties in this Flag Order.

However, out of benevolence, the guru Hubbard established a very thin list of personal rights. One of which is: 4. "Normal meals providing no crew member is in any way deprived thereby." (sic)

Nonetheless, it is not specified whether the RPFer has the personal right of normal sleep too...

The Motto of the RPF is:

THE RPF IS WHAT WE MAKE IT. *(sic)

THE RPF IS WHERE WE MAKE IT. *(sic)

The Stable Datum fot the Unit is:

ONE JOB, ONE PLACE, ONE TIME. *(sic)

Those 3 sentences are regularly shouted during the 3 daily mandatory roll-calls.

There are at least 4 RPFs:

1) Flag in Clearwater, Florida

2) PAC (Pacific area) Los Angeles, California

3) "Happy Valley" Hemet, California (desert)

4) Copenhagen, Denmark

As far as RPF's RPF, that would be the equivalent of French oubliettes, English donjons, Roman galleys; extremely hard to survive on it. Conditions are unbelievable, only worthy a 18 century novel. It's the gulag's nick. The person cannot but start praying because within such poor conditions he/she can maybe resist 3 months that is, if he/she is in very good health condition from the very start.

We can find the definition of RPF's RPF in the Admin dictionary p.451. It is a dismaying one;

"RPF's RPF: the following restrictions are applied to members:

1)Segregated from other RPF members with regard to work, messing, berthing, musters and any other command activity.

2)No pay.

3)No training.

4)No auditing.

5)May only work in mud boxes in the E/R may not work with RPF members.

6)Six hours sleep maximum

8) Standard ethics penalties that apply to them to be tripled for each offense they are found guilty of, until they fully join the RPF of their own determinism.

9) May communicate only with RPF MAA.

10) May not join RPF fully until acceptable amends made to all RPF members.

The first RPF's RPF assignment was made because the person was unable to recognize a need for redemption or any means to affect it. Until such time as the person recognize this need and of their own self-determinism requested to be included in RPF redemption actions, the restrictions applied."

End of quote.

I am dirty. Lice are eating me away. When they see me, swines puke.

Lautréamont, Maldoror' Songs

4. A classic day in the RPF.

Basically, it consists in getting up early before everybody and going to bed very late after everybody else. Fatigue is omnipresent. Just 7 hours sleep is not enough to compensate for a forced labor work in a hell cadence. The person's resistance, even in good health conditions begins to decay. At this rate, after a week of forced pace I would not wish to my worst enemies (except Miscavige and other bastards) I felt my strenghts lowering. Cramps becoming more and more frequent were all the more painful since I had to continue running no matter what. Aching all over, sweat had also become a fearful enemy. Florida's hot and humide climate with the accelarated rythm of constant effort provoked an important sweatering which was responsable for an accumulation of bacterias. The thing was to protect ourselves from potential wounds at all cost. No preventive measures was ever taken and of course, no medicine, not even antiseptics or antibiotics were allowed in case of injury or illness.

Actions stations would occur by 7AM. All I had was 5 minutes to be ready; get dressed with a dirty black trousers, a dirty black tee-shirt, and remember the black ribbon around the left arm. Well well! like jews with a star sewn on their torn coat during the second World War of evil memory... or like the red letter sewn on the heroin's dress of a famous novel; The Scarlet Letter from Nathaniel Hawthorne. Standing for adulterous, the letter A stigmatized the woman' "sin" heavily reproved and socially condemned by puritan moral prevailing in 17 Century Boston. Hester Prynne is sentenced for adultary to be put in the stocks. She is to forever wear the symbol of her sin, the big red letter A sewn on the bodice of her dress.

In the RPF, the dark ribbon is the representation of discrimination; the illegal and arbitrary segregation of the person. The person is plainly ostracized. It is the same thing really except that we no longer live in 17th Century. Of course the RPF is contrary to the Rights of Man, violates every Constitution and must be forbidden by the Governments would they only bother to assume their responsabilities and make proper legislation so that no intern prison belonging to any group or "religion" call it a labor camp, gulag or RPF be tolerated on their soils. I guess that the will of politics would be awakened when a politician's daughter or son were to be be ensnared by a cult and be interned in one of those camps or worse, were to commit suicide.

The RPF illegal forced labor camp is all the more intolerable since this humiliation is presented as an expiation for adept's so-called "crimes" which is forced to accept his need for Redemption. On top of that imagined by a perverted madman, sadistic and paranoid schizophrenic guru.

But let's come back to the story.

As a precautionary measure, I always wore a clean tee-shirt underneath the black and dirty one. Fortunately, I had a dozen tee-shirts in my suitcase. Every night after the 30 seconds shower I coated my body with talc in order to protect my skin against sweat. We all suffered from heavy sweating. I recall this young woman terribly suffering from an important infection which had been developing under her breasts. Instead of healing, the wound had been expanding to such a degree that purulent blisters had reached her navel. When I saw that infection I told her: - Here, have some talc, take mine. She looked at me puzzled.

- I think you should wear a cotton tee-shirt under your bra in order to isolate your breasts . That may help to stop the infection. I added

She answered that she didn't have any so I spontaneously gave her 2 tee-shirts of mine.

- You can wash your tee-shirt every night so you will always have a clean and dry tee-shirt for the day after.

She had a sort of trembling.

- Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? she asked.

With the passing of time, I realize how pathetic was this woman's reaction. How was it possible that someone should help her? She had lost the notion of solidarity! (something very present in regular prisons or prison camps)

To me it was just a matter of assisting someone in danger; her infection had definitely become too large to ignore it. Unlike others, I felt compassion. In the RPF, it's every man for himself.

Among the 8 girls living in the same room I was the only one to offer some help. But each girl was having her share of suffering, each girl was trying to survive the best she could and then I had just arrived to the RPF, therefore I was not weakening yet. I could still afford to help someone...

We used to take a bus taking us to the Fort Harrison. That bus was infested with coakroaches. First, I refused to sit down since the bus was crawling with coakroaches which did not mind to step on us but then with fatigue overpowering me I relinquished to sit down. Every moment of rest had become a priority so we all just merely move our hands or feet once in a while to dismiss bigger ones...

At the RPF "mess" (room in which meals are eaten in the Armed Forced) it was a matter of feeding ourselves the best we could. Cereals in the form of unappetazing porridges were proposed. To hold out and despite my disgust in eating solid food in the morning, I reluctantly swallowed every kind of soups or pigswills, as long as they had milk in it. The RPFer in charge of bringing the food was warmly welcomed by everybody since he had managed to find a milk gallon; I watched as he was being applauded and sadly deduced that milk was not an obvious foodstuff in the RPF.

"Muster" or "roll-call" would then take place. The shabby-looking gulag battalion pastiched military muster for review or inspection. Everyone is supposed to answer his name by " hi sir". Any delay, be it one second, is heavily sanctionned. The sorry spectacle of four RPF tottering columns was a wretched sight; twenty people struggling to stand to attention looked far more as an East German extermination camp than a glorious glittering "corps d'elite" Sea Org members. I could not help thinking that it was impossible avoiding to relate the cortege of mere shadows that we had become with the flashy group in full uniform pictured in the cult propaganda magazine and supposed to lead mankind on "the road of total freedom". Ironically, we were emprisoned and carrying the same chains we had all come to set man free from. Quite obviously, there was an horrendous bobby trap I could not figure out.

The first standing order of the day was to clean the Fort Harrison stairs (aproximately 15 floors) I was given a bucket, a floorcloth and a twin, in this case a very young lady barely18 years old.

As we started to clean the steps one by one on our knees, she asked me the reason of my RPF assignement. I answered in a relaxed off-hand manner that since I wanted to leave the best way out I had come up with was to violate the SO ethical code, that is to say never have sexual relationship outside marriage.

- I went out 2 D (esoteric language for having sexual intercourse)

and you know what? I added, we didn't even have time "to materialize" because they caught us just before we did!

She burst out laughing and she told me her story. Roughly, her situation was the following; she didn't agree with some decisions from up lines management, she stood fast and didn't allow herself to be swayed,(thus sent to the RPF).

Being born in the cult, having known but the cult, perspectives projected by her towards the exterior world were extremely reduced.

- I have no diploma, I could never work in the "wog world" (racist term to signify everything that do not belong to the cult)

- Do you have any family outside? I ventured.

-Yes, my mother is in England. I don't know her and she is "declared" (a person declared is a person arbitrarily declared a "supressive being" by the cult: i.e ostracized) I don't have the right to see her. Besides, could I adapt myself in a country I do not know with a mother whose face I don't even recall? If I failed to get in tune everything would be over for me. I have no choice; I must endure.

This lucid, clear-minded18 years old young lady, with her long blond hair saying that she had no future outside the cult was deeply moving. Suddenly, I realized the horror of isolation to which every youngsters born and raised in the cult are abandonned to. They can't escape, and how could they? They are prisonners inside of the life they will never get to know outside .

She glanced a fearful look at me; was I going to betray a confidence she shouldn't have ever made? I reassured her with a smile.

- Don't worry. I won't say anything. Well, the outside world is not that terrible you know, after all, I've come from out there!

I'll never forget her sad and resigned look. She said dreamy:

- Yes, maybe, who knows?

In fact, she was an Exec from CMO INT (high executive from the International Commodore Messengers Org, very senior org in the cult) She was to stand up for me once when one of the RPF warder took it out on me with no apparent reason. She literally jumped on the bigot;

-If you don't leave her alone immediately I swear I'll remember you when I get out of here and you know that I'll get out before you do! (RPF warders are on RPF program too)

Anyway, the guy was nailed to the spot; not only did he forget all about me but everyone kept a respectable distance ever since. It is true that in the cult complex hierarchy CMO INT execs have almost every power. Thinking it over, I think I gave her a little hope; it was'nt that bad outside...

The day would continue with the cleaning and scouring of every toilet of Fort Harrison building reserved to the "public" (scientologists coming from all around the world for "services") We actually "liked" to do it since it was deliciously air-conditioned inside and frankly, compared to other RPF hardship, sponging up sinks had almost become our idea of having fun! I only feared that someone should recognize me in such a slave get-up, with a hand brush, bent over a bowl-shaped part of a toilet.

A misfortune buddy almost fainted when cleaning a mirror; she stopped dead staring at her own image with horror. Well, the poor girl didn't already look well but now she had just turned green. We were all looking dreadful, dirty, shaggy-haired and were quite in a bad shape. The thing was to carefully avoid meeting our face. She started to cry. She just could not afford to breakdown. She was putting herself at risk by sobbing in front of scientologists. It was awfully "bad PR" (bad public relation) . Suddenly one of us said with her nasal Oklahoma twang:

-Well, what should I say? Look at me! I look like Frankestein whereas you only look as if you had seen him!

Everybody laughed and the poor girl somehow pulled herself together. She then cautiously kept avoiding every mirror reflexion. There was a sort of solidarity but very rare and punctual. Relationships were mostly lived in terms of power struggle. Orders were constantly shouted, we were hustled from morning to evening, no slowing down even in the sun, sanctions would shower on us:

- Take a lap! Take two laps! Take five laps! ( a lap consists in running around the Fort Harrison garage ramp)

The mirror young lady had a hard time to follow the pace. She would stumble over, fall, get herself hurt, and would always be behind the pack (late) and I would tremble for her. RPFer's bosun ( warder) was pretending not to see her. So I thought that she would be spared as she was obviously of a frail nature. In fact, it's highly probable that her fall was programmed. I witnessed an odd conversation looking like bets in racecourses.

- That one, I give her 2 weeks!

- I give don't give her another week myself!

Well I will never know what happens when the person can't take any longer ( maybe she's assigned to the RPF's RPF) for I chucked out before it ever became my turn. I don't even dare to think about it... There were the dangerous tasks to perform. The garbage detail was particularly strenuous for the fair sex. Men would challenge us making fun of our poor efforts to get up enormous and filthy garbage cans. Some girls would exhaust themselves out in vain; I would just save my strenghts protecting the best than I could my fingers, my feet, my body in general. An accident might happen and no treatment would be granted, furthermore there is no hospital in the RPF; there is not even an emergency kit.

There was a definite lack of everything; salary already reduced to the third part was suspended for the vast majority of the RPFers. So everybody would soon become indigent. Suddenly, you can no longer buy cigarettes (only unrestricted items allowed) your toothpaste, soap or deodorant... Would you allow me to stress that women still having their periods, find it extremely degrading not having enough cash to buy a box of tampax. (Some women suffer from cycle troubles due to stress and fatigue; same symptoms occured in concentration camps) At least, this is what I could experiment for myself and I was utterly happy to have some tampaxes in my car gloves locker. How humiliating it is to find oneself in complete poverty when one has given away a fortune for the cause and is subsequently working as a beast of burden! What a despair it is to notice one is reduced to slavery whereas one had come in pushed by the winds of freedom in order to align in the ranks of those working so that man would be set free!

The end of the day would be a piece of anthology. As I said, there was the special gulag training (5 hours training= 5 hours indoctrination) Such a training was mandatory of course and consisted in a cortege of forced confessions of imagined crimes and treacheries of every kind (mental torture called O/Ws). By any means, I knew that before I got there I had to restudy the same HCOBS & PLs (guru's nonsense) I already knew by heart. Well then, I shall continue to act stupid; I would spend hours on a 10 pages long bulletin called "Keeping $cientology working" and pretended to be busy by turning the dictionary pages which would allow me to remain seated most of the time. You see in the RPF and other gulags, luxury is motionlessness. The thing is just to remain in complete stillness. Moreover, RPF's endoctrination is delayed but, who wants to think about it? Anyway, two RPFers had noticed my little game and as they were up to the same one themselves we would once in a while glance at each other in beaming mirth! That's what being called " mutual out ruds" ( esoteric expression meaning a negative conniving attitude, being a party of sthg or someone)

At the end of the day, coinciding with the end of special gulag endoctrination we were supposed to, well at least it was highly encouraged to take the floor to say how pleased we all were and how wonderful and fabulous it was to follow a convict's program without forgetting to stress we were all thankful to hope that one day Redemption would occur thanks to the marvellous technology of the best friend earth had ever bore! I always refused to participate to this farce where we had on top of that to applaud everyone's fantastic gains! I would simply put a mongloid rictus on my face which actually fitted very well on submission grounds and aproval of every nonsense that could be heard. As long as I seemed to agree to the whole masquerade and as long as I looked vaguely stupid, I knew I would be allowed to vogue over relatively peaceful waters. Anyhow, I was delighted I had done some theatre acting when I wondered; under the false aspect of a tranquil lake, furious roaring fortieth currents and other howling fiftieth wind streams were preparing devastating tidal waves...

...Continued.

Previous

Next

Top of Page Main Site Index This Section Index