I might ruffle a few hardcore tech-infused feathers with this one. Wouldn’t be the first time. I know…many of you have had great auditors and tremendous wins in session. Many of you wouldn’t be half the person you are now if not for the gains you achieved at the hands of those wonderful people sitting on the other side of the e-meter. Reality check #1: you were in the minority. For those of you who truly went Clear and ascended to the state of cause over all matter, energy, space, and time…you may now take umbrage.
Most auditors are good people. Most got into the business of Scientology to help people. Many believe they’re actually clearing the planet. Good for them. Reality check #2: most auditors are…(reread title).
If L. Ron Hubbard wrote that Scientology was supposed to “key out” and extrovert people, much auditing does the opposite; it interiorizes people. From the get-go, this is due to LRH’s faulty, unproven “technology,” ridiculous auditor training methodology, the hoax that is the e-meter, and the founder’s insistence that his form of therapy is “workable” and shouldn’t be tampered with.
I don’t have any figures on the percentage of good vs bad auditors. Just like LRH, I’ve never conducted a scientific study in my life. My supreme “knowingness” is based solely on talking with others and from what I’ve personally experienced while in session and while studying in Scientology course rooms.
Auditor Training vs Good Therapy
LRH wrote that ARC stands for Affinity, Reality, and Communication and that together, they equal U—Understanding. An increase in any part of A, R, or C results in greater U. Likewise, a decrease in ARC causes a decrease in Understanding. Scientologists use the word “ARC” colloquially to mean “to like” or “to have feelings for.” For instance, I might say, “I have lots of ARC for Bob.” Meaning, Bob is a great guy. Let’s do lunch. ARC is a very big deal in Scientology.
For the most part, students training to be auditors get the ARC drilled out of them. The very drills that are intended to make them good, compassionate therapists make them robotic, uncaring, and slightly anxious. Instead of concentrating on their PCs, much of their attention is focused on the e-meter and making sure they accurately record everything on paper.
The problem begins with the endless pressure to get reads on the e-meter. An e-meter read is supposed to signify that a PC (preclear) has thought of something that needs to be addressed by him and his auditor. Since this whole business has never been proven scientifically and fails more often than not, auditors are trained to get reads on phantom incidents, many of which supposedly happened quadrillions of years ago but in reality, don’t exist. And so auditors are forced to concoct bizarre methods of addressing their PCs to produce e-meter needle movement that mean little to nothing. Every once in a while, auditor and PC luck-out when the needle moves at the exact end of the auditor’s question. Coincidences such as these are rare.
Stand Up! Sit Down in that Chair!
If ARC is a big deal in Scientology, so is intention. If a PC isn’t “reading,” it’s often because his auditor isn’t asking his questions with enough intention. Everything in a Scientologist’s universe begins with intention. If a PC didn’t “read” on the question “What are your crimes against humanity?” it’s because the auditor simply didn’t deliver the words with enough meaning and intent. And so auditors begin to incorporate vocal gymnastics in their deliveries to try and get that damn needle to fall. (Very basically, a “fall” is the movement of an e-meter needle from left to right and signifies that a traumatic incident recorded in the PC’s mind has been “re-stimulated.”)
Very few auditors address their PCs in normal voices. Why? Because apparently normal voices don’t produce reads. “Normal” voices don’t carry enough intention. Normal voices don’t “impinge.” And if you’re not impinging, you ain’t doing it right.
Auditors aren’t allowed to be human and just communicate. Some try. Few succeed. They’ve been heavily drilled not stray from LRH’s straight and narrow path of technical “workability.”
Showing sympathy is not acceptable. And since sympathy is akin to compassion, most auditors lose this emotion, too. Sympathy and compassion don’t produce reads. Hard, emotionless lines delivered with grit and all the right inflections in all the right places do.
Auditors are also trained to not admit to errors. If they screw up in session—and they often do—rest assured, they won’t cop to the mistake. Two phrases you’ll never hear one utter are “Oops, my bad,” and “Damn…I think I missed a read.”
More often than not, CSs and auditors blame poor sessions on the PC. If a PC’s needle goes solid and the auditor doesn’t get any reads, it’s not because the auditor did something wrong; it’s because his PC is stuck in a present-time-problem or didn’t sprinkle enough vitamin B that morning over his Cheerios. Or his hands are dry or his pants are too tight.
If an auditor’s PC seems critical, it’s never because he, the auditor, sounds like Data, the android from Star Trek, The Next Generation; it’s because his PC is withholding crimes (most of which have to do with sex and really aren’t crimes).
Training to use an e-meter is so preposterous that students are required to get “reads” on lists of fruit and vegetables. In another drill, they’re expected to locate random dates—up to quadrillions of years ago—dreamed-up by their study partners.
More Technical Excellence
If you thought these oral acrobatics were limited to loser-missions and lower orgs…you’d be wrong. Some of my worst auditors were the ones I sat across from at AOLA—Advanced Organization, Los Angeles. (If I was more technically adept, I’d attach a .wav or .mp3 file with an example of some of their more bizarre cadences).
Except for one woman, my auditors at AO were mechanical, lacked warmth, and rarely smiled. They habitually seemed harried and under pressure to get their next PC in session—and make sure their Well Done Auditing Hours were up. Except for one woman, all the auditors I saw at AO sadly lacked ARC.
In the early days, the staff smoked like chimneys and the HGC (Hubbard Guidance Center—where auditing takes place) smelled like a Tennessee fireplace. For a guy like me who’s always despised the smell of tobacco, I hated just walking into the building.
After paying thousands of dollars for auditing at Flag one time, my spouse was given a student auditor with a thick German accent that she could barely understand. Only after complaining multiple times to the Examiner did the D of P—Director of Processing—finally “relent” and give her a professional auditor she could understand.
Are “higher classed” auditors better? The ones I saw may have been more adept at following protocol and quicker at pulling out correction lists but that was about it.
The Case Supervisor
Auditors aren’t allowed to stray from an exact program laid out by the CS—Case Supervisor—the person in charge of a PC’s “case” and responsible for mapping out his exact route up the Bridge to Total Freedom. Auditors aren’t allowed to just talk to their PCs for fear of “Q-ing and A-ing”—straying from the proscribed program. Some do, of course, but they’re not Keeping Scientology Working, and per LRH’s justice codes, are criminals. A good auditor assesses a “correction list,” to find out what’s wrong with his PC. With lots of intention! In all the right places!
Since LRH made it a rule that PCs couldn’t talk with CSs, it’s near impossible to tell the good ones from the bad.
Most Scientology auditors make terrible therapists. Not all, but most. Their hearts may be in the right place, but their minds have been hijacked and twisted by a warped “technology” and corrupt organization.
Still not Declared,