‘The definition of brainwashing’: Mike Rinder talks escaping scientology in new memoir
A billion years.
Scientologists joining the Sea Organization, branded as the upper echelon of the church, pledge a lifetime commitment spanning one billion years.
You’re probably asking two questions: how is that possible, and what do you get out of it?
Well, since scientologists believe in reincarnation, it’s expected that Sea Org members will return to service once they have inhabited their new host bodies.
In exchange for a lifetime of service, members get free room and board, in addition to a small weekly allowance. Oh, and you also have to work 100 hours per week for an allowance of up to $75.
It might seem like the choice is clear, but as former scientologist Mike Rinder explains in his recently released memoir, A Billion Years: My Escape From a Life in the Highest Ranks of Scientology, the church isn’t known for making informed decisions.
A Billion Years isn’t just a memoir, it’s a letter to two of his children still involved in scientology explaining his decision to leave the church, in case he’s not around to answer their questions himself.
In an interview with The Blueprint, Rinder reflected on how writing his book came to be a significant part of a healing journey spanning more than 15 years.
Since he escaped scientology in 2007, Rinder has suffered from constant nightmares, a symptom he pointed out is common in patients with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), on a near daily basis.
But by the time the book was published in September 2022, those nightmares had stopped.
"I hope that my book speaks to people who have experiences in life that are upsetting or unhappy, or downright awful, and that they see that there is a way to make some make it different," he said.
He pointed to a quote at the beginning of his book: "It’s never too late to change." Rinder’s walking proof.
"I escaped scientology when I was 52-years-old. It was all I had ever known. All of my family abandoned me. Every person that I had ever been friends with — because they were all scientologists — abandoned me…," Rinder said.
"I had no formal education, I had no job history, I had no money, I had nowhere to go, I had no house or anything. But I managed to make things happen and change the circumstances of my life. And now I have a very happy and, you know, prosperous life, along with a wonderful new wife and a wonderful new son. I think that I can be an example to people that it's never too late to change."
Rinder hasn’t heard from his children, Benjamin and Taryn, directly since the book’s release, aside from an open letter circulated by the church.
But he has a strong suspicion the statement was written by someone else and handed to his children to sign. After all, part of scientology’s playbook is labelling opponents as liars, bigots, thieves, child abusers, wife beaters, or worse.
"The statement basically says, "You were a rotten dad,’" he said. "Well, that’s actually what the book is kind of about: being a rotten dad."
Speaking to Rinder, it’s clear he’s not victimizing himself by saying that. Rather, he’s taking accountability for how his dedication to scientology and being a devoted Sea Org member — and ultimately, a member of the organization’s "core elite" — prevented him from being a good father.
He pointed out the church has chosen not to come out and dispute any of the allegations made in his memoir, a decision he equates to evidence of guilt.
Creating The Aftermath Foundation
Rinder’s no stranger to critical acclaim. His work on the three-season docuseries Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath won an Emmy Award in 2020 — a long-held desire of the self-described "Captain of Scientology" David Miscavige.
Along with a community of former scientologists and Sea Org members, Rinder helped create The Aftermath Foundation to help those who want to leave the church but "lack a system of support they can rely on while getting on their feet in the outside world.”
"Former Sea Org members tend to be industrious workers, but many have no employment history nor family outside of Scientology," the foundation’s website reads. "Further, many have no formal education, bank account, driver’s license or credit history."
As Rinder explained, the network of more than 1,000 volunteers can virtually guarantee that if someone chooses to leave the church, they can help them every step of the way.
"Someone who can go pick them up, take them to the airport, give them somewhere to sleep, and help them find a job," he said. "We can get them money, we can buy them a car, we can do whatever we need to do to help those people.”
Speaking out about the horrors of scientology has led Rinder to meet people from other walks of life who have dedicated their lives to a cause, person, or religion that turned out to be nothing more than a cult.
Among them are survivors of NXIVM a sex cult that’s been the subject of headlines, documentaries, and indictments over the past few years. NXIVM was started by Keith Raniere, a student of scientology.
Much of the media coverage surrounding NXIVM focused on the cult's sexual abuse.But at the heart of these groups — whether it’s NXIVM or scientology — we’re talking about cases of human trafficking.
"It is certainly the circumstance that scientology creates slaves and requires people to do things and carry out actions that are not in their best interests," he said.
He calls the practices of scientology "the definition of brainwashing, dark persuasion, or mental manipulation," and says the process of becoming a scientologist requires people to do things that are often against their fundamental nature.
"What these things are — they are prisons of belief," Rinder said, invoking the name of fellow ex-scientologist Lawrence Wright’s 2013 memoir. "They may not have barbed wire, fences, or guards to keep people in."
"But the real way these people are kept and held is through convincing them in their heads that, if they leave, it will be devastating for them," he continued, whether it’s being told they will get cancer, die a terrible death, or even that they won’t get into heaven.
No matter how armageddon-esque David Miscavige and the highest-ranking members of scientology make the outside world seem, Rinder has at least three reasons he’s grateful to have made it to the other side.
First, the number of wonderful, kind, caring, decent people you meet far exceeds the number of those you do in scientology.
Second, it's realizing how scientology's idea of all knowledge being sourced from one man is seriously limiting your ability to think, observe, and participate in this world.
And third, well, I’ll let Rinder speak for himself.
"The ability to raise a child with unconditional love and being able to participate in his life, go to his soccer games, take him to school in the morning, make his lunch, and go on vacation with him, is the greatest gift that anybody could possibly have."