Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 2, No. 3, 2003, Page 24
In the third part of this article, then, I will look at the role that writing played in helping me
to reconcile myself, post-cult, to my decision to leave the Unification Church. Indeed,
initially it was not writing itself, but merely the goal of becoming a writer, that helped me
resist on that one occasion when I nearly returned to the Unification Church. And,
subsequently, it was writing in all its forms—not just autobiography, but also short stories,
poems, and a novella—that helped me to be able to see that I had, indeed, made the right
decision by leaving the Unification Church.
Part One: Repression As a Way of Life, 1976 to 1980
Ironically, the reason I was traveling through California in August of 1976 when I
encountered the Unification Church was that I was investigating primal therapy, a therapy
first described by its inventor, Arthur Janov, in his famous book, The Primal Scream. I had
gone to California to look at Janov‘s original Primal Institute and also some other
organizations that offered imitations of Janov‘s techniques. The situation was ironic because
the whole idea behind Janov‘s therapy is to break through emotional repression, yet, after I
became caught up in the Unification Church, I was required to engage in near-total
repression of my feelings.
Repression, therefore, became a way of life throughout the first four years of my
involvement with Moon‘s organization. And although I was not aware of this at the time, the
thought-reform techniques that the Unification Church used on me at the indoctrination
camp in Boonville, California conformed in every respect to the eight criteria for a thought-
reform program identified by Robert Jay Lifton in his 1961 study, Thought Reform and the
Psychology of Totalism. The use of these techniques quickly changed me from a
nonreligious person into a dedicated believer in Moon and his teachings, the Divine
Principle. I came to believe that my feelings were liable to be ―invaded by Satan‖ and should
be treated with utmost suspicion. I was urged to work frenetically from early in the
morning to late at night, to pray and chant constantly during my waking hours, and to fixate
all my thoughts on Reverend Moon and his wife, whom we called the True Parents. We were
to think only of how to please Father, and it was presumed that God could not be happy
unless we expended every effort to serve Father. Members would often counsel each other
to ―just cut‖ from their feelings, and when they said this they would use a karate-chopping
gesture to demonstrate the idea, similar to the hand-chopping gesture that Moon often uses
in his public speeches.
Under the pressure of my newly frantic schedule, I stopped writing almost completely
except for occasional letters to my family in Calgary. During my first four years as a
member of the Unification Church, I was sent all over the United States, first to Los Angeles
for the International One World Crusade, then to New York to do recruiting, and then to
Baltimore and Washington, D.C. to do full-time fundraising (which in the Unification Church
is called M.F.T., meaning ―mobile fundraising teams‖). Such teams would travel all around
in vans to sell flowers, candy, and costume jewelry at greatly inflated prices in parking lots,
residential neighborhoods, and commercial districts.
It was during my time on M.F.T. that I experienced emotional repression in its most
complete form. Such repression was essential just to survive the M.F.T. This is how I
describe my own M.F.T. experiences in my new book, Heartbreak and Rage: Ten Years
Under Sun Myung Moon:
I had finally achieved what Father demanded above all else from his
followers—I had become total action without reflection—pure doing.
This, in fact, was what Father had in mind when he insisted that Seminarians
should first go to the M.F.T. He wanted them to have the experience of totally
emptying their minds, and of thinking of nothing except obedience to him.
In the third part of this article, then, I will look at the role that writing played in helping me
to reconcile myself, post-cult, to my decision to leave the Unification Church. Indeed,
initially it was not writing itself, but merely the goal of becoming a writer, that helped me
resist on that one occasion when I nearly returned to the Unification Church. And,
subsequently, it was writing in all its forms—not just autobiography, but also short stories,
poems, and a novella—that helped me to be able to see that I had, indeed, made the right
decision by leaving the Unification Church.
Part One: Repression As a Way of Life, 1976 to 1980
Ironically, the reason I was traveling through California in August of 1976 when I
encountered the Unification Church was that I was investigating primal therapy, a therapy
first described by its inventor, Arthur Janov, in his famous book, The Primal Scream. I had
gone to California to look at Janov‘s original Primal Institute and also some other
organizations that offered imitations of Janov‘s techniques. The situation was ironic because
the whole idea behind Janov‘s therapy is to break through emotional repression, yet, after I
became caught up in the Unification Church, I was required to engage in near-total
repression of my feelings.
Repression, therefore, became a way of life throughout the first four years of my
involvement with Moon‘s organization. And although I was not aware of this at the time, the
thought-reform techniques that the Unification Church used on me at the indoctrination
camp in Boonville, California conformed in every respect to the eight criteria for a thought-
reform program identified by Robert Jay Lifton in his 1961 study, Thought Reform and the
Psychology of Totalism. The use of these techniques quickly changed me from a
nonreligious person into a dedicated believer in Moon and his teachings, the Divine
Principle. I came to believe that my feelings were liable to be ―invaded by Satan‖ and should
be treated with utmost suspicion. I was urged to work frenetically from early in the
morning to late at night, to pray and chant constantly during my waking hours, and to fixate
all my thoughts on Reverend Moon and his wife, whom we called the True Parents. We were
to think only of how to please Father, and it was presumed that God could not be happy
unless we expended every effort to serve Father. Members would often counsel each other
to ―just cut‖ from their feelings, and when they said this they would use a karate-chopping
gesture to demonstrate the idea, similar to the hand-chopping gesture that Moon often uses
in his public speeches.
Under the pressure of my newly frantic schedule, I stopped writing almost completely
except for occasional letters to my family in Calgary. During my first four years as a
member of the Unification Church, I was sent all over the United States, first to Los Angeles
for the International One World Crusade, then to New York to do recruiting, and then to
Baltimore and Washington, D.C. to do full-time fundraising (which in the Unification Church
is called M.F.T., meaning ―mobile fundraising teams‖). Such teams would travel all around
in vans to sell flowers, candy, and costume jewelry at greatly inflated prices in parking lots,
residential neighborhoods, and commercial districts.
It was during my time on M.F.T. that I experienced emotional repression in its most
complete form. Such repression was essential just to survive the M.F.T. This is how I
describe my own M.F.T. experiences in my new book, Heartbreak and Rage: Ten Years
Under Sun Myung Moon:
I had finally achieved what Father demanded above all else from his
followers—I had become total action without reflection—pure doing.
This, in fact, was what Father had in mind when he insisted that Seminarians
should first go to the M.F.T. He wanted them to have the experience of totally
emptying their minds, and of thinking of nothing except obedience to him.
