going-clear-scientology-hollywood-and-the-prison-of-belief-by-lawrence-wright-2

siege threatened to create a backlash against all new religious movements. On the other
hand, the government’s handling of the siege, and the disastrous nale, provoked an
international uproar. The hazards of unorthodox belief were clearly displayed, as were
the limitations of police forces to understand and deal with fanatical movements.
On October 8, more than a thousand Scientologists stood and cheered in the Los
Angeles Sports Arena as Miscavige announced, “The war is over!” The IRS had settled
with the church. Although the terms were secret, they were later leaked to the Wall Street
Journal. Instead of the $1 billion bill for back taxes and penalties that the church owed,
Scientology agreed to pay just $12.5 million to resolve outstanding disputes; the church
also agreed to stop the cascade of lawsuits against the agency. In return, the IRS
dropped its investigations. “The magnitude of this is greater than you can imagine,”
Miscavige said that night at the Sports Arena. He held up a thick folder of the letters of
exemption for every one of the church’s 150 American entities. The victory over the IRS
was total, he explained. It gave Scientology nancial advantages that were unusual,
perhaps unique, among religions in the United States. For instance, schools using
Hubbard educational methods received tax exemption. Eighty percent of individual
auditing on the part of members was now a tax-deductible expense. Two Scientology
publishing houses that were solely dedicated to turning out Hubbard’s books, including
his commercial ction, also gained the tax exemption. The church even gained the
power to extend its tax exemption to any of its future branches—“They will no longer
need to apply to the IRS,” Miscavige marveled. From now on, the church could make its
own decisions about which of its activities were exempt.
“And what about all those battles and wars still being fought overseas?” Miscavige
continued. “Well, there’s good news on that front, too.” In the past, he observed, foreign
governments would say, “You are an American religion. If the IRS doesn’t recognize
you, why should we?” As a part of the settlement, Miscavige revealed, the agency
agreed to send notices to every country in the world, explaining what Scientology was.
“It is very complete and very accurate,” Miscavige said of the government brochure.
“How do I know? We wrote it!”
Miscavige summed up the mood in the Sports Arena: “The future is ours.”
A MONTH AFTER the church’s historic triumph over the IRS in 1993, Rathbun blew. He had
come to see Miscavige in a dierent light during the two years they labored over the tax
case. The last six months of the tax case had been particularly arduous. During that
period, he slept only about four hours a night. The former athlete was a physical wreck.
“I’m only doing this for LRH,” he told himself, as he and Miscavige ate dinners together
night after night in Washington and trudged back to the Four Seasons in Georgetown.
“I’m not going to be this guy’s bitch for the rest of my life.”
No doubt the stress aected Miscavige as well. On the night of his big victory speech
in the Sports Arena, Miscavige showed up for a run-through, but the stage manager,
Stefan Castle, was still ddling with the cues for a complicated laser and pyrotechnic
display. According to Castle, Miscavige stormed out into the arena and began to