r30, Here's a link and extract from an ex-sci sea org member who talks about being slapped as a part of scio discipline.
[quote]Still, I gave it my best shot. “I think we nailed it this time,” I said, as I placed the submission on the long counter and stepped back.
“Are you kidding me?” Lisa said. “This is such a f***ing piece of sh**! I can’t believe you’d even show this to me!” She threw the whole submission down the counter, sending the carefully-pasted-up design flying through the air. Mind you, she had barely looked at it.
I didn’t really respond to her “comments”—which made her even more furious. “I have no idea why you’re still here,” she said. “They should have gotten rid of you months ago.”
If only I’d said something like, “You’re right—I’m outta here!” But I was still in my mind-controlled haze, so all I could eke out was a timid, “Yes, Sir.” Since I was a member of Scientology’s Sea Organization, everything we did was military-esque. Lisa was a few ranks above me, so I couldn’t speak to her without adding “Sir” at the end.
“”WELL??? Don’t you have anything else to say????”
“No, Sir.”
[bold]She turned to her second in command, Katie Feshbach, who was her enforcer. “Katie, take her outside and slap her across the face. HARD.”[/bold]
“Yes, Sir,” said Katie.
She grabbed me by the arm and led me outside. As we walked into the hallway, she stopped, looked at me, and said, “You know why I have to do this, right?”
I just nodded. Of course I did. We all got punished for the smallest infraction. Plus, if she didn’t do it to me, she’d be the one getting punished.
Katie pulled her arm back and brought her hand across my cheek so hard that my head jerked to the side. I didn’t cry or scream. I just stood there and looked at her, trying to figure out how things had gone so wrong. We used to be friends. I remembered how sweet she was just a year prior. Now, that sweetness had been replaced by a robot-like expression common among Sea Org members.
“I hope you’ve learned something from this,” Katie said, massaging her hand which was red from slapping me.
“Yes, Sir.” It was honestly the only thing I could say. Anything else would have been met with more punishment.
The slap may have been harsh, but looking back, I realize that it was the catalyst to the long process of snapping me out of my mind-controlled haze. Yet, it still took me another four years to become mentally, emotionally, and physically ready to escape.
“Why didn’t you hit her back?” you may ask. There was none of that in the Sea Org. If you hit a superior officer for any reason, the punishment would be far more severe than a slap. I had no intention of going to the Rehabilitation Project Force, or RPF, the Sea Org’s prison camp. Besides, I was well indoctrinated by that time; I truly believed that I deserved the slap because I’d done something to “pull it in.”