Going Clear

Going Clear Plot Summary

Introduction

In the aftermath of World War II, a charismatic science fiction writer named L. Ron Hubbard published a book that promised to revolutionize mental health. What began as a self-help system quickly evolved into something far more ambitious – a new religious movement that would challenge conventional beliefs about spirituality, psychology, and human potential. The story of how this movement transformed from an obscure therapy technique into a controversial global organization worth billions reveals fascinating insights about charismatic leadership, the psychology of belief, and the powerful human desire for meaning and transcendence. Through examining Scientology's evolution over seven decades, we gain unique perspective on how modern religious movements form, adapt, and survive in contemporary society. We witness the tension between promises of spiritual freedom and increasingly restrictive practices, the strategic use of celebrity endorsements to gain cultural legitimacy, and the challenges of maintaining control in the digital age when information can no longer be contained. This journey offers valuable lessons for anyone interested in understanding the complex interplay between faith, power, and institutional survival in modern America.

Chapter 1: Origins: Dianetics and Hubbard's Post-War Vision (1950-1954)

In May 1950, America was experiencing a post-war spiritual awakening. The trauma of global conflict had left many questioning traditional institutions and searching for new answers. Into this receptive landscape stepped Lafayette Ronald Hubbard with the publication of "Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health." The book became an immediate sensation, selling over 150,000 copies in its first year and climbing bestseller lists across the country. Hubbard had identified a perfect moment to introduce his revolutionary approach to mental health. Born in 1911 in Tilden, Nebraska, Hubbard had cultivated a personal mythology that would become inseparable from his teachings. He claimed extensive world travels, mystical experiences with Eastern religious leaders, and miraculous recovery from war injuries. Though later investigations would reveal many of these claims to be exaggerated or fabricated, Hubbard possessed undeniable charisma and an extraordinary imagination that drew people to him. His background as a prolific science fiction writer gave him a unique ability to create compelling narratives that resonated with post-war Americans seeking meaning. The core concept of Dianetics was deceptively simple: Hubbard claimed that the mind recorded every experience, including painful ones he called "engrams," which caused irrational behavior and psychosomatic illness. Through a process called "auditing," these engrams could be located and erased, leading to a state Hubbard called "Clear" – free from neurosis, with perfect recall and heightened intelligence. This approach appealed to Americans at a time when traditional psychiatry relied heavily on treatments like electroshock therapy and lobotomies. Hubbard promised results "in less than twenty hours of work" that would be "superior to any produced by several years of psycho-analysis." Despite ridicule from the scientific establishment, Dianetics groups sprouted across America, with enthusiasts practicing auditing techniques on each other. Erich Fromm, a prominent psychoanalyst, denounced the book for having "no respect for and no understanding of the complexities of personality." Yet for many, Hubbard's confident assertions and promise of a technological approach to mental health proved irresistible. As one early follower explained, "It was like finding the answer to questions I'd had my whole life." By 1952, however, the Dianetics movement faced financial troubles and internal conflicts. Hubbard's marriage to his second wife, Sara Northrup, had collapsed spectacularly amid accusations of abuse and kidnapping. As initial enthusiasm waned, Hubbard made a pivotal decision that would forever alter the trajectory of his movement: he expanded Dianetics into something far more ambitious – a religion called Scientology. This transformation solved several problems at once, providing tax advantages, constitutional protections, and a framework that could accommodate increasingly esoteric teachings about past lives and cosmic history. The establishment of the first Church of Scientology in 1954 marked the beginning of an organization that would eventually span the globe. Hubbard had successfully pivoted from self-help author to religious leader, setting the stage for decades of expansion, controversy, and conflict with established institutions. The pattern established in these early years – bold claims, adaptation in the face of challenges, and an increasingly insular community centered around Hubbard's authority – would define Scientology's development for generations to come.

Chapter 2: From Self-Help to Religion: Creating the Church (1954-1967)

The transformation of Dianetics into Scientology represented a calculated evolution in Hubbard's ambitions. In late 1953, he wrote a revealing letter to Helen O'Brien, a close associate, weighing the advantages of establishing a religious organization: "I await your reaction on the religion angle. In my opinion, we couldn't get worse public opinion than we have had or have less customers with what we've got to sell. A religious charter would be necessary in Pennsylvania or NJ to make it stick. But I sure could make it stick." By December of that year, Hubbard had incorporated three different churches, with the Church of Scientology emerging as the dominant entity. This religious reframing solved several problems for Hubbard. Unlike psychotherapy, which has a theoretical conclusion when the patient is "cured," religion offers ongoing salvation and eternal membership. The tax advantages were substantial, and the constitutional protections afforded to religious organizations in America would shield Scientology from government scrutiny of its practices. Most importantly, it allowed Hubbard to expand his cosmology far beyond the relatively modest claims of Dianetics. During this period, Hubbard introduced the concept of the "thetan" – an immortal spiritual being temporarily inhabiting a human body. Thetans, he claimed, had existed for trillions of years, accumulating traumatic experiences across countless lifetimes that continued to affect their current existence. Only through Scientology's processes could these ancient traumas be addressed. This cosmic narrative provided followers with a sense of profound significance – they weren't just addressing this lifetime's problems but healing spiritual wounds from time immemorial. The E-Meter became central to Scientology practice during this period. This simple galvanometer measured electrical resistance in the body, which Hubbard claimed could detect emotional responses to questions during auditing sessions. "It sees all, knows all," Hubbard declared. "It is never wrong." The device gave Scientology auditing sessions a scientific veneer while allowing practitioners to charge substantial fees for their services. Members were required to purchase their own E-Meters at prices far exceeding their actual cost, creating an important revenue stream. Hubbard's organizational genius became evident as he established a complex hierarchy of courses and levels through which members would progress. Each level required completion of previous ones and came with increasingly substantial fees. This "Bridge to Total Freedom" created both a spiritual journey and a reliable revenue stream. The promise of superhuman abilities – telepathy, freedom from illness, perfect recall – kept members investing more time and money. As Hubbard wrote in a 1959 bulletin, "We are not in the business of processing people. We are in the business of selling processing." By the mid-1960s, Scientology had established itself internationally, with organizations in the United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa. However, this expansion brought increased government scrutiny. In 1963, FDA agents raided Scientology offices in Washington DC, seizing E-Meters on charges of false medical claims. Australia produced a scathing report calling Scientology "evil" and its founder "mentally abnormal." These challenges pushed Hubbard to develop increasingly elaborate security measures and policies for handling critics, including the notorious "Fair Game" policy that permitted harassment of those deemed enemies of the church. The transformation from self-help movement to religion was now complete. Scientology had its own creation myth, spiritual technology, clergy (the "auditors"), and an increasingly complex bureaucracy to manage its growing empire. Hubbard had successfully positioned himself as not merely a teacher or therapist but a spiritual leader with answers to the most profound questions of human existence. This religious framework would prove crucial to Scientology's survival through the turbulent decades to come.

Chapter 3: The Sea Organization: Hubbard's Maritime Empire (1967-1975)

Facing mounting legal challenges and government investigations, Hubbard made a dramatic decision in 1966 – he would take to the high seas. Resigning his position as Executive Director of the Church of Scientology (though maintaining actual control), he quietly acquired several vessels and established the "Sea Organization" or Sea Org, an elite corps of dedicated followers who signed billion-year contracts pledging eternal service to Scientology across multiple lifetimes. The flagship of this maritime operation was the Apollo (originally named the Royal Scotsman), a 3,280-ton former cattle ferry that Hubbard transformed into his floating headquarters. Aboard this vessel, Hubbard styled himself as "Commodore" and created an elaborate naval hierarchy. The Sea Org became Scientology's clergy, with members wearing naval-style uniforms complete with ribbons, medals, and ranks. Young teenagers, some as young as eleven, served as his personal messengers, carrying his communications, lighting his cigarettes, and even helping him dress. These "Commodore's Messengers" would later become some of the most powerful figures in the organization. Life at sea allowed Hubbard to escape legal jurisdiction while developing increasingly esoteric teachings. In 1967, he introduced Operating Thetan Level III (OT III), which he called the "Wall of Fire." This secret cosmology revealed that 75 million years ago, an evil galactic overlord named Xenu had solved an overpopulation problem by freezing billions of beings, transporting them to Earth (then called Teegeeack), placing them around volcanoes, and blowing them up with hydrogen bombs. The disembodied spirits of these beings, called "body thetans," supposedly attach themselves to humans today, causing spiritual and physical problems. Hubbard claimed he had nearly died researching this material, writing, "The material involved in this sector is so vicious that it is carefully compartmented in the first place." The Sea Org years were marked by extreme discipline and punishment. Hubbard instituted practices like "overboarding," where crew members who displeased him were thrown off the ship into the sea, sometimes from considerable heights. Children who misbehaved might be confined to the chain locker – a dark, damp compartment where the anchor chain was stored. In 1974, Hubbard created the Rehabilitation Project Force (RPF), essentially a prison camp for Sea Org members who had fallen from favor, where they performed hard labor, ran laps, and underwent intensive confession procedures. Despite these harsh conditions, many Sea Org members remained devoted to Hubbard, believing they were part of a cosmic mission to save humanity. "You are the chosen," Hubbard told them. "You are the Loyal Officers. We made the agreement way back when that we would all get together again. This time no one is going to stop us." This sense of participating in a world-historical mission gave meaning to the sacrifices and hardships they endured. While at sea, Hubbard also directed "Operation Snow White," the largest infiltration of the U.S. government in history. Through his Guardian's Office, Scientology operatives penetrated over 100 government agencies, stealing documents and planting operatives to protect the church and attack its critics. This massive espionage operation would eventually lead to FBI raids and criminal convictions for eleven high-ranking Scientologists, including Hubbard's wife Mary Sue. By 1975, Hubbard's floating kingdom was becoming untenable. Ports increasingly refused entry to his vessels, suspicious they were CIA fronts or involved in drug trafficking. Hubbard suffered a motorcycle accident that left him in excruciating pain for weeks, undermining his image of superhuman ability. As the FBI investigation into Operation Snow White intensified, Hubbard decided to come ashore, establishing a secret base in California while maintaining his reclusive lifestyle. The Sea Organization, however, would continue as Scientology's elite corps, enforcing discipline and carrying out Hubbard's directives with military precision.

Chapter 4: Celebrity Strategy and Institutional Growth (1975-1986)

By the mid-1970s, Hubbard recognized that Scientology needed more than just dedicated followers – it needed cultural legitimacy. He formalized a strategy that would profoundly shape the organization's public image: the deliberate recruitment of celebrities. In a policy letter titled "Project Celebrity," Hubbard wrote, "If we can get a few key people in the entertainment field... the expansion would be very great." He created a list of target celebrities, including Marlene Dietrich and Howard Hughes, offering rewards to Scientologists who could recruit them. The Celebrity Centre in Hollywood, established in 1969, became the focal point of this strategy. Unlike ordinary Scientology organizations, the Celebrity Centre offered luxurious accommodations and personalized service to entertainment industry figures. The church assigned dedicated staff members to cater to celebrity needs and shield them from the harsher aspects of Scientology discipline. This two-tier system ensured that famous Scientologists experienced a version of the religion far different from that of ordinary members or Sea Org personnel. John Travolta became Scientology's first major celebrity success story. In 1975, as a struggling young actor, Travolta was given a copy of "Dianetics" while filming a television pilot. He credited Scientology with his subsequent meteoric rise to fame through "Saturday Night Fever" and "Grease." "Before Scientology, if people said negative things to me or about me, I would cave in easily," Travolta explained in Scientology publications. "My career immediately took off. I would say Scientology put me in the big time." For aspiring actors and writers flooding into Hollywood, Scientology offered both practical benefits and mystical promises. The church's communication courses taught skills valuable for auditions and networking. More enticingly, it hinted at an insider network of Scientologists in the industry who could advance careers. Acting teacher Milton Katselas, who taught stars like Gene Hackman and Michelle Pfeiffer, became one of the church's most effective recruiters, receiving commissions for bringing students into Scientology. While cultivating its Hollywood image, Scientology was simultaneously expanding its institutional footprint. In 1975, the church established its "Flag Land Base" in Clearwater, Florida, purchasing the Fort Harrison Hotel under a fictitious name to avoid local opposition. This facility became Scientology's spiritual headquarters, where members from around the world would come for advanced courses costing tens of thousands of dollars. The church also acquired extensive properties in Los Angeles, creating a visible presence in the city's landscape. Behind this façade of growth and celebrity endorsement, however, Scientology faced its greatest crisis. In July 1977, FBI agents conducted the largest raid in the bureau's history, seizing nearly 50,000 documents from Scientology offices in Los Angeles and Washington DC. The evidence revealed "Operation Snow White," an extraordinary campaign of infiltration, burglary, and wiretapping targeting government agencies that had investigated Scientology. Eleven church executives, including Hubbard's wife Mary Sue, were eventually indicted. Hubbard himself went into deep hiding in 1979, communicating with the church only through a small group of messengers. His final years were spent in seclusion at a ranch near San Luis Obispo, California, where he continued writing science fiction while maintaining control of his religious empire. On January 24, 1986, Hubbard died of a stroke at age 74. The church announced that he had voluntarily "dropped his body" to continue his research on another plane of existence, leaving behind a complex legacy and an organization at a crossroads. The death of its founder marked the end of Scientology's formative period. The charismatic leader who had invented the religion through sheer force of imagination was gone, leaving behind a vast corpus of writings, recordings, and policies that would be treated as scripture by his followers. The organization he created would continue, but without the creative spark that had driven its constant reinvention.

Chapter 5: Miscavige's Reign: Consolidation and Crisis (1986-2000)

Following Hubbard's death, a power struggle erupted among potential successors. David Miscavige, a second-generation Scientologist who had joined the Sea Org at age 16, emerged victorious. Though only 25 years old, Miscavige had been one of Hubbard's trusted lieutenants, serving as his "Action Chief" – the person responsible for ensuring Hubbard's orders were carried out. Through a series of strategic maneuvers, Miscavige outmaneuvered potential rivals, including Pat Broeker, whom Hubbard had apparently designated as his successor. Miscavige's first major challenge was addressing the legal and public relations disaster left by Operation Snow White. The church faced not only criminal proceedings but also the loss of its tax-exempt status, creating a potential tax liability estimated at over $1 billion. Miscavige launched an aggressive campaign against the IRS, filing thousands of lawsuits against the agency and its officials while simultaneously pursuing back-channel negotiations. This strategy culminated in a remarkable victory in 1993, when the IRS granted tax exemption to all Scientology entities in exchange for $12.5 million and an agreement to drop the lawsuits. Under Miscavige's leadership, Scientology underwent significant restructuring. He standardized Hubbard's teachings in what he called "The Golden Age of Tech," claiming to have corrected misinterpretations that had crept in over the years. This required members to redo courses they had already completed and purchase new materials, generating substantial revenue. Miscavige also launched the "Ideal Org" program, pressuring local Scientology communities to raise millions for lavish new buildings, often far larger than their membership required. The 1990s saw Scientology achieving unprecedented mainstream acceptance. Tom Cruise, who had been introduced to the church by his first wife Mimi Rogers, became increasingly devoted under Miscavige's personal attention. Miscavige recognized Cruise's potential value and cultivated an intense friendship with the actor, even assigning Sea Org members to renovate Cruise's homes and cater to his needs. Other notable recruits included Kirstie Alley, Nancy Cartwright (voice of Bart Simpson), and Jenna Elfman. However, this period also brought new challenges. In 1995, a Scientologist named Lisa McPherson died while under church care in Clearwater, Florida. McPherson had suffered a mental breakdown and was placed in isolation under Scientology's "Introspection Rundown" procedure rather than receiving psychiatric treatment. After 17 days, she was found dead from a pulmonary embolism. The church was charged with criminal neglect and practicing medicine without a license, though the charges were later dropped. The case brought unprecedented scrutiny to Scientology's handling of mental health issues. Perhaps most significantly, the 1990s saw the emergence of the internet as a forum for Scientology criticism. In 1991, a former member posted Scientology's secret OT III materials to the Usenet newsgroup alt.religion.scientology, revealing the Xenu story to the world. The church responded with aggressive legal action, raiding the homes of critics and filing numerous lawsuits alleging copyright infringement. This heavy-handed approach backfired spectacularly, drawing far more attention to the very information Scientology hoped to suppress. By the end of the millennium, Scientology presented a paradoxical picture. On one hand, it had achieved significant legal victories, amassed considerable wealth, and attracted celebrity endorsements that provided cultural legitimacy. On the other hand, it faced growing public skepticism, declining membership, and a new generation of critics who could share information beyond the church's control. The digital age would present challenges that Scientology's traditional tactics of litigation and intimidation could not overcome.

Chapter 6: Digital Resistance: The Internet Challenges Scientology (2000-2010)

The dawn of the new millennium marked the beginning of an unprecedented crisis for Scientology. The internet fundamentally changed the power dynamic between the church and its critics in ways that traditional tactics of litigation and intimidation could not overcome. Beginning with alt.religion.scientology, one of the earliest online forums for critical discussion, former members found they could share their experiences anonymously, beyond the reach of church investigators. Websites like Operation Clambake archived Scientology's confidential materials, making the church's most secret teachings freely available to anyone with an internet connection. The watershed moment came in January 2008, when a video of Tom Cruise enthusiastically promoting Scientology was leaked online. The church's aggressive attempts to remove this video using copyright claims triggered what became known as "Project Chanology" – a declaration of war against Scientology by the Anonymous collective. In a chilling video announcement, Anonymous declared: "We shall proceed to expel you from the Internet and systematically dismantle the Church of Scientology in its present form." What followed were coordinated monthly protests outside Scientology buildings worldwide, sophisticated denial-of-service attacks on church websites, and the release of previously confidential documents. Social media platforms amplified the voices of former members who might previously have been isolated. Blogs, YouTube channels, and Facebook groups created by ex-Scientologists reached audiences numbering in the millions. These platforms provided support networks for those leaving the church and made it increasingly difficult for Scientology to control its public narrative. The church's practice of "disconnection" – cutting off contact with critics – became less effective when those being shunned could maintain public profiles and connections online. The internet also transformed how potential recruits encountered Scientology. Previously, someone interested in the church would learn about it through carefully controlled channels – personality tests, introductory lectures, or celebrity endorsements. Now, a simple Google search revealed a wealth of critical information alongside the church's official materials. Young people, Scientology's traditional recruitment pool, were particularly unlikely to join an organization with such a problematic digital footprint. Scientology's response to these challenges revealed its institutional rigidity. Rather than adapting its controversial policies, the church doubled down on traditional tactics: litigation against critics, surveillance of former members, and aggressive denial of allegations. The church established websites dedicated to attacking its most prominent critics, often revealing embarrassing personal information gathered during auditing sessions. These tactics, which had been effective in the pre-internet era, now appeared desperate and vindictive to outside observers. Meanwhile, Miscavige continued to focus on physical expansion, launching an ambitious campaign to establish "Ideal Orgs" – renovated or newly constructed Scientology buildings in major cities worldwide. These impressive facilities, often in historic buildings, projected an image of growth and prosperity. However, former members reported that many stood nearly empty, functioning primarily as fundraising mechanisms and propaganda tools rather than active religious centers. The church also expanded its "social betterment" programs, including Narconon drug rehabilitation centers, Applied Scholastics educational programs, and the Way to Happiness Foundation. These ostensibly secular organizations allowed Scientology to maintain a public presence while distancing these activities from the increasingly controversial Scientology brand. Critics argued these programs served primarily as recruitment channels, introducing Hubbard's methods to vulnerable populations without initially disclosing their connection to Scientology. By 2010, Scientology found itself in an unprecedented position – still wealthy from its real estate holdings and the contributions of remaining members, but increasingly isolated and struggling to attract new adherents in a digital environment it could not control. The internet had accomplished what government investigations, media exposés, and individual critics had failed to do: it had broken Scientology's ability to define itself on its own terms.

Chapter 7: Defectors and Exposure: Unraveling the Narrative (2010-Present)

The second decade of the 21st century brought Scientology's most significant crisis since its founding. A wave of high-profile defections, coupled with unprecedented media exposure, fundamentally altered public perception of the organization. These weren't just ordinary members leaving; they were individuals from the highest echelons of the church who had intimate knowledge of its most closely guarded secrets. In 2009, the St. Petersburg Times (now Tampa Bay Times) published "The Truth Rundown," a devastating series featuring interviews with former executives Marty Rathbun, Mike Rinder, Tom De Vocht, and Amy Scobee. They described a culture of physical abuse, with Miscavige allegedly beating staff members, a claim the church vehemently denied. These former insiders also detailed a system of confinement called "The Hole" – a set of double-wide trailers at Scientology's International Base in California where executives were allegedly held for months or years, sleeping on the floor and confessing to imagined crimes against the church. The exodus continued with the departures of actors Jason Beghe and Leah Remini, both of whom became vocal critics. Remini launched the television series "Scientology and the Aftermath," which ran for three seasons on A&E and featured testimonials from former members about alleged abuses within the organization. The show won an Emmy Award and brought Scientology's controversial practices to mainstream audiences. "I didn't want to find out what I had been dedicated to my whole life was a lie," Remini explained about her decision to leave after 34 years in the church. Perhaps most damaging to the church's carefully cultivated image were the accounts from second-generation Scientologists who had grown up in the organization. Jenna Miscavige Hill, niece of David Miscavige, published a memoir describing her childhood in the Sea Org, where she was separated from her parents at age six and subjected to harsh conditions. Other "Scientology kids," including Astra Woodcraft and Kendra Wiseman, created websites sharing similar experiences of childhood neglect, inadequate education, and exploitation as child labor in the Sea Org. Documentary filmmakers leveraged these firsthand accounts to create powerful exposés. Alex Gibney's HBO documentary "Going Clear" (2015), based on Lawrence Wright's book, reached a massive audience and received critical acclaim. The film featured former high-ranking members describing their experiences inside the organization and the psychological manipulation techniques used to maintain control. The church responded with full-page newspaper ads and websites attacking the credibility of the filmmakers and their sources. The cumulative effect of these defections and exposés was a dramatic shift in public perception. Scientology, once viewed as an eccentric but relatively harmless celebrity religion, was increasingly portrayed as a abusive cult that separated families, exploited members financially, and punished dissent. This reputational damage had tangible consequences: according to former members and independent researchers, Scientology's active membership declined from perhaps 100,000 worldwide at its peak to as few as 20,000 by 2020. The church responded to this crisis with a characteristic mixture of denial and expansion. While aggressively refuting allegations of abuse and declining membership, Scientology continued to purchase and renovate impressive buildings worldwide. The church launched Scientology TV in 2018, creating a platform where it could present its message without journalistic scrutiny. These efforts projected an image of growth and prosperity that former members claimed was increasingly disconnected from reality. Perhaps most significantly, Scientology's leadership appeared unable or unwilling to reform the very practices that had generated the most criticism. Policies like disconnection, aggressive litigation against critics, and the Rehabilitation Project Force remained in place despite their role in driving away members and damaging the church's reputation. This institutional rigidity suggested that Scientology had become trapped in patterns established by Hubbard decades earlier, unable to adapt to a changed cultural environment. By 2023, Scientology existed in a paradoxical state: financially secure due to its tax-exempt status and real estate holdings, yet culturally marginalized and struggling to attract new members. The carefully crafted narrative that L. Ron Hubbard and his successors had built over decades had been fundamentally undermined by those who had once been its most dedicated proponents. The organization that had promised to "clear the planet" found itself increasingly isolated on it.

Summary

The story of Scientology represents one of the most remarkable religious innovations of the 20th century – a system that began as a self-help methodology in 1950 and evolved into a global organization claiming millions of members. Through sheer force of imagination and will, L. Ron Hubbard created not just a set of beliefs but an entire world, complete with its own language, cosmology, and social structure. The religion's evolution reflects both Hubbard's genius for invention and his paranoia, grandiosity, and need for absolute control. Under David Miscavige's leadership, these tendencies calcified into institutional patterns that proved increasingly maladaptive in the digital age. What makes Scientology's story particularly relevant today is how it illuminates broader questions about belief, authority, and institutional power. The mechanisms that kept members loyal – information control, financial commitment, fear of disconnection from loved ones – operate in many organizations, religious and secular. In an age of increasing polarization and competing truth claims, understanding how intelligent people can become devoted to seemingly implausible ideas offers valuable insight into human psychology. The tension between Scientology's promise of enhanced abilities and personal freedom, and its often restrictive practices, mirrors contradictions found throughout human institutions. As we navigate our own relationships with organizations and ideologies, Scientology stands as both warning and case study in the complex interplay between individual autonomy and collective belonging.

About Author

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Lawrence Wright

Lawrence Wright is an author, screenwriter, playwright, and staff writer for The New Yorker magazine. He has won a Pulitzer Prize and three National Magazine Awards.His latest book, The Human Scale , is a sweeping, timely thriller, in which a Palestinian-American FBI agent teams up with a hardline Israeli cop to solve the murder of the Israeli police chief in Gaza. According to The New York Times, “Wright succeeds in this complex, deeply felt work.”He is the author of 11 nonfiction books. His book about the rise of al-Qaeda, The Looming Tower: Al-Qaeda and the Road to 9/11 (Knopf, 2006), was published to immediate and widespread acclaim. It has been translated into 25 languages and won numerous awards, including the Pulitzer Prize for General Nonfiction. It was made into a series for Hulu in 2018, starring Jeff Daniels, Alec Baldwin, and Tahar Rahim.Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, and the Prison of Belief (Knopf, 2013) was a New York Times bestseller. Wright and director Alex Gibney turned it into an HBO documentary, which won three Emmys, including best documentary. Wright and Gibney also teamed up to produce another Emmy-winning documentary, for Showtime, about the murder of Saudi dissident Jamal Khashoggi.In addition to The Human Scale, Wright has three other novels: Noriega: God’s Favorite (Simon and Schuster, 2000) which was made into a Showtime movie starring Bob Hoskins; The End of October (Knopf, 2020), a bestseller about a viral pandemic that came out right at the beginning of COVID; Mr. Texas (Knopf, 2023), which has been optioned as a limited streaming series.In 2006, Wright premiered his first one-man play, “My Trip to Al-Qaeda,” at The New Yorker Festival, which led to a sold-out six-week run off-Broadway, before traveling to Washington, D.C., and Los Angeles. It was made into a documentary film of the same name, directed by Alex Gibney, for HBO.Before he wrote the novel, Wright wrote and performed a one-man show also called The Human Scale, about the standoff between Israel and Hamas over the abduction of an Israeli soldier, Gilad Shalit. The Public Theater in New York produced the play, which ran for a month off-Broadway in 2010, before moving to the Cameri Theater in Tel Aviv. Many of the ideas developed in that play later evolved into the novel of the same name, published 15 years later.In addition to his one-man productions, Wright has written five other plays that have enjoyed productions around the country, including Camp David, about the Carter, Begin, and Sadat summit in 1978; and Cleo, about the making of the movie Cleopatra.Wright is a member of the Council on Foreign Relations, the Society of American Historians, and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. He also serves as the keyboard player in the Austin-based blues band, WhoDo.

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Related Books by Lawrence Wright

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The Looming Tower

Lawrence Wright

Al-Qaeda and the Road to 9/11

★★★★☆4.4