School of Economic Science
Chapter one of 'Secret Cult'
by Peter Hounam and Andrew Hogg
A full expose of a strange and destructive organization that is penetrating the corridors of power
"When religion goes wrong it doesn't just go a bit wrong, it goes very, very wrong."
Bishop of Woolwich

When the London Standard newpaper's top investigate team began to look into the School of Economic Science, they met a wall of secrecy. What they found is cause for public concern:

  • Marriages are broken up, people brought close to breakdown.
  • Schools educate children in a religious philosophy their parents know nothing about.
  • Political parties and churches are infiltrated by people hostile to their fundamental tenets.

All this in the name of what claims to be a wholesome philosophy with Christian overtones. But in reality this is a strange, eccentric, essentially Eastern cult...

Peter Hounam is in charge of investigations on The Standard, London's evening newspaper.
Andrew Hogg is a reporter on the Sunday Times and was previously an investigative journalist on The Standard.

Training the perfect woman

Frith Oliver's frantic life of devotion to the School of Economic Science finally began to disintegrate one sunny summer's day in 1976.
In the garden of her home in Wimbledon she was screaming furiously at her two children who didn't want to come indoors. Frith had to get ready for one of the regular group meetings that, as a School of Economic Science member, she was obliged to attend. It was essential to arrive on time.
A neighbour over the fence yelled back at her to stop berating her children. Suddenly Frith was confronted with the increasingly erratic and irrational behaviour that was making family life unbearable. It bore in on her that she was close to breakdown, caused by her SES commitments - carrying out chores, attending group meetings or special classes and meditation for long periods morning and night. She was expected to follow the rules and teachings without question. And now that she was approaching the limit of her endurance, there was no one she could turn to for help. She knew literally no one outside the SES.
Fighting against everything the cult had drummed into her, Frith was forced to face the fact that her family life was more important than the organization that had ruled her from the age of ten. She began the process of disentangling herself from the grasp of the SES - a struggle that would last a traumatic three years.
In the cult she held a unique position. Frith Oliver was the School's first experiment in rearing a new breed of follower - the SES notion of the perfect woman. The experiment was a terrible failure and was to do untold damage to her and her children, and so she now feels compelled to tell her story.
The story begins in Wellington, New Zealand, in 1960. Frith was eight when she first began attending camps organized by the Society of Practical Philosophy - one of the names the SES goes by in that country. Both her parents were keen members, eager to instill the cult's philosophy into their young daughter.
She observed that all the grown-ups around her eagerly awaited these residential courses. They lasted a week and were an intensive programme of meditation, hard labour and lectures in the School's ideas. Occasionally there was the added excitement of a visit from London by the School's leader Leon (christened Leonardo da Vinci) MacLaren, who was then a practising barrister. In a movement already exerting a powerful hold on its members, the influence of MacLaren was staggering.
Said Frith:

I have clear memories of an overwhelmingly powerful personality - deep brown eyes of an extraordinarily compelling nature, a velvet voice with a depthless quality which could reassure and offer wisdom and love (how one longed for his approval!) or slash to the bone with alarming unpredictability. A trained lawyer's voice; he made very impressive use of it. I remember how everyone moved very quietly in his presence and leaped nervously to do his bidding at the slightest command.

At the age of ten Frith began attending group meetings every week to learn more about the beliefs and rules of the movement. Then, on a subsequent visit to New Zealand by MacLaren, she began to realize that he was singling her out as someone special.
His attention made a pleasant change to what was otherwise a difficult time for her. Life at home was very unsettled. Her parents were so involved in School activities that there was little time for normal family activities. And the cult's beliefs discourage overt affection between parents and their offspring. MacLaren's interest was flattering.

Leon MacLaren began to make the insidious suggestion, supremely intoxicating to a child, that I was somehow spiritually superior to most other people (I think my sister was too, but that was something that had to be borne, alas.) It was suggested that I was somehow special, had some awareness that the poor grown-ups lacked. This wonderful quality I possessed would mean that my spiritual achievements would be far beyond the wildest dreams of other, less fortunate members of the School. As an added bonus, since such things smacked of worldly dross, I wouldn't have to bother too much about exams. This sounded like a good idea to me.

Looking back on this period of her childhood Frith can remember no suspicions about the way she was selected as something akin to a goddess in the School's eyes:

I wonder now what he was really looking for. An innocent mind more easily moulded than those of the more experienced adults? A mind empty of preconceived notions which could be satisfactory guided in the path of his choice? (There, I need hardly add, he proved mistaken!) Whatever it was, I was delighted and felt extraordinary privileged. What child would not be, when it was hinted that she was in fact superior to her parents whose authority appeared awesome to her - the hint coming from an authority which exceeded theirs? I felt a strong sense of gratification. Perfection in spirituality was desired by all, and I was a few steps up from the rest - a most satisfactory state of affairs. The division of the family widened.

Frith's parents, both successful professional public servants, accepted her new status with the School. But family life grew more and more difficult. Her parents consulted MacLaren about their daughter's outbursts of temper and wilful behaviour. Frith is in no doubt that it was MacLaren's idea that she should leave her family, fly to London and be brought up by the School.
She was just thirteen and the idea appalled her. But her parents fell in with the suggestion, believing it to be in her best interest. The School consistently taught that parents should not get emotionally involved with anyone, even their children. Emotion was a distraction, something to suppress at all times. Frith Oliver was put on a plane for London.

It is impossible to convey the depth of loneliness and misery experienced by a child of thirteen uprooted from all it knows and thrown unprepared into a strange country, strange company, huge, cold streets of tall grey buildings and endless rain. The hopeless, helpless vulnerability...

And so the expiriment began. Frith was sent to live with three woman, all SES members, in a house used by the cult. It was not an atmosphere with much appeal to a youthful spirit.

These people had no notion of how to communicate with a child. They attempted, I suppose, to treat me as one of themselves as far as possible. They were all well into middle age, two of them with no experience of children whatsoever. The other should have known better: she was a teacher of many years' experience.

Academic life was equally unsatisfactory and unhappy. A place had been found for her in a well-respected Central London girl's school, but she found the curriculum unfamiliar and her classmates unfriendly. Her unhappiness broke out into rebellion, and at the age of fourteen she was removed.
Despite this set-back to his plans, MacLaren still viewed Frith as someone special. Closer guidance was obviously necessary to bring out the best, so she was now 'apprenticed' to a sculptor and woodcarver well established in the senior echelon of the SES. Frith did not demur. By that time she regarded the leader, known to some SES members as The Master, as a kind of 'ferocious father figure'. She alternately adored and feared him.
Her rebellion against the cramping effect of education at a traditional girls' school did not carry over into her SES activities. She was attending evening group meetings with the cult, as well as early morning sessions in music and the brand of mathematics favoured by the SES - a Hindu system known as Vedic mathematics which stressed the spiritual importance of numbers and of certain algebraic and geometric theorems.
By now she was also expected to follow the SES's strict routine, which they call Measure. This included making do on five hours' sleep a night, meditating at dawn and dusk, eating a special vegetarian diet, and wearing natural-fibre garments only. She also recieved regular private tuition from MacLaren in the beliefs of the cult.

I recall an evening during this period when I was staying at Stanhill Court, the SES retreat in Surrey. I was, as usual, in MacLaren's room, as I was privileged to be owing to my exalted position as his 'find'. I was allowed to serve him at table and listen to the after-dinner conversation. Sometimes he would talk to me alone. On this occasion he was expounding to me on the subject of woman. 'All women feel guilty,' he said. With much trepidation I ventured to argue. 'I don't understand,' I said. 'I don't feel guilty.' Oh yes you do,' he assured me. 'You just don't realize it yet because you're too young. All women feel guilty because of Eve's sin in taking the apple. And so they should. All women are guilty, and the only true aim of their lives must be to purge that guilt.'

Frith was even more unhappy because she found she didn't feel any guilt. She became more and more bewildered. The SES had told her that she must suppress emotions including sexual feelings, yet as a fifteen-year-old such feelings were running strongly inside her. She was taught that woman were unequal to men and that she should always obey a man and suppress any feelings of doubt and resistance:

Feelings, I was told, were not true. If a person experienced, for example, grief, this was a negative emotion and untrue. It should be suppressed. A person who expressed such an emotion was denying the Truth, and should be punished. The unbelievable cruelty of such notions was lost on me as a child; I simply believed what I was told. I have heard MacLaren state that anyone who was chronically ill or mentally handicapped was in that state because they wished to be so, in order to avoid making the effort to follow the Way of Truth. I believed him. So, astoundingly, did the adults around me. At least one must suppose they did; they stayed.

On top of this she was told not to form any views about anything:

In the very early group I was told (along eith the rest of the group) that the mind should be emptied of opinions. Opinions and beliefs were always 'false', as also were feelings. As I was too young to have formed many opinions, I tried in vain to abandon what I did not in fact possess. The result was a strange vacuum, wherein I believed that to profess knowledge on any subject constituted ignorance. This was compounded by such sayings from the Hindu teachings as 'He who says he knows, knows nothing'. I stifled feelings and manufactured responses, but occasionally some underlying commonsense prevailed, the effort of dissimulation proved impossible, and I exploded.

These beliefs meant that within the SES's clearly defined pecking order there was little if any warmth and friendship. The senior members were cold and remote. They bullied the members beneath them and so on down through the hierarchy. People outside the SES were given no consideration whatsoever.
At fifteen Frith was deemed to have progressed far enough to join a senior group of the movement. She entered the Tuesday group, the second from the top, and although she was unable to understand much of what her exalted new colleagues were talking about, she felt ecstatic. In her new position she was close to the inner sanctums of the SES, with considerable power over people lower down.
But she had no friends outside the small circle that constituted the Tuesday group. Her work as an apprentice to an SES sculptor provided no more companionship. Everyone she knew well was much older. Frith hardly ever met anyone of her own age.
She now feels this was the cruellest wrong she suffered. Cut off from normal society she was still encouraged to think of herself as special, and at sixteen this was confirmed once again by another promotion - to the status of 'tutor'.
Within the SES a tutor is defined as standing in the place of the Absolute, the SES's idea of God. Every word spoken by a tutor must be regarded as springing from the Absolute. People under the control of tutors are expected to do exactly as they are told. More than that, the tutor must be consulted before a group member takes any major step in life, be it changing job, moving house, getting married, starting a family or seeking divorce. They become party to the most intimate details of the lives of their group members. Frith, despite her age, was no exception.

Puzzled mothers might ask me questions regarding the upbringing of their children, or young couples ask my permission to become engaged. Older couples brought their marital problems. I was far from adequately equipped to cope with such queries, and only too miserably aware of the fact. I spent the evenings in an agony of terror, desperately hoping that none of them would see through my pose as a 'tutor', and for some reason feeling that I was to blame for my lack of suitability for the job.
I turned, on occasion, for guidance from those above me, and was told it was my own fault I felt at a loss, because I was denying inner knowledge. (This was the kind I was supposed to possess in such abundance, the sort which obviated the necessity for proper schooling or exams.) I now felt guilt because of denying the knowledge. I was witholding it from 'my' students, a heinous crime. I also felt extremely guilty because of my manifest inadequacy as a 'tutor'; I knew damn well the will of the Absolute wasn't manifesting through me.

MacLaren's prophecy of women always feeling guilty was beginning to bu fulfilled.
By the age of eighteen Frith was still living in the London house into which she had moved when first arriving in London. Despite the presence of the three hardline SES women members, she somehow contrived to become pregnant. Her deep-rooted unhappiness had led her to throw caution to the wind. The father was another SES member, a thirty-five-year-old bank employee lower down in the movement's hierarchy.
MacLaren was approached for permission fot the pair to marry. After expressing his disgust at Frith's behaviour - the blame apparently rested entirely with her - permission was granted.
The union proved disastrous. The compatibility of the couple was not explored - they had little opportunity to get to know each other well. But the strain placed on any SES marriage is severe.
This is particularly so when one spous is not an SES member. But even between members the pressure of SES duties and studies, the extraordinary code of behaviour expected of wives and above all the SES's attitude to sex all have an effect. (Frith attended 'ladies' groups' at which obscure biological evidence was produced to prove that women do not actually enjoy sex. It was taught that, unless you wanted to become pregnant, making love was a sin both for the husband and for the wife because it would stand in the way of spiritual progress. The School and its ideas had to be obeyed. Worse still, a member who strayed from the course of SES theology might be reincarnated as some inferior entity, So then as now many SES members remained celibate except when a child was planned.)
Marriages were equally threatened by the subordination of other important aspects of family life to the activities of the SES:

The husband in a family is told to 'put the School first'. Thus it is far more important for him to be about his SES duties (and these might be three nights a week, and one or even two days at the weekend - more as he becomes more senior) than to be at home with his family. Wives who complain of this neglect are dubbed 'wilful', 'destructive', and 'wicked'.
One example of the practice of this discipline is that when my daughter was being born my husband refused to be with me because he 'had to' attend a rehearsal of the SES orchestra.
Husbands are told that wives should be utterly subservient to them, and obey every word. They were not discouraged from physically abusing their wives if this 'obedience' was not forthcoming. (This occurred in my marriage.) Much was made of the wife's role in the home, with fanatical emphasis on cleanliness and perfection in everything. This led, of course, to much depression and misery at failing to achieve this perfection.

The School also taught that the way of carrying out tasks was all-important. Each task should be conducted with infinite care and concentration, without the mind wandering onto other things. This was the way to gain spiritual enlightenment:

There was also an insistence on Victorian methods of housekeeping, as being pure and virtuous. Hoovers and washing-machines were discouraged, for example, and old-fashioned boilers extolled. The use of detergents, plastics or any form of synthetic fibre was frowned on. (This, needless to say, involved financial strain as many natural substances are much more expansive than perfectly efficacious man-made counterparts.) Women were also axpected to provide their family with a special vegetarian diet of uncooked food only.

The duties of a housewife had to be combined with an all-consuming commitment to SES-practices. These began after five hours' sleep a night.

One was supposed to rise at dawn, (or even earlier during the winter), meditate, then do an hour's study of the scriptures. Another hour would follow on other SES practices such as calligraphy, or mathematics, and then an hour's Sanskrit practice was required. If one were in an activity group, such as choir, a further three hours' singing practice also had to be fitted in during the day. Failure in any of the above was severely criticized.
The consequences of 'disobedience' regarding "School duties" were very unpleasant. There would be haranguing interviews with an ascending series of tutors, and possibly even Leon MacLaren himself. I have frequently been humiliated to an unbelievable extent by these methods. One is left without any sense of self-worth and left ready to submit to any unreasonable demand just to try and regain approval.

A further problem was Frith's high position within the SES. People at a higher level considered themselves superior to anyone lower down, with great spiritual powers. She says the cruelty this led to is difficult to convey:

You really did feel that God himself, or someone with his authority, was reprimanding your misdemeanours (this happened rathe a lot to me - I wasn't a very obedient member!) and conversely, if you were correcting someone in a 'lower' level, you felt that same power invested in you. You (I hesitate to say 'I', as I am now so bitterly ashamed of the belief) really believed that you were responsible for a person's soul if you were their tutor, and regarded them almost as a child. I have been told that when a tutor sits in front of his or her group the 'Voice of the Absolute' speaks through him, and all knowledge is available to him. Nothing he says can be wrong, and his word must be obeyed implicitly. This appealed in no small way to those with a power-hungry nature, and much heavy wielding of authority took place. Some very foolish instructions were conveyed and obeyed, and people suffered very greatly, both emotionally and in some cases physically.

In Frith's case it led to further strains on her marriage. Her husband was in the same level as her students and was thus accorded a much lower status. Inevitably it affected their relationship.
Damage was inflicted on the children too. Frith had two by the time she was twenty and as a loyal and senior SES member she was expected to put the SES's demands above their interests:

I know now (and will suffer guilt for it all my life) that I neglected my children in the rush and scramble to be at my 'duties'. I left them too young and too often with assorted babysitters. I was more concerned with struggling to achieve all the standards set by the SES than with their happiness. I was, for instance, told that I must teach them to read, write and know their tables by the time they were four. When (not surprisingly) they didn't take to this I was wretched and desperate, and consequently bad-tempered. It was all unbelievably, and I am only now really realizing what the emotional damage to them must have been. The SES often condoned and even encouraged the removal of children from their parents, as in my case, and I have heard Leon MacLaren say that parents are the worst influence a child can have, and really all children should be taken from the sphere of parents' influence.

After six unhappy years the marriage finally fell apart. Frith got a divorce with custody of the children. But she was still totally committed to the SES, although always she had felt doubts about the teachings. Much was unintelligible and occasionally she realized that others found it so too. She put all this down to her own inadequacies and continued to feel guilty about it. As she had known no other type of life it never occurred to her to leave - until the incident in the garden where the confrontation with the neighbour brought home the way her life had become totally dominated by SES demands.
Perhaps what helped her to leave the SES was the contact she now had with people outside the organization. She was forced to find a way of earning a living. She had no educational qualifications, having left school long before she could have taken any exams. In 1977 Janet enrolled on a secretarial course. She was still in the SES, but after the incident in the garden she had become more and more lax in her adherence to the SES code of behaviour.
She gave up limiting her sleep and abandoned early-morning study sessions. She gave up the meditation too, and gradually her view of the world changed. She began to realize that not everyone outside the movement was base, evil and ignorant. She was astonished to find that, contrary to what she had been led to believe, some were actually kind and pleasant.
By 1978 she had qualified and begun work as a secretary. Her confidence built up and at last she began to make friends outside the SES. But, though she was gradually seperating herself from the organization that had ruled her life since childhood, her own children were now showing signs of harm. Ahead lay her biggest conflict yet with the SES and a legal battle that might have seperated Frith from her children.
Both were now attending the private schools run in London by the SES. The curriculum, even for the very youngest pupils, included Sanskrit and SES philosophy. Discipline was severe, and her children were expected to spend much of their free time doing homework or attending SES functions.
Frith realized that her two children had become deeply unhappy, and tried to make up for it by making home life as pleasant as possible.

Whereas there was a rule that adults should have no more than five hours' sleep avery night, children under twelve were supposed to have no more than eight hours. However, I let them sleep until they woke naturally; if they needed to relax I let them watch television, a pastime the SES did not approve of. And instead of restricting them to uncooked food only, I baked cakes and made shepherd's pie. I gave every reasonable support and help with their homework, but when I thought there was far too much I would sometimes write a note excusing the child from finishing it. I refused to force them to sit up til 10 p.m. or 10.30 to complete it, as I know many parents did.

For several years she did not consider removing the children from the schools - her SES conditioning was too strong for that. But gradually, as she began to sense freedom lying outside the cult, she found it more and more difficult to approach teachers and voice her worries. She was blamed for the children's unhappiness and lack of academic progress. One teacher said her daughter was the worst child she had ever had to teach. Why? Because Frith was not providing the right atmosphere at home.

Although I was growing anxious about my children's progress, I was still afraid to move them because I had no idea where they could go. I was wary of the state system. Leon MacLaren had frequently, in ranting speeches to SES groups, asserted that state schools were full of drug-pushers and violence. There was also a total lack of discipline, and a low educational standard. I was also quite aware that I could not afford the fees of any other private school.
I was caught in a bitter dilemma, because I dared not confess to my new-found friends outside the SES that my children were at an unorthodox school, and not doing well. I was being criticized by the SES, and was terrified of losing the good opinion of people who by now were the only friendly voices that I heared.
Besides, I knew that were I move them I would face a tremendous struggle, possibly even a court case with their father. He would never have consented to such a course. I was very afraid of the psychological effect this might have on the children.

By 1980 Frith had been promoted and had a well-paid secretarial job at a college. She began to tell her friends at work about her life in the SES. But it was not until two years later - in the summer of 1982 - that the question of the children's schooling came to a head. Her son broke down and said he was being badly bullied. He also began to have headaches. The boy and his sister had both developed asthma. She felt the way the children were being handled at school was a strong factor in their physical and mental distress.
Around Easter 1983 Frith's son arrived home from school with a severe migraine attack. He was in pain and vomiting. It transpired that, despite letters to the school excusing the boy from games, he had been sent on a long-distance run with his classmates. I was the final straw. Frith decided that he and his sister would not return to their schools.
Arrangements were made to put them into a local private school, but there was the expected strong opposition from their father. He suggested instead that they went to live with him. Still an ardent SES member, he wanted then brought up in the cult's philosophy. And so did the SES. Rallying to his side, the cult helped him fight a legal battle for custody of the children.
The case was scheduled for the beginning of June 1983. She began collecting evidence to prove that the SES was a highly eccentric religious movement which passed on its ideas through the children's schools. Without such evidence, she feared the judge might well take that the movement, registered as a charity, was nothing more than an economic study group.
This is when we first met Frith. She learned that we were investigating the SES for a series of articles in The Standard. We could tell her of leading church figures and former members who had grave doubts about the movement. We knew by then of many people who would confirm the extraordinary hold it had on members, and the rigid code of behaviour thay had to follow.
But the SES were able to provide ammunition from the other side. Frith's ex-husband received the most extraordinary support from the head of her son's school, and her daughter's headmistress was the teacher with whom Janet had been sent to live when she first arrived in London.
Both wrote letters supporting the children's return to their schools. The letters amounted to a direct attack on Frith's behaviour as a mother. It is just possible that other private schools might have been prepared to get involved in such a highly charged issue, but it is doubtful whether any other head teacher would have been quite so personal in their remarks.
In the written statement about Frith and her son the head of the boys' school wrote:

Since his parents divorced he has lived mostly with his mother and has attended school here regularly. His home environment is plainly not helpful to him. His mother's behaviour is erratic and unreliable and has resulted in several outbursts against the school which seem to have little rational basis. The boy has not been well cared for at home: when he was younger he was frequently unwashed and poorly clad and we have had problems with homework and indeed with anything that required sustained effort. He has clearly benefitted from the school and from the companionship of the other boys and from the care of his Masters. We would certainly like to keep him in the school.

At the judicial hearing which took place at a county court in London the headmaster made even stronger comments about Frith Oliver and her family, even going so far as to say that the boy had criminal tedencies which could only be corrected by SES methods. But persistent cross-examination revealed his passionate devotion to the SES ideas. His reference to the boy being 'poorly clad', for instance, referred to the fact that he turned up at school in clothes made of synthetic materials - not the pure wool and cotton laid down in SES doctrine.
The headmaster of the school that Frith's daughter had attended since the age of five wrote:

At the moment her mother is not in contact with the school, and we find that the child achieves very little homework when she is at her mother's, but she does receive help when she stays with her father and then when she gets to school she enjoys the encouragement for work well done. We do not advise a change of school, because (the child) is being very well catered for here and because we feel that to continue in the same school, rather than change again at the age of thirteen, would ensure stability and continuity for her, when her home circumstances are not stable. She does enjoy the time that she spends with her father and she comes back happy and very well turned out.

Their evidence failed to make much of an impression on the judge, because many people were prepared to testify that Frith Oliver was a loving, conscientious and devoted mother. Nevertheless the matter was not resolved. The judge decided that Janet should not have removed her children so swiftly, and stipulated they must return to the school for the rest of that term, pending the outcome of a hearing over the custody of the children.
A week later The Standard's article on the cult appeared. And less than two months later Frith's husband abandoned the fight for custody, and failed to renew the injunction keeping the children at the schools. Her son is now happy and doing well in school. But her daughter is still facing grave problems in adjusting to normal relationships. Frith blamed this on her child's contact with the SES through St James'.
Had Frith Oliver not rebelled, had she not failed to put the cult first in all things, her life would have been bizarre, even measured against the excesses of other members of the School of Economic Science. For by now she would have been the cult's epitome of perfect womanhood, existing in a serene, unemotional, zombie-like state. That was her destined role. As it is, her experiences are not unique, for similar stories have been told to us by many people who regret their involvement with the SES.
Some years ago Frith's parents left the SES. Her mother in particular regrets the way that Frith was sent from home at such a young age. She too wishes to remain anonymous, but she told us much of her experiences of the SES in New Zealand:

After about two years, when one has been initiated into the SES, one has begun to be enmeshed in the rules, which are very cleverly designed. (After all, Mr MacLaren is a lawyer.) The basic rule of never discussing the 'teachings' outside the SES walls is one such. Another, never to communicate with anyone who leaves the organization, is a cunning protection. The highly organized network of meditation tutors throughout the School, requiring all students to report periodically concerning their practice, is most extraordinary confidence trick. Most tutors admit among themselves that their experience of meditation means almost nothing to them.
Soon it is fear that holds the students. They are told they are 'special'; they are told that this unique experience of receiving the School's teaching will save them an infinity of lifetimes and that if they leave they are doomed to return to earthly embodiments until the end of time.
Anyone not practising the rules or questioning them will not be allowed to advance through the hierarchy. The 'personal growth' is said to involve all three levels of human development - physical, mental and spiritual. Here the failure of the church to provide sound spiritual guidance has meant that movements such as the SES must flourish, as there is no doubt of the hunger of Western man for spiritual knowledge and experience. The SES has a certain value for the short period in providing a limited sustenance until its inadequacy is realized.
However, any so-called spiritual organization that is held together by fear must certainly not be operating in the line of truth, which is founded in love. If there were love in the SES, people would be cared for, not discarded to one side when no longer useful.

Copyright (c) 1984 Peter Hounam and Andrew Hogg / published by Lion Publishing plc (England) ISBN 0 85648 837 2, Albatross Books (Australia) ISBN 0 86760 605 3 / First edition 1985 / pages 12 to 28


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