Scientology Public, Staff, or Sea Org: Who Had It Worse?

Three roles, one machine. Everyone got hurt.

Some of us gave money. Others gave time. Some gave up everything—even their children.

Whether you signed a billion-year contract or just tried to “go Clear” on a payment plan, Scientology had a role—and a trap—for you.

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Suffering: Public, Staff, or Sea Organization.

One of the most common debates over ex-Scientologists is: Who had it worse?

Was it the public Scientologist drowning in debt but clinging to the promise of bettering themselves and “clearing the planet”?

The staff member working grueling hours for pennies, caught between public demands and management’s wrath?

Or the Sea Org member, who signed away their life for a billion years of servitude, complete with debt bondage and Chinese prison camp–style punishment?

The truth? Everyone suffered — just in different ways.

Scientology’s system of control worked because it tailored the pressure, rules, and consequences to fit each person’s role.

Let’s break it down.

Number 1. The Public Scientologist — The Cash Cow.

If you were a public Scientologist, you were the face of financial responsibility for the organization.

Your role was to fund the machine — and be grateful for the privilege.

You were expected to “move up the Bridge” no matter the cost.

Participation in Scientology courses and auditing wasn’t optional; it was mandatory if you wanted to “make progress as a spiritual being.”

You had to donate — not just for your own journey, but also to support Ideal Orgs, international campaigns, and whatever new program the leaders dreamed up.

You navigated huge financial pressures, were relentlessly regged and pressured into paying for services, books, courses, and straight-up donations that bought you clout and prestige.

Many went bankrupt, maxed out credit cards, cashed out retirement plans, sacrificed their kids’ college funds, or took out second mortgages just to keep up.

It meant endless guilt and shame if you weren’t moving up the Bridge or donating enough. It would mean you were considered out-ethics, and weren’t just failing yourself — you were failing the Group — AND the planet.

Public who questioned Scientology’s practices or couldn’t afford services were often ostracized for having “other purposes” and treated as “less than,” even as degraded.

If you didn’t pay or participate enough, you risked being labeled off-purpose or out-ethics, which could lead to endless ethics, security checks, or worse — Disconnection.

Your worth was tied entirely to your ability to fund the group.

You could never DO enough, GIVE enough, or BE enough.

Number 2. The Org Staff Member — The Workhorse.

Staff members were basically the bridge between public Scientologists and Scientology management, bearing the brunt of both groups’ expectations.

You were simultaneously underpaid, overworked, and blamed for everything wrong.

You were expected to dedicate your life to Scientology, via signing a two-and-a-half or five-year contract — often coerced into strings of them.

Your schedule was brutal: often 60 to 80 hours a week with little time for family, sleep, or personal growth.

Targets and quotas ruled your life. You were responsible for meeting production demands and always increasing your statistics over the last week, no matter how unreasonable.

Despite working full-time (AND then some), staff members often earned less than minimum wage.

Most relied on side gigs to survive.

If targets weren’t met, it was YOUR fault. You didn’t reg hard enough, didn’t recruit enough, weren’t applying policy correctly, or were simply out-ethics — again.

Staff members lived under constant micromanagement from upper management.

If you didn’t perform, you were screamed at, punished, and sent to ethics.

Sleep deprivation, stress, and poor nutrition were constant companions. Making ends meet was a nightmare.

You bore the frustration of the public and the wrath of management, with no space to process your own feelings or experience.

Staff members who failed to “make it go right” and struggled or complained often lost their families and social connections.

Number 3. The Sea Org Member — The Enforcer.

If public Scientologists were the cash cows and staff members were the workhorses, Sea Org members were the iron fist of Scientology.

You were expected to live, breathe, and enforce policy with military precision.

You signed a billion-year contract, pledging eternal service to Scientology.

You lived communally, in dormitories, under strict supervision, with minimal possessions and zero privacy or access to the outside world.

No cell phone, computer, car, or bank account — unless approved or disclosed.

So: no means to leave. In fact, they even held your passport.

All calls and correspondence were monitored. Any access to the outside world required approval and supervision.

You were expected to follow orders without question.

Dissent, emotion, or failure weren’t tolerated.

No errant thoughts or opinions allowed.

Sea Org members suffered the same restrictions and consequences as public and org staff — but in addition had zero personal freedom, and no escape.

Your job, your relationships, your diet, sleep, medical care, appearance, whether you could marry — everything was dictated by Scientology.

Mess up, and you’d face the RPF (Rehabilitation Project Force), a brutal reconditioning program that combined hard labor with interrogations and emotional abuse — lasting years.

Leave, and you’re labeled a freeloader and billed for your training.

Leave without permission, and you’d be brought back by force — or deemed suppressive.

You were trained to spy on colleagues, write reports on everyone, and root out “enemies” within your own ranks who didn’t follow the rules or complained.

Trust didn’t exist.

You weren’t a person. You were an asset.

A tool for Scientology’s mission.

You sacrificed your human rights… in fact, all your rights.

Sea Org members were ultimately “discouraged” from having children.

Those who did were often forced to abandon them — separated physically or emotionally, or made to relinquish control.

The physical, emotional, and psychological abuse in the Sea Org left scars that take years (or lifetimes) to heal.

So It’s All Really Bad — Just Different.

Here’s the thing: Every role in Scientology involved suffering — but the form of suffering depended on your position in the system.

Public members faced crushing financial and emotional pressures — while being kept in the dark about the group’s darker practices.

Org staff members were exploited for labor, living in constant fear of failure and blame.

Sea Org members were exploited further — enduring extreme control and abuse, given no choice but to become enforcers of the very system that harmed THEM.

It’s really not about whose pain was “worse.”

It’s about recognizing that Scientology’s system of control tailored itself to exploit everyone — just differently.

So How Do We Stop Comparing?

It’s tempting to say, “He didn’t have it as bad as she did.”

But the truth is: Trauma isn’t a competition.

Pain is pain.

Now We Can Recognize the System’s Role.

The system was designed to make everyone suffer.

The rules, pressures, and consequences were customized to keep each group in line — to keep us feeling separate, and to keep us divided.

Now We Can Find Common Ground.

While our experiences differed, we were all victims of the same machine.

That’s where our unity lies.

Now We Can Share — But Also Listen.

Each perspective adds a piece to the puzzle.

By listening to each other, we can build a fuller picture of what Scientology truly was… still is — and work together to expose its harms.

Now We Can Recognize That Every Role Mattered.

Whether you were public, staff, or Sea Org — you played a part in Scientology’s ecosystem.

That’s not to say you’re more or less to blame — more that you survived your own unique role.

Now, as survivors, we have the chance to come together — not to compare importance or scars… but to heal, share, and dismantle the systems that hurt us… that are still hurting others — like us.

Because in the end, the suffering wasn’t simply the fault of the public member, the staff worker, or even the Sea Org officer.

They were each a part of a bigger system…

But it’s the system itself — the organization — the only one who benefits —

that by design controls, and exploits — at ANY cost.

THAT’S where the focus belongs.

We all had different roles, but now that we’re out—we only have one: Heal—and tell the truth.

Together we can tell the WHOLE story.