Crisis of Conscience

by Raymond Franz

  Here were people who had been associated for decades, had given many years of their life wholesouled and full time to what they believed was God’s service, and yet in the space of six days, from Monday, April 21 to April 26, all that was set aside and they were disfellowshipped. During that week, when Scriptures were employed by their interrogators, it was in an accusatory, condemnatory way, not in the way that the apostle Paul describes at Second Timothy, chapter two, verses 24 and 25, when he instructs:

  And the Lord’s servant must not quarrel; instead he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will give them a change of heart leading them to a knowledge of the truth.—New International Version.

  I believe it speaks poorly for any religion if it is unwilling to take time to reason with persons by means of God’s Word—not for a few hours or even a few days, but for weeks or months—when those persons question the Scripturalness of that religion’s teachings. When those being interrogated at the headquarters brought up Scriptural points, they were told in so many words, “We are not here to discuss your Bible questions.” Harley Miller told René Vázquez, “I don’t claim to be a Bible scholar. I try to keep up with the Society’s publications and that is about all I can do.” In the minds of the interrogators the prime issue was, not loyalty to God and his Word, but loyalty to the organization and its teachings. In this, as has already been shown; they had ample backing from the publications of the Society.

  It can be truthfully said that none of the persons disfellowshipped had had any thought of separating themselves from Jehovah’s Witnesses nor had they any thought of encouraging others to separate. Their attitude is poignantly expressed in this letter written by René Vázquez in appealing the disfellowshipping action taken against him and his wife:

  Some thirty years earlier, René had left his father’s home to escape what he felt was an oppressively intolerant atmosphere, narrow-mindedness. He sought freedom to pursue his interest in Jehovah’s Witnesses. From then on he had given himself, heart and soul, to service among them. Now, in the space of two weeks, he saw those thirty years set aside as of no particular weight, he was subjected to intense interrogation, his sincerity of motive was impugned, and he had been labeled a rebel against God and Christ. His letter voices his painful anguish on finding himself in the same atmosphere of religious intolerance and narrow-mindedness he thought he had escaped.

  René was granted an appeal and again met with a committee (formed of five other Elders). Every effort he made to be conciliatory, to show that he was not seeking to make an issue of specific doctrinal matters, that he had no desire to be dogmatic about such, was rejected as evasive, as evidence of guilt.

  At one point, after hours of being plied with questions, he was interrupted by Sam Friend, a member of the Appeal Committee (as well as of the Brooklyn headquarters staff), who said, “That is a lot of hogwash. Now I’m going to read this list of questions to you and I want you to answer them yes or no.” To René, whose native language is Spanish, the term “hogwash” was unfamiliar and, although afterward deciding it was simply some regional expression, he says that at the time it hit him with such a literal image of filth that something “gave” inside him and he responded, “No! I’m not going to answer any more of your questions. You men are trying to sift my heart and I’m not going to endure any more of it.” A recess in the session was called; René walked out and on reaching the street broke down in tears.

  The committee upheld the disfellowshipping decision.

  Of all the persons René had known and worked with in the Brooklyn Service Department, including those who had been willing to make use of his kindness and helpfulness over many years, not one appeared to say at least something in his behalf, to express any request for a similarly kind treatment toward him.27 On the organization’s scales of justice his undeniable sincerity, his unmarred record of the past thirty years—none of this carried any weight if he did not totally agree with the organization and maintain unquestioning silence. Somewhere in all this it would seem that the words of the disciple James have application, when he writes:

  Talk and behave like people who are going to be judged by the law of freedom, because there will be judgment without mercy for those who have not been merciful themselves; but the merciful need have no fear of judgment.28

  Finally, on May 8, 1980, the Governing Body officially informed me that my name was involved in all of this. A phone call came from Chairman Albert Schroeder and he said that the Governing Body wanted me to go to Brooklyn to appear before them. This was the first time they gave me any indication whatsoever of my being in any way under question.

  Fifteen days had passed since our previous conversation in which the Chairman repeatedly evaded telling me what was actually taking place. I still was unaware of the existence of the two-hour taped interview or that it had been played to the Governing Body in full session. Twenty-three days had passed since that was done.

  In those twenty-three days they had not only played that tape to the Governing Body but had played portions of it containing my name and that of Ed Dunlap to at least seventeen persons outside the Governing Body (those forming investigative and judicial committees), they had disfellowshipped three members of the headquarters staff and three person outside, one of them a friend of mine for thirty years, they had taped another interview with a man named Bonelli (a tape that will be discussed later), and in general had not only invited but had actively sought any evidence of an incriminating nature that could be obtained from members of the Bethel family or others, the threat of disfellowshipping even being used to extract information from some.

  Only after all this did the Governing Body through its Chairman’s Committee think it advisable to let me know that they viewed me as in any way implicated in what was taking place. Why?

  What I knew I had learned entirely from other sources, not from the Governing Body of which I had been a member for nine years. The Bethel headquarters members who were grilled and put on trial had phoned me, voicing their dismay at the unkind, intolerant attitude shown. They expressed their belief that the ones directing the whole process were simply going through them in order to reach their true objective, Edward Dunlap and myself. They felt that such ones were taking what they considered to be the more strategic course of beginning with the “small people,” the lesser known and less prominent ones, establishing their “guilt,” making it seem as if the situation was of great and dangerous proportions, and then, having laid as strong a foundation as possible, proceeding to deal with the better known and more prominent ones. Rightly or wrongly, this was the impression they had. It would be interesting to hear from those of the Chairman’s Committee, to whom all reports ultimately went and who answered all requests for direction by the investigating and judicial committees—to hear what possible reasons that Committee could have had for proceeding in the manner they did.

  When Chairman Schroeder phoned me on May 8, I expressed my feelings, how difficult I found it to understand why, after living and working together, week in and week out, for nine years with the members of the Governing Body (fifteen years with some), not one of them had the brotherly considerateness to communicate with me as to what was taking place. (In all fairness to the members as a whole, it must be granted that they may not have known in detail how the Chairman’s Committee was handling matters. They may not have known the content of Albert Schroeder’s phone conversation with me on April 23 and the misleading responses my questions received—though it seems possible, even probable, that the conversation was taped, as later developments would indicate. Either way, it must be acknowledged that some or many of the members may have expected and believed that the Chairman’s Committee was conducting matters on a high level, in accord with Christian principles, doing to others as they would have done to themselves.)

  I then asked Albert Schroeder what his feelings would have been if, at the time he was in Europe
conveying his thoughts of a different application of the critical phrase “this generation,” some in Brooklyn, on hearing of this, had brought accusations of “apostate leanings” on his part, and then had begun gathering together any other expressions he might have made anywhere at any time to anyone as evidence to substantiate that grave charge—and had done all this without even communicating with him to advise him of what was taking place. How would he feel?

  He gave no reply. I told him I would go to Brooklyn as requested and the conversation came to a close.

  By the time I arrived in Brooklyn on May 19, the continual toll on my nerves had brought me to a state of near shock. There seemed to be something so irrational about what was happening, the methods used. Some called it a “nightmare.” Others felt a stronger term was needed, namely, “paranoia.” Innocent Christians were being treated as if they were dangerous enemies.

  Some time ago I ran across an item I had read and clipped years before from the New York Times. Headed “Mistrust Found in Nixon’s Staff,” among other things it said:

  A psychiatrist on the White House staff from 1971 to 1973 says the inner group around Richard M. Nixon deeply mistrusted the motives of other people, viewed concern for people’s feelings as a character flaw, and could not respect loyal opposition or dissent.

  “Dissent and disloyalty were concepts that were never sufficiently differentiated in their minds.” Dr. Jerome H. Jaffe said. “That really was the tragic part. To dissent was to be disloyal. That is the theme that recurred again and again.” . . .

  “The Administration admired people who could be cold and dispassionate in making personnel decisions,” he said. “To make concessions to people’s feelings, to recognize that a particular objective was not worth destroying people in the process of its attainment, was not something that elicited any admiration. Such a concern was viewed as a fatal flaw.”

  “They deeply distrusted the motives of other people and were unable to believe that people could rise above selfish motives,” he said.”29

  I find a frighteningly close parallel between this and the attitudes shown in Brooklyn in the spring of 1980. Quoting from the above article, “To dissent was to be disloyal. That is the theme that recurred again and again.” The kindness of Jesus Christ seemed so seriously missing. Any warmth of friendship, and the compassionate understanding that gives friendship its warmth, seemed replaced by a cold organizational approach that assumed the worst, gave no benefit of doubt, and viewed forbearance and patience as a weakness, inimical to the interests of the organization, to its goals of uniformity and conformity. It was as if some massive legal machine had been put in motion and was grinding along in an unfeeling, unrelenting way toward its ultimate objective. I found it hard to believe it was actually happening.

  On arriving at the headquarters, among other things on my desk I found an item prepared by the Chairman’s Committee back on April 28, 1980. (See the next page.) Some of the points were surprising to me, since I had never even considered them, much less discussed them with others. I was repelled by the dogmatic terms in which all the points were stated. And I thought the “Notes” at the bottom really presented the true issue. For those notes focused repeated emphasis on the “basic Biblical ‘framework’ of the Society’s Christian beliefs,” the “‘pattern of healthful words’ that have come to be Biblically accepted by Jehovah’s people over the years.”

  This had a familiar ring, for it was an argument so frequently used in Governing Body sessions, the argument that long-standing traditional teachings of the Society must be adhered to, as if the years they had been believed necessarily gave proof of their rightness. Those traditional teachings, and not the Word of God itself, lay at the crux of the issue.

  On May 20, I met with the Chairman’s Committee and they played me a tape of the report they gave to the Governing Body with regard to the interviews with members of the Writing Staff, and about the Chairman’s Committee’s subsequent steps in getting investigative and judicial processes in motion. They then gave me two tapes to take and listen to, one being the two-hour interview with the Cuban couple (the Godínezes) and the other a shorter taped interview with a Witness named Bonelli. I learned for the first time of the existence of the two-hour tape and that they had played it to the Governing Body over a month before. I find it almost ludicrous that after all the havoc that had been wreaked on people’s lives since the time of playing that tape, they were just now getting around to letting me hear it, the day before my hearing in a plenary session of the Governing Body.

  I took the tapes to my office and played them. It made me feel ill. Everything was given such an ugly cast. I had no doubt that the Godínezes were seeking to repeat things as they had heard them, for I knew them and had always found them to be decent persons. But, as Harley Miller led them through the interview, I kept asking, “Were the things said to them actually presented in the extreme way that they here sound?” I was effectively cut off from determining this since the Chairman’s Committee had already directed the formation of the judicial committees that had produced the disfellowshipping of those involved.

  At the end of the tape, I heard the three members of the Chairman’s Committee individually express themselves as though satisfied that they now had a clear picture of matters and, first, commending the couple interviewed for their loyalty, while, thereafter, condemning those implicated. This increased my feeling of illness. How could they do this without even having talked with Cris Sánchez? Why was he not there? Why was René Vázquez in effect “set up” by Harley Miller’s suggestion (expressed on this very tape) that Godínez phone René and “tactfully” see if he would commit himself? What was the interest that these men had, what were they seeking to accomplish? Was it sincerely to help people, to understand their viewpoint and work toward a peaceful solution, to seek to clear matters up with a minimum of difficulty and hurt, through kind counsel, through exhortation to moderation and prudence if these were lacking—or was it to build up a case against persons? I found nothing in the entire tape to indicate anything but the latter goal.

  If the contents of that first tape were bad, the second was far worse. The Godínezes had expressed their recollections of a conversation in their home and the way the things said had struck them and, as stated, I believe they did so sincerely. The second tape was filled largely with rumor. But the most disheartening aspect of the whole recording were the expressions made by the headquarters interviewers.

  Bonelli was a member of a Spanish-speaking congregation adjoining that of René’s. The tape began with Albert Schroeder introducing Bonelli as a man who had been a “ministerial servant” (or “deacon”) in two previous congregations but who was not presently such. He quoted Bonelli as having said that he was not appointed as a ministerial servant in his present congregation because of an adverse attitude of one of the elders there, named Angulo.

  Bonelli then gave testimony against this same elder that he said had contributed toward his not being appointed as a ministerial servant. (Angulo was one of those who was disfellowshipped.) He also said that after the Memorial service (the Lord’s Evening Meal) at the Kingdom Hall on March 31, he had gone to René Vázquez’ home where he saw René’s wife and mother partake of the emblems of bread and wine.30 Bonelli said he himself also partook of the emblems.

  This last statement produced surprised comments from his interviewers, Albert Schroeder and, from the Service Department, Dave Olson and Harold Jackson. Bonelli went on to say in explanation, and I here quote his exact words as they are recorded on the tape: “I’m sneaky.” He said he had gone to René’s home to get information about them.31

  He went on to say that he understood from another Witness that the elder named Angulo had already obtained a building in which he and René would hold meetings, that they had already baptized persons in their new belief.

  There was, in reality, not a single word of truth in those rumors. The interrogators did not ask where the supposed location of mee
tings was, or what the names of the persons supposedly baptized were. None could have been supplied if they had asked, for they did not exist.

  Farther along in the tape, Bonelli had difficulty expressing one point in English and Harold Jackson, who speaks Spanish, had him state it in Spanish and then Jackson put it into English. Bonelli chuckled and said: “My English is not so good, but the information I am giving is.” Dave Olson’s voice then came in quickly saying, “Yes, Brother, you’re giving us just what we need. Go on.”

  When I heard those words it was as if a crushing weight came down on my heart. In the whole interview, this man had not said one thing that could possibly be viewed as helpful if the aim was to try to aid persons who had a wrong understanding of Scripture. Only if the aim was to build up a case, to obtain incriminating, damning evidence, then only could he be said to be ‘giving just what was needed.’ But even the evidence supplied was half rumor, unfounded, utterly false, and the other half could be viewed as significant only if one upheld the view that a religious organization has the right to prohibit private conversations about the Bible among personal friends if these conversations do not adhere totally to that organization’s teachings, as also the right to judge the conscientious actions of persons even when done in the privacy of their own home.

  At the close of Bonelli’s taped testimony, Dave Olson asked him if he could supply names of other “Brothers” who might give similar information. Bonelli had claimed that a large number of persons were spoken to about the “apostate” beliefs. He replied to Olson’s request by saying that he thought he knew a “Brother” in New Jersey who might be able to give some information. Olson asked his name. Bonelli answered that he didn’t remember but thought he could find out. Olson said, “But there must be many others who could supply information.” Bonelli then said he thought he knew some “Sisters” who might be able to do that. What were their names? That too, he would have to find out.