Opus Dei must learn to truly cherish all members

I joined Opus Dei in Galway in 1959 as a numerary (fully dedicated) member and was requested to resign in 1973, because of my criticisms and attempts to reform the organisation. Many former members, parents of present members and others have been in contact with me since the appearance of a long article on Opus Dei in the London Times (January 12th, 1981).

A considerable literature on Opus Dei has been published since then by ex-members, by Opus Dei itself, and by others, in particular the Guidelines For Opus Dei published by Cardinal Hume on December 2nd, 1981. Has Opus Dei changed? Have my priorities for reform changed? I will speak here of the men's section only.

I am now in a better position to place it in the context of other cultlike organisations within the Catholic Church. It is not as extreme as some and more so than others. It seems to have prospered in the wake of Vatican II in some conservative Catholic circles. I believe some of its members do very good work.

The Catholic Church has considerable experience in drawing cultlike groups gradually within the fold of a balanced orthodoxy, and I greatly hope that the Pope has moved it in that direction, away from its narrow obsession with itself.

However, from the former members and distressed parents who still contact me, it seems that Opus Dei remains highly secretive, still alienates many young people from their parents and society, and often brings about a personality disorder in its members.

I am now in a better position to grasp certain features of Opus Dei that I only dimly recognised as a member. Opus Dei disingenuously claims to be a lay organisation, yet at its higher levels of authority it is run by its priests. They formulate policy, take the major executive decisions, and maintain discipline. To say Opus Dei is "lay" is rather like saying the Russian army is an army of privates.

The prevention of the emergence of autonomy of thought among its lay numeraries, and their preservation as a compliant secular arm, require constant vigilance by the governing elite among its clergy (and their selected lay auxiliaries).

Control is maintained by making it very difficult for members to analyse objectively their experiences within Opus Dei or to criticise it. Soon after becoming a member I was told that any criticism of Opus Dei is contrary to the will of God. Almost every detail of the lives of the members, and of the information they receive, is supervised.

Members are trained by the very culture of Opus Dei to maintain a wall of secrecy towards outsiders and towards each other. Logic is disparaged and the semantics of ordinary language undermined in a remarkably Orwellian manner. For example: "Force [potential recruits] to come in, push them. It is perfectly compatible with the most delicate respect for freedom of souls." (The Founder, Cronica iv, 1971.)

Many members genuinely fail to see the incoherence of this. So confused is the virtual reality in which they live, many are unable to see that terms such as "mother" and "family", for example, when applied to Opus Dei, are metaphors: they believe they are true literally.

So extraordinarily successful are these techniques that many members sincerely believe they are as free as ordinary lay persons and that Opus Dei offers spiritual guidance only, and does not interfere with the other dimensions of their lives. However, some members - including priests - do partly recognise what is going on and are very unhappy about it, but are unable to change anything.

It has taken me years to understand why leaving Opus Dei plunged me - as it has so many others - into a long period of acute emotional trauma. Opus Dei insists repeatedly that it is a "loving family" and "mother", and numeraries are pressed to invest their affective lives, and abandon their egos entirely to Opus Dei and its founder.

However, Opus Dei also sees itself as a ruthless and highly disciplined multinational corporation with its members as units of production who should always be worked to exhaustion. Not only that, if they fail to produce - to win recruits, to bring in a substantial income - or lack absolute loyalty to the organisation, their "mother" may become cold and harsh. All of this can set up irresolvable conflicts that are immensely damaging to the lives of the members.

There is more. No particular friendships are allowed to numeraries, nor are they allowed to have normal friendships with non-Opus Dei members. All relations with outsiders are on a basis of recruitment or some other form of self-interest for the organisation. Contacts with family are reduced to a minimum. There are no contacts with the women members or with any women other than in a strict, professional setting.

The fact that numeraries are not allowed even a normal friendship is surely highly damaging to their affective lives. While there is a diffused companionship among members, which is sometimes warm, I believe this is not adequate sustenance for their affective needs.

Once even that is withdrawn - as can occur when a member is seen as disaffected or useless to the organisation or leaves - I believe that a long-developing but latent psychological trauma, caused by these two structural defects of Opus Dei, may suddenly be activated. Addressing this, I now believe, should be the priority in any reform of Opus Dei.

These problems could be reduced if Opus Dei were truly to cherish its members. This can be achieved if it unreservedly treats them warmly and values them highly, whether they are enraptured by the founder or critical of him, "company men" or strong individuals, good at finding recruits and money and powerful contacts or poor at this, strict in obeying the norms and rules or unsuccessful, much mortified or somewhat self-indulgent, in employment or unemployed, well-adjusted or melancholic, members or ex-members - all within reasonable limits, of course.

An equally necessary therapy is to encourage members to have normal friendships both inside and outside Opus Dei (especially with their natural families), in which the friends are given the freedom to talk privately about whatever they like. Happily, a few members have enough common sense to do this anyway.

Dr John Roche teaches courses in the history of science at Linacre College, Oxford