Sun Media reporter Brigitte McCann and photographer Chantal Poirier infiltrated the Raelians over a nine-month period and have put to paper the inside story of this bizarre sect
Almost a year following the stunning announcement that they
had engineered the birth of the world's first cloned humans, Rael and Clonaid president Dr.
Brigitte Boisselier have yet to prove the existence
of these babies, even to their own members.
In fact, Raelians have made fun of the media that
gave such extensive coverage to their cloning story.
"Come my beloved friends and journalists, and ask me if we did all that
just to benefit from free publicity ... YESSSS!" Rael
cries and bursts out laughing during a Raelian
gathering staged in Montreal.
Boisselier is also much amused as she recalls the
press conference last Dec. 27.
PROMOTIONAL GENIUSES
"When I played games with the journalists ... everything turned into a
circus!" she says.
In December and January, the announcement garnered worldwide media attention
and mobilized the scientific community as well as the American justice system.
Today, Claude Vorilhon, known to his followers as Rael, laughingly contends that the cloning controversy was
perhaps a simple stroke of genius to make his movement known.
"Even if you want to think that we did all that only for publicity, it is
wonderful. If that is the case, we are promotional geniuses!" he says.
"But if what we say we did is true, we are also scientific geniuses. In
any case, we are geniuses! Wonderful! In any case, we win!"
In an interview earlier this year, he said media analysts estimated the media
attention was worth nearly $500 million in free publicity.
During a Raelian gathering in February in Montreal, Rael himself declared he didn't know whether or not the Clonaid babies were true clones.
"Brigitte (Boisselier) says it's true and I have
no reason to doubt her word," he declared at the time.
Alain Bouchard, a sociologist specializing in religions, is not surprised to
see Vorilhon distance himself from Clonaid.
"The more time passes, the more we are sure that cloning is just
hogwash," he says, adding: "A publicity stunt."
"They really blew it with their cloning story, they looked like a weird
bunch!" contends Dianne Casoni, a
psychologist-criminologist specializing in cults.
As for Boisselier, she continues to perpetuate the
word of Rael, her intellectual guide, and no longer
disassociates science and religion.
"In a convention, they could say anything they wanted to; I was with my
beloved prophet," she stated during the annual awakening seminar in Maricourt.
"(Last December 27) was maybe the most important day of my life when (Rael) told me: You did what you had to do," she says.
"Imagine had I failed ... failed that for which I was created!"
Not one Raelian at the movement's headquarters in
Quebec's Eastern Townships can certify the babies who made front-page news last
December are true clones.
And none of the Raelian women from Quebec who
volunteered to bear a clone have apparently fulfilled that mission.
Jocelyne, 37, was one of the surrogate mothers
presented to the media with great pomp in 2001.
She knows all the volunteers in the group well and is adamant.
"There has been at least three babies, but we don't know who the surrogate
mothers are. "Anyway, they aren't from here. And we don't know where they
are," she confided to me in my guise as a Raelian.
In fact, the issue is taboo within the movement. I quickly understood how
easily any questions on Clonaid can prompt instant
suspicion.
"With everything that's going on, I'm not going into any detail," a Raelian man answers curtly.
"Most Raelians are not informed," admits
Benoit, 24, adding: "But those who have to know are informed."
He believes they should avoid the subject to protect the babies from the
American scientists who wish to take them away to study them.
"Proof can only be established in a few years time! All they have to do is
to bring one of their cells in a laboratory and that's it!" he says with
conviction.
"The silence of the members is the prophet's loophole," offers Alain
Bouchard, a sociologist specializing in religions.
"In December, the movement was not ready to deal with so much
attention," says Dave, a Raelian
"guide" from B.C.
"The cloning scared many Raelians, given the
considerable proportions of the media coverage."
"In January, no one was ready," says Ricky Roehr,
national guide for the U.S.
"I answered a few hundred e-mails myself. When Brigitte (Boisselier) decides to make her next move, we must be
ready."
Rael wants my eggs. He needs them
to produce his own "Jesus miracle" by healing sick Raelians with the help of stem cells.
"The place is upside down!" apologizes Brigitte Boisselier
as she leads me into her condo at the UFOland complex
in Maricourt in July. Among the six Raelians present, four are among Rael's
famous angels.
I push aside a pair of shoes and two magazines to sit on the sofa with the
others. What used to be the UFOland cafeteria, now a
loft, is in fact a mess.
Fatigue is visible behind the broad smiles of the bleached blond with the
plunging neckline.
Boisselier is familiar to millions as the president
of Clonaid, a company founded by the Raelian movement. Last December, she declared her company
had succeeded in cloning a human being, setting off worldwide controversy.
In a low voice, clearly nervous, the priestess of human cloning begins the
confidential meeting by explaining her next mission. She wants to accomplish a
miracle for Rael -- she wants to use embryonic stem
cells to heal an Italian Raelian who is paralysed from the waist down.
REQUIRES EGGS
She compares it with great enthusiasm to the miracles of Jesus.
But first, she needs eggs. She is looking for volunteers who are ready to
provide her with the eggs she plans to fertilize.
The embryos produced will, in turn, produce stem cells to be grafted on
volunteers who are ill, in an attempt to heal them.
For the moment, no law bans the use of embryos in research. But this could
change with the adoption of Bill C-13, possibly before Christmas, making such procedures
illegal.
Boisselier insists on the simplicity of the
procedure. For a few weeks, the production of our eggs will be stimulated by
hormones, the same used to treat fertility problems. The eggs will then be
extracted through natural channels, without incisions, before fertilization.
She claims that the side effects are minimal.
"But donors can develop an infection or experience a hemorrhage during the
extraction of the egg, and thus jeopardize their fertility in the future,"
cautions gynecologist Francois Bissonnette.
"The patients must be aware of all the possibilities, even if they do
rarely occur," insists the specialist from the OVO fertility clinic in
Montreal.
Boisselier rapidly moves on to other issues. The
women can only be examined by the movement's physician, Marc Rivard. She explains that Dr. Rivard,
recognized by the College des Medecins, will
determine whether or not we are good candidates.
We will be housed, fed and transported free of charge for the two required
appointments -- the first for the hormone prescription session and the second
for the operation. The extraction will take place at Clonaid's
famous secret laboratory -- the same one where Boisselier
claims to have "conceived" the first cloned babies.
Its location will be revealed to us only at the end of the procedure.
"I never go there myself," says Boisselier,
explaining she is afraid of being followed.
We are sworn to secrecy, we can't even tell our spouses. It wouldn't do if, for
example, a spouse discovered our airline tickets and its destination.
She offers to pay us in cash. "The amount will be negotiated with Marc
"There will be no traces, just a contract between us," she assures in
a confidential tone.
However, we must sign two documents. A confidentiality agreement is submitted
to us in English, granting the famous blond predetermined damages of $1 million
in the event of a breach of contract. The same document is submitted to Clonaid clients who wish to clone their cat!
Then, papers regarding the ethical aspects of the procedure will have to be
signed, but Boisselier does not elaborate on their
nature.
None of the women seems to be at all surprised at what she says. It seems their
minds are already made up, and the volunteers limit their questions to basic
technical issues. Nothing on the fundamentals. Difficult for me to push ahead
without setting off alarm bells.
A Mexican Raelian woman asks if she can talk about
this to non-Raelian friends who could be interested
in the money. "Yes," answers Boisselier,
"but don't tell them it's for Clonaid. Tell them
it's just for an ordinary lab."
TOLD TO ASK QUESTIONS
Coui, a 26-year-old Rael
"angel", asks if the fact that she has taken drugs may have affected
her eggs.
"It could have affected the genetics of your eggs, but we won't use that
part," Boisselier explains. "We simply take
the egg, remove all genetic elements, and use the rest."
"Discuss it! Ask questions!" she encourages. "I want you to feel
totally at ease."
"Take the time to think about it," she continues. "Those who are
interested can say so to Thomas (Keanzig, a Raelian and Boisselier's
right-hand man) before the afternoon is over."
When the time comes to leave at the end of the afternoon, two of the girls
announce they are willing to go ahead with the operation. So do I.
More than two months later, Clonaid has not yet
followed up its request for eggs.