DID you know, a friend asked me recently, that the first terrorist act on American soil involving the large-scale use of germs was perpetrated by a cult? No, I said, I didn’t know that, so my friend handed me this book published around fall last year, “Germs: Biological Weapons and America’s Secret War.” Written by three New York Times reporters, its first chapter is about the cult known as the Rajneeshees, or the followers of Bhagwan Shree (“Sir God” in Sanskrit), a “balding bearded Indian with a religious charlatan’s permanent smile [who] preaches that it was blessed to be rich [and] owned a collection of diamond studded watches and 90 Royce Rolls.”
In 1981, according to the book’s authors, the Rajneeshees paid $5.75 million for a 64,000-acre ranch in Wasco County in Oregon. They wanted to build an agricultural commune. Their original home was Poona, India, but they had to leave following reports that their leaders were dealing with drugs and other illicit activities. The cult denied the charges.
After three years in Wasco (no, I don’t know if it rhymes with “Waco”), they had built a small city with modular buildings and mobile homes. They had a meeting hall, a hotel, a shopping mall, a casino, a disco, a dam, a lake, new roads and an airstrip. They had their own water, sewage and transportation systems. They were a thriving community of 4,000.
However, they were also pissing off county officials. “They had harassed local residents who opposed their expansion plans and had threatened neighbors who had initially welcomed them but had become alarmed by the group’s aggressiveness.”
Fourteen years later, in Vlodrop, the Netherlands—the headquarters of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi—a local resident told the Associated Press that “these people can be very polite and friendly…but if they do not get their way, their friendly faces disappear. It is a very uncompromising organization.”
But on with the story of Wasco and the Rajneeshees. In 1982, they had moved into a neighboring town, which they renamed after taking over its council. They also created a separate city within the town’s boarders and established a police department which they called the “Peace Force.” It was equipped with many weapons and military gadgetry and had access to Oregon’s crime data networks. The FBI, however, denied the cult access to its national database after several county residents filed civil rights complaints against the Rajneeshees.
In 1984, the cult tried to further expand its domain by bringing in 3,000 homeless people from New York and other cities. The plan was to register the homeless who would then vote for the cult’s candidates for key county posts. The locals feared that “once the Rajneeshees controlled Wasco…nothing would stop them.”
In September of that year, less than two months before the elections, almost a thousand locals got sick—very sick. The culprit was the bacteria called Salmonella typhimurium, a common agent in food poisoning. It was, according to the book’s authors, the largest salmonella outbreak in Oregon’s history. “No one had died, miraculously. But a pregnant woman had given birth prematurely, and her baby was suffering from the poison’s effects.”
A county official suspected that the Rajneeshes were responsible for the outbreak, but investigators said they found no evidence of deliberate contamination.
A year later, Oregonians learned that the Rajneeshes DID poison Wasco. The cult’s leader, Bhagwan Shree, held a press conference and accused his personal secretary, Ma Anand Sheela, of creating a “fascist regime” at their commune. He said Sheela and her “fascist gang” tried to kill fellow cultists who challenged her authority. She had also “stolen money, mismanaged the commune’s affairs, and left it $55 million in debt. He said that Sheela had also poisoned his doctor and dentist and [a] district attorney…and had tried to contaminate the water system…; furthermore, she had conducted experiments at a secret lab to test poisons that could kill people slowly without detection.”
Federal and state authorities launched a full-scale investigation. They found that the Rajneeshes’ police had bugged entire floors of their hotel, many of their disciples’ homes, the public pay phones and restaurants. They also learned that there were plots to kill or sicken people, including a U.S. attorney, county officials…and a journalist. The investigators eventually concluded that Sheela wanted to ensure the cult’s election victory in 1984 by making non-Rajneeshees too sick to vote. She considered putting dead rodents—including dead beavers—into the water system, but finally settled on Salmonella typhimurium. She and her gang cultivated the bacteria. When they had enough colonies of salmonella, they wore disguises and entered several groceries and restaurants where they sprinkled the bacteria on fruits, vegetables, salad bars and coffee creamers.
In Oct. 1985, the Bhagwan tried to flee the U.S., but was later arrested when his jet landed in Charlotte, North Carolina. Sheela and a close associate were nabbed in West Germany. They were extradited. They later pleaded no contest to the charges of attempted murder, illegal wiretapping, the poisoning of a judge, causing the salmonella outbreak and other crimes. They received the maximum 20-year sentences, but only served less than four years “for good behavior.” They then fled to Europe. The Bhagwan got a 10-year suspended prison sentence, paid $400,000 in fines and left the U.S.
Almost 17 years later, a group that calls itself the “Global Country of World Peace,” wants to establish their “world capital” on…Rota. They say they are connected with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.
Besides the fact that the Beatles, for a while, were disciples of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, what else do we know about his group, its M.O. and the man that calls itself the “First Ruler of the Global Country of World Peace, His Majesty Raja Nader Raam”?
Rota officials say we have to keep an open mind. I suggest that we also keep our eyes and ears open.
