This article originally appeared in The Skeptic, Volume 5, Issue 2, from 1991.
Apparently immortality breeds aggression. Douglas Adams, for example, had an immortal character in one of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy books. This character, driven to despair by the endless, echoing corridor of Sunday afternoons ahead of him, passed the time by insulting all the people in the universe, one at a time, alphabetically.
The world’s three leading immortals, Charles, Bernadeane, and James, also seemed rather aggressive when they turned up on Central TV’s Central Weekend programme on 8 February 8. I guess it will take a few centuries for them to acquire a certain perspective on life…
The story goes like this, more or less. Sometime back in about 1960 a gospel minister and former nightclub singer named Charles Brown was very ill for several months, and when he recovered he discovered he was immortal. He married a Seventh-Day Adventist named BernaDeane, and he encouraged her to become immortal, too (God is part of the death process; did you know that?).
They met up with another guy named James Strole. Now the three of them are immortal, and travel around the world encouraging other people to become immortal, too – they claim to have thousands of followers (and before you get depressed about this, remember that CSICOP has tens of thousands of followers).
CBJ, as they like to be known, and a synod of their UK followers (who call themselves Together Forever) brought their message to Birmingham on February 8, and Steve Donnelly and I were invited along to be skeptical, live on Central TV.
What’s astonishing is that once they start talking about immortality they come out with the same gobbledygook that spouts forth from any touchy-feely American pop psychology salesman. Consider these quotes from their book: “It takes all that we are. 100% of us, to stir and keep each other’s lives.” And: “Immortality is the deepest intimacy any of us will have.”
The followers who were at Central TV were unquestionably dedicated to CBJ and passionate about the change CBJ had wrought in their lives – but, again, in all the usual ways. They were able to accept themselves better, their marriages or relationships were better – one woman said her relationship with her parents had improved.
Mid-programme, CBJ shifted their ground suddenly and said they were not promising anyone immortality. This is useful cover, in case someone dies – or in case someone decides to prosecute under the Trades Descriptions Act.
So, what are CBJ promising that makes their followers so dedicated? The answer is, freedom from the two deepest human fears: fear of death, and fear of being alone. These immortals are a very cohesive group. In the Green Room, for example, before the show, the group sat in a circle, very close together. Some held hands, some draped their hands over their neighbour’s knee. One had a baby with her – and before you say anything, there is absolutely no point in asking these people how this baby’s going to grow up if it’s immortal.
Why? Here is an example of their notion of genetics, taken from CBJ’s book: ‘Science has demonstrated that each cell carries the full image of the total human form.’ From there they get to standard stuff: ‘This is why the life energy emitted from our cells project what we call an energy body.’ How do we know there is a spirit? ‘Kirilean photography’ (sic).
One could make endless fun of this – but there’s no point, because the truth is it doesn’t matter what they say. Their followers are not in it for the quotes. In fact, I suspect followers stick around for the warm fuzzies (as we Americans sometimes call these things) and a very powerful promise: they will never be alone again.
Are CBJ dangerous? Eternal Flame is more like a cult than anything else, and one of the programme’s guests, Ian Haworth, of Cult Awareness, says he knows families that have been broken up by Eternal Flame. I’m sure this is true – another guest was a man whose daughter’s involvement with Eternal Flame has caused problems. On the other hand, families have problems for all sorts of reasons.
BemaDeane said at one point that followers risked nothing – ‘All you have to lose is your death’, she said. It’s a good line, and almost certainly one she’s used before. It’s not quite complete, of course. Followers are strongly encouraged to tithe – that is, donate 10% of their income to Eternal Flame. Followers invest a certain amount of time in what CBJ call ‘intensives’ – sort of emotional let-it-all-hang-out sessions. And there is, ultimately, the pain of disillusionment.
Or is there? As long as the group stays together, I suspect followers will take the deaths of other followers in their stride: obviously, the deceased’s cellular integration wasn’t complete. Even CBJ’s deaths should be rationalised away: negative energy, perhaps, directed at them by people like us. One can imagine them as time goes on, growing more and more paranoid and hostile to the outside, death-ridden world and, concurrently, more and more co-dependent.
Skeptics have nothing to offer these people – and, sadly, they have nothing to offer us. Because, by God, I wish it were true. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want to spend my life with CBJ, either. I guess the only answer is to squeeze 10,000 years of living into the time I’ve got.
Editor’s note: Charles Brown and Bernadeane Brown, two of the three co-founders of the CBJ immortality group, died in 2024.
