How is a controlling group like a manipulative partner? Oh, let me count the ways… In my first comparative post, I lifted up parallels related to the abuser’s or founder’s public image, the beautiful beginning of the relationship, how the partner/group mesmerizes and alters the person on the receiving end of their attention, ways conflict shows up and plays out, and what isolation may look like. In a second set of comparisons, I explored four more ways to read between the power moves, including: who does (and who should) get the blame or credit, the red flag of conditional care, where the craziness in the relationship comes from, and why the victim may not notice they are losing their spark or being conned. Here, I finish out the analogy between significant others and groups who are controlling, by taking a look at the roots of control in these relationships. Let’s zero in on a final four factors. “I try to ‘do unto others,’ to have compassion for his challenges and model selflessness. But he doesn’t seem to respond in kind; he takes as much as I’ll give, and then some.”Establishing healthy boundaries is a growing edge for many people who are naturally empathetic or people pleasers. Further, regardless of temperament, females are often socialized to be mindful of others’ needs, and to put themselves last. Cultural factors can come into play too. (I’m looking at you, my Midwest Nice people.) When a person with any of these traits gets matched up with a partner who is preoccupied with his own desires, insecurities and problems, the relationship can become all give and no take. Whether he’s a bona fide narcissist — or simply clueless about other people — she may have to fight both her conditioning and his predilections to set healthy boundaries in the relationship. A manipulator will be happy to take advantage of her deferential, forgiving nature. A similar pattern can happen in groups. If you’ve ever been the person who kept saying yes to volunteer work until you burned out and blew up (or quietly dropped out), you know what I’m talking about. A healthy group will not want you to give until it hurts. Leaders will honor No equally to Yes, looking for win-win ways to meet the needs of participants as well as the organization and its mission. You will be valued for yourself, not strictly for what you can do for the organization. In contrast, highly programmed settings can blur boundaries, as expectations for schedule, activities, and ongoing participation press in. Consider situations like living with other group members, traveling to intensive retreats, or participating in a religious community with all-through-the-week expectations. Any of these can create a situation where a person has little space to discern their own needs or articulate their boundaries in ways that go against group culture. You are engulfed — physically, socially, and in your time and attention — by the group’s activities and worldview. Perhaps the most insidious type of boundary transgression by a group is the kind that can happen inside a person. If you internalize the group’s norms and values through repeat exposure (in sacred texts or written teachings, formal talks, informal conversation, spiritual practices, workshops, courses, etc.), no one has to ask you to prioritize the group’s values; you know what the ideals are. You can start to police yourself, regardless of where you are or who you are with. The most existentially significant boundary may be your sense of self. A group I was involved with believed in deliberately going against the ego. They regarded dissolving the sense of self as the ultimate goal of the spiritual life. I can see value in reducing superficial attachments, for someone who wants to become more free. But ego-reduction can be misapplied or taken too far. It’s one thing for a mature, well-developed person to choose, in true freedom, a goal of nirvana or merging with the Godhead. It’s quite another to teach that enlightenment is the goal of life for every human being, and to inculcate self-dissolving practices in people who have yet to even establish a healthy sense of identity. The ego, after all, serves an important function. The idea that killing one’s ego = spiritual growth is also ripe for abuse. If attachment to one’s own wants and needs is selfish and bad, if suffering is productive, if pain is a gateway to freedom or God, then a group can mistreat someone — or expect them to sacrifice themselves to their cause — and call it love. Lesson #10: Know and value your own needs. Set and hold boundaries that are healthy for you. Give yourself adequate space to discern these, and be wary of any person or group who idealizes self-sacrifice. You matter and you deserve all good things — no more than anyone else, sure, but no less either. “He criticizes me for ‘letting myself go’ but still expects sex, on his terms. I feel like I can’t say no.” The power and control wheel describes some of the many ways that domestic abusers dominate victims: intimidation, threats, economic power moves, emotional abuse, isolation, blaming, claiming male privilege. These often build up over time, and eventually escalate to physical and/or sexual violence. Laura E. Anderson (When Religion Hurts You) observes that the innate sexuality of a human being touches every aspect of a person. That makes sexuality a primary avenue of self-knowledge and self-expression, as well as a powerful means of connection with others. It follows, then, that “one way to control other people [is] to vilify sexuality and to script rules about how it’s expressed.” A partner may do this as a way of exerting dominance. High-control groups do it too. As a survivor of a fundamentalist Christian group, Anderson comments on the purity culture that has been common in evangelical communities for decades. She writes that “purity culture teachings and lifestyles can result in trauma… people coming out of purity culture often have the same symptoms as victims of sexual assault.” Other controlling settings may also devalue the body, view sexual pleasure (and pleasure in general) as superficial or shameful, and establish strict norms around sexuality. Whether a group is religious or political, New Age or self-help in its orientation, it may couch these rules in its ideology. In the high-control group I was involved in as a young adult, people were encouraged abstractly, through spiritual teachings, to dis-identify with the body. (“You are not the body. You are not the mind.”) At the same time, various practices can contribute to dissociation — including spiritual practices like concentration forms of meditation, listening to the teacher’s hypnotic voice in talks, and using a mantram in daily moments of stress. Rather than attuning to the body and its knowing, such practices train one to turn attention away from one’s own body and the feelings the body conveys. I don’t remember hearing messages specifically related to sex until I was fairly involved in my group. (That’s pacing for you.) As I recall, I had been meditating for several years, had gone to regional retreats, and finally signed up for a young adult retreat at the headquarters. A sort of kundalini 101 session taught that this life energy, often felt as sexual desire, can be transformed back into spiritual energy and used to power the journey to Self-realization. At this point I got the message that the householder path — which typically includes marriage and family — is a recognized path; one need not be a monk to establish a spiritual life. Only several years later, after I had moved cross-country to work for the organization, did it become clear that the monastic path was regarded as superior by the inner circle of this community. In a workshop about discerning one’s personal calling, we young adults were encouraged to be especially careful in determining whether or not parenting was part of our individual calling. No one explicitly said: don’t divert years of your life and untold energy to parenting. They just encouraged deliberation about this consuming part of life. At the time I thought, that’s right, having children should be an individual choice, not a general societal expectation. My perspective on this has become more nuanced over time. I suspect that my cohort of young people was being subtly discouraged from having children. The first generation of the teacher’s students HAD coupled up and raised children at the communal site. Some of the long-timers seemed, in retrospect, to regard this as a detour from their highest calling or desire, to reach samadhi through focused spiritual disciplines. Plus, by the time I came around — just after the founder died — the organization was at or past its peak phase of outreach and expansion. There was a growing sense of urgency about drawing a younger generation to the community to live and work, to sustain the organization as the teacher had established it — and to sustain the aging first generation. As a practical matter, children would divert precious young adult energy away from doing the work of what was now an organization with a ticking clock. More recently, I have come to understand that raising children in that intentional community was problematic for the children who had grown up there (to put it mildly). Group leaders may have realized this too. Whether or when to reproduce is only one part of the sex question for high-control groups. Most also have rules around if and with whom members have sex. In The Guru Papers, Joel Kramer and Diana Alstad observe that “the two prevalent ways [sexual] control is exerted [by gurus or similar leaders] are through promulgating either celibacy or promiscuity.” Both have the same result: making it less likely for deep bonds to form between individuals within the group (couples), so that the guru can keep members’ primary emotional bond focused on him. With some people and at opportune moments, leaders in my group did privately promote celibacy as the best path, the one that will lead most swiftly to spiritual advancement — including to some young adults of my generation. I didn’t hear that message directly myself. But I had already indicated my expectation NOT to live in the intentional community. So they likely had me pegged as one of the YAs who would sooner or later go the family route, as indeed I did. A leader who espouses celibacy or marital fidelity normally models it himself — or pretends to. Alas, as Kramer and Alstad note, “sex scandals go with the occupation of guru because of its emotional isolation and eventual boredom.” Among the instances they were familiar with were “religious leaders using their exalted position to seduce, pressure, or coerce disciples sexually, some even at puberty.” To add insult to injury, Kramer and Alstad continue, “the real motives behind [the guru’s] sexual excursions are often masked by such words as ‘teaching’ or ‘honoring’ their disciples.” He might say that the objects of his attention are special. Such behavior is problematic on many levels. What is often most difficult for disciples to accept, according to Kramer and Alstad, is the deception and what it means: “The lie [about his celibacy or marital fidelity] indicates the guru’s entire persona is a lie, that his image as selfless and being beyond ego is a core deception… not only did he not achieve [the goal of selflessness or ego transcendence], he does not even know if it is achievable.” With the duplicity and betrayal of sexual scandal, the image of the teacher — and the trustworthiness of his teachings — all come tumbling down. The entire enterprise of the group is shown to be hollow. Hence, it should not be surprising if people deeply invested in the group’s worldview and continuity deny that such accusations could possibly be true. Lesson #11: Sexuality is sacred, powerful — and yours. The only person who can discern what is best for your sexual life is you. No relationship that lacks mutuality and consent can be good for you — and a relationship between a leader and follower is inherently unequal. A middle path, centering genuine intimacy and honoring pleasure, is less fraught than one that seeks either purity / abstinence or detached hedonism. “He’s always instructing me how to do things — even when I know better than he does! Sometimes I feel more like a child than a partner. What’s odd is, I actually have a harder time making my own decisions than I used to.” An abuser’s behavior may go beyond mere mansplaining to treating his partner like a child, a less-capable person who needs to be shepherded, schooled, perhaps even disciplined by him. The stress of living in an abusive relationship, and the whittling away of the victim’s self-esteem, may result in her finding it harder to think for herself and navigate life choices. In my group, I didn’t think much initially of the teacher-learner dynamics at retreats and such. It was what we participants had signed up for. But the pattern did not lessen over the years. At all. They were clearly the role models; we were forever the students. The young adults who moved out to work for the organization were each assigned a mentor to check in with them periodically. This sounds thoughtful on the surface, and may indeed have been well-intended. But many of us were accomplished professionals in our 30s. Ostensibly they had wanted us to come to share our skills and knowledge. The mentor-mentee relationship subtly reinforced the spiritual hierarchy of the group. It also provided a private, one-to-one container for the airing of questions and concerns that might arise as we adjusted to our new place inside the organization. Indeed, I suspect pooling of questions, concerns, and observations was fairly limited among the newbies. It was perhaps most likely between roommates — because where else would you have the privacy to share doubts and discrepancies? This paternalistic attitude did not come out of nowhere. It is the pattern of a high control group, starting with the founder(s)/leader(s). In a comparative study of two rather different cultish groups, Janja Lalich found that the parental role of the leader(s), and the followers’ strong attachment to that figure, resulted in developmental regression for a significant portion of the followers. (Bounded Choice: True Believers and Charismatic Cults) This was not particularly a reflection on those participants; it was “induced, at least in part, by the group processes and interactions,” Lalich notes. It seems to be baked into cult dynamics that as a person grows more embedded in the group’s rules and routines and guidance, they begin to lose a sense of self apart from the family-like group. They become dependent; in extreme groups like those in Lalich’s study, members might even become child-like. This type of control can also show up in who is allowed to share the teachings. In my group, this was a privileged role. It was only long-time students — the most loyal, orthodox, and socially adept — who led retreats or workshops. After the founder died, true believers had become determined to Maintain the Purity of the Teachings — something I heard about during the time I worked there. It was officially proclaimed that no one else would ever be considered a teacher on par with the founder. Still, more facilitators would be needed, beyond the there-for-decades disciples, if the program schedule was to be sustained. I suspect that householders newly invited to train as facilitators were long-term meditators who had passed the group’s loyalty smell test. I have the impression that they were given exacting guidance about how to deliver the content. Perhaps this zealous approach helps explain why several iterations of facilitator training did not produce a sustaining cadre of program leaders; people may have been put off by the increasing rigidity of the program. The organization has since turned its focus to online retreats and programs. Such a format would allow true believers to vigilantly Maintain the Purity of the Teachings themselves, from headquarters, while reaching people anywhere. Lesson #12: With any potential partner or group, look for signs that they can share authority and respect with you, and will not patronize you, however subtly. Does the association help you hone and trust your own judgment, or are you expected to turn to them in perpetuity? Is there any provision for new teachers, writers, editors? What qualifies someone to be in such a role? How tightly controlled is the process for sharing the wisdom of the group? “He’s so jealous. I’ve come to realize that he is deeply insecure. He talks like he’s doing everything for me… but in reality, it’s always about him!” She might find her partner’s possessiveness flattering at first. But when he doesn’t want her to have any male friends — and even seems to begrudge her ties with family members — that’s another story. He also comes across as confident initially. In time, though, she realizes it’s a façade; underneath his bravado is a fragile ego. That’s why he needs constant affirmation from her, and bristles at even the gentlest feedback. With a group, this trait is likely to show up as a demand for extreme loyalty. In a charismatic group, it will be the leader who particularly requires your allegiance. In other groups, it may be the group generally, with its program and belief system. In my group, the expectation of loyalty did not appear initially. The founder was just a sage writer… gradually I got to know him as a kind-hearted fellow who gave interesting talks on spiritual topics, often with a touch of self-deprecating humor (I saw them via recordings)… and, as I knew from the beginning, the creator of a particular set of spiritual practices, the group’s program — from which I was experiencing benefit. Nothing suspicious here. As I got more involved, I heard some use an honorific from the teacher’s culture, acknowledging him as a spiritual teacher. That seemed fine by me; if I was hearing about a professor, or a member of the clergy, or a physician, I would not object to people referring to them as Professor or Rev. or Dr. So-and-so. Others, even residents at the communal site, eschewed the title and simply called him by his first name, or his initials. It was evident from the stories told by the teacher’s first generation students, and the way they talked about him, that they held him in particularly high regard. Would I have responded similarly, had I met a person as wise and giving as they described him to be? Perhaps, I thought. Gradually the idea of regarding the founder not simply as “a writer” or “a meditation teacher” but “my teacher” was introduced to the circle of young adults. Still, it was presented as an option — with guidance as to how to grow closer to the teacher, for those who chose to do so. Between this subtle message, the continuous imbibing of the teacher’s words in books and recorded talks, and the modeling by workshop leaders and other long-timers, in time I absorbed the idea that this was MY meditation teacher. I began to think of him that way. After all, I was practicing his method of meditation. If people can have piano teachers, why not meditation teachers? It wasn’t until I participated in a special, high-commitment program with a group of other young adults that the emphasis on a relationship to the teacher escalated. I vaguely recall a ceremony in which we emerged from the meditation hall after evening meditation, candles in hand. As directed, we walked silently, flames flickering against the dark, out into the memorial garden. The focal point of the garden was a rock monument from which water flowed at the top. Its face was inscribed with a devotional quote from scripture. In this context, the devotional sentiment clearly went beyond the divine persona from the scripture; it was aimed at the group’s teacher. This brief night journey was a pilgrimage laden with meaning. I had actually forgotten about this episode until another alum of the program brought it up recently. This friend reminded me we were also invited to show our allegiance to the teacher during this program. I don’t remember that specifically at all. But then, the socialization can be just as effective when done more subtly. Gurus and their acolytes can simply “reinforce devotion with attention and approval, and punish its lack by withdrawing them.” (Karmer & Alstad, The Guru Papers) At any rate, the commitment of long-term students to the teacher was clear. My cohort was cultivated in the years following his death, a time of potential turmoil for the community. When I worked there, the way leadership coped reminded me of those WWJD bracelets that were popular among certain Christian evangelicals in the 90s — except this group ran everything through the filter of What Would Our-Teacher Do? I could feel how a teacher-centered, devotional sort of approach was the norm among the inner circle. As I told a friend around the time of my departure, “if you’re not like that [as I wasn’t], people won’t trust you as much.” Turns out, all of this is textbook high control group stuff. Here’s how sociologist Janja Lalich sums it up: “The ultimate aim is to get the devotee to identify with the ‘socializing agent’ — the cult leader, the patriarch or matriarch of the cult, or the controlling and abusive partner, as the case may be. The desired outcome is a new self … whose actions will be dictated by the ‘imagined will’ of the authoritative figure.” (from Take Back Your Life) The socialization into group and teacher loyalty went very deep. Because even after I left, barely a year after I had moved out there — and with many negative feelings — it never occurred to me to speak ill of the group. Even to my fellow meditators back home, I was vague about what I had experienced. Partly that was because it took me time to find the words to describe what I had gone through. But partly, I was hesitant to burst their bubble. It’s not like any of them were going to move out there. I also knew that to the core group, anything but loyalty was a no-no. I was supposed to be grateful! And indeed, at that time, I was still grateful for the positive things I had gotten from my spiritual practice and my involvement with the group. During my year there, I had learned that many people had come and gone from the group’s orbit over the decades. The long-timers didn’t talk about those other people. Someone more on the edges told me about serious students who had been there for a couple decades, and gave so much to the work — they were literally airbrushed out of pictures after they left. So it looked like progress to me when, after giving notice, I and another departing member of my cohort were given a warm send-off luncheon. People offered good wishes for our continuing journeys. What they actually said about us after we left is an open question. I recall judgmental things I heard insiders say about retreatants, or people who had backed away. Nonetheless, having been steeped in apparently caring relationships with these people, I remained in touch, sending family holiday newsletters along with periodic donations over the years. I had been willing to look past the dysfunction I experienced when I worked there, and try to focus on the good aspects of my experience. Because I had chalked up the problems I observed there to the deep grief of the teacher’s long-time students after his death. Maybe there was something about the selection process of who came there and stayed, too. I don’t see it that way anymore. Now, I view the true believers as the most deceived and betrayed of the founder’s followers. And I understand that they wouldn’t be how they are, if he wasn’t how he was. As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The teacher created the cult-ure of that community. He did it so well that his disciples are still dependent on him a quarter century after he departed this earth. It turns out that, like an abusive partner, the leader of a high-control group is in the center because he put himself there. Whether or not the founder of my group believed he was serving others in some pure way, I will not speculate here; the guru-ashram model is a thing in his culture, so it is possible he meant well. Either way, I believe with Kramer and Alstad (The Guru Papers) that the model is inherently authoritarian, and therefore ripe for corruption and abuse. The leader can easily shift, imperceptibly, from shepherd into wolf. Lesson #13: A partner or group who wants you to forego other deep bonds, give up other avenues of growth — and abandon your own inner wisdom — does not deserve your fealty. Whether the pressure is urgent and apparent or subtle and sophisticated, do not surrender to another’s authority. It is the taproot of control. If there is any solace for me in this situation, it is that the group may no longer be trying to draw new people out to live in the community. But I mourn for all of those idealistic seekers who have quietly, unknowingly, by degrees, for some period of time — often years — lost some of their freedom through close involvement in this group. For one involved with an abusive partner or a cultish group, the roots of control include blurred boundaries, hijacked sexuality, paternalistic attitudes, and the self-centering of the partner or group leader(s) as your ultimate master. Is this your situation? To assess, look past the ideology and zero in on the structure of the relationship. (Missed the first two posts in this series? Here they are: Part 1 Part 2) I learned the hard way these lessons about power and control in collectives. I hope my sharing here may help others avoid such experiences — or see them more clearly, and recover more fully, if you or your loved ones have been through something like this. You can subscribe to get every new post sent directly to your inbox. Thanks for reading! Please read this disclaimer carefully before relying on any of the content in my articles online for your own life.
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Article ListA list of all articles by title and date, grouped by topics. - Go to list - About ShariUU minister, high control group survivor, and mama bear on savvy ways to seek meaning, belonging, purpose, and well-being in these turbulent times. More SubscribeWant to get an email in your in-box every time I post? To subscribe, you can go here and follow the instructions at bottom. Archives
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