Exit Counseling and
the Decline of Deprogramming
Stephen A. Kent
Department of Sociology
University of
Alberta
Edmonton, Alberta,
Canada
Joseph P. Szimhart
Exit
Counselor
Pottstown,
Pennsylvania
Abstract
An old model of forcibly
deprogramming persons from controversial ideological organizations has given way
to progressive, non-coercive models that emphasize dialogue within voluntary
“exit counseling” settings. These non-coercive models approach counseling events
partly as family crises that usually require careful preparation with relatives
and friends. Counselors structure the meetings in ways that work within the
value systems of the groups from which they are trying to remove their subjects.
Moreover, they attempt to empower their subjects by giving them degrees of
autonomy and control as the counseling sessions proceed. This new generation of
exit counselors avoids the questionable and often forcible practices that
deprogrammers undertook in the past. They also are attempting to regulate their
profession by limiting their cooperative work with other counselors to those who
adhere to a code of ethics. Nevertheless, competition and debate exist among
counselors who use slightly different non-coercive models. This study discusses
and positions these developing trends in exit counseling within the historical
and cultural contexts in which forcible deprogramming first emerged but
gradually declined.
In the early
1970s, a countercult movement emerged in response to controversial,
ideologically driven groups throughout the Western world. This oppositional
movement challenged these groups’ attempts both to attract youthful converts and
to gain societal legitimacy. Such challenges included allegations that the
groups used coercion, manipulation, and deception in their efforts to recruit
and maintain members. On this important issue of recruitment, the ideology of
the countercult movement intended to “confer a specific deviant status on those
individuals who joined new religions” (Shupe and Bromley 1980: 25) or other
ideological organizations such as fringe political parties and many motivational
programs (Coates 1994: 93; see Robbins and Anthony 1982: 283). The deviant
status insisted that converts had been brainwashed, and this interpretation
legitimated the exercise of specific forms of intervention against members of
these high-demand ideologies. At the time, the interveners referred to their
actions as “deprogramming,” which assumed that young converts were “unable to
manage their own lives and decisions . . .” (Shupe and Bromley 1980: 125).
Sociological research on deprogramming concluded that persons (called
deprogrammers) who undertook the practice saw their mission as “restoring
earlier-valued social relationships” (Shupe and Bromley 1980: 125), but more
generally, family and friends of these converts shared deeply rooted concerns
about the converts’ well-being in a variety of areas (Langone 1993: 22-23).
Considerable scholarship focused
on certain aspects of deprogramming, particularly on the array of legal issues
that related to the practice. While a few academics looked at deprogramming as
either a necessary evil or an appropriate response to a social and mental health
crisis (Delgado 1977; 1984), most sociologists were highly critical of it (for
example, Wright 1987: 93-98). Some critics discussed deprogramming in the
context of alleged religious repression (for example, Shupe, Spielmann, and
Stigall 1978) and reputed civil liberties violations, while others referred to
its vigilante status (Shupe and Bromley 1980). In addition, most social
scientists objected to the increased interpretive role that deprogramming
provided to both the mental health profession and the popular media regarding
the dynamics of new religions (see Robbins and Anthony 1982).
This scholarship, however, needs
to be revisited following the virtual elimination of involuntary extractions (at
least in North America) since the early 1990s, and their
replacement with systematic programs of voluntary exit counseling. North
America’s most active “exit counselors” responded to pressures imposed by the
target groups, legal decisions, and professionalization, and they developed
intervention techniques that appear to be effective and far less controversial
than deprogramming in facilitating members’ decisions to leave high-demand
ideological groups. Although these “successes” might be the consequence of
well-understood processes of attitude change in social psychology, most exit
counselors continue to describe their achievements according to “mind control”
or “thought reform” models. Such models are the subject of fierce debate among
sociologists of religion, but they receive much more support within the mental
health community.
In this
article, many of the insights about exit counseling come from one of the authors
(Szimhart), who became a professional deprogrammer and exit counselor in 1986.
Now semi-retired because of other commitments, Szimhart estimates that he was
involved in more than 300 cases, with perhaps less than 10% of those cases
involving the forcible acquisition of deprogramees. In 1991, he decided not to
participate further in forcible deprogrammings, partly because he had faced
criminal charges over a failed deprogramming in
Idaho — a legal case that he won
two years later in a jury trial. “. . . [T]he jury believed that while
[co-defendants Kenneth] Paolini and [Joseph] Szimhart may have broken the law,
it was probably necessary in this case” (Dvorak and Ronnow 1993). In September
1991, when a national magazine featured an article about him, Szimhart’s
“average fee [was] between $300 to [sic] $400 a day. At least a quarter of
his consultations [were] pro bono and over the phone” (Disend 1991: 35).
The other author (Kent) is a
sociologist who has spoken with and interviewed hundreds of persons who hold
various relationships to controversial groups: current members; former members;
relatives of current or former members; law enforcement; etc. (see
Kent, 2001).
Many of his interview subjects had been the targets of deprogramming attempts;
several parents (and one former law-enforcement official) also spoke to him
about their efforts in this regard. Because many of the interviews that he
conducted were with people who were active during a period when forcible
deprogrammings were common, he was struck by the contrast between the earlier
activities in the 1970s and 1980s and the virtual collapse of such activities
during the mid- to late-1990s. The motivation for this article, therefore, is a
desire to identify and analyze a major shift within the countercult movement — a
shift that one of the authors (Szimhart) has experienced directly.
A Traditional
Overview of Deprogramming
Deprogramming came into being in
the early 1970s, not only because of the countercult movement’s activities, but
also because of desperate and bewildered family members’ need for it. As the
numbers of young adults increased who were involved in high-demand ideological
groups (especially religious ones), “growing numbers of families became
concerned with the role of cults in their children’s new and disturbing
behavior: dropping out of school, cutting ties to families and friends and
sometimes disappearing completely” (Tobias and Lalich 1994: 59). Moreover,
parents who were able to obtain information about their adult children’s beliefs
and behavior inside their newly joined groups often grew deeply concerned about
their offspring’s physical and emotional well-being (Shupe, Bromley, and Oliver
1984: 129).[1]
By believing that their children were “brainwashed,” parents construed that the
unconventional activities and beliefs of their loved ones had arisen through the
“mind control” techniques of the organization. Certainly memories of Charles
Manson’s grip over his followers haunted parents, and the brainwashing model
gained even greater support during the mid-1970s’ spectacle of Patricia Hearst’s
transformation from kidnap victim to terrorist. As her story unfolded, it
reinforced in parents’ eyes the ability of abusive groups to orchestrate
dramatic personality changes.[2]
More ominously, the 1978 murder-suicides of Jim Jones and his followers in
Guyana
represented a worst-case scenario that all parents of so-called “cult” members
feared.[3]
Yet even in the months before
Jonestown, when Flo Conway and Jim Siegelman wrote about “the sudden, drastic
alteration of personality in all its many forms” and called it “snapping,”
parents were certain that these authors were describing what had happened to
their young adult children (Conway and Siegelman 1978: 13). Deprogramming, many
parents hoped, would “snap” them back out of the “cult” mindset. Indeed, four
years later, these same authors published survey findings that seemed to prove
the therapeutic value of deprogramming. Based upon “more than 400 former cult
members from 48 different groups” (Conway and Siegelman 1982: 88). They
reported:
More than two-thirds (71
percent) of those in our survey were deprogrammed, but only about 40 percent
were abducted. In almost every case, those who were deprogrammed recovered more
quickly and experienced fewer long-term effects than those who were not.
Deprogrammees needed an average 10 months less rehabilitation time than
non-deprogrammees (14 months instead of 24 months) and reported, on the average,
less than half the long-term effects (Conway and Siegelman 1982: 92).[4]
Parents and other loved ones,
therefore, believed that they had scientific proof for the value of
deprogramming, even if the deprogrammers had to use some measure of force.
Not only did many loved ones
believe that deprogramming had therapeutic value, but also the deprogrammers
themselves promised to restore independent thinking to individuals, thereby
allowing them to make decisions about their lives outside of the restrictions of
the ideologically high-demand groups to which they had belonged. Sociologists
writing about deprogramming, therefore, may have underplayed the more altruistic
motives of many deprogrammers when they concluded that, in significant ways,
they were “agents to whom parents delegated authority in order to restore their
sons and daughters to career paths more in line with the parents’ own
conceptions of normalcy” (Shupe and Bromley 1980: 121). Many deprogrammers said that it was equally if not more
important to restore (what they called) critical thinking to persons who, in the
deprogrammers’ view, had lost the capacity to think critically because of
techniques of manipulation that “cults” used on them. Psychologist Brock
Kilbourne (1983: 380), therefore, captured only some aspects of deprogramming when he defined
it as a “practice which aims to return cult converts to prior and conventional
commitments to family, work, and community, and may entail the use of force.”
Worth emphasizing, however, is that parents and relatives also saw deprogrammers
as counselors who would assist “cult-involved” loved ones in realizing the
potential consequences of injurious or dangerous behaviors in which many of them
were engaged.
The stereotypical portrayal of
deprogramming was that it involved force to combat the previous “programming” of
the members by the so-called “cults.” According to Coulter (1984: 98), the need
for deprogramming was “based on the assumption that a barrage of experiences and
indoctrination has resulted in the closing off of the person’s brain to normal
critical debate, and that this can only be undone by a similar barrage of new
information about the group to which he or she belongs, to break down that
resistance to criticism.” Presumably, many deprogrammers felt that the only way
to undo the alleged damage caused by “brainwashing” was to employ somewhat
similar tactics that the so-called “cults” used to “program” members in the
first place. They imposed these tactics through the use of force if they deemed
it necessary.
The actual repertoire of tactics
that deprogrammers used, however, was quite wide and diverse, and they varied
according to the peculiar demands of individual cases. As David Bromley
realized, “there are numerous possible combinations of coercive and voluntary
deprogramming, rehabilitation, and therapy” (Bromley 1988: 195). When
deprogrammers used force, it usually occurred in any of four aspects of the
“deprogramming” event. First, the “deprogrammers” (or parents working with them)
frequently grabbed their unwilling “targets,” placed them in vehicles, and
transported them to pre-arranged locations (Shupe, Bromley, and Oliver 1984:
129). (Critics, of course, called these acts assault and kidnapping). Second,
deprogrammers detained their targets (at least initially) against their wills
(acts their critics called forcible confinement). Third, they sometimes
restrained persons who physically resisted, seemed at risk of self-harm, or were
likely to try to escape. Fourth, some deprogrammers denigrated detainees’
religious beliefs or leaders, justifying these actions as attempts to stir
cult-deadened emotions (but eliciting charges from critics of religious rights
violations). Even in the 1970s, however, serious divisions existed between
deprogrammers who used force and at least some exit counselors who insisted upon
non-coercive contact and interaction with members whom they hoped would leave
controversial groups. Indeed, one exit counselor, former Scientologist Nan
McLean (from Ontario,
Canada), testified against
deprogrammer Ted Patrick when he forcibly confined Scientologist Paula Dain and
then brought in McLean (who did not know about the
circumstances) to assist him (Dain v. Patrick 1979; McLean 1979; Superior Court
1980).
The deprogramming movement was
disorganized, with no national or even regional conferences having been held
before the 1980s to discuss and evaluate the deprogramming process (Shupe and
Bromley 1980: 123). Frequently, families and deprogrammers connected through the
social networks within various “anti-cult” groups such as the Parents Committee
to Free Our Sons and Daughters from the Children of God (FREECOG, which formed
around 1971 to combat the Children of God), the more-widely focused Volunteer
Parents of America (VPA, which formed in southern California in 1973), and the
Citizens Freedom Foundation (CFF or C.F.F., which formed in 1974 as an overall
educational organization [Coates 1994: 94; Rambur 1974]).[5]
In turn, CFF changed its name to the Cult Awareness Network (CAN) in 1985
(Crampton, n.d.: 12a), and CAN (like the CFF) held conferences that
deprogrammers attended in order to meet others in the occupation and obtain
parental contacts for future work.
An insinuation by an FBI agent
that CAN might have been involved in planning a deprogramming appeared in a 1992
sworn affidavit by Special Agent Scott Salter. In referring to an earlier
incident in which deprogrammer Galen Kelly allegedly (and, it turned out,
actually) had kidnapped the wrong woman for deprogramming, agent Salter reported
that the intended victim’s mother “placed calls to the Cult Awareness Network in
Chicago in the three months prior to the May 5, 1992 abduction” (Salter 1992:
8). He did not indicate, however, what the mother and any CAN personnel
discussed, so one cannot deduce that CAN was involved in any way with this
kidnapping/deprogramming incident. However sympathetic many early CAN members
might have been to deprogramming,[6]
the organization itself played no formal role in facilitating or
monitoring deprogrammers’ activities. In 1988, CAN’s Board of Directors even
passed (by unanimous consent) a policy stating “No officers, Board Members, or
paid staff of the Cult Awareness Network or its affiliates may participate in
involuntary de-programming” (Cult Awareness Network 1988: 12). With all of the
major countercult organizations officially distancing themselves from
deprogramming, neither the active members of these organizations nor the
deprogrammers themselves developed any formalized, professional, or ethical
standards during the first two decades that deprogrammers operated. Discussions,
however, about such standards were taking place during the mid-1980s within the
social networks of CAN (see Giambalvo 2000: 1).[7]
Early Forms of
Deprogramming--Ted Patrick and the Coercive Model
In the 1970s and 1980s, many
types of deprogramming existed, but the one that received the most attention
from both the media and academics was the coercive method that Ted Patrick
practiced (Shupe and Bromley 1980: 122). Patrick was Governor Ronald Reagan’s
Special Representative for Community Relations in
California (Patrick and Dulack
1976: 37), and he became interested in the activities of the new religions when
members of the Children of God attempted to convert his son and his nephew.
Around the same time, he was receiving numerous complaints about the activities
of this organization from concerned citizens. After his subsequent
investigation, Patrick concluded that these organizations were “programming”
individuals, and that the only way to return independent thinking capabilities
to these people was to forcibly break the “mind control” that new religious
“cults” had over their members. Thus, in 1971, Patrick coined the term deprogramming (Shupe and Bromley 1980:
123). In what may be the only systematic study about the impact of coercive
deprogramming on a controversial group, Bromley concluded that Patrick “played a
dominant role in the early history of deprogramming,” through his own coercive
extractions and “through the network of trainees and disenchanted members who
subsequently followed in his footsteps” (Bromley 1988: 198). The combined
efforts of these deprogrammers “certainly had an impact” upon the
Unification
Church in the mid- to late-1970s and
early 1980s (Bromley 1988: 204).
According to Shupe and Bromley
(1980: 122):
coercive deprogramming was
marked by abducting and detaining members of ‘cults’ against their will,
haranguing them for extended periods of time under emotionally charged
conditions, and then achieving in such individuals rapid redefinitions of their
former religious experiences and beliefs that culminated in their apostasy.
Again, however, these
sociologists may have stereotyped the process, because the image of “haranguing”
deprogrammers belied the obvious fact that persuasion and dialogue were the
preferred techniques whenever possible. Nevertheless, the logic and practice of
coercive deprogramming began with the concerned but extra-legal (and, critics
insisted, vigilante) response of one man, at the same time that families began
meeting to discuss common grievances and concerns about the influence of
high-demand religions or other ideological organizations in the lives of their
loved ones.
Published Responses
to Deprogramming by Critics and Target Groups
According to deprogramming
critics, a combination of pressures on the individual resulted in physical and
emotional fatigue that supposedly wore down the member’s resistance to accepting
the deprogrammer’s views (see, for example, Coulter 1984; Melton and Moore 1982;
Richardson et al. 1986; Shupe and
Bromley 1980; Stoner and Parke 1977). Such representations of coercive
deprogramming had occasional basis in fact, although some of the members already
were fatigued from the regime of “cult” involvement, and actually gained rest
and strength during the deprogramming experience. Predictably, however, the
harsh and degrading tone that many academics (especially sociologists)[8]
used to describe the process appeared in counter-deprogramming publications that
various target groups themselves distributed to their members. The Children of
God, for example, published at least three articles for its members against
deprogramming. One article was a reprint of a March 1975 Canadian newspaper
article critical of Patrick and deprogramming (Harpur 1975). Later, in
September, COG published a member’s tale of the two deprogramming attempts that
he had survived (one by Patrick himself [Cephas 1975]). Roughly two years later,
the group reproduced another media article, this time from a Belgian magazine,
which was very critical of Patrick and deprogramming (‘Special’ Magazine 1977).[9]
The most successful publication
against deprogramming that a target group produced, however, was a 9-page
“how-to” manual that surfaced in various countries during 1976 and 1977.[10]
Dedicated to Ted Patrick, the fake manual advocated numerous techniques that
deprogrammers were to use against their targets: food termination, sleep
withdrawal, shame-inducement through nudity, physical coercion, verbal stress,
the destruction of the target’s holy works from the controversial group, and sex
with the target individuals (POWER 1976: 5-7). Copies of this manual appeared in
Australia
(Cheyney 1977; Hooks 1978; Perth Sunday
Independent 1977; Tobin 1977),
Canada (Flinn
1977; Marshall 1976), (probably) New
Zealand (Central Leader 1977), the
United Kingdom
(Beckford 1985: 228-230; Ezard 1976), and the
United States.[11]
The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) received the manual as a factual
account, and it appeared in an information booklet that (at the time) Moonie
sympathizer Dr. Herbert Richardson of the Toronto School of Theology prepared
for the ACLU’s February 5,
1977 conference on “Religious Deprogramming.” Exactly one month
later, the ACLU adopted a resolution “condemning use of deprogramming by parents
attempting to recover their children from high-demand religious cults” (Philadelphia Daily News 1977).[12]
In addition, the Belgian magazine article that the Children of God translated
and distributed to its members worldwide referred to the manual (‘Special’ Magazine 1977: 5).
Suspicions about the
deprogramming manual’s authenticity quickly surfaced in Australia (Tobin 1977),
and a prominent Canadian reporter linked it to Scientology (Marshall, 1976)—a
connection strengthened later with references found in Scientology’s Guardian
Office material uncovered in the 1977 FBI raids against the organization. In the
United Kingdom,
however, the prestigious Guardian
newspaper (not related to Scientology) carried a concerned article about the
manual’s contents (Ezard 1976). A suspicious Australian group, the Better Family
Relations Association, criticized the manual in the press, as did
New Zealand’s
Family Unity and Freedom of Worship (Central Leader 1977). British
sociologist James Beckford located the manual and the organization (named POWER,
or People’s Organized Workshop on Ersatz Religions) that published it in the
context of efforts to discredit both
Britain’s
countercult “parents association” named FAIR, and individuals who had a
countercult reputation (Beckford 1985: 230). More disturbingly, new religions’
supporter Frank K. Flinn accepted the manual’s authenticity in his article
against deprogramming in a Canadian “new religions” newsletter in 1977 (Flinn
1977), as did Australian psychologist Michael W. Ross, who published a highly
critical academic article against it (Ross 1979). If, by manufacturing the fake
document, the Guardian Office’s
intention was to horrify the public and its decision-makers by portraying
deprogramming as a violent, sexually exploitative practice, then the tactic had
considerable success.
Controversies and the
Decline of Deprogramming
Several issues concerning the
American First Amendment rights of individuals being deprogrammed arose during
and after the late 1970s, and these issues had parallels in countries throughout
the Western world. Often, in the eyes of the law, the forcible abduction of
members of new religious movements was kidnapping. According to Shupe and
Bromley (1980: 130) the use of forcible abduction was “the single most important
reason that deprogrammers were never able to establish themselves as a
legitimate occupation.”
In the
United States,
“[t]he First Amendment embraces two concepts--freedom to believe and freedom to
act” (Bromley and Richardson 1980: 240). Other Western countries have analogous
protections legally guaranteeing religious worship and religious behavior.
Consequently, supporters of new religions whose members were targets for
deprogramming condemned deprogramming for allegedly violating these basic human
rights (see Levine 1980: 34; Robbins 1979: 43; Ross 1979: 205). Deprogramming’s
American critics claimed further that intervention to extricate and deprogram
members of new religions was ethically wrong because “such interference with the
rights of nonconforming religious believers is constitutionally illegal and it
violates the moral principles—chiefly the rights to equal concern and
respect--on which the constitution is based” (Robbins, Shepherd, and McBride
1985: 95-96). According to Slade (1979: 81), “a number of decisions in state and
federal appellate courts have supported this religious freedom” and “the laws
guarantee that courts and court officers cannot be used to deny an individual’s
basic rights to freedom of religion, speech, association, and privacy.”
For defenders of deprogramming,
the issue was not freedom of religion and practice, but free and informed
choice. Robbins and Anthony (1978: 77) stated that “the First Amendment
guarantees freedom of religion, but necessary to each guaranteed freedom is
freedom of thought.” Again, since supporters of deprogramming believed that
authoritarian new religions controlled the minds of their members, these
supporters were convinced that intervention often was the only way to return the
members’ independent thinking capabilities. From this perspective, forcible
seizure and physical restraint did not violate the First Amendment. Rather, by
restoring the individuals’ ability to think freely, the deprogrammers returned
peoples’ First Amendment rights (see Delgado 1977; 1984).
Indeed, deprogrammers and their
supporters insisted that even though the practice of forcible removal was
illegal, it was necessary to prevent the commission of an even greater evil.
They insisted that the group’s control mechanisms inhibited members’ physical
and psychological safety to the extent that members could not leave voluntarily
(see Shupe, Bromley, and Oliver 1984: 129-132). Occasionally “the necessity
defense” (or a variation of it) served to acquit deprogrammers whose failed
efforts eventually landed them in court (see, for example, District Court of the United States
1974: 77-80).[13]
Deprogrammers also necessarily
believed that members of new religious movements were “brainwashed” or operated
under “mind control.” They reasoned that, for a person to be deprogrammed, he or
she first must have been “programmed.” As popularly defined, brainwashing means that an individual or
group has absolute control over another’s thinking and reasoning. The original
definition of the term, however, is more directly related to the thought-reform
and coercive-persuasion techniques employed in the Korean POW camps and post-Mao
Chinese re-education programs (Lifton 1961; Zimbardo and Andersen 1993: 107).
According to Philip Zimbardo and Susan Andersen
(1993: 106):
It is a person (or various
persons) in a convincing social situation--not gadgets or gimmicks--who controls
the minds of others. The more worried we are about being regarded ignorant,
uncultured, untalented, or boring, the more likely we are to take on the beliefs
of those around us to avoid being rejected by them.
Taking a somewhat broader
approach, Streiker (1984: 127) stated that the use of the term brainwashing “should be restricted to
instances of acute depersonalization accomplished through the use of force and
life-threatening stress.” No proof exists that any magical “brainwashing”
formula exists, but the debate about the appropriateness of the term continues
as social scientists attempt to identify the circumstances in which use of the
term may be appropriate (see, for example,
Kent and
Hall 2000; and articles in Zablocki and Robbins
[eds.] 2001).
Most new religious organizations
recruited members through persuasion, manipulation, and/or deception and did not
resort to the use of force. Nevertheless, controversial religions frequently
used front groups to deceive recruits about the true nature of their
organizations. Some used manipulation to indoctrinate members, gradually cutting
off members’ ties to the outside world in an attempt to ensure that they became
completely dependent upon their new sectarian environments. Group leaders and
members also placed potential recruits in situations (such as high-speed
praying, chanting in foreign languages, frenetic physical activity, complete
stillness, etc.) for which they had no previous frames of meaning, and then
provided meanings by (mis)attributing spirituality to those activities and the
resultant feelings or sensations that they evoked (see
Kent 1994).
Deprogrammers might have perceived these conditions as “brainwashing” or “mind
control,” but as Robbins and Anthony (1978: 77) stated a number of years ago, “.
. . it seems far-fetched to equate movements such as Hare Krishna or the
Unification church which exhibit a rapid turnover and a high dropout rate (even
without deprogramming), with POW camps.”
Critics of coercive deprogramming
said the practice was as bad as, or worse than, the recruitment and
re-socialization techniques used in the controversial new religions (Bromley and
Richardson 1980: 79; Stoner and Parke 1977: 230). Robbins, Shepherd, and McBride
(1985) argued that while deprogrammers criticized the imposition of force and
total environmental control that “cults” supposedly used to coercively change a
person’s opinion, the deprogrammers themselves used such tactics as
“brainwashing,” “mind control,” and “coercive persuasion.” One sociological
study (Kim 1979: 201) argued that deprogramming itself was a form of coercive
persuasion.
In a study that analyzed 94
parents’ responses to a questionnaire (the parents self-reported to a non-random
sample) concerning their experiences with deprogramming, Langone found, “on the
average, one-fourth to one-third of forced deprogrammings result in the
convert’s returning to the cult,” although an additional 9% of these returnees
eventually left voluntarily (Langone 1984: 74). When a deprogramming attempt
failed, the member often returned to the new religious organization even more
committed to its doctrines and lifestyle than before the intervention took
place. Members of new religious organizations, for example, were under the
impression that they were being persecuted in the same manner as the early
Christians had been (Stoner and Parke 1977: 253). Coulter (1984: 102) stated
that:
kidnapping cult members,
restraining them against their will and subjecting them to brutal assault on
their personalities until they finally confess they are wrong and agree to
renounce their beliefs . . . does nothing but strengthen the claims of the cults
that they are suffering from religious persecution because of their beliefs.
Members believed that, like the
Catholics, they would work their way to world respectability and acceptance.
From this perspective, individuals who escaped a deprogramming felt that they
have “won a battle” (Stoner and Parke 1977: 253). Because controversial
religious movements claimed to be victims whose members suffered persecution as
a result of their beliefs, these groups taught their members to expect
confrontation. In this way, deprogrammer interventions served to strengthen
members’ beliefs in the accuracy of the groups’ predictions (Coulter 1984:
102).
Stoner and Parke (1977: 269)
contended that many deprogrammers were:
ill-prepared and untrained
in handling the psychological aspects of the intricate task they so readily
undertake. Many, too, were lacking in the practical organizational skills that
are necessary for projects that involve the sanity and self-images of those they
seek to rescue.
Because controversial religious
organizations promise their members peace, love, world unity, and happiness,
deprogrammed members often felt shattered when they accepted that they had been
lied to, and that the goals they had worked so hard for were unattainable. Even
with their dreams of love, peace, and happiness destroyed, recently deprogrammed
members often entered a state of identity confusion known as “floating” (which
might be a form of dissociation), in which they vacillated between their “cult”
and “non-cult” lives. During this time, an individual was “most likely to
day-dream about his [or her] shattered religious dreams and long for the
security of life within the religious cult” (Stoner and Parke 1977: 271). Pavlos
(1982: 148) concluded, “. . . it seems clear that all too often the highly
structured life of the cult wins out and the cultist becomes even more committed
to an extreme cult lifestyle.”
Conservatorships
In the period from 1975 to 1977,
American judges commonly granted temporary conservatorships and guardianships to
parents concerned about the mental stability of children involved in new
religions (Robbins 1979: 42). A conservatorship was a court order that legally
allowed parents to remove their children from the new religious organizations.
To obtain the court order, the parents had to convince a judge that their
child’s mental and physical well-being was sufficiently jeopardized to warrant
such action (Enroth 1977: 199). By 1981, “. . . [b]ills that would allow courts
under certain conditions to assign temporary guardians to adults who have joined
so-called cults ha[d] been introduced in
Connecticut,
Illinois, New
York, Ohio,
Oregon,
Pennsylvania and
Texas” (Berreby 1981: 3). In the
next year, the Kansas House passed along a bill to the Senate that would have
given “parents a clear right to retrieve their children for deprogramming from
religious sects” (Tampa Tribune
1982). Among the most successful organizations to use conservatorship laws
was the Tucson, Arizona-based Freedom of Thought Foundation, whose deprogrammers
extracted more than 70 young people from various controversial groups during
slightly more than a year of operations (which began approximately early 1976)
(Chandler 1977a: 57; 1977b: 1; Townsend 1977: 5; see Shupe and Bromley 1980:
139-141).
The new religions soon learned,
however, that they enjoyed formal protection under law, and they attempted to
sue the deprogrammers for libel, violation of civil rights, and false
imprisonment (Shupe and Bromley 1980: 130). Robbins (1979: 42) summarized the
fate of American conservatorships as follows:
In 1977, in Katz vs. Superior Court, an intermediate
appellate court in California threw out conservatorships granted by a lower
court and propounded stringent criteria for the granting of such petitions in
the future. After the State Supreme Court refused to review the case, judges all
over the country became more circumspect in granting temporary conservatorships
and guardianships in ex-parte
hearings (hearings in which the potential conservatee is not represented) and
without a definite indication of overwhelming incapacity on the part of the
devotee.
Not surprisingly, targeted new
religious or cult organizations worked to get legislation changed so that
conservatorships were difficult if not impossible to obtain (Singer and Lalich
1995: 281). The legal victories on the part of several controversial religions
resulted in a significant decline in legal deprogrammings in the late 1970s
(Robbins 1979: 42). As late as 1980, however, a Bozeman, Montana judge granted
to parents Sherwin and Marilyn Desens conservatorship over their 34 year-old
daughter Nancy Desens-Jacob, who had joined a group called the Brotherhood and,
by doing so, allegedly had “surrendered her money, her free will, her marriage,
her children, her parents and her body” (Fort Worth Star-Telegram, 1980).
Less Coercive and
Non-Coercive Deprogramming in the 1970s and 1980s
As Bromley and Shupe realized,
not all deprogrammings were punctuated with violence and force. Bromley
indicated that the deprogrammers in the 1970s and early 1980s “began to discover
that non-coercive tactics often were just as successful as coercive
deprogramming in convincing [Unification Church] members to renounce group
membership and were less disruptive to family solidarity in the event of
failure” (Bromley 1988: 198; see Shupe and Bromley 1994: 9; Lewis 1989: 395).
Regrettably, no systematic survey of deprogramming styles exists, so scholars
must rely upon media portrayals, popularized books, and accounts by group
members against whom deprogramming efforts failed (see, for example, Biermans
1986: 67-71). Consequently, most of the academic discussions of the process have
presented it in a stereotypically violent and coercive manner, perhaps
paralleling the alleged production of “atrocity tales” that deprogrammed people
supposedly invented about events in high-demand groups (see Lewis 1989). Almost
all academic accounts have de-emphasized if not ignored less violent and less
confrontational forms.
In what might be the only
academic study of a deprogramming, however, Dubrow-Eichel (1989; 1990) found
only a brief moment of coercion in the initial contact between the deprogrammers
and the unsuspecting Hare Krishna member, with no subsequent coercion (and no
physical or emotional violence) during the five-day event (see Dubrow-Eichel
1989: 38-39, 105). Because of both the anecdotal literature and critical
academic studies, which “suggested that confrontation played a central role in
successful deprogrammings,” Dubrow-Eichel “was surprised at how rarely the
deprogrammers engaged in personal confrontations” of their deprogramee
(Dubrow-Eichel 1989: 109). This pattern of minimal coercion and no violence was
quite common (see, for example, Disend 1991, involving one of the authors
[Szimhart]), but no exact figures exist that allow quantification.
In this non-violent context, the
deprogramming took on dimensions of (among other things) both a therapeutic
relationship and a discourse containing persuasive conversation, teaching, and
moral discussion (Dubrow-Eichel 1990: 207-211). It had communicative dimensions,
cognitive dimensions, and social-affiliative dimensions (Dubrow-Eichel 1990:
210-213), and only one of the five deprogrammers who succeeded with the
deprogramming had any professional training in communications (Dubrow-Eichel
1989: 35). The deprogrammers were socially skilled but (with that one exception)
professionally untrained. Current practices within exit counseling produce
results similar to those achieved under non-violent, minimally coercive
deprogrammings, and they take place in conditions in which virtually all
coercion has been removed.
Exit
Counseling
Partly because of the legal risks
and ethical issues arising from coercive deprogramming methods, so-called
countercult counselors developed new, non-coercive means of intervention with
members of controversial ideological movements. Likewise, several of the
counselors working within the “countercult” movement obtained advanced degrees
in programs related to mental health (e.g., psychology, social work), and their
professional status would have been jeopardized by involvement in coercive or
violent acts. Indeed, for years, a number of persons prominent in the
countercult movement (Dr. John Clark, Priscilla Coates, Maurice Davis, Daphne
Green, James and Marcia Rudin, Dr. Margaret
Singer, and others) had counseled so-called “cult” members in non-coercive
exchanges whenever those persons contacted them. Such non-coercive dialogues
became increasingly important during the 1980s and 1990s, as persons in
controversial groups developed extensive histories of involvement (sometimes
dating back decades) that required lengthy periods of dialogue as they processed
and understood their experiences. In essence, the relatively “quick”
interventions of most deprogrammings of comparatively young people during the
1970s and early 1980s were increasingly unlikely to work. These pressures and
limitations, combined with successes that deprogrammers and others achieved with
minimal (and, in many cases, no) coercion or violence, provided the social
context in which a new form of intervention developed. This new methodology
became known as exit counseling, noncoercive deprogramming, thought-reform consulting, voluntary cult interventions, or re-evaluation. “Deprogramming has been
replaced by a more respectful approach, which is educational in nature, more
professional in delivery, more effective in outcome and, because it is
voluntary, generally non-traumatizing” (Tobias and Lalich 1994: 60).
By the early 1980s, some
deprogrammers were attempting to address the issue of forcible removals and
kidnapping that others among them used. In, for example, an “Ex-Moon” newsletter
from July 1980, Leslie Elliot wrote:
This letter grows out of a
recent conversation between Steve Hassen, Gary Scharff, and myself — all of us
being former Moonies as well as “deprogrammers” — and Bob, a counselor friend of
Steve’s interested in becoming a “deprogrammer.” A number of us have been
concerned about a seeming lack of standards for what constitutes an ethical as
well as effective “deprogramming.”
This letter is to solicit
your opinions and ideas on what methods or techniques are ethical, how parents
should be prepared a [sic] and
counseled, whether “rehabilitation” is desirable or not, fees for deprogramming
services, etc. [sic] (Elliot,
1980).
By 1983, Hassan was teaching
about non-coercive interventions in workshops he led, titled “Communicating With
Cult Members.” Also that year, deprogrammers apparently met in the context of
the CAN conference in an unsuccessful attempt to establish ethical standards and
techniques (Blocksom 1992: 3).[14]
Interestingly, exit counseling had become sufficiently well known by then (1983)
that the leader of The Way International, Victor Paul Wierwille, warned his
organization’s members about it:
The deprogrammers’ emphasis
has recently shifted from violent abduction to a more subtle method, often
called Voluntary Exit. Parents are
now exhorted to subtly trick their children into talking to deprogrammers. Many
of the same tactics as before (lying, etc.) are used in the “setup,” but the
abduction is less violent whenever possible (Wierwille 1983).
Especially because some of
Wierwille’s followers had been targeted in earlier deprogramming efforts (Buell
1982; Lewis 1981; New York Times
1981) and were also targeted later (Ostrander 1992), this shift in tactics was
of great interest to Way leaders and members. Nevertheless, despite the
diminished role of violence in the exit counseling practice, Wierwille still
scorned it. “The point of this new mental terrorism,” he concluded, “is to prove
to the victim that the ‘cult’ is irrational, illogical and dishonest, but that
the deprogramming establishment provides the ‘mental health’ counseling to
reintegrate victims into their former, old society” (Wierwille 1983). If we
disregard the scornful tone of his statement, few exit counselors would have
disagreed.[15]
By the mid-1990s, this more
respectful approach appears to have replaced forcible “adult” deprogramming
completely in North America, especially because of several high-profile cases
that deprogramming targets brought against their unsuccessful deprogrammers. By
far the best-known case was that involving CAN itself.[16]
A civil court decision linked CAN to a failed deprogramming and forced the
organization to declare bankruptcy. The controversial decision held CAN’s
national office responsible because a CAN contact person provided a mother with
the name of a person (Rick Ross) who did both voluntary and involuntary
interventions with “cult” members.[17]
After having completed two successful (and legal) deprogrammings with the two
minor children, Ross accepted the mother’s offer to attempt a third
deprogramming that involved an additional son, Jason Scott, who was a young
adult. In early January 1991, this deprogramming failed, and it led to criminal
charges that Ross eventually beat. The law firm of a prominent Scientologist,
however, encouraged and then handled Scott’s successful civil lawsuit against
Ross, his deprogramming team, and CAN (Goodstein 1996a; Kent and Krebs 1998:
40-41; Russell 1999: 16). Although evidence indicates that the CAN contact
person was not acting in the capacity
of a CAN volunteer when she made the referral (Kent and Krebs 1998: 40), a jury
was convinced that she was a CAN agent following CAN procedures, and it held the
national CAN office responsible for her actions. This court decision against CAN
almost certainly marks the end of illegal deprogramming in North
America, although its legal form still might persist in rare
cases, as when parents have underage children or other minors in their care whom
they wish to extract from controversial ideological organizations.[18]
The most important feature that
distinguishes exit counseling from deprogramming is that exit counseling remains
completely voluntary, although in some cases the initial family encounter might
surprise the exit counselee. The main goal of exit counseling is to get members
to re-evaluate their membership by offering them new information and education
(Singer and Lalich 1995: 286). Exit counseling is comparable to planned
interventions for someone who has a drug or alcohol problem (Dubrow-Eichel 1990:
208; Singer and Lalich 1995: 286; Tobias and Lalich 1994: 59). Often the exit
counseling process includes the recommendation for follow-up sessions with
post-exit counselors. Some of these follow-up sessions may take place in
rehabilitation facilities (such as Wellspring in
Ohio, or the recently opened
Meadow Haven in Massachusetts).
David
Clark et al. (1993:
155) describe exit counseling as “a voluntary, intensive, time-limited,
contractual educational process that emphasizes the respectful sharing of
information with members of exploitatively manipulative groups.” The first step
of the process involves a person who knows the member (usually a parent or a
spouse) contacting a counselor. If the counselor agrees to help, then the family
and counselor proceed. The exit counselor next focuses on the family’s needs by
providing information to these relatives about the particular organization. Exit
counselors see their role in this early stage as assisting family and friends to
“learn about cults in general as well as the specific area they are involved
with and about manipulative influence techniques and thought reform processes”
(Singer and Lalich 1995: 286).[19]
(Disagreement exists, however, among some contemporary exit counselors regarding
the time, depth, and amount of education and preparation families need or should
receive.)[20]
A second dispute exists between
information-oriented exit counselors and those who combine information with
techniques intended to elicit change within the “cult clients” (see Clark et al. 1993: 173-178; Hassan 2000:
69-70). Heated exchanges, for example, over these and related approaches took
place at the 2000 and 2001 American Family Foundation conferences. If the member
is involved in an unknown group, then the exit counselor collects sufficient
information about the group before the intervention can proceed. The family also
might receive counseling if the counselor detects communication problems among
members. Then the family must plan how to persuade the member to speak with the
exit counselor. Only if the family is successful in convincing their loved one
to the meeting do they proceed with the intervention (Clark et al. 1993: 156; Singer and Lalich
1995: 287). Costs of such interventions vary, but they can run between $500.00
and $750.00 per counselor per day (which might not include expenses such as
preparation, food, lodging, and travel for members of the intervention team).
Apparently, some exit counselors charge more, while others charge within the low
end of the scale for the family education phase and increase the rate for the
actual exit counseling period. In 2002, Szimhart learned from a client that one
intervention specialist required $5000.00 per day or $500.00 per hour. But he
estimates that the mean for most exit counselors remains under $1000.00 a
day.
In practice, the planned meetings
between counselors and target members take three forms, with variations within
each configuration. First, straightforward (“overt”) meetings occur when a
targeted group member agrees to talk openly with an exit counselor or former
member (see Hassan 1988: 118). Second, covert interventions employ strategies
that include role-playing (Hassan 1988: 123-128). For example, an exit counselor
might “casually” meet the group member at a social function, strike up a
relationship, and guide the person to a discussion about the group, with or
without a family member present. Third, some meetings come as a surprise to the
target person. After extensive family preparation, one or more exit counselors
arrive shortly after the family has announced the meeting to the previously
unsuspecting member. Whether a group member becomes involved in the
exit-counseling process through overt, covert, or surprise methods, he or she
has ultimate control over the proceedings and can terminate discussions
immediately or at any time later. The net effect of client control is that the
group member feels empowered over an aspect of life, which is a feeling that
exit counselors hope to expand in the individual as the exit counseling
continues.
The exit counselors who make
these interventions usually operate within one of four ideational
frameworks:
1.
Some counselors are secularists whose interventions involve
little if any emphasis on people’s beliefs (unless those beliefs are obviously
harmful). Many counselors who currently operate (or previously operated) within
this framework (for example, Giambalvo 1995; Streiker 1984; Tobias and Lalich
1994) approach their clients with an educational model. They assume that
accurate information will distance people from controversial ideological
organizations. Tobias and Lalich (1994: 59) describe exit counseling
interventions as “planned meetings of the member, family, friends, and a team of
professionals who use an educational model to enable the member to reach an
informed decision about his or her allegiance to the group.”
Other counselors vary
within this framework by emphasizing a therapeutic approach that makes use of
educational material in the context of attempts to develop rapport with the
client. Among the most comprehensive variations along these lines is the
Strategic Interaction Approach developed by Steven
Hassan. This method places less emphasis on education
dissemination to a family about a client’s alleged cult and greater emphasis “on
the growth of the entire family and support network, as well as on the cult
member.” Hassan states that this approach helps “to identify factors that make
people more vulnerable to mind control, such as learning disorders, unresolved
sexual issues, or pre-existing phobias” (Hassan 2000: 71). In sessions with
target “cult” members, Hassan hopes to establish rapport with his “clients” in
order to facilitate discussions about their self-identities, their fears, and
their doubts about their groups (see Hassan 1988: 148-167).
Because of the allegedly
deceptive recruiting methods of controversial religions, the educationally
oriented counselors assume that “many prospective group members have no accurate
knowledge of the cult and almost no understanding of what will be expected of
them as long-term members” (Tobias and Lalich 1994: 28). The secular framework
in which these types of counselors conduct themselves might involve correcting
facts regarding religious writings and histories, but it does not value any
religious ideology as a proper ideational framework for exit counseling.
2.
A second framework is a conservative religious one. Many
standard exit-counseling strategies—family preparation, introduction of critical
literature to the family, and follow-up counseling after the intervention—also
apply to this framework, but its emphasis is on bringing people back into
previous faiths. Christian exit counselors, for example, may attempt to
“correct” alleged misperceptions about Biblical teaching, or they may witness to
the alleged truth of the Gospel. At the same time, they also might use many of
the same “mind control” arguments that are popular within exit-counseling
circles. Counselors who work for the Watchman Fellowship in
Alabama, the Spiritual
Counterfeits Project, Christian Research Institute (both based in
California), or
Western Australia’s Concerned
Christian Growth Ministries are examples of this religious persuasion toward
exit counseling. Sometimes, secular counselors (such as Steven
Hassan) are willing to integrate religious dimensions into
their exit-counseling efforts if the situation warrants (Hassan 2000:
144-147).
Even though some instances
of Christian-based exit counseling have occurred, many Evangelicals and
Pentecostals have deep-seated concerns about all forms of exit
counseling—concerns that date back to the early 1970s when some of Ted Patrick’s
cases involved youth who had made commitments to high-demand Christian sects
(see Newsweek 1973). By the early
1980s, deprogrammers had targeted members of such groups as the Assembly of God,
Maranatha Campus Ministries, and Jews for Jesus. (Members of the latter group
sometimes were deprogramming targets of the militant Jewish Defense League
[Frame 1983; see Alnor and Enroth 1992: 18-19]).
Concerns continued among
conservative Christians even after the rise of exit counseling, and a
controversial 1992 article in an Evangelical publication presented these
concerns dramatically. Two prominent Evangelicals and critics of abusive
“cults,” William M. Alnor and sociology professor Ronald
Enroth, wrote about what they saw as “ethical problems in exit
counseling”:
The result of our inquiry is
that out of approximately 15 major exit counselors operating in America, only a
few appear to conduct themselves in a manner that communicates a sense of
integrity and ethical concern. The field of exit counseling is full of men and
women operating like loose cannons in a shadowy world of secrecy that contains
little or no controls on their activities and offers little or no enforcement of
ethical standards. Further, the amount of money major exit counselors charge is
often excessive and unjustifiable, especially since in many instances their
clients were vulnerable parents--driven by panic over the conviction that their
children are involved in a cult. Fees in excess of $20,000 per case are not
unusual (Alnor and Enroth, 1992: 15).
Later, Alnor and Enroth
added more items to their list of concerns about exit counseling and the people
who conduct them. This expanded list included a religious critique of
non-Evangelical worldviews. These added items were “a lack of appropriate
educational credentials, deficient accountability structures, inadequate
follow-up, and the fact that certain evangelical exit counselors believe it
‘unethical’ to guide cult members into a fuller understanding of correct
biblical doctrine” Alnor and Enroth 1992: 19). (Not surprisingly, this article
initiated heated exchanges among persons who disagreed with their conclusions,
factual presentations, and methodology.)[21]
In sum, exit counseling raises a series of concerns among many Evangelical
Christians, and these concerns contain their belief that they have an ethical,
moral, and religious obligation to gain converts for their faith.
3.
The third framework within which some of the exit
counseling community operates is purely skeptical. Sharing similarities with the
secular framework, it distinguishes itself by its singular emphasis on rational
thinking. It discounts all irrational beliefs and utilizes a humanistic,
agnostic view that depends heavily upon the scientific method for testing
reality. Exit counselors utilizing this approach rely extensively upon people
who are associated with the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims
of the Paranormal (CSICOP) and its publication outlets-- Prometheus Books and
the journal, Skeptical Inquirer.
4.
A fourth persuasion, which we call liberal-spiritual or
transpersonal, involves what sceptics call fringe therapies (Ellis, 1989) and
what religious conservatives call New Age and occult (Brook, 1989; Martin,
1989). The Spiritual Emergency Network (SEN), based at the
Institute of
Transpersonal Psychology in
Menlo Park,
California, most represents this view.
Founded in 1980 by Christina Grof at Big Sur’s Esalen
Institute, the SEN ten years later had a mailing list of 10,000 people and
handled more than 150 calls monthly. At that time, SEN boasted more than 1,000
“helpers” who included doctors, psychotherapists, and “spiritual practitioners”
(Thompson 1990: 57). Members of this group tend to look within the person for
the cause and cure involving why he or she “joined” a supposedly destructive
group, and these helpers are wary of authoritarianism and “fanaticism” (Grof and
Grof 1989; Lash 1990). Although these helpers might not call themselves
deprogrammers or exit counselors, they nevertheless represent another approach
to helping people understand and assimilate the experiences they have had in
abusive religions.
When
meeting with a “client,” an exit counselor (or the exit counseling team)
typically has a plan but is flexible, depending upon the member’s reactions and
openness as he or she is presented with information (Singer and Lalich 1995:
287). The exit counselor usually approaches the member and presents his or her
involvement with the organization as a family problem, which it usually is. “The
exit counselor asks the cultist to participate in a review of information that
may help him and his family better understand and cope with their problems” (D.
Clark et al. 1993: 156). In a typical
scenario, “[a]t first the person may be defensive and resistant, then he or she
will become a more active participant in the process--asking and answering
questions, expressing suppressed doubts and providing more examples of what is
being discussed” (Singer and Lalich 1995: 289). Because the individual in the
counseling setting is out of the ideologically controlling milieu, he or she can
feel free to discuss his or her concerns about the group in an atmosphere of
acceptance. These concerns might involve deceptive fundraising, recruiting, and
other nagging questions that members cannot discuss in the environment of a
totalistic organization. Likewise, the client’s experiential base and level of
knowledge will depend upon his or her relationship with the controversial group
(e.g., as a staff member, manager, workshop attendee, non-staff believer,
etc.).
Regardless of the framework
within which exit counselors operate or the flexibility with which they proceed,
many of them also believe that these organizations prey on vulnerable people.
Tobias and Lalich (1994: 28), for example, have identified several personality
characteristics that might predispose individuals to involvement with new
religious movements. These characteristics include: dependency (which involves a
desire to belong and a lack of confidence), unassertiveness, gullibility, low
tolerance for ambiguity, cultural disillusionment, naive idealism, a desire for
spiritual meaning, susceptibility to trance-like states, and ignorance of how
groups can manipulate individuals. (Omitted from this list are more complex,
sociological analyses of conversion, which suggests that the emergent
exit-counseling movement, like its deprogramming predecessor, relies most
heavily on psychological and social psychological explanations for its
interpretations of how and why people become involved in problematic religions.)
Because a controversial,
high-demand, ideological organization provides the support and structure that an
individual might have been lacking in his or her life, leaving the group and
abandoning one’s social network (in the context of a highly structured
lifestyle) can be extremely difficult. Understanding these difficulties, exit
counselors provide members with support and information that can assist them in
breaking away from the group (Singer and Lalich 1995: 280). Exit counselors
believe that the educational process enables defecting members to develop an
understanding of the true nature of their group involvement. “Armed with
information and resources, and often backed up by an educated and supportive
family environment, former cult members are more prepared to face the recovery
process” (Tobias and Lalich 1994: 61).
To effectively present
information to the member, counselors believe that they must be experts on what
they frequently call thought reform
techniques or programs. They also must have in-depth knowledge about the
particular organization that the person is in. Consequently, they build
extensive libraries of books, videos, internal documents, and media accounts of
various controversial groups, and they use these sources throughout the
counseling interventions (see Disend 1991: 32). Educational presentations of
some of this material to families preparing for an intervention likely takes two
or more days, with the actual time spent with the person in the group taking up
to three or four days (and occasionally longer if situations and schedules
warrant).
Because exit counselors must
“know the cult’s language and idiom and its history and content and have
extensive documented data about the leader” (Singer and Lalich, 1995: 287), a
former member with in-depth background information often is on the counseling
team. A former member might prove to be very helpful when the client invariably
raises questions about the group leader or manager’s authenticity or divinity.
The presence of a healthy, thriving, former member also shows the subject that
he or she will not inevitably come to harm because of leaving the group.
Although some exit counselors will take cases that involve a wide range of
groups, others specialize in only one or a few controversial ideological
organizations. (Inevitably, rivalry occasionally occurs among some exit
counselors as they attempt to carve out specializations and public-expertise
profiles within a market whose potential customers increasingly acquire “cult”
information from the Internet.)
No pressure or coercive
manipulation exists in the intervention, and the team respects the final
decision of the member. If he or she decides to leave, then the exit counselor
provides information to the exiting member about how to cope with reintegration
to the world outside of the organization (D. Clark et al. 1993: 156). This reintegration
may include a one- to three-week stay in a rehabilitation center where
ex-members receive further education through contact with professionals and
“cult” experts (Singer and Lalich 1995: 290).
According to Clark et al. (1993:
161), “the most important question to discuss and answer is how the cultist has
changed since joining the group, for concern about the destructive changes is
the family’s ethical justification for considering an exit counseling.” If no
proof comes forward that the group is harmful to the individual, then the exit
counseling does not proceed. Getting clients to consider their groups’ roles in
producing any destructive or harmful changes is an important tactic that exit
counselors use, and this tactic might counterbalance demonized and outmoded
images of “deprogramming” that the controversial groups themselves still teach
to members. Nonetheless, supporters of exit counseling insist that the key to a
successful intervention is the support and understanding of the family members
and the team toward the client. A debate exists about whether or not exit
counselors should aim for immediate behavioral changes, but all counselors seem
to agree that initially providing and discussing information, and then following
up with a reassessment is important if they are to succeed in helping a client
undergo such changes. Conducting the intervention in a respectful and
non-argumentative setting also is important, in order to avoid making the
individual feel persecuted or defensive (as coercive deprogrammings tend to do
[Singer and Lalich 1995: 289]).
Non-coercive exit-counseling
interventions have received little media attention compared to the dramatic
“kidnap/deprogram” approach feature films and articles portray (Szimhart 2001).
One book published by an Australian couple (Larsen and Larsen 1997), however, is
a rare, perhaps unique, testament about the non-coercive intervention; his wife,
who underwent the process; and family members, who assisted approach. Titled
Cult Encounter, it contains extensive commentary by the husband, who
coordinated the husband and the exit counselors in their efforts. Rick Larsen
hired Szimhart and his colleague, Patrick Ryan,
in 1993 to exit-counsel his wife of more than 20 years regarding her devotion to
a small, American group called “Extra-Terrestrial Earth Mission” (ETEM). The
group’s leaders had influenced Helen to change her name to “Xanthe,” leave her
family, and move more than 2,000 miles from home. The intervention succeeded,
but the text shows how complex and unpredictable an exit counseling can be. No
other source provides readers with firsthand descriptions of all aspects of an
exit-counseling intervention, from its planning stages to post-“cult” recovery
issues.
Conclusion
The exclusion of violence and
coercion from the exit-counseling process has removed major ethical and legal
barriers that might have hindered the academic study of deprogramming. Although
some academics still might protest that exit counselors define their activities
in psychological, rather than in social psychological or sociological, terms,
the fact remains that these counselors play important roles in the contemporary
battle between controversial religions and the so-called countercult movement.
Researchers have only the vaguest ideas about what combination of predisposing
individual conditions (such as existing discontent) and situational
contingencies (such as interventions during times of status or job uncertainty
within the group) combine to make an intervention successful or not. The
individual’s length of time in a group (see Bromley 1988: 200-202), relationship
with leadership, group roles, and the type of group socialization probably
contribute to an intervention’s success and failure, but scholars simply do not
know with certainty. Research difficulties include the fact that exit counselors
guard certain aspects of their activities, fearing that target groups will learn
of them and prepare their members accordingly. Nevertheless, as more exit
counselors obtain professional training, the likelihood grows that some of them
will be willing to subject their techniques to social scientific study.
Also worth researching is the way
in which controversial groups respond to these new, non-coercive tactics. Thus
far they still appear to instill fear among their members about the alleged
violence that “deprogrammers” necessarily will perpetrate against them. In
reality, several of the more prominent exit counselors implemented a “code of
ethics” that calls for their associates to refuse to work with any counselor who
engages in unlawful restraint during an intervention (see Giambalvo et al. 1996: 102-103).[22]
The code also attempts to professionalize the exit counseling process by
clarifying “client/consultant” relationships, “consultant/consultant”
relationships, and “consultant” relationships with media and the public
(Giambalvo et al. 1996). At the core
of (what this code calls) an ethical exit “consultation” is “the presentation of
information concerning the principles and practical applications of thought
reform. This presentation is done in a manner that is legal . . .” and conforms
to the ethical standards that these counselors publish (Giambalvo et al. 1996: 99). As this code or
similar ones become normative among active exit counselors, researchers will
want to identify the manner in which groups respond to what will be an entirely
legal threat to their membership.
Most importantly, exit counselors
will want to locate the techniques they use and the results they obtain within a
context of other therapeutic and social environments. Only systematic studies,
for example, will reveal whether exiting an abusive ideological organization
shares similarities with leaving abusive family settings (Cartwright and Kent
1992; see Carbo and Gartner 1994). Similarly, parallels may exist between
addictions counseling and exit counseling, and understanding such parallels
likely would contribute to the literature about both dependency and empowerment.
In sum, exit counselors will enrich the broader understanding of social life by
positioning their activities and techniques within existing and emerging bodies
of academic and therapeutic literature.
Having called for systematic
studies of exit counseling processes, we nevertheless must say that the number
of people (at least in North America) who remain
full-time in the occupation of exit counseling probably remains at no more than
a half-dozen. This small number, however, does not reflect the hundreds of
persons throughout North America who now have sufficient
knowledge about one or more high-demand groups that they perform occasional,
usually less intense interventions than do the full-time professionals. These
less intense interventions can be quite effective when members are feeling
doubts about their continued ideological involvements and who therefore are
receptive to new information. They can be as simple as mere telephone
conversations or several in-person conversations. Many of the persons involved
in these less intense interventions are secular in their approaches, but
religious interventions occur as well.
Various factors might explain the
low numbers of full-time exit counselors, not the least of which is the
availability of previously obscure information now on the Internet. No longer do
loved ones have to rely primarily on “cult specialists” to provide facts and
opinions about particular groups. Indeed, it is entirely likely that more of
these loved ones are taking this information and attempting to do exit
counseling on their own, although some of the exit counselors speak about how
family and friends usually lack both the emotional distance and the deep
knowledge and resource base needed to conduct most sessions successfully. In one
form or another, therefore, society continues to need people who are at least
versed in the social psychological rigors of assisting others in leaving
high-demand groups—whether or not these people have developed their expertise
through professional training.
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This paper is based on a
presentation delivered at the Association for the Sociology of Religion
(New York City), August 1996.
Appreciation goes to the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of
Canada (SSHRC) for providing research funds that assisted Stephen A. Kent in
accumulating information used in this article. Special thanks go to David (Dave)
Clark, Priscilla Coates, Carol Giambalvo,
Corinne Hines, Erin Kruger, Chris Nordin, and Kyla Rae for their help with
various aspects of this study.