Journal Day 5 of my 71st Year
Who Is the Truest Among Us? I am watching a BritBox show today. It is a fictional story about anti-terrorism politics in England and how one family is caught up in public propaganda and government efforts that center on perceived threats. In episode 5, “the preacher” who is head of a dangerous extremist cell that operates in both London and Pakistan (the show is probably ten years old) asks one of the frightened, reluctant recruits, “Are you a true Muslim”? The question takes me back fifty years.
I know something about cult recruitment. When I went to Baptist Bible College in the 1970s, a very young woman anxious for adventure and passionate about Jesus, I went to a church led by a youthful and intelligent, energetic man. His oratorical and personal styles were captivating. Although I’d already committed my life to the ministry – even my childhood was wrapped in Baptist faith and dogma – I’d never questioned the teachings. I’d never questioned the practices or sincerity of the preachers. This young man, Fred Drummond, opened my mind to skepticism. Not of the usual ‘enemies of faith’ such as humanists and elitists and progressives. But of the people and ideas most familiar to me. Over several months’ time, I began to question other preachers, the ones I’d trusted, their motives and their authenticity. Who was a true believer; who was following Jesus’ teachings best?
Whether extreme Islam or extreme Christianity or extreme right-wing Republican politics under people like D J Trump, cult leaders recruit their followers by asking the question, “Who is true; what is real”? After they’ve established the uncertainty and created resentment, they answer the question for you. “I am the true leader; I am the real one. All others are false. I can fix the problems. If you follow me, I’ll lead you to toward greatness.”
In the British show that I’m viewing, the young man is already a faithful Muslim. His London family is strong and good. But his Pakistani background becomes an important question when he leaves home for college. With his father gone for long periods, doing charitable medical work in Pakistan, the young man becomes vulnerable to the recruitment of an extremist group who offer him a new ‘family’. Instead of having conversations with his father, his aunts and uncles, the young man begins to isolate from them, devours extremist propaganda, and becomes a True Believer. Instead of focusing on his family and their support they offer, the young man turns to the ‘new family’ for guidance, bending to their wishes, renouncing all others. He becomes the resentful, grievance-filled, unreasonable, cult-centered follower they groomed him to be.
I left all that behind me four decades ago. In the end, it was a traumatic experience that shaped much of my adult life. For example, I can no longer keep lasting female relationships because the dear friends I made in that religious cult turned against me in one very public Sunday morning service. I wanted to leave; they decided it meant that I was a traitor. But I’ll speak out every chance I get. The only false leader is one who says, “I am the true one. All others are false.”
Even at seventy years of age, I have no use for any religion. I have no use for political movements or charismatic supermen. I know a cult when I see one. I know how cults recruit and use people. If you’re not sure about a preacher or politician, then trust your gut. He or she might be as false as the hairdo or grandiosity or sincerity or intelligence they hope to gain power and profit from.