Longing to belong
All Keith Raniere wanted was to brand the attractive women in his cult in exchange for filling them with self-fulfillment. Is that so wrong?
My wife and I have been enamoured with a mini-series of late that has been airing on HBO the past few Sunday nights. It deals with a local boy gone very wrong by the name of Keith Raniere and his NXIVM cult that was headquartered right here in beautiful Clifton Park, New York. Raniere’s organization which promised self-fulfillment, and the power to conquer one’s fears, turned out to be little more than an operation designed to get Raniere laid. For its many wronged members, NXIVM turned out to very much be an example of “cult-o-saurus wrecks!” The documentary called, The Vow, is filled with video of the actual cult in action as well as fascinating interviews with those who escaped NXIVM before they could be ensnared in any criminal activity or suffer any permanent damage. (For several of the female members of the group, there was also a heavy dose of permanent scarring since, well, I’ll discuss that a little later on) Based on the accounts of these individuals, the need to belong is a very powerful lure, unfortunately this works to the detriment of many who are easily duped.
The story of Keith Raniere and his NXIVM cult is told through the eyes of three disgruntled former members. These three former devotees of Keith Raniere describe how what they believed was a life-changing organization set up to allow individuals (like you) to be their best versions of themselves (Like the United States’ Army , but without the guns and honor), turned out to be little more than a sexual recruiting tool for Raniere. NXIVM gave people the chance to finally for the first time in their lives find out who they really were through endless hours of exercise, calorie counting, and training/education seminars. These seminars were all designed by Raniere with help from his associate and NXIVM co-founder, Nancy Saltzman. Many of the “sermons” and self-help advice videos were delivered by Saltzman who handed out sashes with stripes which represented promotions and status within the organization. NXIVM, like its weird brother from another mother, Scientology, also attracted a handful of Hollywood actresses including Allison Mack, the star of Smallville, Nicki Clyne, one of the stars of the show Battlestar Galactica, and Grace Park, who also starred in Battlestar Galactica as well as Beauty and the Beast. (Is it on me that I don’t know who any of these people are? Where are all of the Jeff Conaways, Tony Danzas, or Rip Taylors?)
That spry little minx in the middle there is none other than actress Alison Mack. Apparently she is going from “Smallville” to Sing-Sing. (Getty Images)
The three individuals who “escaped” from Ranier’s clutches provide the viewing audience with their entire journey through NXIVM. One of them is an actress by the name of Sarah Edmondson, a Canadian who has starred in a few sci-fi cult programs as well as providing voice work on the cartoon My Little Pony. (From what I understand she played the part of Tanya, the little pony who went around filling all the other ponies’ troughs with a special kool-aid that would make all of their problems go away. Again, I have to check my sources on this.) Another former NXIVM member who took an early exit from the cult was also an actress as well as a singer. Her name is Bonnie Piesse, an Australian who came to “fame” as Aunt Beru in Star Wars: Attack of the Clones (Generally considered the “Police Academy Six” of “Star Wars” movies), and a movie director by the name of Mark Vicente, a South African who directed a successful documentary called What the Bleep do We Know!? a film that claims that there is a spiritual connection between quantum physics and consciousness. All three felt the allure and charisma of the odd little man with the long hair and the round glasses, named Keith Raniere. All would come to regret this decision.
The stories of each of the three former NXIVM members were similar in that they were all moderately successful in their chosen careers, but were also all suffering from a feeling of general dissatisfaction. They all claimed to be lacking knowledge in the one thing that would have granted them true inner peace, knowledge of themselves. They were lost at a stage in their lives where I suppose they believed they should have already been found. In NXIVM they believed that they had discovered their purpose, that they now understood that the only obstacles that were truly in their way were the ones that they themselves had placed in their own path, and that they could find the answers that they were looking for. If any of this sounds familiar to you, there’s a good reason. It’s the same nonsense that every cult leader spews at his gullible and highly susceptible audience, enticing them to free themselves of the the lines that tethered them to their past, and lose themselves in the organization that they would appear to be swearing an allegiance to, minus the shackles of their former friends and family. Basically, it’s “Cult 101.”
Mark Vicente and Bonnie Piesse were talented and successful people in the entertainment industry but it simply wasn’t enough. It was Bonnie who first began to figure out that the way she was being treated by NXIVM was damaging and controlling and she was the first to break away, despite the fact that she was already married to Vicente. (Getty Images)
According to the documentary, days spent under the watchful eye of NXIVM, for women anyway, meant lots of exercise, calorie counting, education, seminars, training (Brainwashing) and for some reason late-night volleyball. Keith Raniere, the small bespeckled self-proclaimed genius who founded NXIVM wanted the women thin, and his followers to be devotees of volleyball, but for some reason, only late at night. They would often play their games at at a local Capital Region “sportsplex,” working on their spikes and set-ups. Cultish behavior if there ever was. Bonnie Piesse was the first of the three featured people in the documentary to figure out that membership in NXIVM was neither pleasant nor beneficial and fearing that she could become physically ill and lose her freedom for good, she left the cult. Interestingly, at one point she proclaimed that she was now on her own, “Stuck in Clifton Park.” As a resident for over 27 years of Clifton Park all I can say is, have you tried the chicken wings at either Rusty Nail or Ravenswood, they’re really spectacular. Trust me, they will help you find the answers.
The story of The Vow is telling in several ways. More than a few of its high profile members were from the Hollywood community. These people weren’t necessarily Hollywood “royalty,” but they had at least made in-roads in the extremely competitive and difficult world of acting. With all due respect to “Aunt Beru,” the highest profile member of NXIVM was actress Allison Mack, one of the stars of the series Smallville. Mack was convicted of racketeering, while Raniere was convicted of sex trafficking, including with children among other charges. Mack apparently helped procure “sex slaves” for Raniere. This begs the question, why would somebody who had made it in perhaps the most difficult industry there is, decide to throw it away to become part of an organization that was blowing self-help hot air up the skirts of so many of its members? Even Bonnie Piesse made a point in one of the episodes of The Vow that these weren’t “broken” individuals, these were people who were young, thin, beautiful and successful. An interesting observation certainly. It would seem on the surface anyway that the type of people who were attracted to Raniere were going against the stereotype of those who are attracted to cults such as NXIVM. Maybe, but if you think about it for a minute, is there anybody more insecure than actors and actresses? They are actually perfect fodder for a man like Raniere.
Imagine if Jesus was really good at math, and enjoyed midnight volleyball with the apostles. Now you see Keith Raniere the way his followers did. (New York Times)
Broken doesn’t even describe how many of these people felt when it became obvious that Raniere was nothing more than a trafficker in sex, and an abuser of women as opposed to an advocate for them. However, the ultimate act of damage performed by Raniere and Mack was the branding of the women who belonged to a little secret subsection of NXIVM known as DOS. DOS was a group of women who were supposedly empowering each other, however, it was simply another method for Raniere to gain submission, loyalty, and sexual conquest over the women who participated. The ultimate act of loyalty actually was not necessarily sleeping with Raniere, but instead it was the brand that the women received just above their most private of parts. The brand actually had Raniere’s initials, meaning that these women would be branded with Raniere’s initials as if they were his cattle.
It was amazing how these people could fall for such a con-man. It’s fascinating to me how a man who’s eclectic looking to put it politely, could hold such sway over so many. If you listen to the endless tapes of Raniere being interviewed, or talking to his followers, or speaking at one of their endless seminars and meetings, it’s like reading your horoscope. There’s never anything specific or personal, it’s just meaningless platitudes that all go back to overcoming your fears. Fear and weakness, they keep you from being the real you. (What if being scared and weak is the real you?)
Con-men like Raniere convince their followers of what they already wish to believe. I could do better, be better, and discover who I really am if I simply could overcome my fears. It’s an excellent tool for a cult leader like Raniere who everytime he demanded something more unreasonable from his members could simply tell them that they were being controlled by their fears, and that the only way to be happy was to let go. We all want to belong and we all want to be happy. We all want to think we are self-aware, and in control of our fears and insecurities. That’s why we all must be on guard. The minute you allow a little man with an affinity for late-night volleyball to take over your life, it might be too late. You know what they say. If they’re willing to spike the volleyball, imagine what they’re willing to do to the kool-aid?