Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 2, No. 2, 2003, Page 13
Selfobject experience is vitalizing, and provides a sense of connectedness. Different cults
offer different kinds of selfobject experience. One common denominator is the offer of
unconditional love, especially in spiritual groups. Another is the offer of purpose and
meaning. Both of these experiences are vitalizing and can help dispel the sense of
disconnectedness. For those whose development is marked by chronic deprivation of
selfobject experience, or for those even temporarily deprived, the offer of these kinds of
experiences at the right moment of vulnerability can be irresistible. Whether or not
selfobject provision has been adequate in development, humans are potentially vulnerable,
either because of early deprivation, or later due to unforeseen life circumstances, to the
experience of alienation and isolation. When such vulnerability is present, the glamorous,
charismatic cult leader can come to represent for many a longed-for, impossibly perfect
selfobject parent who banishes powerlessness and loneliness.
Another highly seductive idea advertised in meditation-based cults is that ―it is not
necessary to be logical, rational, or even reasonable. The ultimately dominant criterion of
what is good is a totally subjective feeling state. The goal of life becomes a good feeling, a
never-ending high‖ (Garvey, 1993). This is not as hedonistic as it sounds. The search for
this kind of unending happiness is often fueled, consciously or unconsciously, by a sense on
the part of the recruit of unending failure and defeat, in vocational and/or interpersonal
realms of his life. Many, who in their development, have not experienced adequate
selfobject provision, live with a powerful emotional hunger, like that which Zweig describes,
which the cult leader appears ideally suited to satisfy. Loyal members of a cult believe that
their leader has magically transformed their lives and relieved their longing and suffering.
On that basis, they will staunchly defend their leader even when his or her crimes are
exposed. The ―good feeling‖ of their initial conversion experience might consist of feeling
―redeemed,‖ ―coming home at last,‖ having been ―lost, but now found,‖ or being ―saved.‖
These intensely emotional experiences are attributed directly to the power and will of the
leader. In the SYDA group, members were repeatedly instructed to refer all questions and
doubts to their original conversion experience, and to ―trust their own experience‖—
meaning to ignore, discard and feel ashamed about doubts and questions. In this way,
objectivity—e.g., any negative information about the leader—is devalued. The guru, along
with one‘s own subjective feeling state, is idealized. The bunker mentality response to any
critical information about the group and its leaders then becomes: ―That isn‘t my
experience.‖
There are strong reasons for this need to banish objectivity. If one believes that the guru‘s
power has healed one‘s pain and satisfied one‘s hunger, then for some, keeping the pain
from returning means preserving the guru, at any cost. The pain of life that has been
magically erased by the guru may indeed return if one rejects the guru. It may, and often
does, return, along with many other warded off emotions, and these will need to be
experienced, felt, understood, worked through, and made meaningful, if real
transformation, not magic, is to occur. This is part of the complex process of human self-
development that the cult solution can only pretend to address. For many who successfully
exit cults, the process of transformation and expanded self-awareness they sought when
they joined the cult only really begins once they have left the cult.
The history of SYDA provides a good example of how far devotees will go to defend the
person they perceive as their savior. In the early 80s, the Siddha Yoga community was
shocked to learn that Muktananda, a monk in his late 60s and supposedly a lifelong celibate,
had been secretly having sexual relations with western female devotees for at least ten
years. While many women thought of themselves as willing participants, others felt coerced
and traumatized by the experience. Often his victims were female children in their early
teens. Many who were SYDA devotees at the time heard these allegations and ignored
them, in spite of wide acknowledgment among those closest to Muktananda that they were
Selfobject experience is vitalizing, and provides a sense of connectedness. Different cults
offer different kinds of selfobject experience. One common denominator is the offer of
unconditional love, especially in spiritual groups. Another is the offer of purpose and
meaning. Both of these experiences are vitalizing and can help dispel the sense of
disconnectedness. For those whose development is marked by chronic deprivation of
selfobject experience, or for those even temporarily deprived, the offer of these kinds of
experiences at the right moment of vulnerability can be irresistible. Whether or not
selfobject provision has been adequate in development, humans are potentially vulnerable,
either because of early deprivation, or later due to unforeseen life circumstances, to the
experience of alienation and isolation. When such vulnerability is present, the glamorous,
charismatic cult leader can come to represent for many a longed-for, impossibly perfect
selfobject parent who banishes powerlessness and loneliness.
Another highly seductive idea advertised in meditation-based cults is that ―it is not
necessary to be logical, rational, or even reasonable. The ultimately dominant criterion of
what is good is a totally subjective feeling state. The goal of life becomes a good feeling, a
never-ending high‖ (Garvey, 1993). This is not as hedonistic as it sounds. The search for
this kind of unending happiness is often fueled, consciously or unconsciously, by a sense on
the part of the recruit of unending failure and defeat, in vocational and/or interpersonal
realms of his life. Many, who in their development, have not experienced adequate
selfobject provision, live with a powerful emotional hunger, like that which Zweig describes,
which the cult leader appears ideally suited to satisfy. Loyal members of a cult believe that
their leader has magically transformed their lives and relieved their longing and suffering.
On that basis, they will staunchly defend their leader even when his or her crimes are
exposed. The ―good feeling‖ of their initial conversion experience might consist of feeling
―redeemed,‖ ―coming home at last,‖ having been ―lost, but now found,‖ or being ―saved.‖
These intensely emotional experiences are attributed directly to the power and will of the
leader. In the SYDA group, members were repeatedly instructed to refer all questions and
doubts to their original conversion experience, and to ―trust their own experience‖—
meaning to ignore, discard and feel ashamed about doubts and questions. In this way,
objectivity—e.g., any negative information about the leader—is devalued. The guru, along
with one‘s own subjective feeling state, is idealized. The bunker mentality response to any
critical information about the group and its leaders then becomes: ―That isn‘t my
experience.‖
There are strong reasons for this need to banish objectivity. If one believes that the guru‘s
power has healed one‘s pain and satisfied one‘s hunger, then for some, keeping the pain
from returning means preserving the guru, at any cost. The pain of life that has been
magically erased by the guru may indeed return if one rejects the guru. It may, and often
does, return, along with many other warded off emotions, and these will need to be
experienced, felt, understood, worked through, and made meaningful, if real
transformation, not magic, is to occur. This is part of the complex process of human self-
development that the cult solution can only pretend to address. For many who successfully
exit cults, the process of transformation and expanded self-awareness they sought when
they joined the cult only really begins once they have left the cult.
The history of SYDA provides a good example of how far devotees will go to defend the
person they perceive as their savior. In the early 80s, the Siddha Yoga community was
shocked to learn that Muktananda, a monk in his late 60s and supposedly a lifelong celibate,
had been secretly having sexual relations with western female devotees for at least ten
years. While many women thought of themselves as willing participants, others felt coerced
and traumatized by the experience. Often his victims were female children in their early
teens. Many who were SYDA devotees at the time heard these allegations and ignored
them, in spite of wide acknowledgment among those closest to Muktananda that they were
