Cultic Studies Review, Vol. 4, No. 1, 2005, Page 72
state of confusion. Perhaps this induced confusion is the ―undigested lump‖ Hollenbach was
still grappling with when she set out to write this memoir.
It is now well demonstrated that creating a narrative of one‘s cultic (or other traumatic)
experience has clear benefits in resolving symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.
Although certain scholars of new religious movements dismiss this type of account as an
―atrocity tale,‖ it can undoubtedly be more usefully looked at as part of a personally helpful
―digestion‖ process. It is in this process that one can step through and understand the fear,
confusion, and dissociation induced in the cult, thus helping the former member to integrate
and gain mastery over his or her experience. In this sense, these personal narratives can
have a two-fold function: first, to provide data for future scholars, and second, to help the
writer resolve a difficult and usually frightening experience.
Hollenbach tells us that ―it was physically easy but emotionally excruciating to leave.‖
Luckily for her, her father stays in touch with her during this sojourn, and with the help of
the monthly checks he sends, she is able to leave when she gets pushed beyond her limits,
despite having given up all her possessions to the group. When she leaves the group after
her short tenure, Lord Byron curses her in a kind of frightening, cult-leader cliché,
prophesying that ―You will end by killing yourself‖ and announcing ―I am the Messiah!‖
These are quotes he must have taken straight from Cult Leadership for Dummies, a
bestseller which, though yet to be written, is apparently already widely read.
Hollenbach‘s final analysis, however, is cloudy. She states that The Family was ―founded
and organized with good intentions.‖ Given Lord Byron‘s criminal background and
manipulative behavior, one wonders what evidence she has for this statement. Certainly the
members seem to wish to do good, and to this end they staff various enterprises such as a
free clinic, childcare center, and general store. But one wishes Hollenbach would
differentiate further the motivations of followers from those of Lord Byron who, ultimately,
makes all the decisions, controls all the money (at one point squandering so much that
followers are forced to scavenge wild asparagus to supplement a rice-and-beans diet), and
controls all of his followers‘ relationships.
In the Afterword, Hollenbach writes, ―The fact that I experienced the group as coercive had
as much to do with me as with others.‖ She continues, ―A person always has choices about
how to deal with coercive situations,‖ yet she immediately follows this statement by
retelling how her father ―persisted in writing me his newsy letters with checks enclosed.‖
The fact she had help from her father is in stark contrast to others in the group who had no
external resources and therefore far more limited options. One wonders what happened to
these members who perhaps didn‘t have as much ―choice‖ as she unfortunately,
Hollenbach isn‘t able to shed light on this. While I greatly appreciate her telling of this
story—and from my own experience I have some understanding of the effort required to
remember, relive, and, finally, write such a narrative—this cloudiness of analysis could play
into the hands of relativist scholars who see only benign alternative lifestyles where
manipulative control and dominance by charismatic authoritarian leaders is actually at work.
Lost and Found is a good read and a useful addition to the personal-narrative cult literature.
What it lacks in clear analysis is compensated by the lively and honest telling of an
experience that is both reflective of the unique period of the early ‗70s and demonstrates
the classic dynamics of coercive persuasion within a cultic environment.
Alexandra Stein
state of confusion. Perhaps this induced confusion is the ―undigested lump‖ Hollenbach was
still grappling with when she set out to write this memoir.
It is now well demonstrated that creating a narrative of one‘s cultic (or other traumatic)
experience has clear benefits in resolving symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.
Although certain scholars of new religious movements dismiss this type of account as an
―atrocity tale,‖ it can undoubtedly be more usefully looked at as part of a personally helpful
―digestion‖ process. It is in this process that one can step through and understand the fear,
confusion, and dissociation induced in the cult, thus helping the former member to integrate
and gain mastery over his or her experience. In this sense, these personal narratives can
have a two-fold function: first, to provide data for future scholars, and second, to help the
writer resolve a difficult and usually frightening experience.
Hollenbach tells us that ―it was physically easy but emotionally excruciating to leave.‖
Luckily for her, her father stays in touch with her during this sojourn, and with the help of
the monthly checks he sends, she is able to leave when she gets pushed beyond her limits,
despite having given up all her possessions to the group. When she leaves the group after
her short tenure, Lord Byron curses her in a kind of frightening, cult-leader cliché,
prophesying that ―You will end by killing yourself‖ and announcing ―I am the Messiah!‖
These are quotes he must have taken straight from Cult Leadership for Dummies, a
bestseller which, though yet to be written, is apparently already widely read.
Hollenbach‘s final analysis, however, is cloudy. She states that The Family was ―founded
and organized with good intentions.‖ Given Lord Byron‘s criminal background and
manipulative behavior, one wonders what evidence she has for this statement. Certainly the
members seem to wish to do good, and to this end they staff various enterprises such as a
free clinic, childcare center, and general store. But one wishes Hollenbach would
differentiate further the motivations of followers from those of Lord Byron who, ultimately,
makes all the decisions, controls all the money (at one point squandering so much that
followers are forced to scavenge wild asparagus to supplement a rice-and-beans diet), and
controls all of his followers‘ relationships.
In the Afterword, Hollenbach writes, ―The fact that I experienced the group as coercive had
as much to do with me as with others.‖ She continues, ―A person always has choices about
how to deal with coercive situations,‖ yet she immediately follows this statement by
retelling how her father ―persisted in writing me his newsy letters with checks enclosed.‖
The fact she had help from her father is in stark contrast to others in the group who had no
external resources and therefore far more limited options. One wonders what happened to
these members who perhaps didn‘t have as much ―choice‖ as she unfortunately,
Hollenbach isn‘t able to shed light on this. While I greatly appreciate her telling of this
story—and from my own experience I have some understanding of the effort required to
remember, relive, and, finally, write such a narrative—this cloudiness of analysis could play
into the hands of relativist scholars who see only benign alternative lifestyles where
manipulative control and dominance by charismatic authoritarian leaders is actually at work.
Lost and Found is a good read and a useful addition to the personal-narrative cult literature.
What it lacks in clear analysis is compensated by the lively and honest telling of an
experience that is both reflective of the unique period of the early ‗70s and demonstrates
the classic dynamics of coercive persuasion within a cultic environment.
Alexandra Stein
