The cult of tech. Some technology companies have found manipulative ways to inspire irrational levels of devotion. Should we be worried?
The cult of tech.
Some technology companies have found manipulative ways to inspire irrational levels of devotion. Should we be worried?
The cult of tech
Some technology companies have found manipulative ways to inspire irrational levels of devotion. Should COURTESY OF MICHAEL SAYLOR, GETTY IMAGES
“THE CULT OF THE FOUNDER.” “THE CULT OF THE TECH GENIUS.”
“Beware: Silicon Valley’s cultists want to turn you into a disruptive deviant.” “Tech’s cult of the founder bounces back.” “Silicon Valley’s Strange, Apocalyptic Cults.” “How the cult of personality and tech-bro culture is killing technology.” “Company or cult?” “Is your corporate culture cultish?” “The Cult of Company Culture Is Back. But Do Tech Workers Even Want Perks Anymore?” “10 tech gadgets with a cult following on Amazon—and why they’re worth it.” “13 steps to developing a cult-like company culture.”
The headlines seem to write themselves (if that cliché is allowed anymore in the age of ChatGPT and generative AI). Tech is culty. But that is a metaphor, right? Right?!
When I first saw Michael Saylor’s Twitter account, I wasn’t sure. Saylor is an entrepreneur, tech executive, and former billionaire. Once reportedly the richest man in the Washington, DC, area, he lost most of his $7 billion net worth in 2000 when, in his mid-30s, he reached a settlement with the US Securities and Exchange Commission after it brought charges against him and two of his colleagues at a company called MicroStrategy for inaccurate reporting of their financial results. But I had no idea who he was back then.
In 2021 Saylor started showing up in my Twitter feed. His profile picture showed a man with chiseled features, silver hair, and stubble sitting in a power pose and looking directly into the camera, a black dress shirt unbuttoned to display a generous amount of his neck. It was a typical tech entrepreneur’s publicity shot except for the lightning bolts blasting from his eyes, and the golden halo crown. Then there were his tweets:
#Bitcoin is Truth.
#Bitcoin is For All Mankind.
#Bitcoin is Different.
Trust the Timechain.
Fiat [government-backed currency] is immoral. #Bitcoin is immortal.
#Bitcoin is a shining city in cyberspace, waiting for you.
#Bitcoin is the heartbeat of Planet Earth.
As MIT’s humanist chaplain, I follow a lot of ministers, rabbis, imams, and monks online. Very few religious leaders would dare to be this religious on social media. They know that few of their readers want to see such hubris. Why, then, does there seem to be an audience for this seemingly cultish behavior from a cryptocurrency salesman? Are tech leaders like Saylor leading actual cults?
According to Bretton Putter, an expert on startups and CEO of the consulting firm CultureGene, this needn’t be a major concern: “It’s pretty much impossible,” Putter writes, “for a business to become a full-blown cult.” And if a tech company or other business happens to resemble a cult, that might just be a good thing, he argues: “If you succeed in building a cultlike culture similar to the way that Apple, Tesla, Zappos, Southwest Airlines, Nordstrom, and Harley-Davidson have, you will experience loyalty, dedication, and commitment from your employees (and customers) that is way beyond the norm.”
Are the cultlike aspects of tech companies really that benign? Or should we be worried? To find the answer, I interviewed Steve Hassan, a top expert on exit counseling, or helping people escape destructive cults.
At age 19, while he was studying poetry at Queens College in New York City in the early 1970s, Hassan was recruited into the Unification Church—the famously manipulative cult also known as the Moonies. Over his next 27 months as a member of the church, Hassan helped with its fundraising, recruiting, and political efforts, which involved personally meeting with the cult leader Sun Myung Moon multiple times. He lived in communal housing, slept only a few hours a night, and sold carnations on street corners seven days a week for no pay. He was told to drop out of college and turn his bank account over to the church. In 1976, he fell asleep at the wheel while driving a Moonie fundraising van and drove into the back of a tractor-trailer at high speed. He called his sister from the hospital, and his parents hired former members to help “deprogram” him and extract him from the cult.
After the Jonestown mass suicide and murders of 1978 brought attention to the lethal dangers of cult mind control, Hassan founded a nonprofit organization, Ex-Moon Inc. Since then, he’s earned a handful of graduate degrees (including a doctorate in the study of cults), started numerous related projects, and written a popular book on how practices with which he is all too familiar have crept into the mainstream of US politics in recent years. (That 2019 book, The Cult of Trump: A Leading Cult Expert Explains How the President Uses Mind Control, seemed even more relevant in early 2024, when a video called “God Made Trump” went viral across the campaign trail.) Hassan even found himself advising Maryland congressman Jamie Raskin, leader of the second impeachment trial against Donald Trump, in 2021, on how to think and communicate about the cultish aspects of the violent mob of Trump followers who stormed the Capitol on January 6 of that year.
I wanted to ask Hassan what he makes of the discourse around tech cults, but first it’s important to understand how he thinks about cults in the first place. Hassan’s dissertation was titled “The BITE Model of Authoritarian Control: Undue Influence, Thought Reform, Brainwashing, Mind Control, Trafficking, and the Law.” The idea was to create a model that could measure cult exploitation and manipulation, or what Hassan and other experts in related fields call “undue influence.” His BITE model looks to evaluate the ways social groups and institutions attempt to control followers’ behavior, information access, thoughts, and emotions. Because there is no one quintessential, Platonic definition of a cult, what matters is where a given instance of potential cultishness falls on an “influence continuum.” In this continuum model, Hassan evaluates the ways in which institutional cultures attempt to influence people. To what extent are individuals allowed to be their authentic selves or required to adopt a false cult identity? Are leaders accountable to others, or do they claim absolute authority? Do organizations encourage growth in the people who participate in them, or do they seek to preserve their own power over all else? While any kind of person or group can struggle with some of the dimensions on Hassan’s continuum chart (which lists constructive behaviors at one end and destructive behaviors at the other), healthier organizations will tend toward constructive responses more of the time, whereas unhealthier institutions—those more truly worthy of the cult label in the most negative sense—will tend toward destructive responses such as grandiosity, hate, demands for obedience, elitism, authoritarianism, deceptiveness, or hunger for power.
It turns out that there are some real, meaningful similarities between cults and tech, according to Hassan. “This is the perfect mind-control device,” he told me, holding up his iPhone. He explained that when he joined the Moonies in 1974, cult recruiters had to get information from the victim. Now, he said, users of everyday technologies are sitting ducks: “There are 5,000 data points on every voting American in the dark web, and there are companies that will collect and sell that data.”
The first time Hassan was told about cryptocurrency, he added, it smacked of multilevel marketing to him. The proposition that you can make a fortune in a very short amount of time, with almost no labor, was something he had seen many times in his work. As was the idea that if you become an early investor in such a scheme, you’ll make more money if you recruit more people to join you. “The people who started it are always going to make 99% of the money,” Hassan said. And as in the cults that recruited him and continue to recruit the kinds of people who ultimately become his clients, “everyone else is going to get burned.”
All of this would certainly seem to explain why I so frequently hear from people, eager for me to know they are fellow atheists, who tell me to buy some bitcoin because it will rewire my neurons and cure me of the woke mind virus.
Of course, it should be noted that some scholars have complained about Hassan’s work, arguing that brainwashing and mind control are concepts for which there is not sufficient evidence. But I’m not claiming that tech uses literal brainwashing, nor is it like when a character in a Scooby-Doo episode hears “You are getting very sleepy” and then their eyes become squiggles. Hassan probably wouldn’t say so either.
Companies don’t need to go to such extremes to exert undue influence on us, though. And as is clear from the headlines I cited above, a lot of companies have been accused of, or associated with, a bit of cultishness.
I won’t attempt to evaluate anyone’s cultish tendencies on a scale of 1 to 10. But I see crypto sales techniques as a particularly good example of cultlike behavior, because if there’s one thing cults need to be good at to sustain their existence, it’s separating people from their wallets. Cryptocurrency has specialized in that to extraordinary effect.
It’s all a continuum, and it would be hard to find a person whose life is completely devoid of anything cultish, technological or otherwise. But as a culture, we are careening dangerously toward the wrong end of Hassan’s chart. Or to quote a Michael Saylor tweet, “We all stumble in the dark until we see the cyber light. #Bitcoin."
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