Wild, Wild Country #2: Cult or Intentional Community?
2. One man's utopian community is another man's cult. One thing Wild, Wild Country doesn't really grapple with is the question of to what extent Rajneeshpuram -- the name followers gave to their community -- was a cult as opposed to an ideal, intentional community. The talking heads chosen to reflect on events from the Rajneeshee point of view were mostly true believers, not only then, but also now. For visuals, the series relies on extensive footage shot by the Rajneeshees themselves, which most often depicts the joyful exertions of the residents as they raise a vibrant community out of the high Oregon desert. The footage looks exactly like Soviet propaganda newsreels of happy workers blissfully toiling for the collective. Even when part of you is skeptical as you watch, another part of you succumbs to the power of the image. It's chemical the way we involuntarily react to various stimuli. (That's something Trump understands all too well.)
That said, the community they built is truly impressive. They had a bunch of ambitious, highly skilled and educated folks among their ranks, capable of executing complex engineering projects, many of them revealing a prescient commitment to sustainability. I'm sure there was legitimate pride and joy in their achievements. But a quick perusal online shows that there was plenty going on that wasn't necessarily so wholesome or endearing. People being browbeaten or surveilled into conformity. Women stigmatized if they were reluctant about the whole free love thing. Children separated from parents. Everyone encouraged by the Bhagwan to get sterilized, since he saw having children as an impediment to enlightenment.* But are these things really so beyond the pale of what groups of all kind throughout history have asked of of their members? Most highly defined groups -- from the Marines to the Mormons -- demand some sort of unreasonable commitment in order to bolster group cohesion.
Now, as an introvert, the last thing I would ever want to do is join an intentional community that emphasizes group identity. So, even if the Rajneeshee propaganda represented the whole truth of their reality, and there wasn't actually a lot of weird shit going on, I still wouldn't have wanted to join. My version of an ideal, intentional community might be something like Provincetown, I guess. There's no boss, there's no rules, you can be as anonymous as you wish, but everyone one is united in a gay-friendly, weirdness-loving, beauty-loving, art-loving, coastal community. Two caveats. We don't live there full time, so it might be the kind of thing where it gets old fast, if we did. And then there's the old-timers and the long-timers: the Catholic, Portuguese fishing community. I would imagine some enjoy it the way it is now, and others not. Oh, a third caveat. It takes bucks to spend any time there.
Let's conclude with a variation on our opening slogan: One man's utopian, intentional community is another man's gentrified, stolen, or unaffordable paradise lost.
* As disturbing an idea as this apparently is, the reverse notion is not uncommon. From a Catholic point of view, my marriage is less than legitimate because my wife and I don't have children. And, of course, the ones closest to God in their hierarchy are expected to be celibate.
That said, the community they built is truly impressive. They had a bunch of ambitious, highly skilled and educated folks among their ranks, capable of executing complex engineering projects, many of them revealing a prescient commitment to sustainability. I'm sure there was legitimate pride and joy in their achievements. But a quick perusal online shows that there was plenty going on that wasn't necessarily so wholesome or endearing. People being browbeaten or surveilled into conformity. Women stigmatized if they were reluctant about the whole free love thing. Children separated from parents. Everyone encouraged by the Bhagwan to get sterilized, since he saw having children as an impediment to enlightenment.* But are these things really so beyond the pale of what groups of all kind throughout history have asked of of their members? Most highly defined groups -- from the Marines to the Mormons -- demand some sort of unreasonable commitment in order to bolster group cohesion.
Now, as an introvert, the last thing I would ever want to do is join an intentional community that emphasizes group identity. So, even if the Rajneeshee propaganda represented the whole truth of their reality, and there wasn't actually a lot of weird shit going on, I still wouldn't have wanted to join. My version of an ideal, intentional community might be something like Provincetown, I guess. There's no boss, there's no rules, you can be as anonymous as you wish, but everyone one is united in a gay-friendly, weirdness-loving, beauty-loving, art-loving, coastal community. Two caveats. We don't live there full time, so it might be the kind of thing where it gets old fast, if we did. And then there's the old-timers and the long-timers: the Catholic, Portuguese fishing community. I would imagine some enjoy it the way it is now, and others not. Oh, a third caveat. It takes bucks to spend any time there.
Let's conclude with a variation on our opening slogan: One man's utopian, intentional community is another man's gentrified, stolen, or unaffordable paradise lost.
* As disturbing an idea as this apparently is, the reverse notion is not uncommon. From a Catholic point of view, my marriage is less than legitimate because my wife and I don't have children. And, of course, the ones closest to God in their hierarchy are expected to be celibate.
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