Peer behind the NXIVM curtain
Two key figures from ‘ The Vow’ respond to HBO series’ portrayal of alleged ‘ sex cult.’
If you’ve watched “The Vow,” the HBO docuseries following disaffected members of NXIVM as they extricate themselves from the alleged cult and speak out against its leader, Keith Raniere, then you might be wondering how seemingly intelligent people got involved in such a dubious operation.
Weren’t they freaked out by the color- coded sashes that members wore to denote their rank? What about the outlandish claims about Raniere’s supposed intelligence or the midnight volleyball games he insisted on playing? Was anything really worth moving to the suburbs of Albany, N. Y., where the group was based?
Sarah Edmondson and Mark Vicente, two of the primary subjects of “The Vow,” which concludes its run on HBO Sunday, say they found a sense of purpose through the group’s “Executive Success Program” — or ESP — personal development seminars, supposedly designed to help people overcome their “limiting beliefs.”
As recounted in “The Vow,” Edmondson and Vicente worked their way up the organization’s internal hierarchy — known as “the stripe path” — and became enthusiastic boosters of its mission, recruiting Hollywood actors and other artists to join NXIVM, and help
ing it expand across North America.
But more recently, they were key players in the downfall of the group, speaking out in an explosive 2017 New York Times story detailing a secret society within NXIVM, known as DOS, whose female members, including Edmondson, were designated roles as “master” or “slave” and branded with Raniere’s initials. Others were put on restrictive diets and, in some cases, coerced into sexual servitude.
Their decision to become whistleblowers, chronicled by “The Vow” directors Jehane Noujaim and Karim Amer, helped lead to Raniere’s conviction last year on charges including sex trafficking. Other high- profile NXIVM members, including Seagrams heiress Clare Bronfman and “Smallville” actress Allison Mack, have also faced legal action.
In separate interviews, Edmondson and Vicente spoke about their experiences in NXIVM, why they ignored the warning signs and whether they’ve given up on self- improvement.
How they got involved
When Edmondson first enrolled in a five- day intensive ESP seminar 15 years ago, she was a struggling 20something actress, living in a $ 400- a- month basement apartment and starring in the occasional beer commercial.
Encouraged by Vicente — a filmmaker she’d met on a spiritual cruise — Edmondson enrolled in the workshop, thinking it might clarify her purpose in life. She wasn’t impressed. At least not right away.
“My gut instinct on Day 1 was that it was weird and culty and that I wanted to leave,” Edmondson says by phone from her home in Canada. But she decided to stick it out until Day 3, as Vicente had told her to do.
“And at that point the indoctrination and the programming can literally take hold of your mind,” she says. “Anyone who thinks they’re not susceptible to brainwashing — we’re all brainwashed.”
Edmondson hopes that “The Vow” will help people from making the same mistakes she did. “When people look at things like this, their natural instinct is [ to say], ‘ That would never happen to me, only stupid people fall for stuff like this.’ I want to dispel the myth of how people get involved. Nobody joins a cult on purpose, just like nobody gets into an abusive relationship on purpose.”
Edmondson says that the public is now more educated about alleged cults and highcontrol groups, thanks in part to shows like “Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath” or “Wild Wild Country.” “Had I seen a documentary like this when I was 26, I might have seen those red f lags and gotten the f— out before going further.”
Vicente, who was raised in South Africa, was approached about NXIVM after his spiritual documentary “What the Bleep Do We Know!?” became an unexpected box office hit. He rapidly ascended within the organization, becoming a board member and and one of Raniere’s few male confidantes, speaking to “Vanguard,” as the leader was known, virtually every day for seven years.
Vicente likens NXIVM’s self- help classes and the personal breakthroughs they seemed to create to the “goodies” — f lowers, jewelry, vacations — handed out by an abusive boyfriend. “You can’t lead organizations like [ NXIVM] unless you give people goodies.” he says.
His wife, actress and singer Bonnie Piesse, was also active in NXIVM but began to have doubts about Raniere’s controlling behavior, particularly over his female acolytes, and decided to leave. Vicente eventually followed her, as did Edmondson.
He soon reached out to Noujaim, a friend and fellow documentarian who’d enrolled in ESP classes at his suggestion, to tell her what he’d learned. “I was in complete horror. Honestly, it was like, ‘ Oh, my God, what have I dragged my friend into?’ ” he says.
Getting beyond the ‘ sex cult’ label
Both Edmondson and Vicente have been troubled by what they see as sensationalist, superficial coverage of NXIVM and lurid headlines that gloss over the complexities of a secretive organization.
“I was deeply disturbed about the ‘ sex cult’ label, though I understand why it happens,” Vicente says. “It’s the thing though that got everyone’s attention.” But, he adds, the term discourages people from asking why so many seemingly intelligent people were drawn to the group — a relevant question these days.
“We live in a society where there are so many radicalized people that believe insane things. It is easy to go, ‘ Well, they are idiots.’ Why don’t you try to understand how they got there, why they think these crazy things?”
While some critics have balked at “The Vow’s” length, he believes it has brought much- needed nuance to the salacious headlines. Noujaim and Amer “were determined to figure out how to tell the deeper story. In my case, it’s a 12- year journey from, ‘ Wow, this is amazing,’ to ‘ Holy s—, this is hell.”
Rebuilding after NXIVM
The experience with NXIVM “broke my belief in goodness,” says Vicente, who now lives with Piesse in Portugal. “Being a whistleblower sucks. It sucks. Because the inside [ of the group] hates you and the people that leave also hate you. Eden was being run by a sociopath. But I still destroyed Eden, and that’s upsetting.”
He is recovering — slowly. “Whatever this process is, I am not through it. I have spoken to people who have been in organizations for 30, 40 years. It can take decades to unravel everything.”
Edmondson, whose husband was also involved in NXIVM, has followed a similar journey. When a friend recently invited her to a “personal development thing,” she responded: “After what I just went through?”
“My trust in humanity is definitely damaged,” she says.
One important step in the healing process came last year, when she had the brand of Raniere’s initials removed from her body. All that remains now is a 4- inch white line, similar to a C- section scar — “a reminder,” she says, “of my strength and what I’ve gone through. That I’m a survivor.”