Escaping Utopia (Photo: Supplied)
Escaping Utopia (Photo: Supplied)

OPINIONPop CultureMarch 27, 2024

Escaping Utopia reveals ‘a whole other level of what the hell’ to Gloriavale

Escaping Utopia (Photo: Supplied)
Escaping Utopia (Photo: Supplied)

The new docuseries reveals shocking new information about the global expansion of the cult – which somehow still has charitable status in New Zealand.

When I visited Gloriavale for the first time to endure their last concert – a Disney-style variety show with overtones of North Korea – the fundamentalist Christian community near Greymouth was more of a joke than a problem in the public eye. 

Two months earlier, in May 2018, their founder and convicted sex offender Hopeful Christian aka Neville Cooper had died of cancer at the age of 92. During his 49-year reign, the evangelical preacher turned a utopian dream of communal living into a living nightmare. The year before Cooper’s death, a report by the Charities Commission revealed multiple cases of sexual assault, beatings, coercion, forced isolation and financial control, since amplified by high-profile court cases which exposed slave labour and child sexual abuse on a grand scale. 

But little did we care, back then, about the victims of our homemade Handmaid’s Tale. Instead, we were obsessed with their ridiculous names and weird blue frocks. 

When the charismatic leader died, the coercion and sexual abuse didn’t stop (their recent leader Howard Temple was charged for sexual offending across 20 years in 2023). But there were no protests demanding freedom and women’s rights outside the idyllically located compound on the West Coast, where Gloriavale was and still is a major economic player. Nor were there petitions or members of parliament asking to shut down this prison without walls so that the children born inside Gloriavale could have a chance for higher education, income, birth control and a partner – let alone a sexual orientation – of their own choice.  

Instead, meme pages and funny websites to find your own Gloriavale name sprung up. The lols and the hype were aided by an uncritical observational TVNZ series made in 2016 that portrayed the high-control group as a shiny happy place of faith, no hard questions asked. Newlywed Dove Love was the breakout star. 

Dove Love, a resident of Gloriavale, in the TVNZ documentary

The documentary was the highest rating TV2 programme in 2016, but it should have never been made. The saccharine show with condescending voiceovers was not just a distraction from Gloriavale’s grim reality, but effectively taxpayer-funded cult propaganda that prolonged the harm. It received $460,000 in funding from NZ On Air, was sold all over the world, and is still on Amazon Prime.

At the time, I was interviewing “second generation adults” from Gloriavale. These young survivors had either escaped or been kicked out after weeks of isolation and years of suffering trauma. I heard of their severe depression, losing all their hair from the constant stress as teenagers, or contemplating suicide after being ostracised, humiliated and beaten for minor acts of resistance. All of them had been abused – physically, emotionally, sexually – at some stage. 

One of them was Theophila Pratt, now an occupational therapist in Auckland and the first woman from Gloriavale with a tertiary degree. While still inside (where she was Honey Faithful), she had managed to duck out of the kitchen when the girls were filmed making butter. Theo hated the glossy TV series. 

This week, I saw her again, but this time onscreen. TVNZ launched its new three-part documentary series Escaping Utopia, directed by Natalie Malcon, which covers everything and more that Gloriavale: A Woman’s Place omitted – including Gloriavale’s oversexualised culture that resembled Bert Potter’s Centrepoint in its early days, described by a leaver as “a glorified brothel”. With Malcon’s powerful work – hard-hitting but survivor focussed and nuanced – the network has finally redeemed itself. 

Theophila Pratt in TVNZ’s Escaping Utopia (Photo: Supplied)

Fearless Theo takes the lead in the third episode. Together with fellow activist Rosanna Overcomer, she travels to India to find her sister Precious, who Theo hasn’t seen since she was 15. Out of sight from authorities or media scrutiny, Hopeful Christian set up a satellite community in Tamil Nadu in 2009. Precious was married off to a stranger. Her younger kids have no passports or birth certificates.

Theo finds her in a rundown compound with few amenities, pregnant with her sixth child, without any extended family or support network. A hidden camera captures Precious dissociated, almost in a stupor. It’s disturbing viewing. Or as her shocked sister puts it, “a whole other level of ‘what the hell’”. 

The series alludes that some of the women are abuse victims from Gloriavale who were sent away by the leaders to “get them out of their hair” – essentially trafficked overseas. After having no response from police and media, Theo Pratt involved human rights lawyer Deborah Manning. They’re making the case that someone born and raised in Gloriavale cannot fully consent, given the level of coercive control and brainwashing. Theo wants to bring all the women and their children back – some of them looked “way worse” than Precious.

“They’re in survival mode, with no hope,” says Theo. “Why are they not protected by our government and law enforcement?”

Theophila Pratt in TVNZ’s Escaping Utopia (Photo: Supplied)

Everyone watching Escaping Utopia will be asking the same question. But our authorities haven’t even managed to dismantle a cult that enslaves women right under their nose in the South Island, let alone in South Asia. The new government appears to be doing even less than the old one – its multi-agency response to look into all the burning issues inside Gloriavale is no longer active since the end of last year, while the Christian community still receives tax breaks with its many businesses and rural properties. 

In the light of all that has come out, including the sentencing of another predator just last week, Escaping Utopia provides yet another reminder of how appalling and unfathomable it is that Gloriavale still has charitable status. The Charities Commission finally started an investigation into this hot mess in 2022, but the Gloriavale Leavers’ Support Trust – also in a starring role in the doco – is still waiting to see the results.

Meanwhile, Gloriavale is expanding even further across the world. Their latest outreach is in Kenya. 

Anke Richter is the author of CULT TRIP: Inside the world of coercion & control, and the convener of Decult 2024, New Zealand’s fist cult awareness conference.

Keep going!
MAFS’ Lucinda Light (Image: Tina Tiller)
MAFS’ Lucinda Light (Image: Tina Tiller)

Pop CultureMarch 25, 2024

A drink with Lucinda Light, the greatest MAFS participant of all time

MAFS’ Lucinda Light (Image: Tina Tiller)
MAFS’ Lucinda Light (Image: Tina Tiller)

Married at First Sight superfan Tara Ward charges down the aisle to meet this season’s brightest star.

It is a Thursday afternoon, and I am staring deep into Lucinda Light’s eyes. It feels like my own personal version of the eye gazing task on Married At First Sight Australia, but instead of appearing on the top-rating reality TV show, I am at a swanky restaurant in Auckland’s Viaduct Harbour. I’ve come to interview Light, arguably the greatest participant the MAFS experiment has ever seen, and I’ve never been more thrilled to gaze so intently into a stranger’s eyeballs.

Moments earlier, Light greeted me with a huge smile, her arms outstretched to pull me in for the embrace of a lifetime. It was as if she’d known me for years. In fact, I don’t get such a warm welcome from people who have known me for years, but that’s an issue I’ll have to unpack with the experts on the couch another time. My new best friend was light personified, sparkling in a sequined top and matching short skirt, her blonde hair sleek and straight. She was more glam than I expected, her energy huge, her vibe magnificent. 

Had we been standing at the altar, I would have said “I do” immediately.

Lucinda on her wedding day with husband Timothy, aka the Tin Man (Screengrab)

It was the end of a long day of media interviews for Light, but she seemed as upbeat as she does at the end of a 16-hour-long MAFS dinner party. This was a whistlestop visit to Aotearoa, her first since she visited years ago and toured her way from Takaka to Coromandel. “I’m a bit of a beach baby,” she laughed, and instantly I remembered Light dancing on the golden sands of Byron Bay in an early episode, having just told expert John Aiken she needed a husband with a “high functioning erection”. “I couldn’t do it with a floppy jaloppy,” she laughed.

It’s just as well the low functioning men of Takaka and Coromandel didn’t marry Light all those years ago, because now here we were, two kindred spirits – Light with her flute of champagne and me with my complimentary glass of water – about to dive deep into the deceptive tidal rip that is Married at First Sight Australia. 

When Light first burst onto our screens, she seemed like just another eccentric reality show contestant. “I’m a servant and steward to love and light and I’m here to nurture and dazzle,” she declared as she hugged a tree. She arrived with a long list of requirements (her “MANifesto”), hopeful that her new partner would “laugh at the cosmic joke that is life”. Light had such an authenticity and optimism to her that I worried she’d quickly be chewed up and spat out by the reality TV machine.  

But after the first episode, it became clear that Light was no ordinary MAFS bride. From the mud-slinging dinner parties to the highly charged commitment ceremonies, the passionate MC and wedding celebrant showed levels of emotional intelligence and self awareness normally only reserved for the experts on the couch. She was empathetic and generous, a skilled communicator who radiated compassion and grace, even towards the more unpleasant participants in the experiment, yet was never afraid to advocate for her own needs

She was also hilarious. When Light wasn’t encouraging her new husband Timothy to break down his emotional walls, she larked about their apartment wearing a weird animal mask and laying golden eggs. When Aiken asked what scares her about relationships, Light spoke her truth. “The shitter,” she replied. “We’ve got to share a toilet, and that is not sexy to me.”

Lucinda: loves a list (Screengrab)

Strangely, Light doesn’t bring up the shitter during our intimate heart-to-heart, but she does reveal that she signed up for MAFS having never watched a single episode. She tells me she hasn’t owned a television for 20 years, and it was only after a casting ad popped up on her social media feed that she made the spontaneous decision to apply to marry a stranger. “I needed something that would blast me into the stratosphere and really put myself out there,” she says brightly, sipping on her glass of bubbles. “And of course, I wanted the husband.”

Enter Timothy, a 51-year-old businessman and self-professed “Tin Man” grieving the recent death of his father. Despite their many differences, Light truly lights up when she talks about “Timbo”, describing their wedding day as a fairytale. “I felt deeply embodied and surrounded and excited,“ she remembers. “Then I saw Tim at the end of the aisle and I thought, ‘hubba hubba, look at this hunk of spunk. Jesus, they nailed this one’.” 

‘He mea tautoko nā ngā mema atawhai. Supported by our generous members.’
Liam Rātana
— Ātea editor

Light continues to stare deep into my eyes while she talks about Timothy. In fact, she rarely breaks eye contact through the entire interview. She doesn’t notice the restaurant staff who hover at the door, whispering breathlessly about her, or the fact that we’re sitting on plush pink chairs placed extremely close together. Light tells me she’s an “ambivert” who’s getting energy off me right now. This worries me. By this point I am a sweaty potato who can’t string two sentences together, and nobody needs to soak up that sort of vibe.

Timothy the Tin Man struggled when he first met Lucinda, too. “I think there was a lot of resistance from him about who I was,” Light remembers. “You see him early in the season going, ‘well, if she’s a meditator, we’re going to have some problems’. Nek minute, I’m meditating in an āsana pose.” Week after week, Light proved she had superhuman levels of patience, and she reckons Timothy was worth her perseverance. “It’s been an amazing journey of unraveling and understanding each other and actually accepting each other for who we are.”

As Lucinda would say: stunning (Screengrab)

Much like John Aiken during a tense commitment ceremony, I ask Light a series of probing questions, mostly about the inner workings of our favourite reality show. These range from the hard-hitting – “what advice would you give to someone who wants to marry a stranger?” (“stand your sacred ground”) – to the illuminating – “what did you eat at the dinner parties?” (“potatoes, meat, the same old crap”). What about the idea that MAFS is reality TV trash? “I totally agree,” she says, “but it can be many things simultaneously. It’s trash, it’s an education, it’s funny. They’ve got their formula, but the rest is choose your own adventure.”

Light also reveals that she lives with three other women in a “beautiful mermaid home on the beach”, and that her wardrobe was made by an Australian designer who encoded her clothes with a “quintessence of beauty and feminine essence”. “Those clothes really bought out my higher self,” Light muses, nodding thoughtfully. I nod thoughtfully too, even though I don’t know what any of that means. I do know that alongside her upcoming book deal and exciting TV projects, I would also like to hear Light’s voice on a sleep app, her serene voice soothing me back to a gentle slumber after I wake every morning at three o’clock in a dark cloud of perimenopausal rage and fury. 

Much like the current delicious season of MAFS, our time together passes too quickly. Light and I must both leave this social experiment forever, me returning to the wild potato kingdom of downtown Auckland and Light heading off somewhere suitably fabulous, probably to float on a cloud or something. In person, Light is just as extraordinary as MAFS fans would expect: funny, engaged, a genuine delight. She gives me two more hugs before we leave. We are definitely best friends now. It was absolutely, definitely, love at first sight.  

Married at First Sight Australia screens Sunday-Wednesday nights on Three and streams on ThreeNow.