Social media are helping cults to recruit and control members

The internet has replaced door-to-door evangelists with online influencers

The Economist 

January 8, 2026

It began as just another niche game inside Roblox, an American video-game platform. Players wandered through dark forests, exchanged clues and chatted as they explored. Within these spaces a group of adults steered some children into Discord, an online messaging service. They told them that the game’s geometric symbol had real-world power and could connect them to a “higher state”. Entry to the group’s inner circle required proof of loyalty. Children were asked to film themselves performing a series of tasks. At first the challenges seemed harmless. Over time they became more intrusive, with some children pushed into carving the symbol into their skin.

Incidents like this illustrate how the internet has changed the way cults operate by replacing the door-to-door evangelists and street-corner preachers of the past with online influencers, life coaches and self-styled healers. These new cult leaders target people where they are most vulnerable: alone online.

Chart: The Economist

The result has been a sharp increase in cult activity. MIVILUDES, the French government’s watchdog on “sectarian aberrations”, logged more than 4,500 reports of suspected cult activity in 2024. The number of such alerts (rather than a count of groups) was more than double the level recorded in 2015. A majority involved communities that had online activities. The International Cultic Studies Association (ICSA), a global network of researchers who study coercive groups, now tracks more than 4,000 of them worldwide, compared with roughly 2,000 in the 1980s.

Cults tend to have four characteristics that distinguish them from ordinary groups. The first is a charismatic leader who claims special access to truth or power and is often narcissistic or messianic. The second is a belief system that promises transformation or salvation, whether spiritual awakening, perfect health or material success. The third is a system of control such as rules that erode individuals’ autonomy, often through exhaustion, surveillance or humiliation—such as staged tests of loyalty. The fourth is a system of social pressure that punishes doubt and those who leave, through ostracism, intimidation or loss of family and community ties. All of these elements can be reproduced online, where they are harder to detect and where recruiters can more easily reach large numbers of people.

The internet has not simply increased the number of cults. It has also splintered them, says Carlos Bardavío, a Spanish lawyer who specialises in cases involving coercive groups. Whereas he once dealt with a small number of well-defined groups, he now receives requests linked to dozens of tiny ones. In 1978 a survey by ICSA found about 400 former members clustered in just 40 organisations. In its latest survey more than 900 former members were spread across 540 groups.

Young people are particularly exposed, says Etienne Apaire, the president of MIVILUDES. They spend more time online, are more impressionable and less able to spot manipulation than adults. Nearly one in five French cases in 2024 involved a minor. A report by Europol, the EU’s police agency, warns of a rise in online cults coercing teenagers into violence.

Many of these movements do not claim to be religious. Instead, they speak the language of wellness, purpose and self-mastery. Alternative therapies boomed during the pandemic, when fear and isolation made people more receptive to promises of healing and control. Some groups claim to cure anxiety or chronic pain; others offer “transformation”, prosperity or a “second life” to those who submit fully.

Once drawn in, followers are gradually made dependent. As with traditional cults, the first steps seem harmless—a ritual, a video call, a chat about progress—but the demands soon grow. Doubt is portrayed as weakness. Eventually the group becomes their main source of validation, says Laura Merino, a psychologist who treats victims of cultic manipulation. Social-media algorithms reinforce that dependence, feeding users a stream of content that presents the group’s views as the only reality.

Some groups, like the Roblox one, descend into violence. Others prey on followers financially. In 2021 Robert Shinn, a self-proclaimed pastor and talent manager, recruited young dancers through online Bible-study sessions and promises of “creative mentorship”. He then allegedly pressed them to move into properties he controlled, restricted contact with their families and monitored their messages. He allegedly took charge of their earnings—claiming that handing over their income was a test of devotion and a path to spiritual growth—according to documents filed in a California court in a lawsuit brought by former members of his group. Mr Shinn has denied wrongdoing and said he was the victim of a “smear campaign”.

Scholars have long debated where to draw the line between a tight-knit community, a fringe religion and an abusive cult. Most present themselves as harmless churches, coaching programmes or wellness groups. This task has been made even harder as public interest in cults has grown. Streaming giants including Netflix and HBO have aired documentaries, including one on Mr Shinn. Yet cavalier use of the term “cult” makes it harder than ever to differentiate between intense forms of following and real coercion, says Adam Scott Kunz of the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire. In a YouGov poll conducted for The Economist, 42% of respondents said MAGA is a cult—the same share who said the same of QAnon, an incoherent conspiracy movement. Absurdly, many think political parties and even sororities are cults, too (see chart 2).

Governments have taken sharply different approaches to confronting the problem. France has gone furthest, creating new offences designed to capture psychological manipulation. A law introduced in 2001 criminalises the “fraudulent abuse of weakness” and allows prosecutors to target leaders who exploit vulnerable followers. A reform passed in 2024 expanded this by outlawing “psychological subjugation”, defined as any deliberate effort to deprive a person of free will. Belgium has adopted a similar framework. Spain also explicitly recognises “coercive sects” in its penal code. At the opposite end are countries with robust protections for freedom of belief, such as America.

Judge not?

How far the law should go is a delicate question. Moira Penza, a former prosecutor for the state of New York, warns that statutes targeting mental manipulation risk criminalising eccentric communities or unconventional faiths. A study of Belgium’s “sect” cases found that 93% of investigations were closed with no legal action due to the absence of any crime.

The way to deal with cult-like organisations without infringing freedom of belief is to prosecute them for demonstrable offences—such as forced labour, rape, fraud, extortion or blackmail, Ms Penza argues. Even then, prosecution is rarely straightforward. Victims often appear to have acted willingly: they joined voluntarily, followed orders and sometimes defended their leader publicly.

Ms Penza faced these challenges as lead prosecutor in a case against NXIVM, a company that claimed to provide classes in leadership and personal development in upstate New York. Yet it also coerced women into “master-slave” relationships. Its founder, Keith Raniere, was sentenced to 120 years in prison for sexually abusing a child, forced labour and racketeering.

The hardest task, Ms Penza says, was showing jurors how fear and control can make people comply against their will. Mr Bardavío says the same misunderstanding once surrounded violence against women: people asked, “Why didn’t she just leave?” until research showed how fear and dependency can erode autonomy. Cults use similar methods—isolating members, exhausting them and alternating affection with punishment to break resistance.

Trauma compounds the difficulty of prosecuting such cases. Many victims speak out only years after escaping, when memories are fragmented and legal time limits may already have expired. Many fear retaliation from the group. Meanwhile, the line between victim and perpetrator frequently blurs: those who suffered harm often helped inflict it too, says Ms Penza.

Prevention may be the most effective response. Teaching young people how manipulation works could make them less susceptible. Campaigns against domestic abuse offer a precedent: lessons on power and control are now routine in schools, helping victims recognise harm earlier.

Support for survivors also needs strengthening. Many remain silent, held back by stigma and a lack of dedicated counselling or legal aid. Former cult members often receive no protection from police or the justice system after leaving the group, says Alexandra Stein, chairman of the Family Survival Trust, a non-profit which provides information on cults. There is also a staggering shortage of psychologists trained to deal with cult-related trauma. Ms Merino—one of the few specialists in Spain—says she treats more than 150 patients a year and turns away dozens more for lack of capacity.

Governments are regulating social networks more strictly—an approach that could also limit the reach of coercive groups. Australia’s ban on social-media use by children, for example, reflects growing concern about what risks platforms may pose. Ms Merino has also noticed an increase in professionals seeking training in cultic manipulation, a field that until recently was ignored. As was once the case with domestic abuse, societies are learning that control need not involve physical chains. Mental ones bind, too. 

https://www.economist.com/international/2026/01/08/social-media-are-helping-cults-to-recruit-and-control-members