I went to the induction, so you don’t have to…
We
all have crutches to lean on in life. Many people rely on family.
Others, exercise or their church of choice. For many, friends prop them
up, listen to them and give them a kick in the shins or a hug of
encouragement when its most needed.
For
some people, however, these support systems are either not available or
not sufficient for their needs. So they’re forced to seek guidance,
encouragement and motivation in their personal, professional, spiritual
and mental lives from another source.
This
is the void occupied by Landmark Worldwide, “…an international personal
and professional growth, training and development company — a global
educational enterprise committed to the fundamental principle that
people have the possibility of success, fulfillment [sic] and
greatness”, according to their website.
Landmark
is most famous/ infamous for its life coaching courses, sold to the
public under the sub-brand banner of ‘The Landmark Forum’. The Forum is
(initially, at least) sold as a three-day residential seminar during
which participants are coached and encouraged to bring about positive
developments in their lives. The sales pitch sounds intriguing (if a
little New Age, ‘self help book’ mantra) from the outset: -
“The
Landmark Forum is designed to bring about positive, permanent shifts in
the quality of your life. These shifts are the direct cause for a new
and unique kind of freedom and power — the freedom to be at ease and the
power to be effective in the areas that matter most to you: the quality
of your relationships, the confidence with which you live your life,
your personal productivity, your experience of the difference you make,
your enjoyment of life”.
If
this was the extent of the business of Landmark, I’d have no issue. The
problem is, this initial coaching weekender is very much the tip of a
much more underhand and ultimately expensive iceberg.
My
experience with Landmark came as a result of a colleagues’ involvement a
few years ago. Their enthusiastic validation the course’s merits and
warm friendships they’d made therein made it sound like a health retreat
twinned with a self-help book and a dating agency. It was all too good
to be true. Even cursory questioning of the Forum’s methods and
subsequent fee structure suggested all was not well in paradise.
Unfortunately,
my colleague would hear nothing of my cynical objections, ignoring my
suggestion that Landmark sounded like little more than hack psychology
masquerading as a life-changing spiritual entity and marketed as a
‘member get member’ pyramid scheme. The debate was left unresolved, my
colleague still firmly fixed in their opinion (and a little miffed that I
dared to question Landmark’s greatness).
Concerned
that there were more nefarious dealings at work, I decided to
investigate further — so I signed up for an induction session.
A
dank evening in mid-winter — a vacant office block north of Euston. I
wandered through the decrepit entrance hall to the registration table,
collecting my name badge on route that marked me out as a newbie from an
ever-so-friendly-lady behind the desk. I walked into the main room
(most of the floor) when it became clear this was not going to be just a
brief sales pitch.
There
were over 150 people seated with a stage area and speakers at the front
of the auditorium. It became apparent that the induction for trialists
would begin within a meeting of authentic Landmark members, three of
whom sat on the stage. After a brief introduction and welcome, each of
the three took turns explaining what Landmark had done for them and how
their lives had been significantly improved as a result of its coaching.
Despite
the hoards of members, this exercise felt like it was being sold
directly to me and the other new folk brought in to see what Landmark
was all about.
The
first intro was from lady who had struggled with an infirm parent who
she had to care for full time. It was heartrending in parts, moving and
highly personal. Landmark had shown her how to achieve a better balance
and find time to look after herself as well as her mother. The second
was a young man who had struggled to form intimate personal
relationships. The confidence he’d gained from Landmark had allowed him
to open up emotionally, to the point that he’d offered hugs to random
strangers on the Tube. This story sounded fairly similar to the ‘Free
Hugs’ movement I’d seen in action in the States, but I let it pass. The
third speech was equally moving and unexpectedly personal, almost
embarrassing for someone to admit and discuss in a room full of people
and strangers.
The
rapturous applause that followed each vignette was open validation, the
message clear — you’re amongst friends here — nothing is off limits —
leave your fear, shame and lack of confidence at the door.
After
the intros, I was ushered with the rest of the novice flock to a small
anteroom. The induction crowd had swelled to nearer twenty and a robust,
bullish woman in her mid-thirties enthusiastically regaled us with her
story.
Over the course of three hours.
Her
focus was laser guided to the heart of the discomfort zone — her love
life, or lack thereof. As tales of bad relationships, disappointing sex
and a dearth of physical fulfillment rolled verbosely off her tongue,
the nervous-looking participants were in the palm of her hand. She
paused briefly to engage the room — “Why are you here?” she asked.
Few responses were forthcoming, most needing to be pried free with her enthusiastic but gently persuasive cajoling.
“My
business failed”. “I lost my job”. “I feel inadequate”. “My marriage is
failing”. “I can’t sleep”. “My sex life sucks”. “I’m lonely”.
I’m
no journalist, so I came clean. “A friend is a member — it sounded a
bit like a cult, so I thought I’d check it out for myself”.
Her
beaming grin and clap of applause barely hid her derision. And then
something odd happened. She moved on, but then so did two of my fellow
inductees, Mr. Inadequate behind me and Miss Poor Sex Life next to me,
both of whom had been highly willing, friendly and encouraging
participants until that point. They sat back down next to Mr Failed
Business and Mr Lost My Job, smiling warmly and initiating conversation
as they did so. It was clear that out of twenty people in the induction,
at least seven were Landmark plants. My heckles raised as the presenter
continued. I went to the bathroom.
Except I didn’t — not immediately, at least.
“We
encourage people to wait until the end of the session” our now
less-than-warm leader called out firmly as I slunk towards the door. “It
helps keep you focused”.
Qualified
psychologists would have a field day with this unusual tactic but
apparently, it’s something Landmark employs throughout their life
coaching courses. I left anyway, having to walk down the back of the
main amphitheatre to the bathrooms near the entrance. The main room
speaker stopped talking, one hundred and fifty heads turned, and three
hundred eyes burned into the side of my head.
I
dared to break the rules. I threatened to walk out of my induction
early. In the bathroom I decided enough was enough — I’d been listening
to the sales pitch dressed up as life coaching in a room of planted
staff for over two and a half hours. I was bored, annoyed and a little
disturbed by what I’d seen.
But
then, I decided to ride it out, ostensibly (and in part in morbid
fascination) to see what other manipulative tricks could be employed to
rope in new sign ups.
As
I crossed back across the main room the heads turned once again, but
this time with beaming smiles all saying the same thing:- I hadn’t quit —
I’d been for a piss but hey, I was new — I’d learn bladder control on
the weekend retreats.
Back
in the first timer’s room, our exuberant hostess was on a roll and
finally getting to the point. Landmark had helped her define her ‘self’,
her personal and professional life, relationships and yes, even her sex
life had been influenced in a positive way. I glanced down at my notes —
our three-hour induction session had been an A to Z of sales and
marketing tactics, strategies and flimflam seemingly sold through a
pyramid structure in which members graduated through levels as their
‘expertise’ in the Landmark way improved.
At
the top of the pyramid was a faceless U.S. corporation skimming over
$100 million a year in revenue in exchange for falsely-sold, rather
manipulative waffle.
I
left before the main room’s session had finished and traveled home
feeling pretty hollow, a little freaked out and ultimately quite
saddened for my fellow participants who felt that an obvious a
money-making scheme such as Landmark really was the answer they’d been
searching for.
Further
research revealed the extent and the extraordinary success of Landmark
worldwide, the corporate umbrella that covers the various strands of the
organisation. With headquarters in San Francisco, Landmark has 53
offices that operate programs, courses, seminars and retreats in 125
cities. By their own admittance, Landmark is a business owned by over
600 of its employees, many of whom, I believe, are the early adopters in
their coaching pyramid.
For
those in the lower quadrants paying hundreds of Pounds, Dollars and Yen
to attend weekend coaching seminars as they move up the coaching
ladder, a heavy onus is placed on bringing friends, family and
colleagues to induction sessions — each year this sales funnel acquires
more than 193,000 people to its courses worldwide.
Sadly,
it seems highly unlikely that those outside the inner circle will ever
achieve coaching nor financial Nirvana — Landmark has cleverly inserted
the wonderfully named ‘Wisdom Courses’ to the top of their coaching
tree. At this upper echelon of nonsensical psychobabble, they have
25,000 ‘high achieving’ members and offer such cash-burning treats as
Wisdom Unlimited, Partnership Explorations, Year-end Vacations and even a
Conference for Global Transformation — each of which will come with a
stiff price tag and no doubt some fairly full bladders.
Landmark
isn’t doing anything illegal. It looks like a cult, it smells like a
cult — but without the traditional quasi-religious associations. It
appears to be a highly profitable socially exploitative business that’s
learned its entire operational methodology from cults, its sales patter
from IBM and shares its marketing and CRM strategy with the likes of
Facebook.
It
appeals to those who are desperately searching for answers and draws
them into a multi-tiered environment of friendly and relatable people —
then uses them as an unpaid (in fact, quite the opposite) re-seller
workforce.
Once
involved in the inner circle, every Landmark member becomes a part of
the sales funnel (whether they recognise it or not) and the fees that
are charged are steep, but not enough to bankrupt anyone. In addition,
some of the coaching methodologies are decidedly suspect, from bringing
up childhood annoyances, calling family and friends to ‘clean up’ past
issues and burning bridges with those who don’t support the individual’s
decisions.
Landmark
therefore has a constant and ever-expanding group of members
drip-feeding incremental revenue into the central coffers, never
dangerous enough to concern the authorities but ultimately no more
useful than a session with a qualified therapist or a chat with a close
friend.
At
best, Landmark is a harmless way to meet people and discuss your
problems in an open and accepting community and costs less than proper
therapy (to start with, at least). At worst, it’s a misleading and
costly organisation that uses hack psychology to entrance, educate and
exploit people who have exhausted other avenues when seeking answers to
their life problems.
