South Korean religious cults and their monstrous leaders described in Netflix’s grimly fascinating documentary series In the Name of God: A Holy Betrayal
- Lurid documentary series In the Name of God: A Holy Betrayal shows how leaders of Korean religious cults exploit followers sexually and in other ways
- Meanwhile, Ted Lasso, the football show that isn’t really about football, returns for a third season with Jason Sudeikis in the title role
Those of us who believe all religion is wholly fraudulent are at liberty to wonder why so many of the faithful allow themselves to be conned so often by so relatively few – and for so much money, among other commodities.
But that doesn’t stop us applauding the courage of the once brainwashed and gullible willing to appear on camera to expose the despicable cult figureheads who have shattered their lives.
Chief among those in the grimly fascinating, lurid and profoundly disturbing eight-part documentary series In the Name of God: A Holy Betrayal (Netflix) is Hong Kong’s Maple Yip, 28, who, in 2012, joined South Korean cult JMS.
Modestly anointing himself God, JMS founder Jung Myung-seok – 78, already a convicted sex offender now awaiting trial for “quasi-rape” and sexual assault – spent decades establishing his “kingdom”: gathering thousands of followers, unlimited riches and a stream of women whom he convinced that they had been “chosen”, anointing them by way of sex, or sexual assault, in South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong and mainland China.
Such are the appalling claims made by a distraught Yip, and others, about the leader of a sect that visited violent retribution on anyone attempting to leave and on outside enemies who dared to challenge it. (Even now, true believers in the “perverted” Jung deny the facts and recently failed to secure an injunction halting the documentary.)
Staggeringly, beyond Jung, South Korea’s susceptibility to crank cults and fake faiths (surely worth a follow-up series) gives In the Name of God much additional fuel.
There’s cash-hungry but deeply indebted Park Soon-ja, Five Oceans’ divine leader, found dead in a mass murder-suicide pact with 31 disciples. Next is Kim Ki-soon, desperate, like Jung, for money and sex and responsible for the starving and beating to death of a child, and other followers, in the so-called Baby Garden.
The final false prophet is “terrifying heretic” Lee Jae-rock, “God” of Manmin Central Church and a deified “healer” – with a side interest in gambling in Las Vegas using cult funds. He is now serving 15 years for raping followers.
Disseminating the gospel according to exploitation, psychological terror and sickening violence is a fundamental tenet of the charlatan saviour’s playbook. And preaching “integrity, sacrifice and morality” while piling up as many sins as possible on their personal scorecards proves such deplorable frauds would rather not wait for the afterlife to enjoy themselves.
Then again: all Messiahs move in mysterious ways, don’t they?
Beautiful fun and games
Now for a worthwhile religion: professional football, as preached by the manager with the mightiest moustache since Graeme Souness circa 1984.
Jason Sudeikis is back in the AFC Richmond dug-out as team boss Ted Lasso in the eponymous, masterful comedy-drama series (Apple TV+, continuing). Richmond, too, are back: in the English Premier League, but tipped for immediate relegation by every pundit and supercilious journalist … until a devastating and highly improbable offensive weapon arrives.
But Ted Lasso, now in its third season, remains a football show that isn’t really about football.
Cheery Ted himself is still foggy on some of the game’s details; fearsome coach Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein), based on a similarly frightening, real-life Roy K, continues to terrorise his squad; star striker Jamie Tartt (Phil Dunster) is reliably self-absorbed; and club owner Rebecca Welton (Hannah Waddingham) can’t help but infuse the boardroom with glamour.
Yet away from the stadium, they and their fellow deftly drawn colleagues all face tough opposition in their personal relationships – some finding that former friends and partners just have to be given the boot.
