Legal Accountability, Cult Dynamics, and Institutional Complicity: Chat With Amos N. Guiora and Irina Tsukerman

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/10/31

Amos N. Guiora is a legal scholar and former IDF Lieutenant Colonel known for pioneering legal accountability frameworks for bystanders and enablers. Influenced by his Holocaust-survivor parents and counterterrorism experience, he authored The Crime of Complicity, Armies of Enablers, and The Complicity of Silence. As Director of the Bystander Initiative at the University of Utah, he advocates for laws criminalizing institutional inaction, emphasizing moral and legal responsibility to intervene against abuse and systemic complicity.

Irina Tsukerman is a human rights and national security attorney based in New York and Connecticut. A Fordham Law graduate, she heads a boutique national security law practice and serves as President of Scarab Rising, Inc., a strategic media and security advisory firm. She is Editor-in-Chief of The Washington Outsider, focusing on foreign policy and human rights, and an active leader in the American Bar Association and New York City Bar Association committees on global legal affairs.

In this interview with Scott Douglas Jacobsen, they examine the intersections of cult dynamics, enabler culpability, and institutional failure. Tsukerman outlines U.S. legal frameworks distinguishing protected belief from criminal conduct, highlighting how cults exploit coercion, fraud, and trafficking under religious or social veneers. Guiora draws on his work on enablers and systemic abuse, from the FLDS to USA Gymnastics, emphasizing that harm persists through institutional silence. Together, they argue for criminalizing enablers—individuals and officials who, through inaction or facilitation, allow cycles of exploitation and abuse to continue unchecked.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Today, we’re here with Amos Guiora and Irina Tsukerman. The topic of cults came up during one of my earlier conversations with Irina. Around that time, I had recently interviewed Amos, who is a leading expert on enablers and related issues. We’ve been covering clergy-perpetrated abuse, primarily within Orthodoxy but also across denominations, since it’s a broader problem. I thought this would be an interesting discussion because I’m aware of several cults, having covered one or two myself, and that experience was far from pleasant. 

The most important lesson is: don’t cover them alone if you intend to take the work seriously. Let’s start with a working definition of a cult. It’s defined not by its doctrines but by its dynamics. A cult is a tightly controlled social group organized around a charismatic authority figure, employing psychological manipulation, social isolation, or coercion to demand absolute devotion—often at the expense of members’ autonomy and wellbeing. 

This has profound legal and social implications, particularly for followers and their surrounding communities. From a legal perspective, Irina, what is the potential impact on a case brought forward by individuals who have experienced such abuse? And Amos, regarding community dynamics, when people leave these tightly controlled systems, what enables or constrains them as they try to escape highly coercive circumstances?

Irina Tsukerman: In the United States, there is no specific ban on “cults.” The law distinguishes between belief, which is broadly protected by the First Amendment, and conduct, which can be regulated or punished if it violates the law, public policy, or another person’s rights. If you’re in a group where everyone is genuinely voluntary and no laws are being broken, authorities generally cannot intervene simply because the group is unpopular or unorthodox; freedom of association and free exercise principles apply—subject to neutral, generally applicable laws. Employment Division v. Smith (1990) affirmed that neutral, generally applicable laws can be enforced even if they incidentally burden religious practice. 

However, things are often much more complex. A cult is not merely a club or a social gathering. There is usually an element of fraud, indoctrination, manipulation, deception, abuse, or coercion. Where criminal conduct occurs—assault, child abuse, fraud, kidnapping, unlawful confinement, trafficking, forced labour—ordinary criminal laws apply (e.g., federal forced-labour statutes). There’s no constitutional definition of a “cult,” and courts avoid theological judgments about legitimacy. At the same time, laws that are not neutral or not generally applicable trigger strict scrutiny, as in Church of the Lukumi Babalu Aye v. Hialeah (1993). 

Additionally, while Smith remains the baseline rule, the Religious Freedom Restoration Act (1993) restores a strict-scrutiny test for federal government actions that substantially burden religious exercise, and many states have similar statutes; later cases like Fulton v. City of Philadelphia (2021) further clarify limits when governments retain discretionary exemptions. In plain terms, groups cannot claim immunity from prosecution for assault, child abuse, fraud, unlawful confinement, kidnapping, trafficking, or forced labour by asserting a religious motive. An early Supreme Court case, Reynolds v. United States (1879), reached a similar conclusion in the context of polygamy, holding that religious duty cannot excuse criminal acts.

Beliefs are protected; people can believe whatever they want, no matter how bizarre. Harmful conduct, however, is not. That means prosecutors can pursue cult leaders or members engaged in abuse without having to decide whether the cult is religiously valid or even qualifies as a religion. Children’s welfare is often a significant issue in these cases because they are frequently involved. Federal and state statutes empower authorities to intervene when children or vulnerable adults—such as the elderly, those with mental health conditions, or those who are incapacitated—are harmed. 

Under state child-protection laws, parents or guardians cannot withhold medical care or expose minors to physical or sexual abuse, even if they claim it is a religious right. In other words, children cannot be involved in sexual acts or rituals; this may seem like common sense, but laws exist because not everyone shares the same beliefs. For example, if faith healing leads to serious injury or preventable death, it is illegal, as in Commonwealth v. Nixon (Pa. 1992). Coercive indoctrination, forced labour, and similar acts can also be prosecuted under child endangerment, human trafficking, or labour exploitation laws. Though it may sound unusual, this falls within well-established legal doctrine. 

The Trafficking Victims Protection Act is sometimes used against cults that employ unpaid labour under threat of spiritual or physical harm. Even if the threat is “spiritual,” such as eternal damnation, using it to force someone to work constitutes coercion under the law. If a person sincerely believes the threat and is compelled by it, it is treated the same as a physical threat. Conspiracy and RICO statutes also apply because cults often engage in financial exploitation, coercing members to turn over income, property, or assets to the leader or organization. They engage in extortion under spiritual duress, threatening eternal damnation, social isolation, or other harm, and they may make fraudulent promises of healing. These are fraudulent because no such healing occurs. 

Where physical harm or financial deception can be shown, crimes such as wire fraud, mail fraud, and racketeering under RICO may be prosecuted. Although RICO was initially designed for organized crime, it applies to any ongoing criminal enterprise, including cult networks where financial crimes are central. There are many legal mechanisms for addressing such misconduct without infringing on legitimate religious freedoms.

Dr. Amos Guiora: Irina is the expert here. The only thing I can add—and I must emphasize this nine times over—is that the only thing I know about cults is how to spell the word. When I wrote Freedom from Religion and later Tolerating Extremism(or whatever the final title was), I examined the FLDS—the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—which emerged from the mainstream Latter-day Saint movement. That sect, directly affected by Reynolds v. United States, practices polygamy. Depending on who you ask, groups like the FLDS—formerly under Warren Jeffs—are considered cult-like. 

I did not call them cults, but rather cult-like. What drew my attention while writing was the clear harm being inflicted, particularly on children, though not exclusively. Consent was a significant question. When you, Scott, talk about enablers, the members themselves are not enablers; they are not in a position to be. My criticism, which I have written and lectured about, is that the State of Utah—specifically the Attorney General at the time—knew that children were in harm’s way. The law was also being violated, as polygamy is not tolerated. There is a limit to religious freedom when the law explicitly forbids polygamy. So, in this sense, the enablers would be government officials who knew of the harm and turned a blind eye. Those officials, not the rank-and-file members, would qualify as enablers. Those in Jeff’s inner circle—the ten or twelve men allowed to have sexual relations with minors under the guise of procreation—were perpetrators, not enablers, because statutory rape is a crime. 

The larger membership, roughly 10,000 people, cannot reasonably be described as enablers either. Many were not there by free choice; they were born into it and stayed. Boys—so-called “lost boys”—were expelled from the community because they were considered sexual competition for the older men. The harm to children is well documented. The actual failure lies with state agents who did not act—who did not investigate, arrest, or prosecute. Those are the enablers. I cannot speak to other groups, as I have not examined them, but in general, absent enablers, such harm could not persist. If state agents know of abuse—child abandonment, child endangerment—and do nothing, then I agree: they bear responsibility. Another issue is whether members remain of their own free will. Consent is critical. 

You two are too young to remember Jonestown, where people drank the poisoned Kool-Aid. Were children endangered? Absolutely. Were some complicit in enabling the tragedy? Likely, yes. At first glance, I defer to Irina on the cult question, but my focus remains: if state agents know and choose to ignore harm, that is where culpability lies. One final thought: if we define enablers as those who know of harm yet fail to act, can the law hold accountable those officials whose duty it is to prevent such harm? In the FLDS community in southern Utah, law enforcement officers were members of the faith themselves. It was a closed circle within a closed circle. I spent significant time interviewing former members—men, women, and children—and the stories were harrowing. For example, one woman, whom I will call Jane, was the fourth or fifth wife, and she was the youngest.

The husband punished her when she refused him sexually. The punishment was twofold: first, she was removed from the main house and placed in a shack; second, their children—his children with her—were denied food as a way to punish her. Denying children food is clearly child endangerment. He was punishing the children to punish her, even though they were his own children. To coerce her into sexual compliance, as her faith demanded, he deprived their children of food. That is a crime—you cannot starve your children. If state agents knew of such a situation and failed to intervene, they would be complicit. Child endangerment cannot be tolerated. As for adults within these groups, the issue is always whether they are there willingly or not. That is the invariable and inevitable question with such communities. My focus, however, is on children. While harm to adults is also significant, the protection of children must be the primary concern. 

Tsukerman: The entire system of enablers fascinates me psychologically. How does someone reach the point where they decide to assist a cult leader, criminal organization, or sex trafficking network? How do they rationalize facilitating that kind of abuse? 

Guiora: When I wrote Armies of Enablers, I interviewed survivors from USA Gymnastics—women who Larry Nassar assaulted—as well as student-athletes from Michigan State and Ohio State who team doctors abused, and I also spent significant time with survivors of Catholic Church abuse. The enablers were university and Olympic officials who prioritized institutional protection and reputation over the safety of victims, even when they knew abuse was occurring. For example, gymnast Maddie Larson—voted America’s favourite gymnast—told me the girls were sent to Nassar’s hotel room for “treatment” at night. 

As Maddie said, and I quote her in my book: “Who the fuck sends a 14-year-old girl alone to a man’s hotel room at night?” What did they think would happen? It was all presented as medical care. I had no idea before writing how much money was involved in women’s Olympic gymnastics—enormous financial incentives. There was an explicit quid pro quo: Nassar’s signature was required for an athlete to compete, even when they were injured. 

In exchange for his approval, officials ignored the abuse. Some of those girls were sent alone, unaccompanied, to his hotel room at night. Your reaction—the disbelief—is the right one. It’s the only sane response: who sends a 14-year-old girl alone to a man’s hotel room?

Tsukerman: The obvious question is why they thought Larry Nassar—of all people—was the right choice. There are many qualified professionals out there. Wouldn’t it make sense that the team’s mental and emotional wellbeing would be better under someone who wasn’t abusive?

Guiora: He wasn’t the coach, either. He was the doctor.

Tsukerman: Right, was he seen as a doctor who wasn’t abusive?

Guiora: They didn’t see him as abusive. Larry Nassar was widely respected. He was an osteopathic physician specializing in spinal injuries, particularly in women, which is why he worked with Michigan State and USA Gymnastics. He had an excellent professional reputation for years. It wasn’t until Rachel Denhollander and later Jamie Dantzscher came forward that his crimes began to surface. Dantzscher, who was the second to report him—Denhollander was Jane Doe One, Dantzscher Jane Doe Two—was initially slut-shamed by her former teammates. Eventually, they realized she was right, and many others came forward. Nassar had assaulted hundreds of young women. That scale of abuse requires what I call an ecosystem of enabling.

Enablers have lengthy discussions and rationalizations. There are different theories about their psychology, but from my standpoint as someone focused on criminal law, I argue for criminalizing enablers—not just criticizing them morally or ethically, but prosecuting them. I’m currently writing a law review article on this. For instance, at Baylor University, fifty-two women reported being raped by football players. If fifty-two came forward, we know the real number is far higher. Yet, complaints were handled internally—or ignored altogether. It’s systemic. As much as perpetrators are monstrous, the enablers are, to me, the greater problem.

Tsukerman: Under RICO statutes, if enablers commit any overt act that furthers a criminal network, they can be charged as accessories to a crime. But enforcement depends on how the statute is applied, and that doesn’t always happen.

Guiora: You’re absolutely right. There’s aiding and abetting, and there’s accessory liability—but enablers occupy a murky space between those. I’ve testified about criminalizing enablers in Australia, the Netherlands, and the United States. Legislators struggle with it because they mistakenly view enabling as a crime of omission—failing to act—rather than a crime of commission—actively doing something to facilitate harm. I made that same mistake myself when testifying before the Victoria Parliament in Australia and later corrected it. Enabling is an act of commission. Convincing lawmakers of that distinction is difficult, but it’s essential. When I’m not speaking with Scott, I spend my time with legislators, because unless we address the enabling ecosystem directly, this kind of abuse will persist indefinitely—until your hair looks like mine.

Tsukerman: I would argue that, based on the Larry Nassar case, these people did not simply stand by doing nothing. They weren’t frozen like statues—they actively delivered the girls to his hotel room. That’s not inaction; it’s facilitation of a crime.

Guiora: I’ll tell you a story from Michigan State. Lindsay Lemke, the captain of the women’s gymnastics team and one of Nassar’s patients, reached her limit. She went to her coach, Kathy Klages, and said, “I can’t do this anymore.” Klages told her, “Lindsay, if you go forward, I’ll have to tell your parents.” Lemke was twenty-one. Then Klages added, “Think about how this will affect Larry’s family,” and finally, “Scholarships are given, and scholarships are taken.”

Tsukerman: That’s blackmail.

Guiora: Another survivor, Tiffany Thomas Lopez, was assaulted by Nassar approximately 150 times. Maddie Larson, by contrast, was violated around 750 times. Tiffany went to the team trainer—who was a woman—and demonstrated what Nassar had done to her, saying, “I’m not going to tell you, I’m going to show you.” The trainer was horrified and told her to report it to the head trainer, Destiny Teachnor-Hauk. Instead of helping, the head trainer and the coach conspired to have Tiffany removed from the team.

A few years ago, during a video call, Tiffany suddenly began choking herself while we were talking. I was in Israel, panicking, trying to figure out how to call emergency services from abroad. When she finally stopped, I asked her what had happened. She said, “They’re fucking choking me.” Not Nassar—the ecosystem. That’s why I emphasize the importance of addressing enablers. And, incredibly, those two women are still employed at Michigan State University.

Tsukerman: How is that even possible? Why weren’t they sued for massive damages?

Guiora: They were. Michigan State was sued, and there was an administrative hearing to determine whether those women should remain employed. The administrative court judge in Lansing ruled that there wasn’t sufficient evidence that they had been dishonest in their testimony. Tiffany was in the courtroom. It was devastating.

Jacobsen: That’s horrifying.

Guiora: There are no words. “They’re fucking choking me.” That tells you everything you need to know.

Jacobsen: Thank you for the opportunity and your time, Amos and Irina. 

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