The Why Files: Operation Podcast - 31: The Latitude Society - Game, Business, or Cult? (Yes.)

Episode Date: June 26, 2022

THE LATITUDE.  How do you join a cult without knowing it?   Here's how it happened to thousands of people in San Francisco just a few years ago. You're with a trusted friend; maybe on a hike, or sitting in a bar or just hanging out. Out of nowhere, your friend asks you: "Can you keep a secret?" Of course you reply that you can.   Your friend hands you a small black sleeve, about the size of a credit card. On one side of the sleeve is a geometric pattern. On the other side, the words "Absolute Discretion".   Inside is a security card. Printed with a website and a code. Later that night, you go to the site and enter the code.   The website responds with: "Congratulations. You've been invited to the Latitude."   What happens next, changes you forever.   Let's find out why. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thewhyfiles/support

If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel, wherever you go, you can get it from our Tread Experts. Toyo's open country family of tires will get you through tough weather in a variety of terrains. Until May 31st, save up to $100 in rebates on select Toyo tires. Find a Toyo Tread Experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there at treadexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there at treadexperts.ca. Hey, it's your buddy AJ from the Y-Files. And Hecklefish.

Right, and Hecklefish. We just wanted to tell you that if you want to start a podcast, Spotify makes it easy. It'd have to be easy for humans to understand it. Will you stop that? I'm just saying. Spotify for Podcasters lets you record and edit podcasts from your computer. I don't have a computer. Do you have a phone? Of course

I have a phone. I'm not a savage. Well, with Spotify, you can record podcasts from your phone, too. Spotify makes it easy to distribute your podcast to every platform and you can even earn money. I do need money. What do you need money for? You kidding? I'm getting killed on guppy support payments. These 3X wives are expensive. You don't want to support your kids? What are you need money for? You kidding? I'm getting killed on guppy support payments. These 3X wives are expensive.

You don't want to support your kids? What are you, my wife's lawyer now? Never mind. And I don't know if you noticed, but all Y-Files episodes are video, too. And there's a ton of other features, but you... But we can't be here all day. Will you settle down? I need you to hurry up with this stupid commercial.

I got a packed calendar today. I'm sorry about him. Anyway, check out Spotify for Podcasters. It's free, no catch, and a packed calendar today. I'm sorry about him. Anyway, check out Spotify for podcasters. It's free, no catch, and you could start today. Are we done? We're done, but you need to check your attitude. Excuse me, but I don't have all day to sit here and talk about Spotify. This would go a lot faster if you would just let me get through it. How do you join a cult without knowing it? Well, here's how it happened to thousands of people in San Francisco just a few years ago. You're with a trusted friend, maybe on a hike or sitting in a bar or just hanging out.

Then out of nowhere, your friend asks, can you keep a secret? Well, of course, you reply that you can. Your friend then hands you a small black sleeve about the size of a credit card. On one side of the sleeve embossed in gold is a geometric pattern. On the other side, the words absolute discretion. Inside is a security card printed with a website and a code. Later that night, you go to the site and enter the code and the website responds with congratulations. You've been invited to the latitude. What happens next changes you forever. After entering your code, you set

up an appointment to visit the San Francisco house. You're ordered to tell no one and come alone. You arrive at a nondescript building and swipe your card through the electronic lock. The door opens. You're now in a narrow hallway painted matte black. From invisible speakers, an ominous pulsing sound is heard. On the walls are two red lights which fade in and out in time with the sound. High above you in the room, like every room in the latitude, is a camera. You are being watched. At the end of the hall is an ornate Victorian mantle of some kind, but where you'd expect to find a fireplace is the entrance to a wooden slide, and the slide curves down into the darkness so there's no way to tell where it leads.

There's no sign or instructions or nothing? Nope. How do you know this doesn't lead to something awful like sharks or snakes or a K-pop concert? You don't. To go any further inside the latitude, you must literally go down a rabbit hole with no idea what awaits you at the bottom. After a quick and gentle trip down the slide, you're deposited into a basement room called the flux chamber. On one side of the room is a series of doors. On the other is a bright neon sign that says, shh. And under that sign behind glass is a ticket taker. But the glass is so heavily frosted that you can't really see the person's face. You simply hear their voice. You're given a claim ticket and

asked to turn over all your personal belongings, your wallet, purse, phone, keys, everything in your pockets. You're told this is for your own safety. I don't like where this is going. Once you've complied with this request, you hear a door unlock. You enter and close the door behind you. It's dark. So dark that you have no idea if you're in a huge room or a closet. You can't see your hands in front of your face. And it's so quiet that it almost feels like the air is being sucked out of the room. And after a second or two, you hear a muffled click as the door locks you in. You now have no choice but to go forward into the black without your wallet, without your phone, without your eyes. In the black, you feel your way around everything.

Floor to ceiling is covered in thick carpet. And as you move forward, the passageway gets smaller and smaller, closing in around you. You can no longer stand. You have to literally crawl forward. If you're claustrophobic or afraid of the dark, panic is going to set in pretty quickly. Now, moving slowly on your hands and knees, you hear music playing. You keep moving and see a hint of light. You reach the end of the passage and you draw back a heavy black curtain. You're now in a small six-sided room lined with books,

all of which say the latitude, and all the pages are blank. A voice from somewhere tells you to place a book on a podium and open it. The lights go out, and suddenly the blank pages of the book you chose begin to show you a story. This is called The Fable. The Fable talks about an ancient society that walled itself off from the rest of the world. But 12 brave citizens dug a tunnel under the wall in order to bring their philosophy to other cultures. After the fable is told, you see the words absolute discretion.

The lights come back on and you're instructed by name to move on. So you enter another small door and continue crawling through the dark. Again, you crawl? Yeah. Who started this cult? A knee doctor? I don't see how- And you crawl to another secret room, which has a stack of business cards that say, do you have knee and joint pain? Call Jeffrey Rosen, MD, Latitude Orthopedics. You like that, huh? The next room you find looks like an old office.

There's a couch, coffee table, and a vintage phone. The phone has one button that blinks for your attention. You pick up the receiver. You exit the room, gather your belongings, walk back out to the street. On the ground, embedded into the sidewalk itself is the mysterious hex logo of the Latitude. People walk by, going about their day completely unaware of the absolute bizarre experiences going on inside. You yourself aren't quite sure what just happened. Then, your cell phone rings. Until May 31st, save up to $100 in rebates on select Toyo tires. Find a Toyo Tread Experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations.

From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca You sailed beyond the horizon in search of an island scrubbed from every map. You battled krakens and navigated through storms. Your spade struck the lid of a long-lost treasure chest. While you cooked a lasagna. There's more to imagine when you listen. Discover best-selling adventure stories on Audible.

You sailed beyond the horizon in search of an island scrubbed from every map. You battled krakens and navigated through storms. Your spade struck the lid of a long-lost treasure chest. While you cooked a lasagna. There's more to imagine when you listen. Discover best-selling adventure stories on Audible. The voice on the other end of the phone tells you you've been chosen for a special mission.

Over the next few hours, a series of calls and texts directs you around the city on sort of an urban scavenger hunt. Now, at one point, you're told to go to a local bar, give the bartender your card, and say nothing. The bartender then slides you a heavy brass coin, and on the coin it says, absolute discretion. A few minutes later, you get a text sending you to another address, and when you arrive, you see the Hex logo stamped in the cement. This is the place. You get another text with a door code. You try it. It works. You see the Hex logo on the stairwell. You walk up the stairs following the clues that have now become familiar. And when you reach your designated floor, it's just a row of offices. But one of the doors has a key card lock and the door is labeled Den Arcadia. So you try your card. It works. The room is covered in ornate

psychedelic murals. And in the middle of the room are five vintage arcade games. So you put in your coin and start playing. Now, at first, the game plays normally, but after a minute or so, it glitches out and you see a mysterious glowing figure. Who disturbed my coma? This is Quas, the gatekeeper of the Latitude. Now, Quas gives you a secret word. He then instructs you to go home to your glowing box and enter the signal. Back home, you enter the code on the Latitude website. You're then shown a video of Professor Walter Kinley. The Latitude for us has a double meaning, as you can see. On the one hand, Latitude means geographic breadth, width, a sense of leeway. The professor welcomes you to the Latitude Society as a compere, and he then gets on a boat and sails away.

You then choose a society's secret name called a moniker, and you now have access to all the perks of the Latitude Society. Like what kind of perks? Well, you can go to their e-commerce store and buy Latitude merchandise, like t-shirts, keychains, and other swag. Ah, there it is. You can also attend secret gatherings called Praxises. You can participate in other events, which are called jaunts.

But most importantly, you can now invite others to join the society. For about $30 each, you can purchase those mysterious Latitude security cards. And as long as you use absolute discretion, you can buy as many cards as you like. This is a pretty complicated way to sell merch. It is. And this is one of the reasons for the downfall of the Latitude, at least this version of it. To learn what went wrong and what happened to the Latitude Society, we have to pull back the curtain. And that leads us to the Latitude's founder and chief visionary. His name is Jeff Hull. You know, like for some people, heaven and hell is reality.

Jeff Hull is a Silicon Valley tycoon slash artist. He worked for his father's financial firm and made a bundle when they sold the business for half a billion dollars. Hull went on to create a company called Nonchalance, which specializes in real-world immersive storytelling. Things like escape rooms or murder mysteries is this type of entertainment. Nonchalance uses the urban landscape as a canvas on which to paint these interactive narratives. Another well-known Nonchalance experience was called the Jejeune Institute. Its format was similar to the Latitude, but maybe a little more sinister. Jejeune needs its own video, but if you're interested in things like this, I'll link you to a documentary in the description. The TV show Dispatches from Elsewhere, starring Jason Segel, is based on the JeJune

Institute. So check that out if you want to learn more about how these immersive experiences work. So what was the intention of the Latitude Society? Was it a game? Yes. Was it a business? Yes. But was it a game? Yes. Was it a business? Yes. But was it a cult? Well, what are the things that like a cult would do? You know, separate yourself from your friends. Well, absolute discretion might, might be that right. Um, ask for money. Oh shit. Like, you know, they have, like it was a gift shop beforehand, but now all of a sudden it's like, if you want to continue on in the early days of the latitude society, the intent was to create amazing, immersive experiences to attract corporate clients who wanted to commission their own experiences.

Whether for entertainment, team building or marketing, Jeff Hull believed he could use the Latitude as proof of concept to raise funding. And he needed to. The society cost about $3,000 per day to operate. And Hull put about $2 million of his to raise funding. And he needed to. The society cost about $3,000 per day to operate, and Hull put about $2 million of his own money in. But after three years, the latitude couldn't sustain itself. So Hull introduced some controversial policies. Initially, members could invite anyone they wanted to for free. But eventually, invitation cards cost $25, which was soon raised to $32 per card. Members didn't like this.

Then Hull announced that there would be a membership fee of about $300 per year. This caused full-scale outrage. Members argued that when they invited someone to join, they were giving them a gift. And asking them to pay for their gift was rude. So everyone just wanted all of this for free? They did. End rates. Well, Jeff wanted all this for free? They did. In grates. Well, Jeff Hall kind of felt the same way.

The Latitude Society had over 3,000 members, but even if all of them paid their membership dues, paid for invitation cards, bought merchandise, you still fall way short of the $100,000 per month the Latitude needed to be self-sustaining. So what did that guy do? The only thing you do with a failing startup. He shut it down.

But this was easier said than done. Jeff Hull and the Latitude Society were so good at creating an experience so immersive that members couldn't distinguish it from reality. Now, whether intentional or not, that's how cults are created. I totally underestimated the power that the story can have upon certain people. No matter what kind of life you lead, most of it falls into the mundane. Day in, day out, you're going through the motions. So when someone invites you to join a mysterious secret society, it's only natural to be intrigued. And this secrecy is attractive.

People love to belong. And if it's something exclusive, that creates scarcity. It makes you feel special. Now, I remember when the only way to join Gmail was if someone invited you. And when Facebook launched, you could only join if you were a student currently enrolled in college. We preach over and over about how labeling people is bad. But if we're honest,

we all have labels that we've given to ourselves that we're proud of. Maybe it's our country, our political party, our religion, or our favorite sports team. We want to be in a tribe. Now, during a latitude gathering or praxis, there's going to be crazy rituals like chanting, dancing, costumes, all kinds of things that would look silly to outsiders. But Latitude members fully committed to their roles. These experiences were special to them. They were important to the tribe. And the invitation system is genius.

People want to be Promethean, meaning they want to be the holders of knowledge who teach that knowledge to others. So think about an obscure band or TV show that you discovered before anyone else. It made you feel cool to be early, to be first. The person who initiates you into the latitude society is called your ascendant and you are their descendant. Tribes have hierarchies and people like rising in the ranks. The more people you bring into the society, the more descendants you have, the higher you rise in the tribe. Genius. There's a specific model of identifying cults developed by Stephen Hassan, and it's called the bite model of control, B-I-T-E. That's behavior,

information, thought, and emotion. So let's see how the latitude shapes up. I was actually a little bit nervous that I was going to be kidnapped or that, you know, there was going to be some kind of crazy pagan ritual with some kind of sacrifice or something like that. I didn't really know what to expect. At the top of the behavioral control section of the BITE model is regulate an individual's physical reality. Latitude does this by design. Then there's isolation from non-members. Absolute discretion certainly covers this. Then there's controlling what clothes you wear. Now look at this shot of the Latitude's elder council. Notice everyone's wearing a Latitude sash and on the sash are various pins and insignia showing your rank in

the organization's hierarchy. Even Jeff Hull himself is wearing what looks to be a military uniform. Now, this is similar to what the leader of Scientology wears. Did you just beat me? Had to. We had to call it the Tom Cruise thing. The Tom Cruise thing? That's Scientology. Hey, look, if you say the S word, they're going to come after us with lawyers and video cameras. The Tom Cruise thing? That's psychology. Good point. I in the Byte model is information control. Cults use deception. Latitude does this.

Information is not freely available to outsiders. Spying is used. Cult-generated propaganda is created. Also, information is shared unproportionately. One ex-Latitude member complained that she had to give the society all kinds of personal information about herself, but when she asked how that information was going to be used and who had access to it, she was told she didn't need to know. Now, Latitude checks all of these boxes. T is thought control.

Members are encouraged to take on a new identity. Techniques are used to alter mental states. Members are required to take the cult's doctrine as truth. Meditating, chanting, praying, and rituals are used to instill a new map of reality. All the boxes. E is emotional control control this includes making you feel like the cult can help you reach your full potential another thing cults do to manipulate emotion is shunning those that leave in an excellent article in vice one former member talks about how after she left the society her roommates stopped telling her where they were going and they treated her as suspicious the latitude Latitude Society checks a lot of these boxes. Even active members posted anonymously on Reddit asking others,

is this a cult? They were worried that they, like most cult members, joined by accident. That's pretty scary. You sailed beyond the horizon in search of an island scrubbed from every map. You battled krakens and navigated through storms. Your spade struck the lid of a long-lost treasure chest. While you cooked a lasagna. There's more to imagine when you listen. Discover best-selling adventure stories on Audible. Did the founder of the Latitude Society, Jeff Hall, set out to form a cult?

Well, I don't think he did. But whether intentional or not, he seems to have an intuition for how to manipulate people. Now, fortunately, I don't think he tried to do any harm, nor did he try to enrich himself. He could have taken advantage of his members, but he didn't. So this leads to a deeper and potentially dangerous question. A religion is defined as a group of people adhering to a specific set of beliefs. A cult is defined as a group of people adhering to a specific set of beliefs. Yeah, that's the same definition. It is.

But religion is widely accepted. Cults, not so much. Nobody can argue that religions have or had cruel practices. And many people who leave cults felt that while they were in them, their lives were better. So what's the difference between a cult and a religion? I don't have the answer. Do you? Thank you so much for hanging out with me today. My name is AJ. That's Hecklefish. This has been the Y-Files. If you had fun or learned

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