Gloriavale: The Hopeful Christian interview

Friday, 1 May 2015

'Did you know', Hopeful Christian whispers, 'that some medical vaccines contain the embryos of aborted fetuses? Did you know that? Aborted fetuses. That's what they put in them. Right? Now, tell me this: why on earth would anyone want to vaccinate their children?'

He pauses to take a sip of homemade apple juice. I'm having dinner with Christian inside Gloriavale, the fundamentalist commune he founded two decades ago. Back then, he was Neville Cooper. These days, he prefers to be known as 'Hopeful'. The 88-year-old remains the patriarch of Gloriavale. He's a father or grandfather to many of its 530 members. This is his home; his 1,700 hectare dominion.

'Living out there in the world, you don't really know how selfish you are,' he tells me, before asking whether I'm married and have children. Not yet, I tell him. Christian turns away, looking visibly aghast. He glances around the room at the faces of other Gloriavale leaders. There is awkward silence. The other men look away too. Eventually, Christian muses: 'But why not? You're over the age of 16, aren't you?'

A group of young women dressed in blue frocks and white headdresses wait on us as we eat bacon and eggs. Christian is delighted when the girls assemble to sing a song. He gazes at them from underneath his big bushy eyebrows and exclaims, 'Aren't they wonderful?' They sing their last notes, then quietly return to the kitchen.

Chocolate cake drenched in raspberry coulis appears on the table. I glance at a noticeboard that hangs in the dining room. A handful of short newspaper articles are pinned to it. 'Evil twin found in student's brain,' screams one headline. 'Wills and Kate won't stop at two kids', reads another. There are articles about earthquakes, floods and disasters. One piece describes how an American man fired bullets at his computer screen after seeing the 'blue screen of death'.

Twenty-first century technology is not part of the Gloriavale lifestyle. The community, its leaders say, is an idyllic paradise; a safe haven, tucked away from the wicked woes of the world. However, some members are leaving. They swear Gloriavale is in fact a trap for impressionable young people who know no other family, and no other way of life. So, which is it? Is it possible, perhaps, that Gloriavale is both a haven and a hell?

THE HILLS ARE ALIVE

On a clear autumn day, you can imagine the hills around Gloriavale singing. The small township is surrounded by acres upon acres of lush green farmland. The view of the dairy fields is a welcome sight, after a two-hour drive from Hokitika. I expect to be greeted by the children of Gloriavale, kitted out in their modest blue attire. If I'm honest, I expect to see a scene from The Sound of Music.

But on this cold afternoon, the hills around Gloriavale are not alive. It has been raining. Mist rises off Lake Haupiri. As I drive towards the community, with my Seven Sharp cameraman in tow, the only sign of life is a plume of smoke rising from the small township. The storm clouds are gathering in more ways than one, and the leaders of Gloriavale know it.

To my surprise, the gates are wide open. The rental car crunches its way up the gravel path. Outside the main office, Hopeful Christian sits in the driver's seat of an old teal Purgeot, his door ajar. He wears a hearing aid and a polar fleece riddled with big holes. When I introduce myself as a journalist, he stares blankly for a few seconds, then sighs, to no one in particular: 'They just won't leave us alone'.

It has been a bad fortnight for Christian. Former members of Gloriavale have gone public. Some claim they were forced to have sex there at the age of 12. Others say they were starved, physically assaulted and put in isolation. Just hours before I arrived, Police released a statement, asking former members to come forward. It's an unusual step, but it's not the first time Gloriavale has caught Police attention. In 1994, Hopeful Christian was jailed for indecent assault against young members of Springbank, the previous incarnation of Gloriavale.

'All the children, sitting up, please!' says Christian, as he picks up the microphone at breakfast. 'And away we go, then! Our hands are together and our eyes are all closed. Nobody is looking around. Remember, we're talking to our father in heaven. He can see us and he knows everything we're thinking.'

The children's eyes dart between Christian and their plates. They are clean and fresh-faced. Clean living, says Christian, is the Gloriavale way. Caffeine is considered a drug. Alcohol is a no-no. Antibiotics are used sparingly. The locals prefer to use natural products to build up their immune systems. There are bottles of cod liver oil on the tables.

'We live by faith,' continues Christian, as the children start to mumble and fidget. 'Let us live in faith today. Don't just carry it in your head or in a little prayer book or in a cross around your neck. It's something you must carry right through your life.'

Half of Gloriavale's members are under the age of 15. Much is expected of the young people who live here. At 4am, girls are in the kitchen, making bread for breakfast. Everyone is expected to contribute to the running of the township. They are expected, too, to pursue married life. Having a large family is seen as a sign of prosperity, and contraception is deemed a form of abortion.

'Our expectation and aim is that our young people come to marriage as virgins,' explains Fervent Stedfast, a senior Gloriavale leader. 'I would say you have the greatest collection and concentration of virgin young people here than anywhere in New Zealand, whatever people might think or say. Now, everyone must make their own choice. No one's a robot … [but] that would be the normal thing here.'

As Hopeful Christian takes me on a walking tour of Gloriavale, he makes it clear that the young people are expected to 'grow up' when the time is right. He points out that at the age of 13 or 14, males are able to reproduce. Many Gloriavale teenagers get married after they turn 16, and start their own families.

'Purity is a virtue,' he says. 'We are not rearing homosexuals here. They were not born that way. That is not the way they were made. We believe that marriage is between a man and a woman. That's the way it is meant to be.'

Gloriavale has its own school. Christian is particularly proud of the construction of a new, cavernous building. It is being assembled by the men and boys of the community. During class time, the children are learning about Latin prefixes. There are posters on the wall which debunk 'evolutionary fantasies'. A quote on the wall says: 'The best mathematics is that which enables us to count our blessings.'

SHOULD THEY STAY OR SHOULD THEY GO?

Hopeful Christian says blessings are plentiful in Gloriavale, but if people do not want to receive them, they are free to leave. The reality is, those people have no financial means to leave. They do not have their own money or transport. They are isolated. Some of these people have had no experience of the outside world.

So, what of the families who have left the sect? Christian places the blame squarely on them. He describes them as 'weak'.

Christian says some of those people wanted to enjoy the 'benefits' that Gloriavale offers, without being willing to contribute. He accepts that many people have departed Gloriavale, and reveals that some have done so in the middle of the night, with the assistance of outside parties.

And yet, the community's leaders refuse to answer specific allegations made by ex-members. 'We are here, not to argue or fight or justify ourselves,' says Fervent Stedfast. 'We are here to follow Christ and do what he wants us to do … This is how we live. If people want to leave, they can leave. If people out there want to live the way they want to, they can.'

In the world of Gloriavale, criticism doesn't particularly matter. It doesn't matter that ex-members are giving tearful interviews on national television. It doesn't matter that, on Friday, Police set up a private hotline for people to contact them with information about Gloriavale. It doesn't even matter that the name 'Gloriavale' has been whispered around every water cooler and coffee machine in the country this week.

'Jesus Christ is coming back one day soon,' announces Fervent Stedfast at meal time. 'Jesus will come, just as that earthquake came the other day. Some time around morning, the building rattled. It will be just like that when Jesus comes back. We won't be expecting it. He will come to catch us just as we are. Let us all be ready.'

What matters to the people here is that the sun still rises. That the young girls are awake early to bake bread for breakfast. It matters that the young lads pick up their tools, to keep building their new school. And perhaps most importantly, it matters to them that Hopeful Christian continues to guide his flock.

As I began the long drive out of Gloriavale, I was stuck by the simplicity of their outlook on life. It is pure. It is plain. And ultimately, it could prove to be Hopeful Christian's undoing.