The Theology of Grief: How Internet Fraudsters Learned to Preach

They start with sounding like that one voice you've already trained yourself to listen to.

A pastor.

Anybody familiar with romance scams or inheritance fraud knows that such deceitful acts are usually not initiated using technology. Beyond fake profiles, photos, email addresses, and fake social media accounts is an ancient practice: a mastery of grief, of trust, and the language of wounded people.

People tend to think about romance and inheritance scams in terms of being technical offenses. However, they fail to realize the core principle of the whole scheme. The tools required are inexpensive — a Gmail address, a photo of a stranger, a script — but language is doing all the job here. To be more precise, this fraud employs religious language, including patience, testimony, providence, and consolation. It makes the words designed for soothing the sufferers work in favor of extracting money from them.

This isn't metaphorical language. Many fraud operations targeting lonely, bereaved, or ageing victims imitate pastoral care. They enter through faith rather than arguing against it. The con artist does not invent hope; he learns its grammar.

Patience Disguised as Reverence

Investigators, journalists, and former participants all use the same vocabulary.

Do not begin by talking about money.

Start with compassion.

If a recent widow has been writing about the death of her spouse, give her some time. Take a few days before you answer her. Instant compassion seems opportunistic and manipulative. Delayed compassion seems respectful.

Death changes how people see the world. Those who have lost someone are highly attuned to manipulation. Patience will lower that shield. The scammer knows this. He takes his time, expects nothing from the grieving, and waits until she trusts him before he speaks of what he needs.

A hasty deceit cannot stand.

But one that learns to grieve alongside the victim can.

This is not a cynical imitation of compassion. It is an intense study of the phenomenon of grief.

The deception works because it understands the patterns of grieving — the same way a minister, psychologist, or priest does.

Scripture Is Portable

Religious language travels easily.

"The Lord placed you on my heart."

"I have been praying for your family."

"The enemy has delayed your blessing."

These phrases work because they are already part of the listeners' experience.

Consider the case of a widow who grew up over the past forty years in a church that had visiting prophets and evangelists using the same language.

The con artist also adopts the same language cadence.

This is an important point that has been ignored far too often.

Many religious groups judge the sincerity of communication based on register. Certain rhythms mark humility. Prayers come in recognizable cadences. Even hesitation has rules.

Anybody can learn how to follow those rules.

A minister can.

A criminal can.

And the listener doesn't have many reliable means of telling the difference. Time will eventually reveal the distinction. But by that time, the money will be gone.

The Grammar of Grief

Every form of suffering develops its own syntax.

Grief holds back from mentioning hard names. It orbits around painful memories before uttering them. It turns to the Scriptures when words are inadequate.

Those who have experienced loss are aware of this.

Fraudsters know it too.

Recruitment manuals instruct fraud-oriented recruits to pause before making requests, apologize for inconveniencing, and sound hesitant as opposed to presumptuous. The hesitation is a mimicry of genuine sympathy. It recreates the cadence by which true sympathy is usually articulated.

The fraud does not take Scripture away.

What it takes is the sound of sincerity.

And this could be the most disturbing of discoveries.

A professional grief counselor and a professional confidence trickster employ very similar tactics. Both assess the emotional state of their 'client'. Both repeat well-known words. Both establish rapport through attentive listening.

Their goals keep them apart.

One guides the other towards healing.

The other guides him towards loss.

Their tactics remain very much alike until the goal is achieved.

Beyond the Scam

The need for practical advice persists. Check IDs. Deny unsolicited demands. Don't send money to strangers.

This all makes perfect sense. Except that it doesn't address the core problem. And the real problem is that the consolation is too portable. The centuries-old language developed for accompanying suffering in the church can be taken whole and adapted to thievery. And that should worry believers and unbelievers alike. For it means that the line between true pastoral language and its forgery is far more porous than many might have thought.

They both require trust. They both require believing that the voice that addresses us is there to do us good.

There is still grief that requires its vocabulary, and religious traditions have given the world some of its best vocabulary for suffering. And we shouldn't cast off that legacy because it is subject to being counterfeited.

The internet has just made manifest something much older than itself. The words that move us most are always the words that we already understand. Familiarity does not prove either goodness or truth. It merely proves that someone understands our language.

The sad part is not that conmen have figured that out. The sad part is that they know their business so well.

The most convincing voice in a bereaved individual's life is never the loudest. It is always the voice that sounds like home.