Osho, Epic City and Colony Ridge, Texas - Could the Rajneesh Cult happen again in the U.S.?

Epic City, Rajneeshpuram, and Colony Ridge: Could the Rajneesh Cult happen again in the U.S.? Considering how left-wing judges have hijacked the legal system in the U.S., would anybody stop them if they tried?

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April 20, 2025, 04:03 PM MST

In the sprawling, sunbaked plains of North Texas, a new controversy is brewing—one that echoes the utopian dreams and societal clashes of decades past while raising fresh questions about land, identity, and governance in the Lone Star State. The proposed Epic City, a 402-acre Islamic community development near Josephine, Texas, has ignited a firestorm of debate, drawing ire from state officials like Governor Greg Abbott and prompting comparisons to the infamous Rajneeshpuram commune of the 1980s.

Meanwhile, just northeast of Houston, the massive Colony Ridge development—a 33,000-acre community largely populated by Latino immigrants—faces its own legal and environmental battles, underscoring Texas’s complex history with ambitious, controversial land projects. As Epic City teeters on the brink of realization, the ghosts of Rajneeshpuram whisper warnings of how such visions can spiral into chaos, while Colony Ridge serves as a modern cautionary tale of unchecked growth and alleged exploitation.

Epic City: A Muslim Utopia or a "Sharia City"?

Epic City, a project spearheaded by the East Plano Islamic Center (EPIC) and managed by its for-profit entity Community Capital Partners, aims to create a master-planned community centered on Islamic values. Located about 40 minutes northeast of Dallas, the development spans unincorporated parts of Collin and Hunt counties and promises over 1,000 homes, a mosque, a K-12 faith-based school, a community college, retail shops, and sports facilities. Two additional projects, Epic Ranches One and Two, add 200 acres of residential lots to the vision, with lots ranging from half an acre to five acres. The project’s leaders, including resident scholar Yasir Qadhi, describe it as a “Muslim neighborhood” that remains “well-integrated” with the broader community, emphasizing inclusivity and harmony across cultures [Web ID: 0] [Web ID: 8].

Yet, the announcement of Epic City in 2024 has been anything but harmonious. Within days of its public launch, over 500 lots were reserved, reflecting high demand among Muslim families seeking a community tailored to their cultural and religious needs [Web ID: 15]. However, the project quickly drew fierce opposition. Texas Governor Greg Abbott, a vocal critic, took to X on February 24, 2025, declaring, “To be clear, Sharia law is not allowed in Texas. Nor are Sharia cities. Nor are ‘no go zones’ which this project seems to imply.”

The backlash has been swift and severe. By April 2025, Epic City was under investigation by multiple state agencies, including the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality (TCEQ), which found that EPIC lacked the necessary permits to begin construction [Web ID: 2]. Attorney General Ken Paxton launched a probe into potential consumer protection violations, while the Texas Workforce Commission investigated allegations of housing discrimination against non-Muslims [Web ID: 12] [Web ID: 16]. Governor Abbott even directed the Texas Rangers to investigate “potential criminal activities,” though specific violations remain unclear [Web ID: 12]. Local residents have voiced concerns about infrastructure strain, environmental impacts, and even cultural fears, with one Josephine resident, Susan Martinez, decrying plans for a loudspeaker system to broadcast the Islamic call to prayer, claiming it would disrupt their rural hamlet [Web ID: 7].

Supporters of Epic City, including faith leaders from Muslim, Jewish, and Christian communities, have condemned the investigations as Islamophobic and baseless. Mustafaa Carroll of the Council on American-Islamic Relations accused Abbott and Paxton of “abusing their power” and “disseminating hateful misinformation” about Muslims [Web ID: 21] [Web ID: 24]. Yasir Qadhi has repeatedly emphasized that the community is open to all, stating, “We’re not building an exclusive community; our main focus is actually family and not faith” [Web ID: 8]. Yet, the project’s promotional language, which highlights Islam as “at the forefront,” has fueled skepticism among critics who fear it could become a self-segregated enclave [Web ID: 14].

Rajneeshpuram: A Historical Parallel with Ominous Implications

The controversy surrounding Epic City bears striking similarities to the rise and fall of Rajneeshpuram, a commune established in the 1980s by followers of the Indian mystic Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, later known as Osho. In 1981, Rajneesh and his disciples purchased a 64,000-acre ranch in Wasco County, Oregon, with the goal of creating a utopian community centered on his teachings of meditation, individualism, and free expression. The commune, named Rajneeshpuram, quickly grew to house thousands of sannyasins (followers), who built infrastructure, farms, and meditation centers while attracting a mix of spiritual seekers and curious onlookers.

However, Rajneeshpuram’s rapid expansion sparked immediate tension with local residents and authorities. The commune’s leaders, particularly Rajneesh’s secretary Ma Anand Sheela, engaged in aggressive tactics to assert control, including attempting to influence local elections by busing in homeless people to vote. The situation escalated in 1984 when Rajneeshees orchestrated the first confirmed bioterror attack in U.S. history, poisoning 751 people with salmonella in an attempt to incapacitate voters and secure political power. The commune’s lavish lifestyle—Rajneesh famously owned 93 Rolls-Royces—further fueled perceptions of a cult, and in 1985, Rajneesh was arrested for immigration fraud, deported, and the commune collapsed after Sheela and others were convicted of crimes.

The parallels between Rajneeshpuram and Epic City are both structural and societal. Both projects involve a religious or spiritual group seeking to establish a self-contained community on a large tract of rural land, emphasizing values that differ from the surrounding culture. Both have faced accusations of separatism and illegality—Rajneeshpuram with its bioterrorism and voter fraud, and Epic City with allegations of Sharia law and housing discrimination. Both have also been met with intense scrutiny from state authorities and local residents, who fear the projects threaten their way of life. In Rajneeshpuram’s case, the fear was of a cult taking over; in Epic City’s case, it’s of a perceived “Sharia city” undermining American law.

Could It Happen Again?

The question looms: could Epic City follow Rajneeshpuram’s trajectory into chaos and collapse? Several factors suggest it’s possible, though the outcomes may differ.

First, the scale and ambition of Epic City mirror Rajneeshpuram’s. Both projects involve massive land purchases—402 acres for Epic City, 64,000 for Rajneeshpuram—and plans for self-sustaining communities with their own schools, religious centers, and infrastructure. Epic City’s rapid lot reservations indicate a level of fervor among its supporters, much like the thousands who flocked to Rajneeshpuram. This rapid growth can breed resentment among locals, as seen in Josephine, where residents worry about traffic, water shortages, and cultural shifts [Web ID: 7] [Web ID: 8]. Similarly, Wasco County residents felt overwhelmed by Rajneeshpuram’s expansion, which led to escalating conflicts.

Second, both projects have faced accusations of operating outside legal and cultural norms. Rajneeshpuram’s leaders resorted to criminal acts to achieve their goals, while Epic City’s organizers are accused of potential housing discrimination and circumventing Texas law [Web ID: 12] [Web ID: 16]. While there’s no evidence Epic City’s leaders intend to engage in criminal behavior, the perception of separatism—fueled by Governor Abbott’s “Sharia city” rhetoric—could push the project into a defensive posture, potentially leading to radical actions if the group feels cornered. Rajneeshpuram’s bioterror attack was, in part, a desperate response to external pressure; Epic City’s leaders, under multiple investigations, may face similar pressures if the state’s opposition intensifies.

Third, the cultural climate in Texas today is as polarized as Oregon’s was in the 1980s, if not more so. Rajneeshpuram emerged during a time of heightened fear of cults, following the Jonestown massacre of 1978. Epic City is unfolding amid rising Islamophobia, with figures like Abbott tapping into broader anxieties about immigration and religious difference [Web ID: 24]. The political response to Epic City—investigations, public hearings, and legislative threats—mirrors the legal crackdowns that ultimately dismantled Rajneeshpuram. If Epic City’s leaders misstep, or if a single incident escalates tensions, the project could spiral into a modern-day Rajneeshpuram, with legal battles, community clashes, and eventual dissolution.

However, there are key differences that might prevent such an outcome. Epic City’s organizers have emphasized compliance with U.S. laws, hiring high-profile defense attorneys and pledging to follow the Fair Housing Act [Web ID: 18] [Web ID: 12]. Unlike Rajneeshpuram, which was led by a charismatic but controversial figure in Rajneesh, Epic City’s leadership appears more decentralized and pragmatic, with a focus on family-centric development rather than a singular spiritual vision. Additionally, the interfaith support Epic City has garnered suggests a broader coalition that could mitigate some of the cultural backlash [Web ID: 24]. But if Texas authorities continue their aggressive stance, and if local opposition grows, Epic City could still face a Rajneeshpuram-like downfall.

Colony Ridge: A Modern Parallel of Exploitation and Neglect

While Epic City fights to get off the ground, another Texas development—Colony Ridge—offers a sobering look at what can happen when a large-scale community project grows unchecked. Located in Liberty County, northeast of Houston, Colony Ridge spans 33,000 acres and has transformed from rural forest into one of Texas’s fastest-growing developments since its inception in 2012. Marketed primarily to Latino immigrants, the community—developed by brothers John and William “Trey” Harris—now houses an estimated 40,000 to 100,000 residents across six subdivisions, making it a de facto city in its own right [Web ID: 10].

Colony Ridge’s growth has been marred by allegations of exploitation and environmental harm. In December 2023, the Department of Justice and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau filed a lawsuit accusing the developers of predatory lending practices, targeting Latino buyers with high-interest, seller-financed loans that didn’t require standard documentation like Social Security numbers or credit scores. The suit alleges that the Harrises foreclosed on 45% of the 35,000-plus properties sold since 2012, flipping them to new buyers in a cycle of profit-driven exploitation [Web ID: 10]. Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton filed a separate lawsuit in March 2024, echoing these claims.

Environmental concerns have also plagued Colony Ridge. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) confirmed in January 2024 that its criminal investigations division is probing suspected environmental crimes, including allegations that the development dumped tens of thousands of gallons of fecal-contaminated water into local streams that flow into Lake Houston, a primary drinking water source [Web ID: 22]. The New York Post reported additional investigations by the IRS and U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, pointing to a web of potential financial and regulatory violations [Web ID: 22].

Local residents and officials have decried Colony Ridge as a “no-go zone” for law enforcement, citing general lawlessness that prompted Governor Abbott to allocate $40 million for a state police surge in late 2023 [Web ID: 22]. Liberty County Sheriff Bobby Rader noted that the largely immigrant population often avoids census takers, making accurate population counts difficult and exacerbating the strain on local resources [Web ID: 10]. The development’s rapid growth has overwhelmed infrastructure, with flooding and drainage issues further compounding environmental risks.

Comparing the Three: Lessons and Warnings

Epic City, Rajneeshpuram, and Colony Ridge share a common thread: they are ambitious attempts to create self-contained communities that cater to specific demographics—Muslims, spiritual seekers, and Latino immigrants, respectively. Each has faced significant pushback, whether from state authorities, local residents, or federal agencies, highlighting the challenges of balancing communal aspirations with broader societal norms.

Scale and Growth: Rajneeshpuram’s 64,000 acres dwarf Epic City’s 402 acres and Colony Ridge’s 33,000 acres, but all three projects have aimed for rapid expansion. Rajneeshpuram housed thousands within a few years; Colony Ridge’s population exploded to tens of thousands in a decade; and Epic City’s 500+ lot reservations signal similar potential. This rapid growth often outpaces local infrastructure, as seen in Josephine’s water and traffic concerns and Colony Ridge’s environmental violations.

Cultural Tensions: Each project has been accused of separatism. Rajneeshpuram was labeled a cult, Epic City a “Sharia city,” and Colony Ridge a haven for illegal immigrants. These labels, whether accurate or not, reflect deep-seated cultural fears—fear of the “other” that manifests in legal and political opposition. Rajneeshpuram’s bioterror attack was an extreme response to such pressure; Epic City and Colony Ridge, while not at that level, face similar risks of escalation if tensions boil over.

Legal Scrutiny: All three have attracted intense legal scrutiny. Rajneeshpuram’s leaders were convicted of crimes; Colony Ridge faces federal and state lawsuits; and Epic City is under multiple investigations before construction has even begun. This pattern suggests that large-scale, identity-based developments in the U.S. often provoke a disproportionate response from authorities, especially when they challenge cultural or political norms.

Potential for Collapse: Rajneeshpuram collapsed under the weight of its own actions and external pressure. Colony Ridge, while still operational, is teetering on the edge of legal and financial ruin. Epic City’s future remains uncertain, but the state’s aggressive stance could force it into a similar fate. If Epic City’s leaders misjudge their response—say, by defying state orders or alienating locals further—they could trigger a cascade of events leading to the project’s demise.

Conclusion: A Fragile Future for Epic City

As Epic City navigates a gauntlet of investigations and public backlash, the lessons of Rajneeshpuram and Colony Ridge loom large. Rajneeshpuram shows how a utopian vision can devolve into criminality and collapse when faced with external hostility and internal mismanagement. Colony Ridge illustrates the dangers of unchecked growth and exploitation, particularly when targeting vulnerable populations. For Epic City to avoid these fates, its leaders must tread carefully—complying with regulations, addressing local concerns, and countering Islamophobic narratives with transparency and inclusivity.

Yet, the political climate in Texas, exemplified by Governor Abbott’s uncompromising stance, suggests that Epic City’s path will be anything but smooth. If the project is perceived as a threat to Texas values—whether through the lens of Sharia law or infrastructure strain—it risks becoming a lightning rod for broader cultural and political battles. And in a state where land and identity are fiercely contested, the ghosts of Rajneeshpuram and the struggles of Colony Ridge serve as stark reminders: utopian dreams, however noble, can quickly turn into Texas-sized nightmares.

17GEN4.com