The reductio ad Hitlerum is perhaps the most common fallacy in politics, but that doesn’t stop people from using it. In a recent article, Jana Reiss outright accused Latter-day Saints of being complicit with modern fascism by voting for Donald Trump, likening their actions to German Latter-day Saints who “accommodated” the Nazis during World War II. This comparison is not only troubling but also misleading. It misrepresents the nature of American conservatism, mischaracterizes conservative Latter-day Saints, and distorts the historical context of German Latter-day Saints living under Nazi rule.
At the core of Reiss’s argument is the assumption that Trump equates to Nazism. However, while many scholars recognize the problematic aspects of Trump’s rhetoric and policies, there is a broad consensus that he does not fit the definition of a fascist, much less a Nazi (and yes, there are distinctions between Italian Fascism and the racialized National Socialism of Nazi Germany, both of which differ substantially from Trump’s crude mix of conservative nationalism and populism). If experts don’t agree on Trump’s classification within the broader spectrum of generic fascism, it is irresponsible to label him specifically as a Nazi and imply that Latter-day Saints are guilty by association simply for voting for him. This comparison is not only troubling but also misleading.
Further, focusing on this one data point lacks nuance and fails to consider the broader attitudes of Latter-day Saints toward immigration, which tend to be favorable, particularly among those who have served missions.
Put simply, the survey results do not reflect the complete picture. Utah has been designated a sanctuary state by the Salt Lake City Field Office of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (I.C.E.), largely due to the cultural and political influence of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Scholars note that while Utah is a very conservative state, its approach to immigration differs from national trends. Voters in Utah (and Latter-day Saint voters in general) often support strong federal border policies while advocating for a more compassionate stance at the state and local levels toward long-term illegal immigrants, reflecting a desire to balance the Church’s teachings on immigration which state that “every nation has the right to enforce its laws and secure its borders,” while also stating that “Families are meant to be together. Forced separation of working parents from their children weakens families and damages society.” A specific example of this in Utah was in 2011 when the Church lobbied for HB 116, a compassionate alternative immigration bill to more punitive bills being passed in states like Arizona. Evidence from voter polls suggests the Church’s lobbying efforts and public statements were effective in swaying the attitudes of Utah voters who identified as “very active” in the Church. Focusing on one datapoint lacks nuance and fails other considerations.
Lastly, Reiss references David Conley Nelson’s controversial book, Moroni and the Swastika, to argue that Latter-day Saints “accommodated” the Nazi regime. However, relying solely on this source is problematic; Nelson’s work has been taken to task for its polemical approach and sloppy scholarship. German Studies scholar Jonathan Green wrote a devastating two part review of the book pointing out gaping holes showing that Nelson misrepresents the research he cites and he makes audacious claims where the historical record is simply silent. Grant Harward is also critical, agreeing with Green that Nelson is overly polemical and that he overstates his case when he argues that German Latter-day Saints were uniquely accommodating to the Nazis compared to other religious groups. To be clear, neither scholar denies that there were Latter-day Saints who were Nazis or that the Church made mistakes in how they dealt with the Nazis. They only take issue with Nelson’s attempt to paint church leaders and German saints during WWII in the worst possible light when the historical data does not merit that conclusion.
Additionally, newly discovered documents from the B.H. Roberts Foundation challenge Nelson’s conclusions. These records reveal that only 5% of German Latter-day Saints were members of the Nazi Party, compared to 10% of the general population. Joseph Goebbels banned James E. Talmage’s Articles of Faith for being too pro-Jewish, and Gestapo officials categorized Latter-day Saints as a “Sekte”—a designation that framed them as a cult to be monitored for anti-state activities. Some Nazis even believed President Heber J. Grant was a “Jewish millionaire” who controlled the banks in Utah. Gestapo officials were also aware of church leaders’ many statements condemning fascism and Nazism and categorized the Church’s teachings as subversive to the Nazi state. Their internal correspondences show that officials seriously considered banning the Church entirely but thought it unfeasible at the time due to the Church’s international connections. Findings contradict the idea that Latter-day Saints sought to align themselves with the Nazis.
In conclusion, Jana Reiss’s article misrepresents the motivations of Latter-day Saint conservatives, American conservatives, and the historical context of German Latter-day Saints under Nazi rule. Our political discourse is already fraught with polarization, and labeling those with whom we disagree as Nazis is unproductive. It is my hope that Reiss’s future discussions will embrace greater empathy and understanding toward those with differing views, especially toward her fellow co-religionists. Conservative Latter-day Saints are not going away, and she needs to learn to live with them without grossly misrepresenting their values and motivations.
