What triggered the wide dissemination of the CES Letter? Examining a perfect storm of tech, naivety, and scholarly silence.
What are anti-Mormon dog whistles? Explore how words or phrases can subtly reinforce bigotry and hinder authentic discourse.
How are Latter-day Saints misrepresented on TV? Prevailing stereotypes and lack of diversity persist in the media.
How do anti-Mormon activists impact temple projects? Their opposition often inadvertently aids government approval.
Is numerology reliable? Despite intriguing patterns, it often leads to confusion and misinterpretation.
Stepping away from a community of faith hurts in both directions. Could a deeper recognition of that pain help draw our hearts together again?
The New Yorker published a story last week about the authorship and provenance of the 1971 book Go Ask Alice. The book is presented as the diary of a teenage girl, but a new book suggests that it was composed by Beatrice Sparks, a woman who claimed to only have found the diary and edited it. The article is a fine read, asking interesting questions about the ethics of publication, and the difficulties of identifying authorship. But near the end of the article they include this line, “As a few ex-Mormons have pointed out, Sparks was not the first Mormon to publish a text ostensibly based on an original source that the rest of the world did not get to see.” The line takes a not-quite veiled swipe at the founding of the religion that Sparks was a member of. I can’t help but wonder if Sparks was a Catholic, would the author have been as comfortable opining, “Sparks is not the first Catholic to put out a book where the original sources aren’t available.” This kind of winking attack feels more fitting on the ex-Mormon Reddit than in a major publication like the New Yorker.
In the weeks since the premiere of the Under the Banner of Heaven miniseries, there has been a broad consensus that the show doesn’t quite work. Its attempt to paint Latter-day Saints as promoting violence just doesn’t land. And its depiction of Latter-day Saints simply doesn’t resonate because it’s too dissimilar. This of course must come as some disappointment to critics of the Church who had hoped the series would prompt more conversations around the issues they deem problematic such as how the Church promotes violence. Into this void comes a new argument made most prominently by Taylor Petrey, but also echoed by a student columnist at the University of Utah, and now promoted on Twitter by Benjamin Park—namely, that because there has been some violence done by some Latter-day Saints who use the language of their culture in perpetrating it, Latter-day Saints should watch the series with the intent to learn how to make their Church less violent. Both Petrey and Park had previously criticized the series for its poor job in portraying Latter-day Saints, but have since shifted. We don’t want to attack the Daily Utah Chronicle piece because it’s a student article. But Petrey and Park should know better. Some of us have been on the record defending Petrey as a serious scholar, despite the fact that his conclusions don’t often derive well from the available evidence. But Petrey seems to suggest in his article that any violence that uses the language of religion must have been inspired by that religion. We understand the temptation of this point of view. What else could we blame violence on if not the culture it arose in? But Petrey’s position assumes that human beings are naturally non-violent, and only become violent as a result of their culture. This is a major assumption in the Robert Orsi essay that Petrey relies on extensively. Parks’ tweets similarly assume that any conversation about Latter-day Saints and violence must concede that the faith contributes to the violence in some way. But the causes of violence are often complicated. Because of the importance of our innate nature in creating violence, even the most peaceful society would still produce fringe examples of extreme violence. Having a Latter-day Saint who becomes violent isn’t proof that the faith contributes to that violence, even if the perpetrator uses the language of their culture in perpetuating that violence. Cultural contexts can then increase or decrease the likelihood of that emerging, but no culture has discovered how to remove it altogether. And because Under the Banner of Heaven fails to present a clear picture of what most experience as Latter-day Saint culture, it doesn’t do much to establish whether a Latter-day Saint context is more prone to cause violence than others. Those who use Latter-day Saint or another religious language and context to perpetuate violence weren’t necessarily made violent by those cultures. But rather, violent individuals will leverage anything around them to perpetrate their violence. We’re aware of many other similar examples—of abusers, for instance, who used the language of therapy to perpetuate abuse. But it would be absurd to suggest that therapeutic culture caused that abuse. Even pacifist language has been known to be used to perpetuate violence by shaming survivors into silence. An abusive person will draw upon the most powerful language available within their given cultural context and weaponize that. This is not coincidentally the conclusion made by prosecutors in the Lafferty case, that the murder was about power and relationships and that religion was merely the pretext. Does the Church of Jesus Christ disproportionately create violent offenders? We’d be interested in reading any definitive social science research on the question, but unfortunately, those promoting this point of view or hoping to have this conversation have not yet presented any. And rather than attempt to answer this question clearly itself, Under the Banner of Heaven skips the question and takes it as a given. A study of this sort could start the conversation Petrey, Parks, and the student author hope for. Instead, we get a story about a 38-year-old murder that was notable mainly for how unusual it was among the Latter-day Saint community and perpetrated by someone who had recently been kicked out of the Church for their extremist views. It should not surprise anyone that it hasn’t prompted anyone to conclude there’s a problem with violence among Latter-day Saints.
Summary — The episode begins with the detectives checking in on Bishop Low’s home, which they find ransacked and deserted. Pyre finds a letter written by Ron’s wife to the Prophet expressing concern about her husband’s refusal to pay taxes. The detective contacts the Church about the letter and is told the letter was handed down to one of the bishop’s counselors, LeConte Bascom, who works at the bank. Brother Bascom says he had to turn Ron down for a loan because his brother’s refusal to pay taxes made him a liability, though it’s heavily implied that the real reason is that his wife’s letter was seen as an embarrassment to the Church. In flashbacks, we see Dan marching in a Pioneer Day parade, shouting about the government’s illegal taxes, as well as smoking and kissing a woman who isn’t his wife. Dan’s father says he’s ashamed of his immoral behavior and anti-tax nonsense and advises him to study the scriptures to set himself back on the right path. This unfortunately drives Dan into researching more obscure history of the Church, including information on polygamy. He makes a business trip down to Colorado City to visit the breakaway polygamist sect there and manages to get the name of a pro-polygamy pamphlet called “The Peace Maker.” He reads this pamphlet and brings up the idea to his wife Matilda, telling her she’s limiting his spiritual power if she doesn’t let him marry a second wife. During this conversation, Dan is pulled over for speeding and refuses to cooperate with the officer, leading them on a police chase that ends with his arrest. At the jail, Dan’s brothers try to convince him to stop his resistance to the government. Ron feels it’s his responsibility to show Dan the error of his ways, but instead, Dan runs circles around him, leaving him speechless and admitting that he’s going to lose his business and home. Dan somehow turns this fact into evidence that his views are correct and ends up winning over Ron to his side. In the present, Detective Pyre is being leaned on by the Laffertys’ stake president to release them into his custody but refuses. The detectives have identified the car the killers were probably using and plan to hold a press conference to ask for tips when the police chief returns from vacation and demands that all mentions of fundamentalism Mormonism be scrubbed from the press briefing. (It’s implied he’s being leaned on by the Church.) Pyre tries to toe the line at the conference but eventually caves to a persistent reporter and admits that he thinks that the murders may have something to do with fundamentalist beliefs. The next day at church, the ward is shunning the Pyres, and a specific couple is assigned to keep an eye on their faith. Meanwhile, a police officer has located Bishop Low fly fishing in the mountains and safe. Church History — During Dan’s explanation of polygamy, we get flashbacks to the infamous scene where Emma finds out about the doctrine of polygamy for the first time and throws the revelation in the fire. Though church members will be familiar with this story, the tone is portrayed very differently than we are used to. Emma is shown as being absolutely skeptical of Joseph’s translation of the Book of Mormon and other prophetic acts, even though she firmly testified of the truth of these things even after her break with the Church after Joseph was murdered. Joseph is portrayed as proclaiming the doctrine of polygamy only for his own physical gratification, which is a common anti-Mormon trope with little evidence behind it. While it is true that one of Joseph’s wives was only 14, the facts behind the situation are more complex than portrayed in the show. The pamphlet “The Peace Maker” is portrayed by Dan Lafferty as an “essential LDS tract” written by Joseph Smith, and no one in the show ever corrects this perception. In fact, the tract was not written by Joseph Smith, and he repudiated it during his lifetime. This episode presents a slanted view of church history, giving only one side of the conversation and showing the modern church as trying to hush it up rather than having its own interpretation of events. Shibboleths — Pyre claims that writing a letter to the prophet is like writing to “Heavenly Father himself,” which is absolutely wrong. While members of the Church do revere the prophet and listen to his teachings, he is not God, and this equivalency is not one Saints would make (though outsiders think we do). The idea that doing business with fundamentalists is like “doing business with the mafia” is totally alien to me. They are regarded as somewhat of an oddity in Utah, but not dangerous like organized crime. One unusual phrase occurs when the stake president claims that the Laffertys need to be released into his custody for “healing prayer.” I honestly have no idea what this phrase refers to and have never heard it in an LDS context. And the formal type of shunning portrayed happening to the Pyres is not something we do. Though obviously, wards vary in their culture, there is no formal instruction not to talk to those who have questions. Rather, we are encouraged to keep being friends with those who are struggling with faith and support them however we can. Changing History — It is interesting to note that in the actual chain of events, it was Sister Low, not Bishop Low, who was on the Lafferty hit list. Sister Low was a Relief Society President who supported Dan’s wife as she sought a divorce. Why does the show change this? Perhaps the idea that the Church has female leaders doesn’t fit well with the show’s depiction of the oppression of women in the LDS church. Brenda Lafferty’s sister has also expressed her disappointment with the way the show is misconstruing her sister’s murder in pursuit of an
Despite the reality of overwhelmingly peaceful Latter-day Saints, an odd cultural relic continues to portray members of the Church of Jesus Christ as violent. This is the main thesis in the recent series Under the Banner of Heaven. Riding the wave, a new film Sinner v. Saint has just been announced, which has a Latter-day Saint main character and plenty of violence. In perhaps a welcome relief, this story doesn’t portray the Latter-day Saints as the perpetrators of violence, but rather as the victims. The story recounts the true story of a missionary who was kidnapped, tied up, and repeatedly raped before escaping. You might expect this story to be a somber account of the vestiges of anti-religious fervor, or the marginalization of Latter-day Saints in our popular imagination painting us as little more than pawns to be used. But who are we kidding? The director, Tim Kirby has almost exclusively worked in comedies such as Fleabag, Veep, and Brockmire. Kirby describes the story as featuring “zany twists” and “quirky characters.” And ultimately he says the story is all about “obsessive first love.”
Drawing your attention to this piece published yesterday in the New Yorker, “Our Obsession with Ancestry Has Some Twisted Roots.” The article has some interesting insights but ultimately tries to paint the Church of Jesus Christ’s influential role in genealogical work as somehow “twisted” as the title implies. The article has much larger targets than the Church, but it unfortunately demonstrates how casually some journalists subscribe to centuries-old tropes casting Latter-day Saints as somehow sinister.
Last week the Times of Israel asked, “Why do the Utah Jazz, in the Mormon capital, play ‘Hava Nagila’ after wins?” The answer is complicated. The song was first written in 1918, and the author soon moved to Cincinati where he played a role in planning Jewish summer camps, where the song quickly became associated with athletics. By the 1970s the song was being played at professional sporting events. Having been in the sports milieu for more than 50 years, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that so many sports team use the song, and that some of them use the song regularly as the Jazz do. The complicated history could be an occasion to celebrate our multi-cultural nation. But Emily Kaplan took it another way. Kaplan has tried to represent herself in the past as a neutral journalist interested in covering Latter-day Saints. Her first effort left much to be desired, marginalizing most Latter-day Saint voices in favor of her own narrative about a regressive church. When confronted by these critiques Kaplan grew very defensive, doubling down on her right to repurpose Latter-day Saint faith, culture, and history, to fit her narrative. So it might come as some surprise her response to the question Times of Israel proposed: Not only does Kaplan descend into outright insults “garments in a twist” she concludes that the Jazz’s use of the song is somehow part of a weakness of Latter-day Saints rather than related to the larger sports culture, where it’s inspiration clearly comes. Kaplan’s effort to shoehorn a criticism against Latter-day Saints complete with slurs in a place where it doesn’t belong, firmly establishes that she is not the neutral journalist about Latter-day Saints she attempted to portray herself as. I agree that something offensive and absurd has happened here, I just don’t think it has much to do with sports anthems.
