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(Originally published in 2003)
Twenty-five Years after the Revelation—Where Are We Now?
JUNE 2003 WILL MARK THE TWENTY-FIFTH Anniversary of the announcement by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that all worthy male members, regardless of race, are eligible for priesthood ordination. The 1978 declaration created a moment of great hope and optimism within the Church, and many assumed this revelation would usher in a new era of success in proselytizing among African Americans. However, the promise of a quarter-century ago has only partially been realized. This is because the Church has not done enough to remake its racist past and present in such a way as to coincide with its mission to teach, preach, fellowship, and retain African Americans.
Projects designed to fully embrace African-American saints will meet with difficulties, I believe, until each of us recognize just how persistent and pervasive racism in U.S. society is. It is present in virtually every facet of life, including the workings of religious organizations. So, even though the priesthood ban was repealed in 1978, the discourse that constructs what blackness means is still very much intact today. Under the direction of President Spencer W. Kimball, the First Presidency and the Twelve removed the policy that denied blacks the priesthood but did very little to disrupt the multiple discourses that had fostered the policy in the first place. Hence there are Church members today who continue to summon and teach at every level of Church education the racial discourse that blacks are descendants of Cain, that they merited lesser earthly privilege because they were “fence-sitters” in the War in Heaven, and that, science and climatic factors aside, there is a link between skin color and righteousness. A complete disruption of these discourses will require a rearticulation of Church history and an understanding of how that past interrelates with secular racial history. Further, a greater number of black voices will need to be heard in leadership and scholarly settings, where, with sensitivity and without the threat of censorship or sanction, they can communicate ways the now-defunct ban continues even today to create for African-Americans a position of “less-than” in Church spaces.
RACISM is articulated in multiple and complex ways. The popular perception of racism is that, either by word or deed, racists commit acts of aggression against someone of another race. The problem with this definition is that it assumes only individuals are implicated in racist practices whereas institutions are not—or, if they are, it is usually in isolated incidents. This notion that racism is a function of the individual keeps us from understanding the larger reality of racism as discourse in which social actors perform racial scripts in numerous ways.
For instance, many of us are familiar with slavery, sharecropping, Jim Crowism, segregation, and more subtle enactments of institutionalized racist practices. These are historical events that, thankfully, have been repudiated in the present-day United States, yet the racial perceptions about the “other” that underwrote each of these practices have yet to disappear. So instead of overt racism, most of today’s racial discourse operates in the way individuals, groups, and organizations interact with each other. In other words, how we see ourselves is, to a greater or lesser extent, through the prism of race. Race is not limited only to bodies and skin color, but extends to ideas, values, and beliefs that are held as “normative.” The primary locus of racism at this level is found in the privileging of one group over another. Typically in the United States, whiteness emerges as the preferred prism through which people come to appreciate history, art, literature, and popular culture, and which underwrites much that takes place in the justice system, as well as in business, education, housing, and health care.
In my graduate work in the field of cultural studies, I have found the dichotomy of blackness/whiteness to be helpful in unveiling how racialized discourse influences notions of power and privilege. Blackness and whiteness can be thought of as classifications that have been historically determined through social relations based on oppression, repression, and, to some extent, “progress.” So the construction of blackness as “other” in the Church was not an anomaly, especially given the overlapping secular racist discourses that were endemic in U.S. society—the way in which blackness was named by whiteness. For example, just as today whiteness constructs the idea of black urban spaces as dangerous, sexual, and drug-infested, whiteness in the Church also defined blackness as cursed. Until very recently, black people have not been able to name themselves (which may explain the seeming fixation of the black community to continually represent itself). Since their earliest contact with Africans, Europeans have represented blackness in a number of ways ranging from criminality and fear to myths about hypersexuality and about exceptional abilities in music and athletics.
The seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries produced many ideas about the black body through a regime of pseudoscientific truth.(1) During the eighteenth century, for example, black slaves in North America were construed as threefifths a person—chattel property without souls. Such a notion about blackness provided a basis for many whites to justify the inhumane treatment of black slaves. The power of language also enabled academic disciplines to embrace assumptions about black peoples’ so-called inferior values, mores, and behaviors. And whiteness, as the fortunate opposite of blackness and its negative attributes, became firmly established as “normative.”(2)
Not surprisingly, early LDS leaders were influenced by many of those ideas about blackness. Pseudo-scientific literature regarding the inherent status of blacks was abundantly available and even found its way into Church publications such as the Millennial Star, Times and Seasons, and Juvenile Instructor.(3) But, unfortunately, some leaders went further in portraying blackness in explicitly negative terms by adding a theological layer that implied these inferior characteristics and status were Godgranted or, at least, God-approved. The key element in this theological mix was the adoption of the idea (prevalent during the time it was appropriated) that God “marked” Cain with blackness and “cursed” him so that he would forever be persecuted. Early leaders extended this to mean Cain and his descendants would never hold the priesthood and taught that this mark and curse continued even after the flood through Canaan, Ham’s son through his wife Egyptus, whose descendants were believed to be the negroid races.(4) Further anchoring the early LDS appropriation of negative notions concerning blackness are several Book of Mormon teachings that associate dark skin with that which is vile, filthy, and evil, and white skin with that which is delightsome, pure, and good. A metaphorical reading of darkness as representing that which is loathsome is harmful enough, but many leaders taught that this as a literal fact, that God could and sometimes would darken the skin of those who fell out of his favor, and vice versa.(5)
Although African-Americans are not usually imagined to be among those who are the descendants of the Book of Mormon Lamanites, it is instructive to look briefly at some of the discourse in just this past half-century concerning this literal interpretation of the skin-color/God’s-favor link. In our lifetime, it has not been uncommon to hear Church members speak about “rescuing” the Lamanite (meaning Native American) population from its own spiritual demise. Numerous scriptural references in the Book of Mormon articulate that the Gentile/white population is supposed to take the gospel to the Lamanite people (Morm.5:15; 7:8), and many members take as literal the Book of Mormon passages that hint that the skin of Lamanites will whiten as they accept the gospel (Jacob 3:8; 3 Ne. 2:15). Spencer W. Kimball, the Church president who received the revelation that repealed the ban on black men holding the priesthood, manifested great concern for Native Americans during his long tenure as an apostle. Speaking in the October 1960 General Conference, he made a statement that was seen as powerful advocacy for this dispossessed minority but which also illustrates how language can powerfully inscribe color consciousness: “I saw a striking contrast in the progress of the Indian people today. . . . For years they have been growing delightsome, and they are now becoming white and delightsome as they were promised. . . . The children in the home placement program in Utah are often lighter than their brothers and sisters in the hogans on the reservation.”(6)
ONCE IDEAS, EVEN erroneous ones, become internalized to where they work as the lenses through which we unconsciously view the world, it takes a great deal of effort to make them conscious again. And, to some degree, black people in the Church agree or accept—at least partially—the traditional discourse on black spiritual demise; otherwise they would not join. I did not find out about the priesthood ban on blacks until after I joined the Church, and, sadly, I passed on much of the folklore while serving an LDS mission in Michigan. Looking back on that experience, I venture to say that had I known about such teachings in the Church, I might not have joined. I remain a member currently because of my faith in the Church’s basic doctrines and my hope that a more thorough change will occur to undo the traditional racial discourse on blacks still being perpetuated in many corners of the Church. It is not enough to change a social practice, policy or mandate without pushing through the arduous task of rearticulating the discourse that helped to create it.
Many Church members suppose that their leaders are inspired on virtually all matters, including race. But it is impossible for white people, even prophets, to really know blackness unless they develop relationships with blacks that move beyond mere acquaintance, peer, co-worker, or fellow ward member. Without many meaningful intimate relationships with the racialized “other,” how else can we move beyond the profound distortions brought on by the long-standing discourse and the warp of privilege? Even some of the LDS intellectuals who hail discourse on race and speak on those issues summon many of their notions from white sources and cultural spaces. Many seem to me to be cultural tourists, yet they are often called upon to give their “expert” analysis of blackness, just as most official discourse in the Church about the roles and divine nature of women is articulated by men. There is not nearly enough speaking from black spaces that can offer a different interpretation of reality.
Blackness as a discourse that embodies social practice must be reconfigured to provide a different construction of knowledge and truth. Blacks and whites must find new ways of creating mutual cooperation and unity in the Church, and blacks must be given more freedom to speak from the full range of their experience, not just from those experiences that fit comfortably within the predominant discourse. Otherwise, that discourse will never change. Blacks who do move toward Mormonism should not be made to feel that blackness is synonymous with curses, marks, or indifference. And this can be accomplished only by a formal repudiation, in no uncertain terms, of all teachings about Cain, the pre-mortal unworthiness of spirits born to black bodies, and any idea that skin color is connected to righteousness.
NOTES
1. Immanuel Kant, “On the Different Races of Man.” Found in This is Race: An Anthology Selected from the International Literature on the Races of Man (New York: Schuman, 1950); David Hume, Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding (Buffalo, New York: Prometheus Books, 1988); John Locke, Two Treatises on Government (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), chap. 1–6.
2. Some scholars have applied the term “regime of truth” to refer to this type of discourse. For example, much work done in anthropology, sociology, medicine, and law has created a way of talking about race that has inhibited access by many people of color to certain economic, housing, medical, and educational resources. For instance, even as legal scholars discuss the need for the law to be “colorblind,” they are actually acknowledging how “color conscious” it really is. And in popular culture, blacks have been represented as inclined toward criminal behavior, which, in turn, has had wide-reaching effects on criminal conviction rates. Biologists have argued that skin, bone, and hair are linked to all sorts of genetic characteristics, and such ideas have often been used to try to fix and secure human difference. The fallout from such constructions is that many members of racial groups “stay” within their own spaces because of the way these disciplines (law, anthropology, sociology, biology, and religion) have constructed and legitimized these differences. Thus the term “regime of truth” speaks to the fact that the concept of race is far more a social construction than a biological one, and that the term “race” is less a description than an instrument of power.
3. See Latter-day Saint Millennial Star 15 (1853):422, 20 (1858):278; Times & Seasons 4:375–76, 5:395, 6:857; Juvenile Instructor 3 (1868):142.
4. Interestingly, the Ku Klux Klan is one of the few “religious” groups who still teach that blacks descended from Ham. And although not actively perpetuating the doctrine through official channels, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints, unlike many world traditions, has not sufficiently distanced itself from this folklore nor the extension by certain LDS leaders that blacks descend not only from Ham but from Cain as well.
5. The primary scriptural basis for this teaching is 2 Ne. 5:21.
6. Spencer W. Kimball, Conference Reports (Oct. 1960): 32–34.
I first learned of this book (by Newell G. Bringhurst and Darron T. Smith) while listening to the podcasts of Mormon Stories by John Dehlin. He featured Darron T. Smith as one of his guests to talk about Blacks and the Mormon Church. Darron was just coming off being dismissed from BYU because of his work on this book (or at least a significant reason).
This whole podcast intrigued me and when he mentioned Black and Mormon I knew I wanted to get my hands on it. This intrigued me because one I am a white Mormon American woman and also from Utah, the main hub of the Church. I grew up in Utah County where we could count on one hand all the people of color in our schools, one Black, two Asian, and two Hispanic. Not a lot of diversity. So I go back to the question of why this should affect me, why should I be interested? Because I never was able to gain a view of that side of the world while growing up. My dad did a pretty good job on teaching us tolerance by his actions, which is so important. So I feel blessed by that. But by the time I came back off my mission, studying Spanish and Applied Linguistics in college I really wanted to gain various perspectives, struggles, cultural ideas and traditions into my own worldview. I had gotten so much of that on my mission and attending college outside of Utah.
I was fed the same folklore of Blacks being descended from Cain and thus the reason they were denied the priesthood and temple covenants for so long, it never sounded right to me, but I never questioned it either. I glossed over the details in the Book of Mormon on Nephites being good and thus white and the Lamanites being bad and thus the curse of darkness came upon them. So with this “white is better” culture and dogma I really began to wonder what other people felt about this. What is a person’s reaction when they find the joy and spirit of the gospel and then find out if they had joined a few decades earlier they would have been denied the most sacred promises of God?
The other reason I find it interesting, intriguing and important is because I feel marginalized as a woman in a male-centered Church. I feel these questions are important to look at and ask. And so I picked up Black and Mormon.
There are eight articles and each focus on various aspects of Blacks in the Mormon Church. I want to focus on the ones that really stood out for me.
“How Do Thing Look on the Ground?” The LDS African American Community in Atlanta, Georgia by Ken Driggs
I found this article so refreshing on how diversity in the United States and in a Mormon ward/branch can find what they are looking for in their worship. I feel too often that worshiping becomes a tradition, the way things have been, and therefore should always be. So to learn that this ward in Georgia can have a spiritual and meaningful sacrament meeting is so amazing! I really want to head down there to Georgia to live at least for one Sunday the wonder that is their ward! I feel that this is important since our Church is our Church meaning that it should incorporate traditions and cultures and backgrounds of those in the congregation.
Another topic it explores is how the racist policies of the Church’s past affect black members of the Church. It’s hard to fathom that the racist folklore is still being passed around in Church, that many missionaries will still use those false ideas to explain it all away when it only brings more hurt.
I have also found the stories in this article to be inspiring, because despite the racist policies and doctrines of the Church many still stay and find their own peace and answers from God.
Unpacking Whiteness in Zion: Some Personal Reflections and General Observations by Darron T. Smith
I really loved this article by Darron. He puts it all out there on the table for us white people and I find that refreshing and once I think about it, so true.
Darron explains:
"Whiteness is a cultural and social construction, a system of structural privileges that advantages whites in way the people of color do not experience. Whiteness is not only limited to bodies and skin color but also to ideas, knowledge production, values, and beliefs that are held as the norm…People of color are rarely seen in movies except as villains or as sidekicks to the white protagonists. Books, greeting cards, children’s toys, billboards, and popular magazines are overwhelmingly situated in whiteness…Whiteness as a protected and often guarded entitlement goes unnoticed and, because unnoticed, also unchallenged. As a result, white people are either unable or unwilling to recognize how their elite position enables them in numerous and significant ways." (p. 151)
I’ll never understand what it’s like to be looked at differently, treated differently because of my skin color, my traditions, and my background. So let’s talk about it, get it out there in the open.
Never in church do I recall anyone asking the questions about why blacks were denied the priesthood or any whys really. I was just recently talking to my dad about this and he finally admitted that ‘yes, mistakes were made.’ But even being a history major he fully believes that the Church has never been racist, that during the Civil War the North was not racist and the South was; two very big dichotomies that allow us to see things as either or, black or white, and nothing in between. Could Brigham Young still be considered an inspired prophet while holding racist theories and ideas? Well, yes. The Lord can only work with what He’s got so if that means he’s got lots of bigoted white folks I guess that’s what he’ll have to use. So old traditions are going to get in the way, thus we’ll continue to get older, white, and usually American, but now spreading to Western Europe general authorities.
I feel it’s extremely important to talk about race issues, women’s issues, culture, traditions, and well, all issues within the Church. Where is a better place to discuss it than in Church with our fellow worshipers?
To me this book brought to light the good, the bad, and the ugly within the Church. It’s important to recognize what needs to be talked about before we can actually talk about it. I’ve been so enlightened by reading this book, so much more aware how my actions or lack thereof can leave a permanent mark. Granted, I’m living in Utah County once again and find diversity lacking, but now when it does come up I have more enlightenment and knowledge to share with others. It’s my responsibility to destroy the awful folklore that I hear and see as well as be open to new ideas as diversity continues to grow and hopefully, in turn help others on this path as well.
How should we deal with the undertone of politically conservative comments at church? Should we speak up or should we avoid confrontation? If we invite liberal friends to church, should we apologize for comments that can come across as offensive?
Last year, I did something no sane person would do. I ran for the state legislature. In Utah county. As a Democrat. I knew going into the campaign that only five percent of the district was registered Democrat, and that Utah county is often referred to as one of the reddest counties of one of the reddest states in the union. In 2004 Bush won Utah county 86% to Kerry's 12%; statewide, Utah gave Bush his largest margin of victory, and Utah County gave Bush the largest percentage of any county its size. The fact that I knew all this going into the campaign and still proceeded proves, I suppose, just how mentally unstable I was. But I also knew that within my district, a larger percentage of voters were registered as “unaffiliated” than Republican, 49% to 43%, so I thought it might be possible to win over these voters. And I was running as a socially conservative Democrat; my most radical position is supporting public schools and the PTA. We had seen a referendum on vouchers go down to defeat the year before, in my district vouchers failed by a strong majority, and I was running as an anti-voucher candidate. I was hoping the voters would consider the election Vouchers Part II: Revenge of the Voters.
I discovered, however, that in politics things are just not that simple. First, I found that most of these unaffiliated voters self identified as Republicans, or at least saw the Republican “brand” as more appealing. They liked to claim independence of thought, but most were every bit as committed to the Republican Party as the affiliated Republicans. I found that even the registered Republicans liked to think of themselves as fair-minded people who study the issues and vote for the best candidate. But what they think they do and what they actually do is not the same. For example, my wife was helping out with polling one night and she reported speaking to one self-identified Republican voter, reading the prepared questions:
“On what do you base your voting decisions?”
“Issues,” responded the voter.
My wife continued, “If someone shared your views and was running as a member of the opposing party, in your case a Democrat, would you vote for him or her?”
The response, “absolutely.”
“Do you plan to vote for Becky Lockhart, or Boyd Petersen for state legislature?”
“Which one is the Republican?” the voter asked.
Some voters, however, didn’t seem to know they could vote for individuals rather than a straight party ticket. I spoke with one Hispanic gentleman who had very strong feelings about immigration reform but also had very strong conservative moral values. He said he was going to vote a straight Republican ticket. It took twenty to thirty minutes to explain to him that if he did this he would end up voting against his interests about half the time. I finally ended up getting a sign in his yard and probably got his vote, but I realized that every vote above my 5% was going to require a long conversation.
Nevertheless, if some votes came hard, some came surprisingly easy. I found that the people who knew me, people in my neighborhood and ward—most of them strong Republicans, enthusiastically supported me. If they knew me, they tended to support me, and my position on issues didn’t really seem to matter to these people. In fact, my home teacher and I had just engaged in a very lively debate about vouchers a few months before I announced I was running. He was solidly pro-vouchers and I was solidly anti-vouchers. Nevertheless, when I announced my candidacy, he was one of the first people in the neighborhood to request a sign and offer to help with the campaign. But I also found that some votes, even from people who agreed with my platform, were impossible to get. Some people who should have supported me ideologically but didn’t know me often would adamantly not support me. Several public school teachers and officials told me flat out that they could not support a Democrat. On election day, I got a phone call from a sister in my ward who reported “Today, I did something I have never done before: I voted for someone who was not a Republican!” She had voted for me, but still couldn’t say the “D-word.” My positions really didn’t matter to most people. It was about whether I had a relationship of trust with them. Was I one of them? It all came down to tribe.
Now that the election is over, I have been reading up on the subject of how voters make decisions, and I have found that the anomalies I encountered as a candidate can all be explained by current research on the brain. According to that research, positions don’t much matter in politics. It’s all about emotion. Emotions about party, candidates, and, finally, issues.
In study after study, researchers have found that it is not so much what voters think than it is about what voters feel. “In politics,” states Drew Westen, “when reason and emotion collide, emotion invariably wins” (35). Contrary to Enlightenment models of thought, emotion works hand in hand with reason. Summarizing the conclusions of cognitive and brain scientists, George Lakoff notes that idea that reason is “conscious, literal, logical, universal, unemotional, disembodied, and serves self-interest” is completely false (2). In fact, 98% of our thought takes place unconsciously and emotion and reason cannot be separated. It’s not so much that we are duped by emotion, but that emotion guides reason. Westen compares emotion to a “compass” that, in conjunction with reason, helps us to avoid adverse stimuli and seek out rewarding stimuli (88).
In sum, Westen states, “although the marketplace of ideas is a great place to shop for policies, what matters most in American politics is the marketplace of emotions” (35-36). And three sets of emotions, in this order, are primary in determining how people vote: their feelings toward the parties and the party’s principles, their feelings toward the candidates, and, if they haven't decided by then, their feelings toward the candidates’ policy positions. Voters get their feelings toward the parties largely by internalizing the values of their parents. “The single best predictor of party affiliation—and of broader value systems associated with it—is in fact the party affiliation of our parents” (Westen 82). So party loyalty is largely determined before one has really thought about the issues, despite what we might consciously want to believe. Most of us determine what tribe we belong to long before we know what that tribe stands for.
In a study I found particularly interesting, Drew Westen and several of his colleagues at Emory University did brain scans on fifteen committed Republicans and fifteen committed Democrats during the 2004 election. The psychologists discovered that when subjects saw images of their own party’s candidates, a part of the frontal lobe called the “frontal pole” was activated. It is an area that other studies have shown is particularly active when a subject thinks about something related to him- or herself. In short, the very sight of an image of our party’s candidate involuntarily activates brain synapses that foster identification with that candidate; whereas seeing images of the other party’s candidates activated areas of the brain where negative emotional reactions take place (52-53). We perceive candidates from our own party as “like us,” as part of our tribe. These responses are as involuntary as our breathing.
In another part of their study, Westen took brain scans as subjects read a series of statements attributed to the Republican and Democratic candidates, statements that any dispassionate observer would find conflicting. What Westen and his colleagues found is that people had no problem seeing the contradictions in the opposition’s candidate, but found their candidate’s position much less contradictory.
The brain scans showed that when confronted with the initial conflict in the person of their candidate, neural circuits associated with negative emotional states turned on, but as the individuals reasoned, falsely, toward a rationalization for their own candidate, neural circuits associated with positive emotions turned on. The partisan brain actually rewarded the individuals for biased reasoning. The circuits activated overlap significantly with those activated when a drug addict takes a hit, “giving new meaning,” as Westen puts it, “to the term political junkie” (xiv). Again a tribal instinct kicks in: our brains suppress conflicts with those who are part of our tribe.
I discovered when running a campaign that what voters really wanted to know was what tribe I belonged to. Was I one of them? My positions mattered very little. Voters were focused on their emotions about the political party I was affiliated with first and foremost. If they already knew and trusted me, their feelings toward me overshadowed their feelings about my party. But if they didn’t have any feelings for me, they focused on party and often voted, I believe, against their own interests.
So how did Mormon voters as a group come to have such positive feelings for the Republican party? How did Mormons come to see themselves as part of the Republican tribe? (My wife suggests it comes from Joseph’s Inspired Version translation of James 1:5: “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men conservatively….”)
Thomas Alexander has outlined five distinct periods of Church involvement in Utah politics. During the first period, spanning from 1847-1891, the church “essentially dominated the Utah scene” (36) with its own party, sponsoring candidates and opposing gentile political involvement. As the Church moved into the 20th century, it was forced to confront the dominant American culture head on. We can think of this as a process of assimilation, as Armand Mauss has called it; as a process of reconstructing memory, as Kathleen Flake has called it; or as a process of colonization of the Mormon mind, as Richard Bushman has called it; but we know that this process involved both accommodation of American values and a reinvention of what it means to be Mormon.
In order to achieve statehood, Mormon leaders disbanded the Mormon People’s Party, and urged members to become Republicans in order to achieve the political balance necessary for Utah to be granted statehood. Mormons were asked to switch their tribal loyalty from the Democrats (who had not had a party platform against the “twin evils of slavery and polygamy,” as the Republicans had), to the Republicans, in the name of political expediency. The administration of Heber J. Grant inaugurated a less partisan period of Church influence; however, Grant’s concerns about the New Deal and J. Reuben Clark’s increasing influence in the First Presidency led to a more partisan approach. From the late 1950s to the present, despite many individual Church leaders’ avowing Republican leanings, the Church as an institution has taken a more neutral part in political affairs, only entering the political fray, as Alexander put it, “to support or oppose measures they considered moral issues” (36). Significantly, this is the very period in which Utah Mormons became more closely allied with the Republican Party.
Looking back, it is hard to believe that Utah (and its predominately Mormon electorate) once voted enthusiastically for Democratic presidential candidates. From William Jennings Bryan, and Woodrow Wilson (second term), through all four terms of FDR (despite President Heber J. Grant’s advice to vote against him), to Truman and LBJ, Mormon Utah supported Democrats. Certainly, it also supported Republicans, but it was once considered a swing state, one that both parties courted and wooed. However, since 1964, every Republican presidential candidate has won Utah, and in all but two cases by over 60% of the vote. Utahns have not elected a Democrat to the Senate since Frank Moss left in 1977, nor to the governor’s mansion since Matheson left in 1985. The shift in Utah politics took place over the very period that Alexander says the Church leadership became less overtly and publicly partisan. It is curious that this tribal identification of Mormons with the GOP took place at a time when the Church leaders were less directly involved in politics.
Certainly the issues coming to the fore during the decades of the 50s through the 70s—communism, civil rights, welfare reform, abortion, the ERA—were galvanizing. Furthermore, the impact of Ezra Taft Benson’s outspoken conservatism during these years must also be considered. However, I believe there was another factor, one more subtle but more profound: Republican discourse frames began to overlap with the frames of Mormon discourse in subtle ways that remapped the Mormon mind.
Linguists have known since the mid-70s that the brain organizes words by semantic fields, or what Lakoff calls “conceptual frames” (22). We are mostly familiar with this concept in the idea of professional jargons. For example, for an actor, the words “play,” “direction,” “score,” and “run” have specific meanings in the semantic field of her profession. The exact same words used by an athlete, in the semantic field of sports competition, mean something else entirely, and the framing is what makes the difference.
Such frames, in turn, create conceptual metaphors that organize our thinking. We think metaphorically and, at the same time, metaphors shape how we think. Political issues, like everything else, are always framed, and political language is never neutral. Take, for example, the issue of immigration reform. If we use the phrase “illegal immigrant” we are already, by framing it with that adjective, making a judgment about the issue that is very different from the alternate frame available in the term “undocumented immigrant.” We are usually not aware that we are using such frames when we think about issues, but by talking about these issues in these ways, repeating the framing metaphors over and over again, our brains are changed.
George Lakoff argues that there are two primary frames that shape the way people think about political issues: both see governance through metaphors of the family. One is an obedience-oriented frame that Lakoff calls the “strict father” metaphor. It sees a family structure where “children” (i.e., the citizens) need to be disciplined by a strong “father” (i.e., the government) in order that they can be made into responsible “adults.” Once the “children” reach adulthood, however, the “father” should no longer interfere with their lives: the government should not interfere with the business of those in society who have proved their responsibility.
The other frame is an empathy-oriented approach that he calls the “nurturing parent” metaphor. This metaphor sees both “mothers” and “fathers” working to help the essentially good “children” develop and keeping them away from “corrupting influences” like pollution, social injustice, and poverty. Most people are what Lakoff calls “biconceptional,” employing both models in different spheres of their lives. But when one frame is activated, the other turns off. The difference between conservatives and progressives, Lakoff argues, stems from the fact that they subscribe with different strengths to one or the other of these orienting metaphors. Conservatives follow more closely the “strict father” metaphor and thus find themselves in the Republican tribe, while progressives follow the “nurturing parent” model and find themselves in the Democratic tribe. However, Republicans, both Lakoff and Westen concur, have been much better at crafting frames for their arguments, moving politics from the world of ideas to the world of emotion-laden values.
At the same time Republicans have been mastering the world of metaphorical framing, Mormons leaders have, likely unconsciously, employed metaphorical frames from the same network. For example, Gordon and Gary Shepherd have shown how the rhetoric of General Conference shifted between 1890 and 1950, as uniquely Mormon themes like Zion, kingdom-building, eschatology, missionary work, apostasy, etc. declined and more American themes like patriotism and good citizenship increased. Particularly important has been an increased emphasis, especially since the 1950s, on obedience, keeping the commandments, and the importance of obeying priesthood leaders. Academics like Richard Poll, Eugene England, and most recently Terryl Givens have noted the tension within Mormon thought between obedience and individuality, community and freedom, the “Iron Rod” and “Liahona” perspectives. However, within the general Mormon populace the emphasis has shifted so far toward “obedience” that most members don’t often perceive much tension.
For example, when I read to my High Priests Group the 1945 ward teaching message that “when our leaders speak, the thinking has been done,” all of them nodded in agreement, assuming the statement was gospel. When I told them that the statement had been repudiated by President George Albert Smith, they were astonished, but seemed, ironically, eager to follow their priesthood leader’s orders to stop blindly following orders. Combine this discourse of obedience with the patriarchal structure of Mormon hierarchy, and contemporary Mormon cultural framework maps astonishingly well onto Lakoff’s metaphor of the “strict father.” In fact, Lakoff even cites as an example of the strict father “politics of authority” a quote by President James E. Faust: “Obedience leads to true freedom. The more we obey revealed truth, the more we become liberated” (61).
Another significant shift in Mormon rhetoric has been noted by Armand Mauss in an essay published in the recent festschrift for Eugene England. Mauss sees a change in Mormon discourse from the analytical to the affective, from an emphasis on doctrine to an emphasis on feelings. He astutely observes that while speakers in Mormon chapels once “reached under the lectern in search of the books of scripture,” today they reach for that “dependable box of Kleenex tissues” (23). This change in discourse, Mauss argues, “symbolizes the triumph of feeling over understanding” in contemporary Mormonism. It is indicative of:
“a softer worship over a harder one; perhaps of an evangelical—or even Pentecostal—homiletic over an analytical style; of personalized adaptations of scripture over appreciation of historical context. It represents the triumph of the heart over the head in popular Latter-day Saint religious expression.” (24)
I certainly do not wish to characterize conservative thought as less intellectual or less rational, but many on both sides of the political divide have acknowledged that Republicans have done a better job of framing their agenda in emotional terms. Democrats have too often grounded their campaigns on Enlightenment theories of rationality, ignoring the ways emotion and reason work together in the decision making process. So the Church’s move toward more emotive discourse would also help solidify an unconscious tribal connection between Republicanism and Mormonism.
Many Mormon Democrats share with me a sense of frustration that we are not fully accepted within Mormon culture, that our tribe has been voted off the island. We believe, as we must seeing the world as we do through our framing metaphors, that what we see as our core moral values—caring for the poor, providing strong education, protecting the environment—are fully compatible, in fact, central to Mormonism. Yet many of our fellow Church members see us as apostates. For example, in Tuesday’s Deseret News, an op-ed written by an adjunct history professor at Weber State cried out for tolerance among Mormon congregations for differences of ideology, stating that Mormon Democrats “have faced increasingly vicious verbal attacks in [our] wards and in [our] neighborhoods.” Many of the comments from readers of the online version of the article drove her point home with unconsciously and self-righteously vicious irony. They compare progressive ideology to “Satan’s plan,” state that tolerating Democrats’ views would necessarily “dilute the true doctrines of the Church,” and call the author of the column “morally week,” “unstable,” and “a nutcase.” Utah Mormons still ask the question, “Can a good Mormon be a Democrat?” But no one is asking “Can a good Mormon be a Republican?” despite the fact that many of us see, as we cannot help but see, through our progressive Mormon frame, serious problems reconciling some of the values of the Republican party with Mormon values. At times we progressive Mormons feel like we are not just a different tribe, but like we are living on a different planet from politically conservative Mormons, and I’m sure that conservative Mormons can only look upon progressive Mormons with disbelief. While we may not be living on separate planets, we are seeing our world through different frames and that gap that divides us into separate tribes can seem unfathomable.
This gulf between the tribes is not healthy for Mormon religious devotion. I have personally known many students who have left the Church because they have felt excluded or ridiculed for their progressive beliefs. However, I believe, one-party dominance is a problem for the Church itself. As others have noted, nationally both parties tend to ignore the Mormon vote; Republicans know they have it in the bag and Democrats know they don’t have a chance. Candidates for national office don’t bother with Utah. But one-party rule also leads to ethical lapses. When I lived in Washington, DC, I experienced first-hand the problem with single-party Democratic party rule, and I believe similar problems plague Utah. The problem also affects the image of the Church as we become a world religion. It becomes difficult to bridge cultural divides when we have a dominant “strict father” political frame and Mormonism is so closely tied to the Republican agenda. However, the bigger problem can result when our culture’s “strict father” obedience frame overwhelms and even denigrates the “nurturant parent” frame. I reported elsewhere how the Church received some extremely unfavorable media attention these past few years as it was revealed that Mormons had been involved in creating, implementing, and defending interrogation techniques that many felt crossed the line into torture. This was not just a crisis of bad publicity; it took a human toll. The press also reported how one Mormon Army interrogator committed suicide after she was forced to implement these techniques. The “strict father” model certainly is a valid frame from which to view the world, but without the mitigating influence of the “nurturing parent” model, it can lead to abuses.
So how might progressives create a space within Mormon culture for their tribe? The answer is to do exactly what conservative Mormons have done: employ frames both within political discourse and within Church discourse that remap the brain. Mormon theology fully supports an empathy-based frame, perhaps more so than any other Christian denomination. Mormons believe in a Heavenly Mother as well as a Heavenly Father, who are literal parents of each of us. We believe in serving each other and the community. We believe in building communities where people live with one heart, one mind, dwell in righteousness, and eliminate poverty among us—and not just by building gated communities in which the poor are unwelcome. We believe in an earth that is created spiritually, and we can understand environmental responsibility as an act of stewardship. And in a moving example of a completely nurturant parent, Mormon scripture tells us that God himself looks down from heaven and weeps for his suffering children. In short, Mormon theology supports a metaphorical frame of empathy.
Finally, I believe that as both sides come to understand the workings of language and the mind, we will be able to foster more tolerance. As we discover that each individual’s moral vision is necessarily framed by an organizing primary metaphor, one that necessarily shuts off competing frames, we can better relate to one another. . We will, we can hope, stop assuming that political difference is simply a matter of sinfulness, insanity or not having all the facts. To paraphrase the Apostle Paul, “For now we see through a frame darkly.” We must remember that each of us has a point of view. “I have a point of view,” says Madeline L’Engle, “you have a point of view—God has view.”
Works Cited
Alexander, Thomas G. Mormonism in Transition: A History of the Latter-day Saints, i890-1930. Urbana: U of Illinois P, 1986.
Bushman, Richard Lyman. “The Colonization of the Mormon Mind.” Annual Meeting of the Association for Mormon Letters (2000): 14-23.
Flake, Kathleen. “Re-placing Memory: Latter-day Saint Use of Historical Monuments and Narrative in the Early Twentieth Century.” Religion and American Culture 13 (2003): 69-109.
Gottlieb, Robert, and Peter Wiley. America’s Saints: The Rise of Mormon Power. New York: Putnam, 1984.
Heinerman, John, and Anson Shupe. The Mormon Corporate Empire. Boston: Beacon, 1985.
Lakoff, George. The Political Mind: Why You Can’t Understand 21st-Century American Politics with an 18th-Century Brain. New York: Viking, 2008.
L’Engle, Madeline. Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art. New York: Shaw, 1980.
Mauss, Armand L. “Assimilation and Ambivalence: The Mormon Reaction to Americanization.” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 22.1 (1989): 30-67.
---. “Feelings, Faith, and Folkways.” “Proving Contraries”: A Collection of Writings in Honor of Eugene England. Ed. Robert A. Rees. Salt Lake: Signature, 2005.
Ostling, Richard N., and Joan K. Ostling. Mormon America: The Power and the Promise. New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1999.
Prince, Gregory A., and William Robert Wright. David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism. Salt Lake: U of Utah P, 2005.
Quinn, D. Michael. Elder Statesman: A Biography of J. Reuben Clark. Salt Lake: Signature, 2005.
---. The Mormon Hierarchy: Extensions of Power. Salt Lake: Signature, 1997.
Shepherd, Gordon, and Gary Shepherd. A Kingdom Transformed: Themes in the Development of Mormonism. Salt Lake: U of Utah P, 1984.
Westen, Drew. The Political Brain: The Role of Emotion in Deciding the Fate of the Nation. New York: Public Affairs, 2007.
*Editor’s Note: Learn more about why Boyd is a Mormon Democrat here.
(Originally published in 2003)
