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History, Dan Wang, Arbitrage, Inequality, Cameras, Debt, LDS

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Books

American Zion: A New History of Mormonism: If you ask a member of a particular sect to draw a religious family tree showing who branched off from whom, they draw a straight line from themselves down to whoever founded the broader religion in question, and then label every other sect as a diverging branch. So, Catholics can talk about when the Orthodox church broke with Rome, and the Orthodox can talk about when the Patriarch of Rome decided to start his own thing. But this case is easier to make in some places than in others, and in the case of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, it's safe, from a historical standpoint, to regard the starting point of the faith as the day Joseph Smith reported that he'd uncovered a buried book of golden plates constituting the Book of Mormon. (As the author notes, calling them "Mormons" was originally a label adopted by outsiders in an often pejorative sense, later reclaimed by the church, later somewhat disclaimed by it, but also still in common use.)

With older faiths, a lack of records means that we have to speculate about what their early history was like, what sorts of internal debates over doctrine and organization occurred, etc. But in the case of the Mormons, there's plenty of contemporary coverage. That makes them fairly unique relative to the most-followed religions: there is no debate about the historicity of Joseph Smith, and not only do we have the Mormons' side of the story of how they were treated early on, but we have the other side of the story, too—the Mormons were a lively political issue for decades of US history. Early on, this was because of conflicts over how closely the Utah Territory government org chart corresponded to that of the LDS church—the US used to have a de facto independent neighboring country, with a radically different ideology, right next door, just like Taiwan and China today.

That status didn't last especially long, and Utah ended up converging on the governing and legal norms of the rest of the US. But not in every respect, or all at once: as it turns out, polygamy was a huge culture war issue in the last half of the 19th century, and created all sorts of bizarre situations. For example: Utah was the second territory to give women the right to vote, after Wyoming. But part of the political calculus was that this was basically gerrymandering: they expected women to vote for devout members of the church, who would then enforce polygamy (and it was a way to signal that, despite the polygamy, women in Utah had rights that women almost everywhere lacked). There was even a lobbying push, by an organization whose founders included at least one prominent suffragist, Julia Ward Howe, to have the federal government overrule Utah's granting women the vote. And this debate was going on for decades. Towards the end, in 1896, there was an election for state senators in which one Angus Cannon lost to Martha Hughes Cannon, one of his six wives (she was a strong advocate for women's suffrage, as well as polygamy.

The LDS church, like the CCP, had a long journey so arduous and definitive that they were ruled almost exclusively by people who'd participated in it until basically all of them were dead. That tends to make it hard for organizations to adapt as things change. So the overall story is one of punctuated equilibrium: there’s a norm, external norms drift, at some point there’s a crisis, and then there’s a resolution that typically involves some guarded assimilation. One thing that’s striking in this book is just how assimilated modern Mormons are—they’re less hyphenated-Americans and more hyper-American, and trends like Dry January and 

One part of Mormon history that's made its way into popular culture is the church's relative reluctance to get with the program on racial tolerance. What's especially odd about that is that in the earliest days of the church, they seem unusually tolerant. But in a way, this makes sense: in the early days of some group, it's all hands on deck; ten converts are better than nine, and if you can convert a couple and they both proselytize, you get a two-for-one deal. But later, when things stabilize, it becomes more adaptive to have some consistent norms. And you can end up with these norms falling behind shifts that happen elsewhere. (The same thing happens in language; American English is, in a limited sense, closer to Shakespeare than modern UK English—if you live on the periphery of people speaking a language, you tend to be conservative about changes in language lest you sound like an uneducated hick, but if you were living in London you'd quickly notice that English was suddenly non-rhotic.)

And yet, they did change; the church long had a nominal opposition to intoxicants, but only gradually ramped up enforcement of it until the temperance movement picked up steam. Prior to that, their attitude was a little looser: Brigham Young celebrated his selection as Joseph Smith's successor with what one attendee, Thomas Bullock, described as "Jerusalem Wine & delightful Strawberry wine," and used some salty language, too. But surprisingly late adoption of what seems like a strong cultural norm happens in other faiths, too; the rosary got popular during the Reformation. 

But all of this is partly a function of the fact that the early history of the LDS church is so well-documented, and by people who have much more modern sensibilities than the ones writing in Medina in the 7th century, Judea in the 0th, or Ur in the negative-twentieth. So a big share of the textual evidence we have about religious founders and early leaders comes from their fans. It's unique that we get a haters-and-all look at a faith from the very beginning, and that's probably a more realistic one—just one that’s missing from the historical record of plenty of older faiths! Every major religion started out high-variance enough to win converts and then settled down into a stable enough form to keep them around for generations. When the faith in question is new enough, we can see more of that process.

The story of the LDS in the US is one of deliberate and careful assimilation—adapting enough local norms to be compatible with the rest of the country, but retaining enough distinctions that there’s a meaningful group identity, too. And, for all his faults, Joseph Smith really did lead his followers to a promised land of SaaS, skiing, and great performance on pretty much any qualitative metric of human well-being you care to look at.

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