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I recently listened to Mormon Stories podcast: Mormon Military Story w/ Ross “Marty” Martin (Edited Re-Release) | Ep. 1977. Fascinating episode. Marty is a good storyteller. He was an Army Ranger, which is one of the special forces units where the military sends 400 people into training and hopes at least 10 of them graduate. Marty is thoughtful, emotionally aware, and open about his experiences and feelings. I highly recommend spending a few hours listening to his story.

The rest of this post is not about Marty, it’s about the military in general and how Mormons fit into the military and some similarities I see between the military and the LDS Church. Everyone has heard the LDS Church compared to a corporation. That’s accurate. And the LDS Church has a lot in common with the military.

Authoritarian Structure. One does not question orders in the military. When the General has spoken, the thinking is done. Obey or get court-martialed. Sound familiar? 

The Church’s push to ensure that BYU Professors toe the line on the Church’s doctrine about marriage, sex, gender, and family looks more like a military leader giving orders than it does a VP of marketing rolling out a new product. That link is behind a paywall at the Salt Lake Tribune, so I’ll quote a portion of it. 

Then, in 2022, came a new employment contract, a sort of “loyalty oath,” in which faculty members (incoming and current) were expected to attest to their support of the church’s position on marriage, family and gender. To many, like [former BYU music professor Jason] Bergman, who felt pressured to agree, it went beyond the church’s own stance and seemed to carry an implicit threat: You can’t advance if you don’t sign off.

A convert and former bishop in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Bergman began to wrestle with his faith but feared discussing it with his local ecclesiastical leaders or fellow congregants. What if he said something in a Sunday school class that was seen as challenging on, say, polygamy, and it got back to his BYU superiors? He decided, “I can never speak up at church again.”

BYU is “not safe,” Bergman said, “for anyone who doesn’t fit the orthodox mold.”

That seems to be a sentiment shared by a sizable number of faculty members who feel demeaned, disrespected, powerless — and afraid.

“They targeted instructors they believed unorthodox, tightened the curriculum, and transformed the processes of hiring to favor teachers who shared their own ideas about orthodoxy,” Latter-day Saint historian Matthew Bowman writes in his latest book, “Joseph Fielding Smith: A Mormon Theologian.

A pre-meme quip from the time mocked Wilkinson’s approach with the jab: “Free agency — and how to enforce it.”

Today, the threat of retribution apparently is so real that after dozens of interviews with present and former BYU faculty and administrators across many disciplines, not one current professor (including those with tenure, known as “continuing status”) would go on the record for this story.

When you join the military, you sign an enlistment contract that requires your obedience, even if you disagree with the orders you’re given. Disobedience brings severe penalties. After all, disobedience could endanger your fellow soldiers and foul up the mission. One person is in charge, and you agree to that or you don’t join the military.

One way in which the Church is getting to be even more militaristic than the military is the thought police. BYU professors have to say they agree with the Church’s teachings on sex and gender. They (apparently) can’t just agree to stay silent on any disagreement. Marty talks about how he had a faith/trust crisis in the government while in Afghanistan for his second time. He was able to successfully complete that tour of duty because the military doesn’t care what your private thoughts are. Marty still obeyed orders, and that’s what the military prioritized. 

At BYU, “on top of the traditional “recommend” standards, which are required for entrance to any of the faith’s sacred temples, lay leaders must affirm that candidates: have a “testimony” of church doctrine, including its teachings on marriage, family and gender.” (from the SL Tribune article linked above). 

Marty didn’t have to have a testimony that what the military was doing in Afghanistan was “true” as long as he followed orders. The LDS Church is requiring even more obedience than the military does, at least among BYU Professors.

Instant Community and Defined Roles. Military bases are little self-contained cities. The whole family lives there (usually) and so the military accommodates families and recreation and so forth. The size and complexity of military bases vary. Big bases would typically have a pediatrician and dentist on base, for example. Also a bowling alley and movie theater. There are clubs and activities. Military families buy groceries at the commissary. Your best friends are other military families. The housing is arranged in neighborhoods with parks for the kids. Since everyone is a transfer, there’s a lot of socializing and helping the new folks settle in and find friends and activities. After all, in a couple years, the new arrival will be the old-timer who helps the next wave of newbies find their footing.

Professionally, the military takes steps to keep people from ossifying in a role. That’s why the military transfers people around every few years. You’re learning the role so you can do the role anywhere in the world with people you met yesterday. If you leave a person in place for thirty years, they adapt the role to their individual style and if you throw them into a new environment, there’s going to be some friction. All those military transfers are designed to train people to join a team and immediately the team can work together because everyone knows exactly what their task is, and how to work with the other team members.

Mormons are pretty similar. Being the Young Women’s President in one ward is a lot like being YWP in another ward. If you move 1500 miles, your new ward is going to look a lot like the ward you just left. If you get called into the Elder’s Quorum Presidency a week after you move in, and you had the same calling in the ward you moved out of two weeks ago, chances are you’re going to hit the ground running and not need much training.

Same thing goes for building a community. Bouncing the pioneers all over the U.S., founding numerous cities, was great training for sending them across the plains and yanking a civilization out of the dirt of the Salt Lake Valley. Put enough Mormons in one place and we’ll organize ourselves into a functioning community. That’s very military. Or maybe the military is very Mormon. Whatever. They are both closed societies with their own distinctive communities. 

Family Legacy. The strongest predictor of whether someone will join the military is if they have a family member in the military. That’s all well and good until we acknowledge how that is separating the military from the general population of the USA.

Who serves when not all serve? This is a fundamental question for a nation that relies on volunteers to staff its military. In the United States, perhaps the strongest predictor of military service is having a family member who served—allowing for extended family members, it averages to about 80 percent of new recruits across the services. Going a step further, between 22 and 35 percent (depending on the service) are the child of a service member. The West Point Class of 2017 includes three brothers who will all commission into the Army, and whose father and mother both served in the Coast Guard.

While at first glance this makes sense—children are likely to follow in their siblings’ and parents’ footsteps—it’s a remarkable gut check when you look at the past 15 years of war. The military draws many recruits from the same communities and the same families, isolating those in uniform from society and vice versa. In essence, the self-selection dynamics have created a “warrior caste.” [Article from Slate, 2017]

Similarly, the biggest predictor of being an active, practicing LDS Church member is being raised LDS. Multi-generational families carry the Church. Converts are awesome, and in fact, Church leaders say things like, “New converts have blessed and been the lifeblood of the Church throughout its history.” Teaching, baptizing, and training a new convert is a resource intensive undertaking. Yes, absolutely expend those resources. However, it’s a lot easier for the Church when a new Young Women’s President says her mother was the YWP when she was a teenager. Being raised by faithful LDS parents is free training for the Church. Not only does the ideal multi-generational family train their children to fill Church roles and strengthen the community, but they also pass on the ‘unwritten order of things’ (for better or worse). 

The point is that being raised in a military family, or an LDS family, jump-starts children into a distinctive culture that takes a lot of training.

And that comes together with some isolation from the general society. Say you’re LDS, married, and military. You raise your kids on half a dozen military bases across the world while homeschooling them and attending Church every week. The kids will have some great experiences, and … well … maybe that unique background will make life a little bit tricker if they choose to leave either one of those communities? That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it should be acknowledged as something that some people have to deal with.

Questions:

  1. Do you have family/friends in the military?
  2. Were you in the military? Do you see validity in the comparisons I’ve drawn? What other comparisons do you see?
  3. Are there advantages to being in a closed, high-demand community like the military or the LDS Church? Are there disadvantages?
  4. Do you think the LDS Church can be validly compared to the military? And to a corporation?