Have you ever defended something you don’t actually believe in? My guess is that most of us have. Here’s a simple Mormon example. I doubt most current church members think that polygamy is a good thing. Even Joseph Smith seemed to be conflicted about it, originally decrying it as an evil in the Book of Mormon, then later practicing it (possibly as a cover for his Fanny Alger affair originally, then expanding its secret practice in Nauvoo). But let’s just assume that aside from the randy old goats who think having a hotter, younger second wife sounds dandy, or the beleaguered moms who think they would like a sister wife to do child care, the majority of Mormons find polygamy distasteful or embarrassing, not something they personally would ever want to participate in. So that’s their belief. They probably believe that it’s exploitative, that it makes women second class objects in marriage, not equal partners, that it isn’t good for anyone.

But that’s not the same thing as defending it. When I was in high school, I was the only active Mormon in my graduating class in high school. Most of my classmates only knew one Mormon: me. And the only thing they knew about the church was–you guessed it–polygamy. I often got asked how many husbands I was going to have, or basically to “defend” polygamy. Since my parents were converts I had no polygamous ancestors, and I’m not even sure they knew the early church members were polygamists when they were baptized (I mean, they probably did because they took the lessons for like a year, but who knows?). They certainly didn’t join because of polygamy. They probably just figured that polygamy was this theoretical thing that wasn’t going to affect their lives anyway, so it was not something they had to think about too much.

How do you defend a thing you don’t actually believe? In my case, I mostly just said I didn’t believe in it, and old timey people did weird things. There were a few apologetics that I only found out as an adult weren’t really true: the widows needed husbands to support them, etc. Those things sound “good enough” to defend a thing I don’t believe in anyway. My first thought regarding how polygamy came about is that Joseph Smith asking God about it while reading about Old Testament figures with multiple wives was “THAT’s what you took from that story? Sounds like someone is thinking with the wrong head.” Honestly, I have never felt any differently about it. I had a seminary teacher who said she would rather be the second wife in a “good” marriage than the first wife in a “bad” marriage, and 17-year old me thought “Or, maybe those really aren’t the only two options? Maybe this whole conversation is based on a false premise to justify something that is indefensible.”

This is clearly not the only Mormon belief that most Mormons don’t believe. Some of the other Mormon beliefs that Mormons don’t believe are similarly situated in the past. Nobody is getting up in Fast & Testimony meeting and saying “I know this church is true because in 1977 black people were barred from the temple and priesthood, but in 1978, they weren’t.” The flip-switching change requires some kind of mental gymnastics to believe that both things are true (the pre-1978 and post-1978 teaching), and basically nobody really believes that. They either believe that the pre-1978 thing was true (and the post-1978 thing is just a woke agenda) or they believe the post-1978 thing was always true, and the pre-1978 thing was human racism. Only Pres. Oaks has really tried to have his cake and eat it too (e.g. we don’t know why God was racist before, but we’re glad he changed his mind), but I hardly consider that sticking the landing.

Similarly, nobody is going to bear testimony that the church’s SEC actions were right; they might defend the church’s actions, but they don’t believe it’s OK to hide money through shell corporations and force employees to attest to false statementsa and wouldn’t do that in their personal lives. When I was 9, I heard about the ERA, and I just assumed that the Church (which I naively believed at that point was always going to be on the morally right side) was for it. My mom told me that wasn’t true, that they were against the ERA, and I couldn’t understand it because obviously women should be treated equally–pay, respect, non-discrimination, and rights. She had a hard time explaining why exactly. I’m not sure what she believed–she was no feminist by any recognizable definition–but she was defending the church’s position without apparently understanding it.

Similarly, several years ago, a newer church member ran across me in the grocery store and asked me why we weren’t supposed to drink tea. I was kind of stumped because I honestly don’t really think there’s anything wrong with tea, and the apologetics don’t hold muster. Tea drinkers often live longer, so it’s not bad for you aside from staining your teeth I guess. As to “addictive” substances (not all teas have caffeine), there are plenty that are more addictive that aren’t prohibited. I just had to be honest and say that while they might hear justifications like “tannins” or whatever, it’s just basically social. Mormons don’t drink tea, so that’s one thing that makes them unique, refusing to drink tea. It socially isolates Mormons from people who drink tea socially. But that falls a little flat because if you’ll obey meaningless rules, what won’t you obey? Tea doesn’t really matter, but most people who drink it acquired the taste as they grew up, so if you were raised Mormon you aren’t really missing out either. It’s not like pre-marital sex or whatever. The payoff is tepid water.

It’s human nature to defend something you belong to, and to confuse that defense with a belief in it. How often have you been in a conversation with someone who was defending a political position without realizing that their values actually didn’t align with the party they thought they were defending? Belief and defense are actually two different mental states. Belief is internal and evidentiary. It’s about what you actually think is true, your values, your privately held views. “This makes sense to me.” It is also subject to change as we have new experiences. Defending is outward-facing and about social identity. It’s about protecting our sense of belonging, our social status, or our safety. It’s something we perform publicly (or in a conversation with another person), it treats criticism as a threat to be neutralized and it’s usually a reaction. “You (outsider) don’t understand. This is who we are. If this falls apart, what happens to me?” (Coincidentally, a lot of these defenses sound like domestic abuse victims). If the social system (family, political party, church, nation) is wrong, then maybe I’m unsafe–or at least without that support structure.

It’s easy to confuse defense with belief because defense sounds like conviction–it can be stated very assertively, and it certainly feels very emotionally strong. It is often mistaken for faith (or belief) because rather than holding a belief, we are guarding it. This is not because the belief is strong; it’s because the belief is weak (or non-existent) and needs to be protected to preserve our identity or status.

Interestingly, defense can actually lead to stronger belief, but it does so in unhealthy ways (see domestic violence comment above). Because we are defending something we don’t believe, we feel psychological pressure to align ourselves internally. We create a belief out of necessity in a process called cognitive dissonance. We also create internal checks on doubt so that questioning the “belief” becomes self-erasure. “If this thing isn’t true, then I have no identity.” Beliefs become rigid, dogmatic, immune to evidence, and emotionally charged. Supporting data, no matter how far-fetched, is embraced; contradictory data is dismissed or attacked. Rather than a belief that is open to being altered by new experience, we have a conclusion that requires protection from any contradiction. Healthy belief can tolerate doubt and is curious and humble; defensive belief is combative, absolute, and fear-driven, treating doubt as a danger.

Consider how these social groups benefit us:

  • Religion gives us community. But what if that community is based on shallow relationships, or what if the community asks more of us than it gives us?
  • Our country gives us identity. But consider when our country is acting against our values, as during the Vietnam War when so many young people protested the draft into a war they believed was both unwinnable and unjust. Or when the country fails to live up to our values or eliminates rights for individuals by refusing to protect them (e.g. LGBTQ or women’s reproductive rights).
  • Our family gives us safety. But what if we aren’t really safe? We can defend a family that abuses us in a sort of Stockholm Syndrome mindset (“They haven’t killed me yet, so they must be safe.”) or a fear of loss (“Where else can I go?”) Waking up from this realization is why the concept of found family (surrounding oneself with a chosen group of friends who will really be supportive) is on the rise.

In pointing out the downsides, I’m not saying these communities are not worthwhile. Even if relationships are shallow, maybe they don’t have to be. If we are asked to give more than we get, maybe we can set boundaries. If families are unsupportive but not physically abusive, maybe we can find ways to change the dynamic through counseling or discussion. A business consultant I worked with years ago said something that has stuck with me through the years: the person with the greatest understanding bears the greater responsibility for how the relationship goes.

  • Have you found yourself defending something you didn’t believe?
  • Have you noticed the relationship between belief and defense?
  • Have you tried to distinguish between another person’s actual belief and their defense 0f a group they belong to?

Discuss.