The Politics of Religious Apostasy

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_beastie
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The Politics of Religious Apostasy

Post by _beastie »

This will be the first installment. This is necessarily lengthy, due to my desire to not lift isolated quotes completely out of context. Interestingly, Juliann has created another thread about the "apostate narrative" on the MAD board, but I finished this first essay before she did so, so I have not included any rebuttals of her points. That will have to be in a later installment, as will commentaries on other essays included in the primary text.

You cannot understand the human condition without understanding religion or religious arguments.

Stephen Jay Gould

Religious beliefs and customs often interest nonbelievers. Atheism often interests believers, as well. We circle one another, curious, and at times, antagonistic.

Although religion is a matter of faith, often both believers and nonbelievers utilize science and logic in the attempt to understand one another. Such a wide divide separates us, even sometimes separates believers, as well. It is inevitable that the divide also interests scholars. The Politics of Religious Apostasy is a collection of essays, edited by David Bromley, that probes one divide in particular, that of the ultimate betrayal, in the eyes of the believer – someone who once believed but now rejects said belief.

As sensitive as discussions between believer and nonbeliever can be even in generic terms, once the apostate enters the discussion, emotions often flare, on both sides. Both feel rejected and judged by the other. Both justify their current stance, as well as justify their judgments. Often the judgments remain fairly simplistic – apostates are evil; believers are stupid. These arguments offer little of interest. But once both sides attempt to delve more into the utilization of science and logic to bolster justifications, the story is more interesting, and potentially leaves objective scholarship abused in the wake.

Unless great care is taken with this particular set of essays, the temptation would be to blend together selective quotes in order to justify the divide. I will do my best not to do so in this application, but invite interested readers to do their best to obtain the book themselves so they can form their own conclusions.

The book begins, as it must, with Bromley’s own introduction, Sociological Perspectives on Apstasty: An Overview. The book must begin with this essay, as well as his next chapter, because the later essays rely on Bromley’s terms and specialized definitions. It would be very easy to misunderstand later essays if one did not take this fact under consideration. By and large, these essays address New Religious Movements (NRMs), although occasionally older, traditional religions are mentioned. These NRMs intrigued social scientists due to the dramatic impact they had on lives of converts, normally fairly young:

What was particularly perplexing to scholars was what appeared to be passionate religious commitment precisely among the young, highly educated individuals who were expected to be committed residents of the “secular city”. (p 3)


I was a young college student in the mid-seventies, a time period in which many of these NRMs were receiving a lot of media attention. I also remember the “Jesus Freak” movement that spread across college campuses during this period. During my own religious awakening, which revolved around Mormonism, I did talk with self-described “Jesus Freaks” in my small private college. I even attended a prayer vigil with this crowd to pray for one of their friends tragically injured in a car accident. After having been brought up in a mainstream Protestant faith that was quite formal and restrained, the seemingly chaotic, almost trance-like movements and muttered prayers was foreign to me. Try as I might, I just could not quite “get the hang of it”, and found myself better suited to Mormonism. I also recalled hearing of even stranger groups like the Moonies, and hearing tales of brainwashing and victimization. Several years later, on my way to my mission in France, I remember my stop-over in a major airport, probably in NY, and being stopped by both Moonies and Hare Krishna members. I talked with a young female Moonie for quite a while, and remember feeling that her eyes had a strange “look” about them – brainwashed? In retrospect, it was probably fatigue. Later, actually on my mission, I had the opportunity to talk again with some Moonies, this time a young married couple. They were very friendly to us, probably sympathetic to how difficult it was to knock on strangers’ doors to discuss religion. I was struck by the fact that she was French and he was from England. He barely spoke English, she barely spoke French. Their marriage had been arranged. I later heard about the mass “group weddings” Reverend Moon used to conduct for his followers, and assumed their marriage was arranged, but I no longer recall if they shared that information with us, or I just speculated it as a probability on my own.

Of course, living in the south, I well know that many people, particularly EVs, view Mormonism as about the equivalent of the Moonies or Hare Krishnas. Mormonism is a very young religion, but it has moved beyond that very early stage in which members are often uprooted from their families and strictly controlled. Of course, at that time, the most significant difference to me was not in what our respective religions demanded – after all, I was serving a full time mission in which my movements were strictly controlled and oral contact with family and friends almost entirely forbidden, except on special occasions. But the main difference to me was that I was a member of the “true” church, and they were not. But perhaps I would have been one of those young people who scholars would have expected to remain a committed resident of the “secular city”, and, although to a less extreme extent, abandoned that. Certainly I completely reformulated my life when I converted to the LDS church at the age of 19; that alone would probably interest scholars. But there is no doubt that being LDS in the south often leaves one feeling outside mainstream society – unlike Utah, Idaho, or many sections of other Western states, were being LDS is being part of mainstream society. Having been both “in” mainstream religious society as a Methodist, and then “out” as a Mormon, and again later as an atheist, the comments of Bromley regarding the power structure is interesting:

When the full range of religious organizations is examined, the importance of the exercise of power in constructing what is deemed legitimate and illegitimate religious becomes more apparent. It is in terms of this perspective that this volume was conceived.


This is crucial to keep in mind as a background drop for the other comments and citations I will proceed too offer. This book analyzes power relationships, and finds that social power dictates much in regards to how not only the believing members of a group are viewed by larger society, but how its apostates are also viewed.

In his introduction, Bromley stated:

The focus of analysis in this volume is the role of apostates in the controversy surrounding those contemporary new religious movements that are deemed “subversive”. Both “apostate” and “subversive” have very specific meanings here. The analytic category “subversive” is used in this volume to refer to organizations that are perceived and labeled “subversive” by oppositional groups as a tactic for status degradation that legitimates implementation of extraordinary social control measures. The typology of organization and corresponding exit role types identifies apostasy as a unique social form that emerges under very specific social conditions. Apostate refers not to ordinary religious leavetakers (the general referent) but to that subset of leavetakers who are involved in contested exit and affiliate with an oppositional coalition. The number of individuals playing this role in any given conflict may not be large; indeed, in a number of movements one or a small handful of individuals have dominated this countermovment niche. The role is distinguished not by the number of individuals occupying it but rather by its recurrence in situations of intense conflict to countersubversion campaigns.


Given the importance of the power relationships, Bromley proceeds immediately to share his terminology and descriptions in his next essay, The Social Construction of Contested Exit Roles: Defectors, Whistleblowers, and Apostates.

Apostasy may be defined in preliminary fashion as a role that is constructed when an organization is in a high state of tension with its surrounding environment and that involves an individual exiting the organization to form an alliance with an oppositional coaltion. While I am primarily concerned with apostasy from New Religious Movements (NRMs), a comparable analysis could be undertaken of apostasy in a variety of other social movement or institutional contexts. The distinctive qualities of the apostate role are demonstrated by comparing apostates with two other contested exits.

I shall argue that although, or precisely because, apostates typically constitute only a small proportion of leavetakers, apostasy is a significant phenomenon both socially and sociologically.(p 19)


Repeatedly, Bromley states that apostasy, under his definition, appears only under “very distinctive social conditions.” Those social conditions relate to the power structure of the NRM, and how the larger society views the NRM. In order to demonstrate this, Bromley next defines three types of organizations: Allegiant, Contestant, and Subversive. Of course, as is usually the case in real life, there is some movement between the groups, but “variations around the typological characteristics would be expected to constitute the rule rather than the exception and reveal the politically contested nature of actual organizational histories.” (p 21) This is particularly important to remember in the case of Mormonism, which has moved between all three typologies in its history.

Allegiant:

Type I (Allegiant) organizations are those whose interests coincide to a high degree with other organizations in their environments; therefore, most external organizations are positioned either as neutrals or as coalitional allies. Organizations which exemplify this category include therapeutic/medical organizations, mainline churches, colleges, professional organizations, and various voluntary associations. Allegiant organizations are able to exercise considerable autonomy in conducting their organizational missions. Possessing this status carries with it weight social expectations – that external groups and internal members will find little need or basis for serious or frequent claimsmaking against the organization. Allegiant organizations typically legitimate the exercise of their authority in terms such as “trusteeship” and “service”, and they engage in a variety of organizational practices intended to foster and sustain that definition

Under Type I conditions, both internal and external claims against the organization are difficult to muster for several reasons. First, the dispute settlement process is structured and managed by the organization itself, which enhances the capacity for organizational self-protection. The result is disparate containment as the organization is in a position to control the definition of and records pertaining to any dispute. (p 21)


Second, the organization is deemed by both participants and outsiders to be exercising legitimate authority, resulting in more stringent testing of claimsmaking against the organization. The burden of proof is squarely on the claimsmaker. (p 22


Due to the fact that the organization is seen as part of mainstream society, and has its power reinforced therein, and is autonomous, there are “unlikely to be established oppositional groups possessing a mandate to advance or adjudicate claims against the organizations. The absence of external allies means that any claimants that do exist have few resources available to pursue claims, whatever their motivation.” (p 22)

Clearly, as the author of a later essay, Arnaud Mauss specifies, the LDS church, in terms of its existence in North America, is by and large an Allegiant organization, although it may be waver into the Contestant category in some parts of North America (most likely EV dominated areas). It would be a serious misapplication of this theory to insist that the LDS church, particularly in the Western portions of the US, is anything BUT an Allegiant organization. By far, the state that produces the highest number of leavetakers is Utah. It would take a vivid imagination combined with intentional ignorance to pretend that the LDS church does not maintain mainstream power in Utah.

Contestant Organizations

Type II (Contestant) organizations have a moderate level of coincidence and, correspondingly, a moderate level of tension with other organizations in their environments. The clearest examples of organizations in this category are the plethora of profit-making economic organizations. Contestant organizations are dedicated to the pursuit of organizational self-interest, which yields an environment populated with both allies and opponents. They are able to exercise limited autonomy in conducting their organizational missions as the legitimacy of pursuing private interests is deeply embedded in property rights and in cultural themes such as “freedom” and “success”. While these organizations can successfully advance claims to pursue their particular organizational interests, countervailing internal and external claims challenging those interests also are accorded legitimacy. (p 22)


In Type II situations, internal and external claims against an organization are considerably easier to mobilize than in Allegiant organizations, but Contestant organizations still face some major constraints. They have specific, enforceable obligations that are codified in regulations, laws, or contracts. Dispute settlement most often involves the creation of external third parties that stand between the organization and various internal and/or external claimants. The result is dispute adjudication in which the organization has stipulated rights, but not unilateral control. The positioning of the regulatory unit between competing interests varies, but organizations inevitably lose some degree of control over dispute resolution because regulatory agencies agencies posses their own position and legitimacy, and translate disputes into categories consistent with their regulatory mandates. (p 23)



Subversive Organizations

Type III (Subversive) organizations have extremely low coincidence of interests with other organizations in their environment. Indeed, “subversive” is a label employed by opponents specifically to discredit these organizations. Organizations labeled Subversive are confronted by a broad coalition of opponents and few allies. The result is a very high level of tension between organization and external environment and concerted effort by opponents to label the organization as dangerous and pathological. Organizations that illustrate this type include some of the more controversial alternative religious movements, radical rightist and leftist movements, and various forms of underground economies. Organizations regarded as Subversive are accorded virtually no organizational legitimacy and therefore face continuous opposition and constraint in pursuing organizational goals. IN fact, their existence and functioning are regarded as inherently subversive to the goals and functioning of other “legitimate” organizations. (p 23)


Dispute settlement processes are substantially controlled by oppositional coalitions. Because organizations labeled Subversive are regarded as particularly dangerous, special control agencies with extraordinary authority are formed or existing agencies are granted expanded powers. The expectation is that violations will be frequent and serious, and the organization is likely to be confronted with unilateral, per-emptive, coercive control measures such as covert surveillance, planting of undercover agents, or even instigation of provocative incidents by agent provocateurs. Command over the dispute settlement apparatus means that the oppositional coalition controls the definition of alleged violations and can widely disseminate information collected during investigation and prosecution processes. The result is a dispute broadening process that incorporates a range of organizational attributes and practices as external control organizations define their missions in terms of repressing such groups, operate with numerous allies, and face few restraints.

From the perspective of their opponents, Subversive organizations embody quintessential evil and are considered to pose a maximum degree of threat to the established social order. They are portrayed as qualitatively different from other organizations in that evil is rooted in their essential qualities rather than in specific patterns of behavior. (p 24)


Clearly, as Mauss later points out again, the LDS church in its early days, particularly once it began practicing alternative marital patterns and communal living along with bloc voting was viewed as a subversive organization, and the state commanded quite a bit of power as an oppositional coalition, in combination with private citizens. This is a pattern that can be seen in some groups yet today, but the LDS church has obviously moved beyond this stage altogether.

It was important to provide this much information about the types of organizations because, under Bromley’s theory, the type of organization predicts the type of leavetaker, generally speaking.

In summary, the “three forms of organization delineated in the preceding section – Allegiant, Contestant, and Subversive – are distinguished in terms of the extent to which the organization is in tension with the surrounding environment and the extent to which the organization is able to control the process by which disputes to which it is party are settled. I have argued that the type of organization is strongly related to both external incentive to exercise control over an organization and its capacity to avoid such control.” (p 25)

Bromley clarifies that all these types of organization experience some degree of leavetaking, and as to be expected with any group made up of human beings, there will be conflicts and sometimes genuine grievances. Disputes are inevitable and all organizations tend to act in a self-protective manner. However, leavetaking always produces a degree of stress:

Finally, leavetaking is a source of considerable ambivalence (ie, “mixed emotions”) that must be resolved. Leavetakers are likely to harbor conflicting feelings about their former relationships, as participants in all types of organizations normally develop some degree of commitment to the organization and their position within it. Therefore, they may well remain attracted to the organization even while they feel compelled to exit from it. At the same time, each of the three forms of exit considered here involves some degree of formal rejection by the organization even though personal connections and relationships may remain. Further, external audiences express ambivalence towards leavetakers as their character and loyalty are called into question during the exiting process. The way that ambivalence is resolved varies by type of organization, but it is an important motivator for reconstructing role relationships and biographical narratives to account for such changes. Ambivalences thus may provide a significant motivation for exiting organization members to assume oppositional roles as a means of tension reduction. (p27)


When I lost faith in the LDS church years ago, I had very few people I could discuss the issue with. The only LDS people I had close contact with were a couple of members of my ward and family who already knew about the issues that were causing me to lose faith. That contact, however, due to living in separate communities (the ward covers a large area and I lived and worked in smaller communities outlying the main city) was infrequent. The main people I could talk to were my friends, none of whom were LDS or knew much about the LDS church. They had a lot of difficulty understanding why this process was so extraordinarily painful and confusing for me, because none of them belonged to a religion that taught “one trueness” in any fashion. For them, deciding to go to another congregation only posed very few problems, except under unusual circumstances (such as a parent being the preacher for one church and they attended a different one). However, movement between denominations is not unusual, nor is the characters of the individuals called into suspicion over it, by either representatives of the church or family members. So I was left largely on my own, trying to sort out all these conflicted feelings. I was so desperate to be able to talk to someone who “really understood”, I even wrote to the author of an EV anti-mormon book, although I disagreed with his theology. He was very kind and responded back, even contacting me again years later to check up on me, although since he was EV, I could not entirely relate to his situation. When people leave an organization to which they were once deeply devoted, it is absolutely normal to experience strong and sometimes conflicting emotions over the situation, and to need to talk about it with others. The idea that people should be able to leave the church with a “ho-hum” and nary a backwards glance is one of the stranger notions I’ve confronted.

On to the three types of leavetakers, according to Bromley:

Defectors

the defector role may be defined as one in which an organization participant negotiates an exit primarily with organization authorities, who grant permission for role relinquishment, control the exit process, and facilitate role transition. The jointly constructed narrative assigns primary moral responsibility for role performance problems to the departing member and interprets organizational permission as commitment to extraordinary moral standards and preservation of public trust. (p 28)


Before defecting, due to the attachment and sacrifice made for the organization, attempts to remediate the problem are made.

If remedial efforts are unsuccessful, the process of exiting involves negotiations between the member and organizational leadership rather than with external parties (although the reaction of outsiders may be assessed), and it may be constructed as an organizationally sponsored and controlled separation ritual. In cases where organizational authority is greatest, external parties support organizational processes with the result that the member has no recourse to external allies. In essence, the individual must request permission from organizational authorities to disaffiliate if the separation is to occur on favorable terms. Since the organization possesses a high degree of legitimacy and controls the dispute process, it can suppress contested exit by administering the exit process and the narratives that interpret this process The organization therefore is able to maintain control over cases that would be potentially discrepant with its privileged position. Given this high degree of control, it is difficult for members to locate others who might collectively reinterpret private troubles as organizational problems and mount organized protest. In the unlikely event that an exiting member opts to attribute problems to the organization, the burden of proof is squarely on the claimant, who lacks both internal and external allies. In essence, no matter what the validity of the defector’s claims might be in theory, the inability of the individual to articulate grievances and to validate and support claims leaves defectors without meaningful recourse. (p 29)


Once outside the organization, defectors are most likely to seek a transition into a new social network. The post-membership career therefore is of limited duration and directed at stabilizing personal life and reconstructing personal identity. To the extent that the former organization was the source of a distinctive lifestyle and identity, there is inevitably a period of instability as individuals find themselves between identities, and the former identity colors current identity- building efforts. The defector is faced with a negotiated exit agreement that renders personal opposition problematic, and in any event the absence of pre-existing oppositional groups significantly restricts the political and economic opportunity for a former member career. In some cases former members form ex-member support groups that operate to facilitate the period of role transition for others, and limited ex-members careers may be fashioned through administering such groups. (p 29)


The examples given are catholic priests and nuns who decide to abandon their vows and return to regular life, albeit within a catholic setting. Although Bromley does not discuss Mormon examples, it seems to me that many “Jack Mormons” who believe in the church but do not attend regularly or “keep the standards” might be called defectors. The definition appears to include a still existing view of legitimacy of the organization, which would exclude LDS leavetakers such as myself. People who leave the LDS church due to no longer believing its truth claims, using Bromley’s definitions, cannot logically be called defectors, whether or not they vocally criticize the church once leaving it.

Whistleblowers

The term “whistleblower” is adopted from its common usage in economic and political institutions. The whistleblower role is defined here as one in which an organization member forms an alliance with an external regulatory unit through offering personal testimony concerning specific, contested organizational practices that is then used to sanction the organization. The narrative constructed jointly by the whistleblower and regulatory agency is one which depicts the whistleblower as motivated by personal conscience and the organization by defense of public interest. (p 31)


While the intent of the whistleblower usually is to employ external allies to effect change within the organization rather than personally switching sides, the end result tends to be permanent marginalization or exit.

The process of exiting as a whistleblower differs from that of a defector in that the individual at some point begins active negotiation with representatives of an external regulatory unit. These units have oversight responsibility to a coalition of individuals or groups whose interest they represent, but they face a continuing problem in identifying organizational violations, particularly when the operating assumption is organizational legitimacy. (p 32)


Exposing illegal or immoral conduct within organizations is defined as a general civic responsibility, and members of the professions and civil service are specifically pledge to place public welfare ahead of personal interests. The reality, of course, is that organizations regard public exposure of normal deviance as disloyalty and commonly respond to whistleblowers by attempting to impugn their motives, tactics, and credibility. (p 32)


Whistleblowing involving religious organizations is relatively uncommon, and the form it assumes only approximates corresponding activity in economic and political organizations. Constitutional limitations on state regulation of religion precludes the kind of public sector regulation that is so prevalent in monitoring economic and political deviance. Further, because mainline churches are allegiant organizations, most have internal tribunals that regulate their own affairs. Appeals that in other institutional contexts would be directed outward are therefore turned inward. (p 33)


LDS leavetakers such as myself left due to no longer accepting the church’s truth claims as legitimate. Often these same people will be critical of the church for specific practices, such as “hiding history” or discrimination against homosexuals, or oppressing women. This could be thought of as a form of whistleblowing, and Bromley does offer this clarification:

One result of restrictions on external political regulation is that independent groups approximating regulatory agencies have been formed within the religious institution sector, most frequently formed by elements of the conservative Christian tradition. Within the conservative Christian community the sacred text is taken as literal truth; it constitutes the ultimate basis for authorizing social relations and serves as the source of the received spiritual traditions that underpins religious legitimacy. These churches therefore are implacably opposed to legitimating alternative versions of the sacred texts. Various conservative Christian organizations – such as the Christian Research Institute, Moody Bible Institute, Christian Apologetics and Information Service, and Spiritual Counterfeits Project – have been formed to defend the theological boundaries of “legitimate Christian churches”. The targets of these regulatory efforts traditionally have been sectarian churches such as the Jehovah’s Witnesses, Mormons, and Seventh-Day Adventists. Given cultural support for religious diversity and tolerance and the increasing marginality of conservative religious forms, these religious regulatory units lack the public standing of their political counterparts. As a result, they are perceived as partisan and function without significant sanctioning power beyond the capacity to deny the mantle of legitimacy within their limited niche in the religious institution sector.

Sectarian churches have exhibited both high conversion and high defection rates, and one major source of discontent among members has been their high authority/high demand structure. Whatever the sources of disputes with these churches, numerous members exiting these groups have been recruited to brief whistleblowing careers. Religious regulatory units rely heavily on individuals who resemble secular whistleblowers in offering public testimony, but the basis of dispute is theological beliefs and related practices. Employing a standard of “theological truth,” these agencies reconstruct conflicts in terms of prior spiritual “deception” and subsequent recognition of “truth”. One of the most common forms through which religious whistleblowers offer testimony is printed tracts that regulatory agencies distribute as a means of denying legitimacy to what they regard as the ongoing deceptive practices in which “pseudo-Christian” churches engage. Typical titles include: “I was a False Witness”, “Apostles of Denial: An Examination and Expose of the History, Doctrines, and Claims of the Jehovah’s Witnesses”, “Set Free By Truth”, “One Mormon’s Journey to Christ”, “From Housewife to Heretic” and “out of Darkness, into the Sonlight”. For the most part, these whistleblowers pursue only brief careers, usually in the context of a transition between churches. However, some longer-term careers are possible in administering regulatory units or supplying the investigatory reports these units regularly issue. (p 35).


Although internet groups such as Recovery From Mormonism are secular in nature, this would appear to be the description that best fits them. Aside from the discussion board which provides the previously mentioned “support group” for exmembers (although still believing members scorn the idea of an exmormon needed “recovery” or “support”, I doubt that Bromley would take that stance), the group functions largely to provide expository information regarding church history and practices they deem problematic. This seems to fit the whistleblower model quite well. In that this information is provided through a low cost venue with volunteer authors of articles, there is no necessity for an actual “career” to adminster the unit or supply the reports. Note the use of “career” in these contexts.

Now to the group that has intrigued others:

Apostates

Caution is needed in the application of this term. It has a widespread commonly understood meaning as just someone who has abandoned a former belief system, but the definition is far more specialized here.

The apostate role is thus defined as one that occurs in a highly polarized situation in which an organization member undertakes a total change of loyalties by allying with one or more elements of an oppositional coalition without the consent or control of the organization. The narrative is one which documents the quintessentially evil essence of the apostate’s former organization chronicled through the apostate’s personal experience of capture and ultimate escape/rescue. It is the avowed inability of the former member of a Subversive organization to have done otherwise, a claim which is accepted by the oppositional coalition, that distinguishes apostates from traitors.

The high level of tension between organizations labeled Subversive and their surrounding environment means that individuals joining them almost inevitably distance from conventional social networks. Groups deemed Subversive most often constitute organized projects that posit and model and alternative version of social order that clashes sharply with the prevailing structure of social relations, and they therefore attract a range of individuals who are in resistance to the dominant order. (p 36)


This is an important point I want to dwell on for a moment. Throughout the book the organizations used as examples for Subversive organizations are those groups which literally remove members from the external society in some sort of communal living setting. Members often have limited contact with family members, who naturally are upset, concerned, and agitated over the very real “loss” of a family member. These groups have often have controversial conversionary methods, such as the Moonies, in which young people are targeted and invited to visit the group for a weekend or some other short period. During this time, intense attention, restricted sleep, and sometimes restricted diet, repeated chanting, has led former members to accuse the group of deliberate “brainwashing” techniques. This is what is meant by “capture”. And, as later passages will demonstrate, “escape” means literally just that.

Again, this could fit very early Mormonism, in which converts often left family and friends and moved to Zion, participated, at times, in communal-type living, and engaged in alternative familial systems, but is a very poor fit today. Target converts are not removed in any way from their normal environments.

However, a key difference between Subversive organizations and the other two types is that for the former there is a plethora of allies to whom exiting members can turn for support. Because the organization possess little legitimacy, it may be able to control the internal dispute resolution process as long as individuals remain members, but it has very limited capacity to control external intervention in exit and post-exit processes. One critical result of external intervention is that dispute and non-dispute-precipitated exits are converted into the former as external opponents actively recruit exiting members into the oppositional coalition, provide social networks through which exiting members can reinterpret personal troubles as organizational problems, and control role transition on favorable terms. There is likely to be a price for re-entry. Former members may have to confess to disloyal conduct or plead loss of free will as the result of subversive influence. The burden of proof is on the organization to refute claims by exiting members, and there may be little opportunity to do so. (p 36)


Once again, this emphasizes the fact that subversive organizations remove the members from normal social interactions. When the member leaves and wants “re-entry” into normal society, some sort of explanation is expected for the former socially deviant behavior. Again, today’s Mormonism does not fit this pattern at all. When people join the LDS church today, they do not remove themselves from normal social interactions. They stay with their family units, they don’t pick up and move across the country to live in a communal setting, they aren’t abandoning traditional family organizations. Hence, no sort of “confession” or “loss of free will” is required to re-enter normal society. This is a crucial point that will become even more important with the next point: the apostate narrative.

Given the polarized situation and power imbalance, there is considerable pressure on individuals exiting Subversive organizations to negotiate a narrative with the oppositional coalition that offers an acceptable explanation for participation in the organization and for now once again reversing loyalties. In the limiting case, exiting members without any personal grievance against the organization may find that re-entry into conventional social networks is contingent on at least nominally affirming such opposition coalition claims. The archetypal account that is negotiated is a “captivity narrative” in which apostates assert that they were innocently or naïvely operating in what they had every reason to believe was a normal, secure social site; were subjected to overpowering subversive techniques; endured a period of subjugation during which they experienced tribulation and humiliation; ultimately effected escape or rescue from the organization; and subsequently renounced their former loyalties and issued a public warning of the dangers of the former organization as a matter of civic responsibility. Any expressions of ambivalence or residual attraction to the former organization are vigorously resisted and are taken as evidence of untrustworthiness. Emphasis on the irresistibility of subversive techniques is vital to apostates and their allies as a means of locating responsibility for participation on the organization rather than on the former member. This account avoids attribution of calculated choices that would call for invoking the label of traitor. Further, a broad allegation of subversion allows a diverse array of opponents to unite under a common banner and formulate a variety of claims in terms that will mobilize or neutralize a brad spectrum of interests. Upon the rendering of an acceptable narrative, the oppositional coalition accepts pledges and tests of loyalty and professions of regret as the basis for reintegration into social networks to which it controls access (p37)


Again, this makes no sense with the context of leavetakers of modern Mormonism. Leavetakers of modern Mormonism are normally leaving when family members still remain believing Mormons. Hence, there is no need to construct a “brainwashing/captivity” narrative to explain why they abandoned family members to join the Subversive group. That is the purpose of the narrative – to explain the former betrayal to family members, who were left behind when the individual joined the Subversive organization. Now that the individual wants re-entry into normal society and family, he/she must provide a “narrative” that removes personal responsibility for the former abandonment. He/she was “brainwashed” and held “captive.”

Apostate Careers
Apostates generally have greater career possibilities than whistleblowers. Since they are exiting highly stigmatized organizations, however, many exiting members seek to make role transitions as inconspicuously as possible. Their capacity to move back into conventional social networks unobtrusively depends in large measure on the breadth, power, and aggressiveness of the oppositional coalition. (p 37)


Pause and think about this statement for a moment. Why would the apostate’s ability to transition back into normal society without fanfare depend on the power of the oppositional coalition? It depends on the power of the opposition due to the fact that the opposition has joined forces between disparate groups with the goal of bringing the abuses of the Subversive organization enough into the public eye that the moral outrage will force the government to take action. The oppositional coalition has joined forces with family members upset when their loved one abandoned the family unit to join the Subversive organization, along with mainstream religious groups opposed to the group theologically, along with other economic or political groups feeling threatened by the group for some reason. So the oppositional coalition WANTS to use the apostates to strengthen their cause – hence, it is more difficult for the leavetakers to re-enter normal society inconspicuously if the oppositional group is powerful, because the oppositional group wants to use the apostate to personalize the danger.

Exiting organizational members may be able to circumvent the oppositional coalition, or negotiations for re-entry may be conducted out of public view. In such cases the apostate career is muted and transitory. Even here, however, explicit or implicit confession that the organization is indeed subversive in character, renunciation of prior affiliation, and new declarations of loyalty are likely to be required. To the extent that the oppositional coalition confronts exiting members, or leavetakers pursue grievances against the organization, the apostate role assumes a more public form. Whether or not the transition occurs in or out of public view, it is likely to assume a ritualistic form. The exiting member’s identity and loyalty remain indeterminate, and rituals of passage are constructed to transform individual identity and validate the locus of social loyalty. In its public form apostasy primarily involves participation in various types of degradation ceremonies that feature moral denunciations of the organization, with the personal ordeal of the apostate as the testimonial centerpiece.

Protracted conflict between the organization and oppositional coalition creates opportunities for extended apostate careers. Apostates may pursue a variety of strategies to solidify their careers; consolidating their experience and acquiring credentials that support a more permanent social niche; reconstructing their position and experience within the organization, particularly status inflation, so that their testimony becomes more valuable in sanctioning the organization; modifying the narrative content so that it appeals to the specific interests of one or more elements of the oppositional coalition; and embellishing the narrative so as to maintain niche viability, particularly when the existence of a cohort of apostates creates role competition. (p 38)


Once again, the context of the Subversive organization helps this make sense. When the family member actually exited normal society to join a group that his family and the rest of society views as subversive and dangerous (and may actually be so), then the family and the larger society, when involved, want reassurances that that aberrant period is over, that that the apostate really does renounce the former group, that the threat of future re-abandonment is negated.

Bromley goes on to use the examples of particular religious groups and oppositional groups, such as the “anti-cult movement” (ACM). The ACM created career opportunities for apostates that often evolved into things such as professionally counseling exiting members. (or deprogramming members, although that approach has encountered legal difficulties).

Apostates from Religious Organizations

The NRMS that initially were at the center of the cult controversy – the Unification Church, Hare Krishna, and The Family (originally named the Children of God) – share a prophetic orientation and communal organization. Their ideologies predict imminent radical transformation of the social order, and they have organized as tight-knit communities that distance themselves from a world they conclude is corrupt and moribund. These movements not only reject the dominant forms of social relationship, they sacralize the antithesis by supplanting family relationships and secular careers with collectivist relationships and spiritual careers. (p 38)


I have to highlight this again. The groups that generally create the specific social situation that results in the evolution of “apostate” (in the Bromley sense of the term) are the groups that have removed themselves and their members from secular society and even biological familial ties. This is why larger society becomes so concerned and anxious over the situation, and why various groups band together to form an oppositional coalition that has, as its goal, eventual governmental intervention. Joining an NRM such as this usually results in abandonment of familial relationships and past social responsibilities and goals. This is why when the leavetaker “re-enters” society they are truly re-entering society in a fashion entirely different than an LDS leavetaker. This is why their families and social groups want some sort of explanation and justification for why in the world they abandoned them in the first place, and reassurance that it won’t happen again. This creates the need for the “apostate narrative”.

The new commitments (in the NRMs) are accorded the highest moral priority and insulated symbolically and organizationally from countervailing influence. Although the NRM controversy later broadened to include multifarious religious movements, as well as more established religious organizations allegedly displaying dangerous or destructive tendencies, it was these prophetic movements that served as the initial impetus for ideological and countermovement organization.

Particularly at the height of prophetic NRM mobilization, the core of committed members separated themselves from conventional society and poured enormous personal and collective energy into building models of an alternative social order. However, research on NRMs has consistently shown that for most individuals NRM membership has constituted a period of experimentation rather than long-term commitment. (p 39)


I emphasize this point in order to help readers understand the purpose of the later “apostate narrative”.

It was the families of NRM members that first mobilized to oppose NRMs in response to conversions that they interpreted at total, permanent changes in loyalty. Rather quickly a loose confederation of family-based voluntary associations formed, which gradually evolved into a national anti-cult movment (ACM) to orchestrate the countersubversion campaign\ against NRMs. The problem that the ACM faced was that constitutional protection of religious liberty precluded the creation of a governmental regulatory agency that could act for the constellation of groups with an interest in controlling NRMs. The ACM pursued a variety of strategies through which to legislate distinctions between legitimate and illegitimate religious groups and between conversion and brainwashing. However, these efforts were largely unsuccessfully. Even the apocalypse at Jonestown, which exceeded in carnage even the ACM’s direst predictions, failed to galvanize governmental action.

Left with few viable avenues of appeal to public officials, the ACM attempted to ensconce itself as a social control organization, assuming the functions of an information clearinghouse, lobbying group, accrediting agency, and policing unit. In these various capacities the ACM was variably successful. It did become a major source of public information about NRMs, significantly shaping public opinion. The countermovement also scored some successes in lobbying public officials. On a number of occasions state and federal legislative hearings and investigations were held that showcased ACM claims and grievances. Indeed, at the height of the cult controversy, media coverage and legislative hearings functioned as public degradation ceremonies dominated by elements of the countermovement coalition. The ACM also assumed a more militant, activist role as the deputized agent of families in orchestrating the physical extraction of NRM members. During the 1970s the ACM was relatively successful in extracting members from NRMs, but over time, resistance intensified to what amounted to delegation of police power to a private group.

The foundation on which ACM organization and its organizational initiatives rest is a cult/brainwashing ideology that labels NRMs as Subversive organizations by distinguishing what are depicted as pseudo-religious groups (“cults”) from their legitimate church counterparts and pseudo-conversions (“brainwashing”) from legitimate spiritual transformations. According to this ideology, rapidly growing cults are unprecedented in their totalistic organization, manipulative tactics, and psychological destructiveness. The most significant distinguishing characteristic attributed to cults is a potent psychotechnology (brainwashing techniques) capable of dramatically altering individual belief and behavior and of creating long-term emotional damage to anyone subjected to it. Unscrupulous gurus are ultimately responsible for developing these techniques to exploit innocent followers for their pleasure, power, and profit, with innocent and vulnerable young adults (“children”) as the primary targets. The rapid growth in size, wealth, and power of cults poses an even greater threat to both individuals who become enmeshed in them and to social institutions which they infiltrate. Strong countermeasures – warning families of the dangers, rescuing individuals incapable of extricating themselves, and revision of laws and constitutional privileges behind which they hide – are advocated. The cult/brainwashing ideology serves as the symbolic umbrella under which the disparate groups arrayed against NRMs unite (p 40)


When exmormons refer to being “brainwashed” in the LDS church, they are not normally referring to the conversionary process that anti-cultists accused the NRMs of utilizing. I remember this period, and NRMs were accused of inviting innocent, unsuspecting young adults to “camps” for a weekend or longer. At these “camps” these young adults were subjected to deliberate brainwashing through sleep deprivation, restricted diet, repeated chantings, and intense attention and pressure from believers. Exmormons, instead, aren’t even referring to a “conversionary” process of outsiders into Mormonism to begin with – they are talking about the intense social programming children receive in LDS believing families. These are two very different issues, and it is misleading to pretend that exmormons are referring to the same brainwashing event that NRMs have been accused of utilizing.

Bromley goes on to discuss why these anti-cult groups “need” apostates. Most of the members of the ACM were not ever members of the NRM. They are concerned family members, combined with other individuals with different agendas (such as theological agendas). It is through the apostate testimony that these groups provided evidence of their radical charges. This is why one particular “type” of story was needed. They did not need or want stories that simply shared a history of normal, usually socially accepted forms of “training” children to accept and follow parental beliefs. They did not need or want stories that had normal histories of the type of mistreatment and abuse of power that can be found in many socially accepted organizations. They needed and wanted stories with literal charges of brainwashing as a conversionary method, and stories with literal charges of being kept captive by the group and abused in some way in order to provide profit for the group. This is so fundamentally different than what is expected of exit stories shared among exmormons for other exmormons, that it is deliberately misleading to pretend otherwise. “Brainwashing” and “captivity”are not hyperbole in these stories; they are literal charges.

Apostate testimony is central to the entire range of ACM-sponsored social control initiatives. However, because the ACM lacks official authority to control NRMs and it reintegrate former NRM members into conventional social networks, it actually has incorporated only a small percentage of former members into the countermovement. By far the largest proportion of members exit voluntarily after some period of experimentation and typically seek a low-profile re-entry into conventional networks by resuming familial, occupational, and educational endeavors. (p 40).


Once again: the apostate has to reintegrate entirely back into “normal” society, including family, career, and education. The idea that these former members formed their entire identities based on NRM membership is not hyperbole or exaggeration.

Research on former NRM members suggests that their assessments of NRM experience span the entire range from positive to ambivalent to disillusioned. However, most leavetakers do not adopt an openly adversarial relationship with their former movements, and therefore it is the small segment of countermovement-affiliated former members that dominate the public arena.

The ACM therefore has recruited apostates through two other forms of exit, deprogramming and exit-counseling, that are more directly under ACM control. For both of these exit types, ACM-allied deprogrammers and therapists act as deputized agents of families to enforce demands for disaffiliation and to coordinate the role transition process. The key difference between the two is that deprogramming initially was a unilateral, pre-emptive action based on coercive control of the deprogrammee; it also came to be used as a confirmatory post-exit ritual, even when NRM members disaffiliated on their own initiative. Based on ACM ideology that NRM members had been psychologically subjugated through cult mind-control processes, the first
deprogrammings were organized as elaborate rituals resembling exorcisms. Early entrepeneur-deprogrammers, who offered their “rescue” services to families, treated deprogrammees as literally possessed, dangerous to themselves and others. (p 41)


I have been talking with other exmormons on the internet now for years. I don’t recall a single story that has the faintest resemblance to this description. Exmormons are normally disappointing and “betraying” their families by leaving the LDS church., not by joining the LDS church. There is no deprogramming, no external group looking for apostate stories to support their agenda.

Apostates whose role transitions are coordinated through ACM-sponsored identity transformation rituals typically fashion their personal sagas as captivity narratives. Although the specific details of these personal narratives vary, the following summary/synthesis of these narratives is one journey into and out of captivity: While operating in what they believed to be a safe place, such as a college campus or center or tourism, individuals who were innocently engaged in conventional activity encountered cult recruiters. Camouflaging their true identities and affiliations, the recruiters employ some combination of deception and manipulation to induce the individual to attend a cult-sponsored and controlled function, often under the guise of an educational, recreational, or therapeutic experience. Individuals are then induced to move to an isolated, cult-controlled location (such as a camp, retreat, or commune) where contact with or exit to the outside world is extraordinarily difficult. Once under the physical control of the cult, individuals are subjected to potent mind-control techniques (disguised as spiritual, community-building, psychotherapeutic training) that rapidly undermines their capacity for rational, autonomous decision making. After the initial programming process is completed, individuals, now in a state of psychological captivity, are deployed on various cult-sponsored missions to gain new recruits, raise money, or work in cult-run organizations and project designed to increase the leaders’ wealth and power. These often involve participating in a variety of activities that are illegal and/or subversive. (p 42)


It should be painfully obvious by now that this is an entirely different experience than that which exmormons recount. The vast majority of exmormons were born into the faith, never left “normal” society, retained familial relationships, obtained education and/or careers. If they were raised in a devout, traditional-believing LDS family, they subjected to intensive social training by their parents and church community. This training is undoubtedly more intense than the training received by children who grow up in more liberal faiths that do not espouse some sort of “one true” ideology. It is religions that teach, in some fashion, that their path is “the” right path and members are taught that it is crucial to eternal well-being that children remain in this path, marry other members on the same path, that tend to engage in more intense social programming. However, even this intense form of social programming is nothing like what is being described in relationship to NRMs and apostate narratives, even if the word “brainwashing” is used as hyperbole. Only individuals who had not actually read this book could be convinced otherwise.

The apostates’ recounting of their personal captivity and of the organizational atrocities they witnessed highlight countermovement lobbying campaigns, media reports, investigatory hearings, trial testimony, and deprogramming sessions. Successful moral status degradation influences the nature of the entire array of social control initiatives against NRMs. (p 42)


Now we see why oppositional coalitions “want” certain type of apostate narratives, and can apply pressure for the apostate to comply.

Some NRM apostates have been able to fashion extended careers as public figures. As the NRM controversy expanded and the ACM linked together a diverse array of movements as cults, former members began identifying themselves as generic cult experts. Through this tactic they are able to adjust to the shifting fortunes of specific movements, new sources of controversy, or changing public interest. For the most part these careers also are quite transitory as they lack career development possibilities, and there has been a continuing flow of members out of NRMs, which creates burgeoning supply of individuals to compete for available role opportunities. Through the 1970s and 1980s there was a continuing flow of opportunities to present testimony at church gatherings, public hearings on the cult problem, cult education programs sponsored by high schools and colleges, interviews with journalists, and ACM conventions. Occasionally, apostates extended their careers by mixing apostate and whistleblowing activity through participating in civil legal proceedings against NRMs. Particularly where plaintiffs have been able to link moral condemnation and personal captivity narratives to bases of legal action, principally infliction of emotional distress, merging apostate testimony and trial testimony has become possible. These trials often span months or even years, thereby in effect creating an extended career. Pre-trial or post-verdict settlements offer apostates a more secure economic base. The greatest career stability for apostates has derived from counseling-related activities as families mandate exit-counseling or individuals seek a means of resolving personal ambivalence. Initially, exit-counselors offered services based simply on their personal experiences. As this niche has developed, former NRM members have begun seeking professional credentials as therapists, with a specialization in what they define as cult-precipitated disorders. These apostate careers have demonstrated considerable longevity as practitioners possess greater credentials, legitimacy, and an economic base, and the role can be broadened to incorporate more conventional counseling practice. (p 43)


This gives us a cleared idea of what is meant by “apostate career”. As I have long suspected based on my earlier readings of available passages, before actually obtaining the book, “career apostate” does not mean someone who spends a lot of time talking about the former religion. It means someone who as actually developed a formal career based in opposition to NRMs. Keep in mind these individuals usually completely interrupted their lives, in terms of education and profession, to participate full time in the NRM. Upon their exit, it is not surprising some of them develop new professions based on opposition to NRMs.

Once again, in summary, Bromley states that, generally speaking, Allegiant organizations will produce defectors, Contestant organizations will produce whistleblowers, and Subversive organizations will produce apostates.
Last edited by Tator on Fri Dec 29, 2006 3:54 am, edited 1 time in total.
We hate to seem like we don’t trust every nut with a story, but there’s evidence we can point to, and dance while shouting taunting phrases.

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http://www.mormonmesoamerica.com
_beastie
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Post by _beastie »

Juliann has created another thread on MAD to deal with this subject. She continues to butcher the text with her selective, out-of-context use of citations. For example, she cites Johnson:

The apostate is a defector who is aligned with an oppositional coalition in an effort to broaden a dispute, and embraces public claims making activities to attack his or her former group. Unlike typical leave takers whose responses range from indifference to quiet disenchantment, the apostate assumes a vituperative or hostile posture and pursues a moral campaign to discredit the group.

Daniel Carson Johnson, ““Apostates Who Never Were: The Social Construction of Absque Facto Apostate Narratives,”” in The Politics of Religious Apostasy: The Role of Apostates in the Transformation of Religious Movements, ed. David G. Bromley (Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers, 1998 ) , 109.


Johnson's essay was about an unusual phenomenon in which people who were never even members of the NRM to begin with pretend to be exiters and create a story that has no base in history at all. Moreover, research will reveal that it has no base in history (research, for example, demonstrating that the supposed apostate wasn't even in the right place at the right time, and research showing zero evidence that the apostate was ever a member of the group to begin with).
We hate to seem like we don’t trust every nut with a story, but there’s evidence we can point to, and dance while shouting taunting phrases.

Penn & Teller

http://www.mormonmesoamerica.com
_Ray A

Post by _Ray A »

I haven't read the book, but it seems to me that the type of "career apostate" being spoken of are people like Steve Hassan, who has become a noted figure in the countercult movement, that is, cults of the subversive type.

One point I would make is that some exmos do see Mormonism as a subversive cult or NRM, even if the definitions don't fit the textbook. What do you think beastie? I know you spelt out the differences, and the social construct of the subversive movement does not fit Mormonism, but some of the descriptions I have read in "exit narratives" from some exmos seem to fit, metaphorically if nothing else, ie, "brainwashing", "being captive", even if they were not subjected to the same procedures as subversive NRMs.

One other question: Do you consider Mormonism a cult?
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Post by _beastie »

Hey, Ray,

You are correct in that the authors really are talking about a "career" - as in a full time job - in the term "career apostate". Juliann accused me of redefining words to insist that was the case, and I was uncertain as to whether or not that was the case until I got and read the book. But now there is no doubt. There are other citations that demonstrate its meaning which I will share in later posts.

I think the word "cult" is pejorative with no real clear purpose. So, no, I don't consider the LDS church a cult, but I tend to avoid the term altogether. I think most, if not all religions - at their inception - could fit the description of "cult" as utilized by ACM. Look at Christianity - if we accept the Bible as accurate history, then a charismatic named Jesus induced men to abandon their families and follow him as the exited "normal" society. But even if I were to accept the term "cult" with careful definitions, I doubt the LDS church would fit. The authors are using the term to mean a Subversive New Religious Movement.

Yes, definitely some exmos view the LDS church as subversive. And some exmembers use terms such as "brainwashing". But what is important in discussing Bromley et al is their use of the terms, which has nothing to do with a moral judgment or simply social training (as what parents do with their children) . Rather, "Subversive" is a reflection of how the large society views the New Religious Movement. These are groups that have goals and mores that are obviously in conflict with larger society, and hence, larger society views them as a threat. So while certain individuals may view the LDS church as subversive, it still does not fit the definition of the term as utilized in the text being discussed here. And "brainwashing" in the Bromley sense is referring to a deliberate process the NRMs are accused of using to control potential converts.
We hate to seem like we don’t trust every nut with a story, but there’s evidence we can point to, and dance while shouting taunting phrases.

Penn & Teller

http://www.mormonmesoamerica.com
_Ray A

Post by _Ray A »

beastie wrote:Yes, definitely some exmos view the LDS church as subversive. And some exmembers use terms such as "brainwashing". But what is important in discussing Bromley et al is their use of the terms, which has nothing to do with a moral judgment or simply social training (as what parents do with their children) . Rather, "Subversive" is a reflection of how the large society views the New Religious Movement. These are groups that have goals and mores that are obviously in conflict with larger society, and hence, larger society views them as a threat. So while certain individuals may view the LDS church as subversive, it still does not fit the definition of the term as utilized in the text being discussed here. And "brainwashing" in the Bromley sense is referring to a deliberate process the NRMs are accused of using to control potential converts.


From the quotes you've given I think it's clear, to me now anyway, what the term "career apostate" means in terms of Bromley's definition. There do seem to be fine lines going both ways, for example some exmos would see the church as subversive, and therefore a cult, and some in the wider society may also see the church as "potentially subversive", but these have little to do with the definitions I've read above. Bromley seems to be referring to "career apostates" from subversive NRMs, and Mormonism is not included. I'd like to read anything else you have anyway.
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Post by _Mister Scratch »

What is so profound about Beastie's OP, in my view, is how it reveals the full extent of what an unbelievably dishonest hackjob juliann has performed on the scholarship. Really, if she is still enrolled at CGU, or intends to try and complete her degree there, she had better hope to high heaven that the Powers That Be don't discover what she has been up to with this nonsense. This is the very definition of academic dishonesty. My .02: she should retract ASAP, or hope to high heaven that nobody forwards her remarks over to the head of her department.
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Post by _beastie »

The first part of installment 2:

Chapter 3
Apostasy and the Management of Spoiled Identity
Armand Mauss

Mauss makes clear at the beginning of his essay that he is framing his remarks in the context of Bromley’s organizational context. (Allegiant, Contestant, Subversive) He emphasizes that what distinguishes these three groups is the “degree of tension between them (respectively) and the host society.” (p 51)

He also agrees with the corresponding leavetakers outlined by Bromley (Allegiant organizations normally have defectors, Contestant organizations normally have whistleblowers, and Subversive organizations normally is the one that produces apostates – p 52)

The apostate role is typically not only the most acrimonious of the three types, but in its fullest sense it requires an external, oppositional organization or coalition to embrace the apostate and to lend credence and legitimacy to the typical “captivity narrative” explaining both the erstwhile affiliation and the eventual departure of the apostate, In fact, to some extent all three exit types often involve external support: Competitors to Allegiant organizations (eg, other religious denominations) can be expected to provide aid and comfort for defectors; official or self-appointed monitoring or regulatory agencies for whistleblowers from Contestant organizations; and, as just noted, oppositional or enemy coalitions for apostates from Subversive organizations While these three types of organizations and exiters can be used heuristically, they actually constitute a tension continuum with the surrounding host society, as Bromley points out. Such a continuum, in turn, implies some mixture of both organizational and exiting types in real life, as well as some potential for change across time in the relationship of any given organization to its host environment. (p 52)


He utilizes the example of the Mormon church as one that transitioned from a Subversive organization to an Allegiant or Contestant organization.

An especially good example of this complexity from American history is the Mormon Church, which possessed all the classic characteristics of a Subversive organization throughout the nineteenth century but underwent an accommodation with American society throughout the twentieth, or at least until the later decades of the twentieth, when some evidence began to emerge in the church of a deliberate retrenchment policy intended to recover some of the lost tension with the surrounding society. Late in the twentieth century, the Mormons (like the Catholics) would thus probably fall on the Bromley continuum somewhere between Allegiant and Contestant, perhaps closer to the latter; another way of describing the situation might to be to view the Mormons as more Allegiant for some purposes and Contestant for others. (It should be emphasized here that we are discussing a North American setting; virtually everywhere else in the world Mormons would still be at the Subversive point on the continuum, or perhaps in Latin America, somewhere between Subversive and Contestant.)

The history of exiting from the Mormon Church seems to parallel the changing history of its relationship with American society in about the way that one would expect from the conceptual framework discussed above. Nineteenth century Mormon history is replete with tales of colorful apostates in the full Bromley sense, exiters who left under conditions of great stress and acrimony into the waiting arms of a thriving anti-Mormon enterprise. These apostates, of course, provided wonderful grist for the mass media mills of the time and were highly influential in shaping and maintaining the subversive national image of Mormonism. Perhaps predictably, mass apostates tended to occur during periods of special crisis for the church, just prior to each mass migration, of which we shall have more to say later on. (p 53)


What does need to be observed, however, is that as twentieth-century Mormonism moved increasingly down the Bromley continuum from its earlier Subversive character, its public exiters were less often apostates in the fullest sense of that term and more often resembled whistleblowers or even mere defectors, although, to be sure, one can see examples of all three exiting types. (p 54)


Mauss made an excellent point, one I’ve seen many exmormons make in slightly different language (the “investment paradigm”):

In addition, certain more proximate social-psychological variables will be present, just as they are in the conversion process itself. These would include the amount of resistance or support likely to be encountered from significant others such as family members and closest friends, both within and without the organization; the amount of “investment” that s/he has made in the organization, including both material and human capital; and the salience or centrality of organizational membership to the fundamental definition of self. The mix of all these variables, and perhaps others too, will provide the basis for a cost/benefit (or risk/benefit) assessment to be made before exiting actually occurs. The mix of such variables, furthermore, changes across time, not only in the historical and organizational sense outlined above, but also in the individual sense of where a person stands in the life cycle, since a potential exiter has more at stake at some stages of life than at others. (p 54)


Mauss talks at length about possible socio-psychological variables within the context of self-concept. He states that:

Various self-states and self-processes might be sources of motivation for individual behavior, including the quest for self-esteem, self-efficacy, or self-verification. Of these, I propose that self-verification is especially salient in understanding the career of the apostate or whistleblower (and perhaps to a lesser extent, that of mere leaver or defector). (p 55)


He proceeds to discuss how discrepancies between actual self and ideal self; and the discrepancies between actual self and ought self. (these terms seem pretty self-explanatory to me but if anyone wants clarification, I will add more text)

In Gecas’s interpretation of Weigert, the ”existential response acknowledges the difficulties and moral ambiguities of modern life, yet stoically tries to make the best of it as a free and responsible person”, which in Higgin’s terms, I would suggest, might be seen as a resolution of the actual/ideal discrepancy. This “existential” resolution of the discrepancy seems an apt description of either the “defector” or the “whistleblower”, as Bromley calls them. The difference between these two would be that for the defector, who just walks away, the actual/ideal discrepancy occurs at the level of personal ideals, such as intellectual integrity, where self-authenticity requires simply a recognition by the exiter that s/he has lost faith or lost commitment to key beliefs of the erstwhile religion. For the whistleblower, the discrepancy occurs at the level of social ideals, where self-authenticity has been threatened by a conscience made to feel increasingly guilty from looking the other way or even covering up the unethical and immoral conduct of one’s co-religionists or religious leaders. To the extent that this kind of discrepancy is perceived also in the reflected appraisals of significant others, there would seem to be the potential for stigma in Goffman’s terms. ( p 56)


As I read this book, I became convinced that the majority of exmormons on the internet would be more accurately described as whistleblowers. There are two main themes that I’ve seen stressed over the years: a- personal distress with the psychological “fit” of Mormonism to the individual and b – stories about church history or doctrine that the individual finds morally objectionable. While not all exmormons talk about “a” (some even state they were quite content as Mormons), all that I’ve seen talk about “b”. This is classic whistleblower activity.

Next, Mauss addresses the apostate category:

”Weigert’s eschatolotical resolution, by contrast,” says Gecas, “seeks escape from modern ambivalence by embracing a (typically) religious fundamentalist doctrine offering a simplified moral universe and providing a mythic framework for interpreting and living in modern society”. Of course, the resolution need not always be fundamentalist in nature, for other kids of “moral crusades (or) political activism can have authenticating consequences for participants, assuming that their commitment to the cause is sincere.” In any case, the eschatological resolution suggested by Weigert seems to me an apt description of the way that Bromley’s typical “apostate” would resolve an actual/ought discrepancy (as per Higgins) with its “social anxiety” and “fear of negative evaluation” (or stigma) increasingly experienced by a disillusioned believer on the way to apostasy. Perhaps that helps to explain the common pattern by which apostates leave one kind of fundamentalist or “high-tension” religion only to throw in with an oppositional group that is equally uncompromising. (p 57)


Even when reading only the isolated citations I could access before obtaining and reading the entire book, I had the sense that the “apostate” category as described within the text best fit exiting LDS who then embraced conservative evangelical Christianity that portrays Mormonism as being inspired by and connected with Satan. As we shall later see, the examples Mauss uses also fits within that model, as does this above comment.

While Goffman’s classical formulation does not use the terminology of self-verification, self-discrepancy, or self-authenticity, one can nevertheless see such concepts implied in the individual’s struggle to prevent a “spoiled identity” in stigmatizing (or potentially stigmatizing) situations. Every individual “acquires identity standards which he applies to himself in spite of failing to conform to them, (so) it is inevitable that he will feel some ambivalence about his own self.” Furthermore, during the period of commitment to his or her religious community (ie, prior to encountering issues of discrepancy or inauthenticity in his religious life.),

“the individual may (have) deeply involved his ego in his identification with a particular part, establishment, or group, and his self-conception as someone who does not disrupt social interaction or let down social units which depend on that interaction. When a disruption occurs, then, we may find that the self-conception around which his personality has been built may become discredited.”

The process of existing thus carries a double risk of stigmatization, for “pre-stigma acquaintances, being attached to a conception of what he once was, may be unable to treat him either with formal tact or with familiar full acceptance,” while is “post-stigma acquaintances (ie after his exit as whistleblower or apostate) may see him simply as a faulted person.” That is, even the new associates in an external or oppositional group might be slow to grant full acceptance, for the newly exited person has a lot to live down from his unsavory past involvements. (p 57)


Again, this statement only makes sense within the context of discussing apostates from a Subversive organization. It is in joining the Subversive organization that the individual was first stigmatized, and it is now in exiting and explaining his/her former affiliation with the Subversive organization that must be explained, and individuals in the external group may still see the exiter has faulted or flawed.

This is a good time to point out the problems with trying to utilize a group of fellow exmormons as an “external oppositional” group. The coalitions that Bromley describes, as I’ve already explained, consist of people who were not members of the Subversive organization, but have some other reason for extreme concern about the organization. Perhaps they lost family members to the group, or perhaps they are part of a mainstream religious theology that deems the new religion as spiritually dangerous. They join together in the hope of providing enough attention and information to gain access to formal groups that have the power to regulate the group (ie, governmental regulations). This is why the exiter, although useful to the group, is still seen as somewhat problematic – they joined the group to begin with.

I need a break from typing so will come back later to provide the interesting case examples Mauss provides.
We hate to seem like we don’t trust every nut with a story, but there’s evidence we can point to, and dance while shouting taunting phrases.

Penn & Teller

http://www.mormonmesoamerica.com
_Ray A

Post by _Ray A »

Just a point I noted here from Mauss (my emphasis):

What does need to be observed, however, is that as twentieth-century Mormonism moved increasingly down the Bromley continuum from its earlier Subversive character, its public exiters were less often apostates in the fullest sense of that term and more often resembled whistleblowers or even mere defectors, although, to be sure, one can see examples of all three exiting types. (p 54)


This is why I mentioned before about the apparent "fine lines". Some exmos do consider Mormonism a Subversive NRM, and we might expect the "captivity narratives" from them, even though Mormonism does not fit the Subversive category anymore. Well, Mauss says the Subversive category could still exist in some countries, and in places like Latin America it could be going from Subversive to Contestant, possibly more to the latter. Anyway my commentary is fragmented as I don't have the book, so I'll let you get on with the quotes when your fingers recover.
_beastie
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Post by _beastie »

Yes, Ray, Mauss does provide examples of what he considers career apostates, so there does exist a rather minor market in the outside host society for anti-Mormon material, although as the following quotes demonstrate, it is theologically based.

Mauss’ examples

First Mauss provides examples of nineteenth century apostates like McLellin. More pertinent to our conversation are the examples from the twentieth century.

Examples of outright apostasy in the Bromley sense are not so easy to find in the twentieth-century Mormon church. To be sure, one still sees dissent aplenty, and even some major sectarian schisms in this century. Since the historical tension between the church and the society has largely dissipated, one might expect fewer actual apostates. Yet the tension has by no means disappeared, so we should also expect to at least some celebrated cases of whistleblowers, as well as plenty of mere leavers (defectors). Furthermore, as a destination for potential apostates and whistleblowers, there remains a visible anti-Mormon enterprise, not only in the US but in Europe, somewhat in parallel to the Cult Awareness Network (which itself certainly makes room for anti-Mormons as well as anti-cultists). This anti-mormon enterprise is found partly in specialized organizations like Ed Decker’s “Ex-Mormons for Jesus,” but it is also to be found in certain congregations, or even in entire denominations, of the evangelical Christian spectrum. Any dedicated Mormon apostate or whistle-blower can find places to turn for aid and comfort. Yet, even so, there does not seem to be the proliferation of apostates that occurred in nineteenth-century Mormonism, at least not if we are referring to those who achieve careers as exponents of anti-Mormon organizations. ( p 63)


Here again I pause to note the context of the external oppositional coalition. Once again, as with the earlier cited ACM, this is a movement composed of people who were never members of the NRM, but view the group as a threat and utilize the stories of apostates to bolster their accusations against the NRM. And, as I suspected earlier, it is theological in composition.

One clear exception to that generalization, which stands out in large part precisely because it is unique, is the Utah Lighthouse Ministry of Jerald and Sandra Tanner of SLC. The Tanners were both lifelong Mormons before leaving the church in the late 1950s for evangelical Protestantism, specifically the Christian and Missionary Alliance. Since at least 1964, when Jerald quite his job as a machinist to devote himself to anti-Mormon publishing, the Tanners ministry (once called Modern Microfilm Company) has become a major source of newsletters, pamphlets, books, and copies of historical documents, all intended to undermine the truth claims of Mormonism by exposing doctrinal fallacies, historical inaccuracies, and corrupt organizational practices, whether past or present. (p 63)


My comment: there appears to be some discrepancy between Mauss and Bromley regarding the Tanner’s status as apostate or whistleblower. Bromley states, in his section on whistleblowers:

One of the most common forms through which religious whistleblowers offer testimony is printed tracts that regulatory agencies distribute as a means of denying legitimacy to what they regard as the ongoing deceptive practices in which “pseudo-Christian” churches engage. ( p 35)


He then lists religious tracts including the Tanner’s “Out of Darkness, Into the Sonlight” as one example. Mauss, however, uses the Tanners as examples of career apostates.

To continue with his comments on the Tanners:

Interestingly enough, however, the Tanner case, by its very singularity, illustrates the difficulty in maintaining visible apostate careers when a successful movement like Mormonism moves increasingly in the Allegiant direction. Although modern Mormonism certainly has its enemies, they are no longer numerous or powerful enough to constitute a large oppositional market for products like those of the Tanners. Indeed, from the viewpoint of Mormon leaders, perhaps the most vexing uses of the Tanner materials have been by those curious subscribers within the Mormon fold (or marginal to it), who simply want access to controversial documents and information that the leaders themselves try to keep out of circulation! Yet the Tanners have earned a certain grudging respect in Utah for their sincerity and integrity. Although they sometimes use inflammatory rhetoric and naïve reasoning, they have usually substantiated their claims carefully, and they have avoided tabloid scandal-mongering for its own sake (unlike Ex-Mormons for Jesus). Furthermore, the Tanners were among the first to suspect fraud in Mark Hofmann’s “discoveries” of certain debunking “historical documents” from early Mormonism, and to say so publicly. (p 63)


This quote is interesting not only due to the fact that Mauss clearly believes there are very few true apostates anymore, in the Bromley sense of the word, but also due to the fact that he makes two statements with which internet apologists normally argue: 1) that the Tanners generally provide reliable information and, 2) church leaders would prefer that information stay out of circulation.

After exploring some biographical details that demonstrate internal stress (like Jerald’s drinking: NOTE: I do not know how valid this information is, it was pretty vague, I just didn't want to be accused of hiding it: Mauss makes a one sentence assertion that both Jerald and his father "drank heavily", whatever that might mean), he ends the section by stating:

An indication that the Mormon Church itself has recognized an appreciable increase in sheer defection (or uncontested exiting), as opposed to apostasy, was an official decision late in the century to dispense with the formal excommunication process for defectors. Traditionally, the only way in which a defector (or any exiter) could get his/her name removed from church records was to submit to a formal excommunication court (even if in absentia), a process which not only stigmatized unnecessarily the friendly defector but tied up enormous amounts of clergy time and record-keeping in an essentially meaningless ritual. Since about 1980, however, Mormons who want to relinquish their membership need only send a “letter of resignation” to local clergy – an interesting and pragmatic organizational concession to the changing composition (and increasing numbers) of Mormon exiting types in the modern era. (p 65)


One of the most interesting sections in Mauss’ essay concerns his example for a whistleblower: Fawn Brodie.

If it is true, however, that Mormon defectors are fairly common these days, and that true Mormon apostates are rather rare, there remains the middle category of whistleblowers, which have been the most conspicuous type of Mormon exiter since mid-century, at least. As typical with whistleblowers, few if any have intended at the beginning to work their way entirely out of the church, though many have ended up that way through the formal excommunication process. Even after reaching the outside, however, Mormon whistleblowers have generally not found the external organizational support that would make possible new careers as whistleblowers (to say nothing of apostate careers). It might be useful to consider briefly a couple of these whistleblower cases in order to provide some concreteness to these generalizations. (p 63)


This was certainly true of me. I first began my journey out of the church by innocently picking up Mormon Enigma. And it took me years to finally lose faith altogether, and throughout most of that time period, I could not even imagine eventually leaving the church. I desperately tried to find a way to retain belief in the face of the troubling information I was discovering. It worked for a short period of time, but the dam soon broke.

Written in the genre of psychohistory, and resembling a historical novel as much as a biography, this work constituted an incisive debunking of Smith’s prophetic claims, and derivatively of the most fundamental truth claims of Mormonism. It was, in other words, a major whistleblowing enterprise from a well-placed insider: Brodie was from the prominent McKay family. (p 66)


It should be clear from this example that a whistleblower may, indeed, be highly critical of church claims, and even polemic in style. However:

Yet Brodie never made common cause with any anti-Mormon enterprises, which were no longer numerous or powerful in any case. Brodie’s whistleblowing was not over theological issues as such, which might have attracted her to the Protestant anti-Mormons (the basic premise of her book, indeed, seems atheistic); nor was her whistleblowing over legal issues like nineteenth-century polygamy and theocracy, or (as with Sonia Johnson later) over the transversing of church/state boundaries, which might have given her an incipient anti-Mormon audience of a more political kind. Brodie’s attack, rather, was more in the nature of an expose against the cultural and intellectual respectability which Mormons had tried so hard to achieve during the first half of the twentieth century. Implicitly, her books asks how any but a bunch of simple minded country bumpkins could be taken in by the frauds of Joseph Smith. (p 67)


Given this example, it seems even more likely that the appropriate category for the majority of LDS leavetakers who then “talk about it” is the whistleblowers group. The vast majority intend to expose the “fraud” of Mormonism. They are not associating with any theological group that assembles never-been-mormons who attack Mormonism and utilize “apostate narratives” to bolster their claims. They are attacking the cultural and intellectual respectability of LDS claims. The host society is simply not very interested in the matter at all.

In his summary, Mauss states:

Exiters are true apostates only to the extent that they have access to oppositional organizations which will sponsor their careers and validate the retrospective biographical accounts of their outrageous experiences during their sojourns in the erstwhile religion.

(omitting the defector/whistleblower summary)

Of course, the availability and access to outside organizations will be a function partly of the degree and nature of the cultural tension between the religious community and the host society. The greater the tension, the greater the likelihood of dedicated oppositional organizations which can harbor and sponsor apostates; the greater also the likelihood that regulatory, mass media, and other civic organizations will take an interest in the claims of whistleblowers. (p 70)


Here Mauss makes clear that outside groups – ie, groups that are not comprised of apostates – have to have interest in the NRM in order to create enough tension to offer an oppositional organization. An internet support group comprised of fellow exmormons offering emotional support and validation, and an opportunity to share whistleblowing information just does not fit within this context.
We hate to seem like we don’t trust every nut with a story, but there’s evidence we can point to, and dance while shouting taunting phrases.

Penn & Teller

http://www.mormonmesoamerica.com
_beastie
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Post by _beastie »

Chapter 4
Standing at the Cross-Roads: The Politics of Marginality in “Subversive Organizations”
Eileen Barker

This essay is largely addressing a phenomenon that is outside my primary area of interest, which is the peripheral and marginal members of Subversive organizations. Peripheral members are those individuals who do not relinquish their “normal life”, so to speak, but have more limited involvement with the NRM. They are friendly to the group and are often used as a buffer between outsider critics and the group. Marginal members are “fringe” members – those who are more critical of the group’s basic claims, and may or may not eventually leave the group. But she does make some clarifying comments about my primary topic of interest, which is the apostate.

Although the theme of this chapter is to question the myth that there is always a clear-cut distinction between members and non-members of movements which are in tension with their social environment, it is not being denied – indeed, it is undoubtedly true – that much of the rhetoric of the movements proclaims that a distinction exists, and that the membership forms a group which is separated from the rest of society by a strong, unambiguous boundary, and that differences within the group and any variety which might exist in the outside society fade into insignificance when membership or non-membership is under consideration. “We”, the insiders, are assumed to be homogeneously good and godly, while “they”, the inhabitants of the wider society, are assumed to be homogeneously bad, Satanic, and “other”. The tension is, moreover, kept aflame by the fact that the movement’s opponents, particularly the popular media and those associated with the anti-cult movement, have a similar image of the movement, except that they see it as being on the evil and/or Satanic side of the boundary while they themselves are the good and/or godly “us”.

The greatest tension with the outside, the more the internal diversity needs to be controlled. Not only will a clear distinction be made between members and non-members, keeping the two socially as well as definitionally separate, but a number of devices will be employed to prevent the development of close ties between members – even in movements where the rhetoric is that of close and equal relationships between the “brothers” and “sisters” of a united religious or spiritual family. It is not unusual for the movements to impede the establishment of close bonds between a husband and wife. Constant mobility – both geographical and social – also militates against the development of close friendships. (p 84)


While Barker is not specifically addressing the history of Mormonism, I think the application is obvious. The modern LDS church has attempted to distance itself from the former statements of its leaders that strongly emphasized the “us” versus “them” paradigm. Although this separation can be challenging, at times, particularly when “us” versus “them” statements are included in canon, it can be done. Also note how early Mormonism fits so well within the Subversive organization definition in that its members were literally removed from larger society to a great extent, moved frequently (although not always of their own volition), and the stresses of polygamy and frequent absences due to missions certainly undermined the closeness between husband and wife. Additionally, early members engaged in the practice of sealing themselves to people outside their biological familial unit as eternal “families”.

The movements tend, moreover, to promote a mass culture, in which only commonly shared knowledge (beliefs, opinions, and practices) initiating from, and approved by, the leadership can be expressed. At the apex of the hierarchy, Type III (subversive) NRMs frequently have a leader who is wielding charismatic authority and how is, thereby, granted the right to tell his (occasionally her) followers what to think and what to do. Although it is rare, completely successful, charismatic authority carries considerably more sway and covers considerably more aspects of the followers’ lives than do other types of authority – but any type of authority is, by definition, power (the ability to get others to do what one wants) that is legitimate in the eyes of those subservient to the power. In some disturbing experiments involving the apparent application of electrical shocks, Stanley Milgram demonstrated how an authority figure can convince a not inconsiderable minority of people that they should agree to do things which they would not dream of doing on their own account.

The culture constantly reinforces the positive aspects of the movement while emphasizing the negative aspects of the external social environment. Any questions and complaints from members about what goes on within the movement are publicly interpreted as evidence that it is the questioner/complainer, not the movement, who is in the wrong – thus both deterring individuals who might see things differently from voicing their own opinion, and leading them to doubt their own perception in the face of an apparently unanimous verity. Solomon Asch has demonstrated how frequently people will agree to judgments about which there seems to be group consensus, when they would have come to a quite different decision had they not been subjected to the group judgment. He found that, under perfectly “normal” conditions, peer pressure could lead about one-third of his subjects to suppress their independent evaluations, sometimes coming to doubt the evidence of their own eyes. (p 82)


Although, in the essay included in this book, Mauss did not specify the “retrenchment” of Mormonism recently that could feasibly produce more “apostates” if the retrenchment resulted in higher stress between Mormonism and the host culture (although he does not yet see signs of that), I think this is a clue what that retrenchment probably was. I suspect it was the excommunication of the fringe intellectuals in the LDS church – the September Six. That certainly sent a message to the intellectuals So if the church becomes more authoritarian in handling its own dissidents, it could feasibly create more external interest and willingness to create regulatory oppositional coalitions. I doubt this will occur, however, particularly with the careers of political Mormons like Mitt Romney at stake.

Her comments also provide some insight into the captivity tale told by apostates, particularly the brainwashing accusation:

But the rhetoric, definitions, structure, and culture projected by the hierarchy have a certain fragility. Just as the so-called mind control techniques are not nearly as effective as the movements’ opponents claim and as the movements would undoubtedly like, so the suppression of a relatively independent and and uncontrolled system of relationships between members is not as effective as the leadership would wish. (p 85)



Once again, the context makes clear that the “brainwashing” being referred to in this text is not simple parental/social programming, but a structured “program” to dismantle free will in potential converts. Several footnotes in this text also demonstrate that this is the case, as law suits partly coordinated by the oppositional coalitions ended up focusing on the entire phenomenon of “brainwashing”, and debunking the notion.

And this comment reveals some more insight into the oppositional coalition, and reinforces the other statements which portray the group as comprised largely of nonmembers from the host society:

Third, marginals may have contact with ex-members whom they knew and with whom they have had close relationships. Although they may exchange information with apostates, it is unlikely that most of these ex-members would have strong involvement in anti-cult activity, partly because anti-cultists tend to be uninterested in having any kind of relationship with members of NRMs (be they core or marginal members) except for the purpose of removing them from the movement, and partly because the marginal member is likely to be suspicious of ex-members who opt for the apostate narrative and deny those things which he or she still considers to be positive and worth preserving. (p 86)


This demonstrates why groups like Recovery from Mormonism are not a good definitional fit for the “oppositional coalition”. Marginal members are frequently members of this group, and share criticisms of basic LDS truth claims. At times specific members of the group may pressure them to leave the church, but it is just as frequent for others to defend the marginal stance, due to familial needs and priorities. It is unlikely that oppositional coalitions such as ACM would tolerate marginal members, even if they were critical of some basic church claims.

Her essay also contains an interesting section on “second generation marginals”. This was interesting because the vast majority of exmormons were actually born in the faith.
Those born in the faith tend to have an easier time forming networks within the faith with other marginal members.
We hate to seem like we don’t trust every nut with a story, but there’s evidence we can point to, and dance while shouting taunting phrases.

Penn & Teller

http://www.mormonmesoamerica.com
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