I suspect that, as usual, Peterson has made a significant point without realizing it.
Looking at the history of Mormonism and its doctrines as actually implemented and taught and practiced (rather than simply proof-texted), acquisition of wealth has simply not been a fixation. It is important to think contextually and historically, for one can pick some quotes and anecdotes from the 19th century or read the Word of Wisdom literally and conclude that beer drinking is fine, and indeed a lot of marginal Mormons (exMormons, etc.) have been known to down a few from time to time. They too are arguably members of the community. But on the question of beer drinking, every Mormon and even every exMormon knows that it just isn't the case that beer drinking is acceptable for Mormons, no matter what D & C says and no matter how loosely this was enforced in previous times.
We should apply the same standard to the question of wealth. Still, even just considering text, I am sure that there have been more speeches about pornography in the 2000s alone than there has ever been about wealth beyond a few platitudes in the entire history of the Church. Mormons have been much more fixated on sex than money, and in general just aren't bothered by wealth. In fact, I don't hesitate in saying that every Mormon who is loyal to the Church as an institution actually feels a tinge of pride even in reading headlines about the Church that more traditional Christians would find a little embarrassing. Tracing a history or a synthesis of Mormon attitudes to wealth might actually be an interesting project, but this assumption that there is some deep strain of skepticism of wealth is one that I just don't share because I don't see any evidence for it. The most you can find beyond some scriptural proof-texting and vague sermonizing are some rantings by Brigham Young, which no one took seriously even in his own time, and, judging from his own practice, neither did he. General Authorities used to write books about the evils of communism and socialism, and Deseret Book probably has a section on investment at some of its stores, but can anyone name a single book published by a mainstream (i.e. not exMormon or polygamous etc.) LDS author against markets and capital? Perhaps Hugh Nibley's ideal in
Approaching Zion is one possibility, but even that isn't really a critique of market capitalism per se. One can say that there are a handful of Book of Mormon verses and this or that in the temple ceremony, but that is to reduce Mormonism in an almost orientalist fashion to a mere textual phenomenon. (as an aside: the subordination of people to text is one of the more disturbing parts of Nibley's social critique, just as with most literal-minded fundamentalists). Mormons have been pretty indifferent when they haven't been enthusiastic about wealth, which is why most don't bat an eye about City Creek or care about financial transparency—only people who don't accept the authority of the Church leaders have a problem with it, so it is therefore a kind of shibboleth of the faithful.
It seems to me that exMormons are more bothered than any other group of Mormons, which is fine, but by definition they are marginal, and it is not unreasonable to conclude that it is an argument in an arsenal of criticisms rather than some deep disappointment that Mormons and the Church just aren't living up to their high ideals—because giving money away and doing other than getting rich has never been a Mormon ideal of any height.
Most likely, no single person really knows the financial situation of the church, and most likely this policy of non-transparency got started from some dumb bureaucratic reason. A similar dumb bureaucratic reason keeps it in place. Anyone who believes Russell Nelson was divinely inspired to banish the word "Mormon" is just not going to be offended that the Church is worth $50 billion or whatever, whatever its source. It will just be proof that the LORD has put inspired leadership at the head of His Church. If they are worth -$10 billion, it will be proof the Church is the most humanitarian institution ever because they give all their money away, and it will be a call for action, perhaps to go vacuum the chapel with even greater detail and faithfulness.
It's almost as if a few on this thread have forgotten what it is like among believers or what it was to be one.
Kishkumen wrote:It is somewhat sad that DCP feels the need to run down his own profession in order to signal to others that, unlike most of us scholars of “useless” topics, he gets it. He understands the cold hard facts of life, and the need to make people pull themselves up by their own non-existent bootstraps (because they can not afford boots). So, unlike his peers, he is a serious person.
The criticisms may be substantially sound (or they may not be), but if Peterson is as working-class as he has portrayed himself to be (or blue collar, in the the non-Marxist vernacular of said class), then I understand that feeling. From my perspective, it is rather difficult to take seriously the strident moral criticisms leveled by humanities professors at a system that rewards them quite well, comparatively speaking and in terms of what they directly provide for the rest of the economy, particularly those who are tenured and tenure-track. Given the facts of the academic labor market whereby there is virtually an indifferent but ostensibly left-wing aristocracy of professors atop a pyramid of temporary and contract labor, and given the current funding regime by which students are devices for siphoning federally-backed (i.e. taxpayer-backed) moneys from banks with all the burden on the students and no accountability placed on colleges and universities for the quality and benefits of service they claim to provide—well, that just too easily opens a space to wonder why an academic with a beam in her eye is so obsessed with the mote in the Church's.
But I do take the point that you are not speaking as a professor but as a member on the margins of this group formerly known as Mormon. Even exMormons who happen to also be professors have opinions about Mormon things without having to answer for the serious structural deficiencies and inequities in the higher education economy. I believe a person with a PhD like Louis Midgely might recognize this better by appealing to the language of learned men, Latin:
non sequitur.
But then Nibley loved to do the very same thing. So, this is more of the same. It is not original or surprising. What distinguishes Nibley from DCP is that Nibley had nothing but scorn for what he saw as the deadly mockery of Mahan economics. People drive their fellow humans into the dust to turn an extra buck. This is why I still, after all is said and done, hold Nibley in very high regard. I have a healthy regard for DCP and his talents, but that regard is unlikely to rise to admiration I have for Dr. Nibley.
Nibley made no excuses for the mindless, lustful acquisition of wealth and the tyranny of middle management. BYU and the Church itself were not spared his just and accurate criticism. I admire that. I am not saying that Dr. Nibley ever would have agreed with me. No, I would never claim that. Nibley was faithful and obedient to the Church and its leaders. Still, I can agree with and admire very much about Nibley while accepting and acknowledging his likely antipathy for people who do as I do.
I understand your admiration for Nibley on this and, if I recall correctly, for you he was a beacon of culture in the otherwise anodyne cultural darkness of Mormonism. It's a pretty boring place compared to most any other religion, conformity is encouraged, and blandness results even in their advertising. I really can appreciate that, but I do think there is a side to Nibley that is missed in the hagiography among educated liberal Mormons and the admiration of his social views among educated exMormons. So I have to hope you can forgive the expression of my view that this is one of the more blatant examples of Nibley's hypocrisy, bordering charlatanism, though I admit almost no one else sees it as such. Perhaps I am handicapped by having only his writings and his son-in-law's biography to judge him from, as I was too young ever to know him and never knew people from his circle beyond a passing acquaintance (I'm sure they didn't know me), so take it for what it's worth:
The guy got paid for 60 years to read and talk about arcane texts written in languages almost no one understands by people who'd been dead for 2,000 years or more. It was market-oriented capitalism that ultimately put the tithing money and whatever other source of wealth the Church has/had in place to fund his hobby quite handsomely (as compared to other hobbies...why are there no professors of stamp-collecting at BYU, for instance?), to pay for his health care, and that of his many kids and his wife, as well as a pension that probably lasted close to 30 years. It was that same system (with some help by the Church) that marketed his books which are still in print and providing royalties to his children. I'm sure he was as wonderful a human being as everyone says, but he really had no sound basis from which to level the vitriolic critiques he made (he gets points for eloquence and wit, though) against other people's chosen professions and what they chose to pursue in life. It is that last part that I think is ignored: Nibley was not a critic of capitalism (he said so explicitly as I remember, when he said the socialism vs. capitalism dichotomy was one of Satan's tricks, and that the real distinction was Babylon and Zion, or the Church of God and the World, and so on). He was a critic of certain parts of the capitalist economy and the value system he attributed to them, and he did not hesitate to name them. He really seemed to believe that there bankers, lawyers, and "managers" out there who were quashing creativity and culture while trampling on the poor in their quest for a quick buck procured while in service to Mahan, an avatar of Satan. As Cain had his mark, theirs was wealth.
As a narrative, that works easily well for populists as it does for elitists offended by the pretensions of their inferiors. But surely it fails as an analysis for how the world actually works; it even fails as an allegory for how the world works. For Nibley this allegory was virtually a dogma he tried to sell.
It is one thing when people who happen to be tenured professors point to the inadequacies of the current economic regime from the left of center, but what struck me most about Nibley's critiques in some of his essays in
Approaching Zion was how targeted and specific they were—mentions of "management," bankers, lawyers, and other professions by name—and how little there was in his writings about any system. Maybe because I come from people who don't read books as a pastime, let alone for a living, I was struck especially by how elitist his critiques were. Some of what he said fit nicely into stereotypes recycled by people born into wealth and comfort about people not so highly born, and as well as their motivations: ah, well, all these materialist kids are only interested in making money, turning their backs on the heritage of Dante and Shakespeare, in turn polluting our once beautiful cultural with their crass taste—how dare they! I guess it is fine in Nibley's premodern utopia for there to be workers in the fields and the infrastructure, for there to be LDS clergy, and for there be cultured professors like himself, but the rest are Satan's spawn lusting after money. Elites have no problem with peasants, but they have no tolerance for the pretensions of peasants.
His vision of the kingdom of god, derived from an almost fundamentalist reading of a small set of texts, seemed the antithesis of a particular cluster of professions that seemed to come up again and again. These professions just happened to be populated by a relatively new middle class. I find it not a little curious that the boom of higher education from just after WWII to the late 70s coincided exactly with his career, and a significant shift in curriculum and mission away from the humanities and towards economically driven policies in higher education was in part to accommodate a different cultural expectation about education brought by first generation college students.
His attack (in your words) of "mindless, lustful acquisition of wealth" is about as sound an economic critique as any Roman moralist ever made from their equally comfortable positions. The best they could do was an abstract moralism directed at groups they didn't like (it's all just
luxus and those damn greedy merchants and freedman). I can appreciate the critique of certain attitudes about wealth; to me it is just not an interesting use of human potential to keep an endless supply of nuts for the winter, but I also understand that there isn't anything inherently immoral about it, that it indirectly provides a lot of the comforts that make my life possible, and that on a comparative basis there really isn't something all that better on offer beyond tweaks here and there except in the frenzied and sometimes terrifying imaginations of utopians. But Nibley wasn't critiquing attitudes, or at least it doesn't appear that way to someone who only has his words to judge his meaning by and not his personal acquaintance. His directly attacked managers and others as a class of people, and he did so not as just some guy giving his opinion but under the Church's banner at BYU and as the most respected intellectual in the Church in venues sponsored by the Church. I guess it's all for the best, as he once claimed, that no one takes him seriously.
In a cynical mood, it's not hard to see in this a transmogrified resentment against his own father, an incompetent businessman who squandered the family fortune during Nibley's years in graduate school and even cheated his own son out of scholarship money for an investment scheme, thus enabling Hugh Nibley for the only time in his life to experience the connection between money on the one hand and food, housing, and the ability to indulge a personal interest on the other. In such a cynical reading, that resentment appears to have clothed itself in the robes of theology and worn the cap of modesty, though a hollow cap at that: his official biography is just a bit too vocal on how little he supposedly cared about money, but just to reassure devoted readers, the book includes a picture of his modest home in Provo. Similar evidence of their subjects' modesty can be found in any Warren Buffet biography, or any official biography of any major figure in the Soviet Union. As in those cases, the evidence in this case has the same question-begging effect. At the very least, his greatest deviation from Mormon culture was in being obsessed with wealth rather than sex.
"As to any slivers of light or any particles of darkness of the past, we forget about them."
—B. Redd McConkie