Daniel Peterson's Version of "Apocalypse Now"

[_Everybody Wang Chung]

In all candor, I admire DCP’s academic expertise in his field: Islamic Studies and Arabic. I’ve listened to him on one of the Insights podcast available at http://www.MormonChannel.com, in which he discusses Islam. DCP’s delivery of his subject matter in the interview was deft and enjoyable. I would’ve loved taking a class or two from him. Sadly, his special brand of apologetics still finds the occasional vehicle, such as the Deseret News or his new website, Mormon Interpreter (officially known as “Interpreter: A Journal of Mormon Scripture”). It is my sincere belief that DCP needs an apologetic outlet. It’s part of who he is and how he thinks. The empirical evidence shows that it is not enough for DCP to have his opinions about why anybody who disagrees with him is wrong; he must publish to the world why they wrong.

As long as he can find a venue of expression, DCP will and even should express himself. We don’t have to like his style to acknowledge his right to say what he wants. But eventually, when the Deseret News parts ways with him, and when his new website is shut down for lack of interest, DCP may round up his loyal supporters and go elsewhere to engage in their special school of apologetics… someplace far “up the river” where confusion becomes the new clarity, and where madness becomes the new sanity. There, up the river – light years away from the conventions of society – DCP will carve out his own, private kingdom, where his power is absolute, where his words are poetic scripture, where his opinions are immutable truth, and where dissension is not tolerated. From this new stronghold, pieces of apologetics will occasionally filter down to civilization, like a crackling, barely discernable AM radio broadcast from the wilds of the jungle.

And, the Church will grow concerned to the point of sending an official representative to investigate…

Here is a likely scenario from that representative’s visit to DCP’s compound, “far up the river”:

After a weeks-long trek through steamy jungles, lush mountains, and on a dark and nameless river, Elder Jones arrives at Dr. Peterson’s office for his first meeting with the venerable professor. New to the general authority ranks, unsure of what questions need to be addressed, unaware of what issues of import require attention, and also frankly unfamiliar with DCP’s legend, Elder Jones is somewhat nervous to meet with Dr. Peterson. Elder Jones, still shell-shocked over his recent call to be a general authority and sincerely wanting to serve God, is hopeful that his meeting with Dr. Peterson will be a manifestation of spiritual sanction, a source of motivation for the coming months, and the beginning of reconciliation.

Elder Jones is finally called into Dr. Peterson’s office by the native Montagnard secretary. Upon entering the room, an authoritative yet gentle voice commands the young general authority to close the door. Complying as instructed, Elder Jones shuts the door and struggles to see in the suddenly dimmed room. Within a few moments, Elder Jones’ eyes start to adjust and he begins to see through the dark and smoky haze that fills the office.

As his eyes continue to adapt to the faint light, Elder Jones feels, sees, and hears the slow churn of a ceiling fan, chopping through the thick humidity like a pair of oars cutting through black river water. Sunlight filters in through the tight shutters, throwing shafts of distorted illumination across the well-worn wooden floor of the room. A small cockroach scuttles confidently across the planks of the floor. The sickly sweet odor of spoiled meat permeates the stale air, as the distant sounds of music and ceremony drift in and out from the window.

His heart racing with a sense of the unknown, Elder Jones makes out the image of a hulking shadow toward the back of the darkened room, seated and hunched over. As Elder Jones inches closer, he is horrified to realize that the massive figure slumped in front of him, head shaven and completely naked except for a saffron robe, is Dr. Peterson. Dr. Peterson swings his head toward Elder Jones to address him, but does not raise his gaze from the creaky, wooden floor.

Dr. Peterson: So, Jones... Why did they send you here?

Elder Jones: They sent me here… to serve the Lord, and to help you.

Dr. Peterson: Why do you lie? You’re an errand boy, sent by grocery clerks, to collect a bill.

Elder Jones: They said that your methods were... unsound. And, that, uh… you had gone… totally insane.

Dr. Peterson: Are my methods unsound, Jones?

Elder Jones: I don’t see… any method at all, Dr. Peterson.

Dr. Peterson now raises his head and stares directly into Elder Jones’ eyes.

Dr. Peterson: I've seen horrors... horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that... but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror. Horror has a face... and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies. I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for Polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He, he couldn't see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember... I... I... I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized... like I was shot... like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God... the genius of that. The genius. The will to do that. Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we. Because they could stand that these were not monsters. These were men... trained cadres. These men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love... but they had the strength... the strength... to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral... and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling... without passion... without judgment... without judgment. Because it's judgment that defeats us.

At this point, Elder Jones projectile vomits with fear, and promptly faints. Immediately, two assistants bearing strong resemblances to Ray and Will Schryver appear. They rush forth to carry the fallen man away as Dr. Peterson bids his secretary to send in the next appointment.

[_Chap]

I don't think that lesson was in the manual, Bishop.

[_Wonhyo]

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