At an academic gathering in 2011, the distinguished historian Richard Bushman declared that we had entered a “golden age” for Mormon studies. The setting was an academic conference held in the Springville Art Museum that celebrated Bushman’s 80th birthday, and his remarks were delivered in a room filled with artistic portraits as well as earnest scholars. A communal feeling was palpable.
“All the papers and books we produce,” Bushman proclaimed, “are implicitly acts of friendship.”
That spirit of collegiality was endemic for the new age.
As a graduate student at the time, I was thrilled with this message. I, along with around a hundred other attendees seated on metal folding chairs, shared Bushman’s optimism. It seemed the future for those of us affiliated with Mormon studies was exceptionally bright.
(Chris Samuels | The Salt Lake Tribune) Richard Bushman, the patriarch of today's Latter-day Saint historians, speaks during a live taping of the "Mormon Land" podcast at the University of Utah in 2023.
More than a dozen years later, the world feels quite different. Despite a continued flow of excellent scholarly work on the various faith traditions that originated with Joseph Smith, the climate appears more combative than congenial. Charting how that came to be can tell us a lot — not just about an admittedly academic niche but also about the religious community it seeks to interrogate.
Subscribe To Mormon Land Newsletter
Get the latest news by subscribing to our Mormon Land newsletter. Enter your email below to receive more stories like these right to your inbox.
The arrival of ‘Camelot’
(Rick Egan | Tribune file photo) Leonard J. Arrington professionalized the church's history studies and opened up access to its archives.
The study of Mormonism has featured a turbulent history. Long skeptical of scholarly discourse, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints veered into critical investigation when it appointed Leonard J. Arrington as church historian in 1972. The position had been around since the faith’s earliest years, but Arrington was the first to have received graduate training in history. He then helped professionalize the historical department by hiring other academics, expanding archival access and initiating an ambitious publication agenda. Participants referred to their cadre as “Camelot.”
The experiment ended in disappointment.
Within a decade, conservative apostles had worked to shutter Arrington’s division, cancel most of the book plans, and move employees to church-owned Brigham Young University. Like the legendary Camelot, the legacy of Arrington’s tenure became one of nostalgia. By the 1990s, some of the best academics were even being excommunicated from the faith or fired from church employment.
Bushman, more than anyone else, helped to revive the hope of critical inquiry over the following decades. He and several others labored to build bridges between ecclesiastical and academic worlds, demonstrating that a detente was possible, even necessary. It proved a winning argument. In the early 2000s, the church again dipped its toes into enabling crucial scholarship, sponsoring the Joseph Smith Papers project as well as the acclaimed “Massacre at Mountain Meadows” book. Archival access once again broadened. Academics returned to seeing the world of Mormonism as something worth investigating. And because of the democratization impulse that came with the World Wide web, Latter-day Saint authorities recognized, albeit begrudgingly, that this freedom of exploration was inevitable.
(The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) The final volume of the landmark Joseph Smith Papers was released in 2023.
By the time of Bushman’s remarks in 2011, it seemed like the effort to cultivate a welcoming environment for Mormon studies scholarship had succeeded. He justifiably believed that “history writing in our times is built on a much steadier foundation than [Arrington’s] Camelot, with much better prospects for continuance.”
‘Friendship’ fades
There were several elements that comprised this new “golden age.” An impressive number of scholars from divergent backgrounds investigated all aspects of the Mormon tradition, past and present. This work was readily consumed by an insatiable public. Donors endowed Mormon studies chairs at prestigious universities. Religious studies programs expanded their Mormon content. Even BYU backed quality research. Most importantly, ecclesiastical authorities, following the lead of then-Church Historian Marlin K. Jensen, appeared openly tolerant, if not supportive, of academic inquiry. The outward facing, affable image that was church President Gordon B. Hinckley’s legacy shaped this vibrant community.
No wonder Bushman framed his remarks around “friendship.”
The next decade did not follow that optimistic trend. While new and groundbreaking scholarship still appears every year, the cultural climate, public networks and institutional backing so crucial for the “golden era” quickly splintered along with societal currents that carried the rest of America. The tectonic shifts that accompanied the most recent iteration of the nation’s culture wars cracked the very foundations that appeared so firm just a few years earlier.
Expressions for these divisions were numerous and varied. The MAGA movement, which made substantial inroads within Latter-day Saint communities, exported a deep skepticism toward critical inquiry that is deemed too “woke.” Universities, and the scholarship performed on their campuses, became battlegrounds and the targets for those who demand a more “patriotic education.”
Latter-day Saints have experienced their own unique, though related, cultural retrenchment. BYU faculty were instructed to cease seeking secular approval and instead defend ecclesiastical priorities. Church publishers were told to edify Latter-day Saints instead of speaking to the wider academy. The list of topics that could get faithful researchers in trouble seems to be expanding, not shrinking.
The M-word
(Illustration by Christopher Cherrington | The Salt Lake Tribune)
And then there remains a pestering suspicion toward scholars who even use the “Mormon” term — despite its utility and necessity being consistently explained. The linguistic dispute is a textual embodiment of the growing chasm between ecclesiastical leaders who demand compliance and the scholars who require independence.
Academic communities have begun to notice. While the LDS Church had been tentatively seen as a potential colleague in scholarly circles — a rarity compared to many denominations that eschew investigation — recent actions and attitudes have been interpreted as confirming fickle stereotypes. There is a general sense in the field that practitioners of Mormon studies, especially those attached to the Latter-day Saint faith, are on shakier ground and are the subject of more suspicion in the academy today than they were before 2011.
Simultaneously, Latter-day Saint donors and readers inevitably face torn loyalties and interests. Can they support Mormon studies when even the word “Mormon” is politicized?
There remain bright spots, of course. The Church History Department completed its two-decades-long Joseph Smith Papers project, an initiative that received universal academic acclaim. Just this year the Church History Library announced a standardized policy to grant access to the personal papers of church general authorities and officers 70 years after their death, a practice that, while still restrictive, is at least a step forward from the previously inconsistent archival approach. (It has also become increasingly common, however, for authorities to be required to donate their papers to the Church History Library, rather than universities, in order to maintain control.)
But the success of quality documentary work can paper over the cultural divide inherent between the academy and the church. This is especially the case for those who study topics like race, class and, particularly, gender — a crucial focus in scholarly circles but a third rail in the Latter-day Saint faith. These divisions may not disappear for a while, either, as the priorities and principles on either side are only becoming more entrenched.
That warm feeling of friendship has been replaced with a cold sense of suspicion as the governing feeling for the Mormon studies community.
Back in 2011, Richard Bushman rightly observed that it was the “invisible bonds” of academic, community and institutional actors that made Mormon studies such a potent field. Unfortunately, those bonds have been severely tested by the same cultural forces that have fractured the broader nation in the ensuing decade.
The “golden age” turned out to have a staying power no longer than Camelot’s.
(Photo by Mike Hoogterp) Benjamin Park is the author of "Kingdom of Nauvoo: The Rise and Fall of a Religious Empire on the American Frontier" and “American Zion: A New History of Mormonism.”
Benjamin E. Park is the author of “American Zion: A New History of Mormonism.”
Note to readers • This story is available to Salt Lake Tribune subscribers only. Thank you for supporting local journalism.
