“Peregrinus” wrote:The principal theme of our filming this week, although not the only one, was the infamous mass murder that occurred in southern Utah on 11 September 1857. A fairly vigorous discussion has ensued in the wake of my Tuesday evening blog entry, “On the Massacre at Mountain Meadows,” and I call your attention to the comments there. One critic has posted a number of times to contradict my expressed judgment that theology, as such, had little or nothing to do — certainly not in any direct sense — with the Massacre. Rather, I said, “The Massacre was motivated by primal fear.”
I would like to reply here to his counterclaims. The disingenuous assertions by certain other critics, that I’m trying to “bowdlerize” Brigham, to whitewash the crime at Mountain Meadows, and to defend its perpetrators, merit no response. I’ll permit what I’ve actually said — and, perhaps even better, what I’ve said on camera (which will eventually be made fully public) — to define my position on this tragic subject.
I honestly don’t know what would make an “act of survival” somehow particularly “holy.” It seems to me that Antidikos is simply and without evidence asserting his presupposition that the motive for the Massacre was religious. But that is precisely what I deny. I don’t see the evidence for his claim.
And yet, in his subsequent comments, he repeatedly describes the Massacre as having been propelled by “ideological fanaticism,” driven by “a toxic ideology.” It was, he says, “motivated by religious extremism and xenophobia.” At multiple places, he describes those who committed the crime as “the LDS pioneers,” which, at first blush, seems inarguably true and sadly uncontroversial. There is no denying the fact, unfortunately, that the perpetrators of the Mountain Meadows Massacre were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The Mountain Meadows Massacre occurred under very specific circumstances, which were, in a sense, a kind of “perfect storm” that would lead basically good people (their fundamental decency is demonstrated by their lives both before and after that fatal September 1857) to commit an unspeakable offense against a basically good group of strangers:
Governor Young was only told of the pending arrival of Alfred Cumming and a massive escort of federal troops on 24 July 1857, during a Pioneer Day celebration. (Orrin Porter Rockwell and Salt Lake Mayor Abraham Smoot, returning from the East, brought the news to him.) Surely it’s not surprising that residents of Utah were left in a state of anxiety, even panic. These were a people, after all, who had been subjected to persecution since the founding of the Church in April 1830, who had been driven violently from Missouri and then violently expelled from Illinois, and who had left the United States behind to seek refuge in the Great Basin West.
Antidikos tries to claim that it was “a deeply ingrained us-versus-them religious exceptionalism” on the part of “the LDS pioneers” that led to the burst of fatal violence in southern Utah during September 1857. I don’t see the evidence for that. I see little if anything to suggest that the Latter-day Saints of Cedar City and its environs attacked the Baker-Fancher emigrant train solely or largely because it was made up of non-Latter-day Saints. I see no evidence for the insinuation that a sense of “exceptionalism” led “the LDS pioneers” to see themselves as superior to moral law.
Rather, it seems obvious to me that it was an understandable fear that set the stage. Antidikos claims that “the LDS pioneers” viewed their action as “a holy act of survival.” I agree that they saw it, quite incorrectly but also, alas, rather understandably, as an act of survival. (We’ll explain this at some length in the appropriate video episodes of Becoming Brigham when they appear.) And, as I’ve said, when survival seems to be at stake, that begets fear. (Even non-religious people, I suspect, are likely to regard the possible deaths of their families with apprehension.) The supposed “holiness” of their effort to survive is, from my point of view, merely a question-begging addition from Antidikos. I ask for his evidence. The behavior of the perpetrators in the decades after 1857 — denial, obfuscation, deception, flight, even the intentional misleading of the apostolic investigators who were sent to southern Utah by Brigham Young — certainly doesn’t suggest any confident, bold, or unashamed belief in the Massacre’s “holiness.” (When James Haslam delivered Brigham’s letter to Isaac Haight telling him to leave the emigrant train alone, Haight is said to have burst into tears. “Too late,” he wept. “Too late.”)
Was it a matter of “us versus them”? Of course it was. That’s a trivially obvious fact, common to every struggle between differing groups. (Think of the Hatfields and the McCoys.) But the dynamics of the episode as it played out wouldn’t have been substantially different had the groups in question been Armenians and Turks, say, or Palestinians and Israelis, or Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants, or Navajos and Utes, or Hutus and Tutsis, or Serbs and Croats and Bosnians.
The immediate spark that led to the Massacre was probably connected with the orders from Governor Young for the residents of Utah Territory to store up grain and preserve their cattle rather than to sell them to emigrant trains passing through the region. Such nutritional sources might be sorely needed during a potentially protracted guerrilla war that would interfere with sowing and harvesting and that might well lead to the abandonment of farms and the disruption of trade networks. The Baker/Fancher train was trying to amass provisions for its push across the desert to California; the colonists of southern Utah were unwilling to sell such provisions, and tensions flared.
No “religiously/holy driven mindset” is required to account for the Mountain Meadows Massacre. Yes, the religious difference of “Mormon” and non-“Mormon” played a role in President Buchanan’s decision to deploy troops to Utah. It was part of the distinction between the people of the Cedar City area and the members of the Baker/Fancher party. But so was the distinction between Utahn and Arkansan, between passing emigrant and resident, between the targets of the approaching federal invasion force and people who weren’t targets and who would be gone before the troops arrived.
Did the perpetrators of the Mountain Meadows Massacre “believe that destroying another group was not a crime, but a sacred duty required for their own safety or revenge”? Yes, they probably believed that killing others in self-defense was no crime. They probably believed that it was their duty to protect their wives and their children and their neighbors. Historically and still today, most people probably have believed and do believe that self-defense is permissible, and that the defense of innocent others is a moral duty. One needn’t be a theist or a Christian or a Latter-day Saint to believe such things.
There is no evidence of which I’m aware that the Mountain Meadows Massacre was principally, let alone solely, motivated by theological doctrines or the sheer hatred of “infidels.” If Antidikos has evidence showing otherwise, he should share it. Simply repeating his conviction that the Massacre was an example of theologically-driven violence isn’t sufficient to make his case
A quick list of the obvious issues with how Dan is whitewashing this.
Whether the causes of the Mountain Meadows Massacre are viewed as driven by "primal fear" or "religious ideology" is not a settled binary in historical scholarship; rather, most modern historians treat them as deeply intertwined factors.
The debate Peterson engages in—weighing existential panic against the influence of religious belief—represents a long-standing tension in how the event is analyzed. Here is how that "mainstream" view breaks down:
1. The Context of Extreme Stress (The "Primal Fear" Argument)
It is widely accepted by historians that the perpetrators were acting in a state of high alarm. The "mainstream" historical consensus acknowledges several critical factors that Peterson emphasizes:
The "Utah War": The U.S. government had sent a massive army to Utah without informing the territorial leadership. This was perceived by the Latter-day Saints not as a routine administrative change, but as a repetition of the violent, state-sanctioned persecutions they had fled in Missouri and Illinois.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Isolation and Panic: The territory was essentially under a blackout of communication. Rumors of federal troops coming to destroy them, combined with past trauma, created a "fever heat" of paranoia and a defensive, militant mindset among local leaders in Southern Utah.
Utah Tech University Library
The "Siege Mentality": Many historians agree that the local militia viewed the Baker-Fancher party not merely as migrants, but as potential combatants or spies who were arriving at the worst possible moment—during a declared state of emergency.
2. The Role of Ideology (The "Religious Extremism" Argument)
While many historians agree with the "fear" context, a significant portion of academic and critical scholarship argues that it is impossible to divorce that fear from the specific theological framework of the time:
Theocratic Authority: The structure of the local church leadership meant that civic and religious authority were essentially the same. The "us-versus-them" mentality was reinforced by a belief in the sanctity of their mission and the need to protect their "Zion."
Moral Disengagement: Scholars often point to how religious rhetoric (such as the dehumanization of "enemies of the faith") facilitated the "moral disengagement" required for ordinary people to participate in a mass killing of women and children.
The "Holy War" Mindset: Critics of the "pure fear" theory argue that the perpetrators' actions were informed by a belief system that prioritized the survival of the group above secular law or general humanitarian ethics, effectively allowing them to justify the slaughter as a necessary act of local defense.
The Synthesis
The prevailing academic view—exemplified by works like those of Juanita Brooks, and more recently by social-psychological studies—tends to move away from picking one "cause" over the other. Instead, most scholars argue that:
Situational factors (the war, isolation, trauma) provided the catalyst for the tragedy.
Dispositional/Ideological factors (group cohesion, obedience to authority, and religious worldview) acted as the mechanism that allowed the participants to rationalize the massacre.
In short, while Peterson’s focus on "primal fear" is a recognized and essential component of the historical record, it is often considered an incomplete explanation by those who argue that the massacre would not have happened in the same way without the specific religious and cultural framework that defined the community at the time. Most historians view the tragedy as a "perfect storm" where intense, genuine fear was filtered through a powerful, insular, and high-stakes religious ideology.
Dan claims a kind of “perfect storm” that would lead basically good people (their fundamental decency is demonstrated by their lives both before and after that fatal September 1857) to commit an unspeakable offense against a basically good group of strangers.
“A thoughtful SeN commenter” wrote: The LDS pioneers lured the emigrants out of their fortifications by raising a white flag and promising safe passage and protection. The moment the travelers disarmed and marched out in a single-file line, their "protectors" turned on them and literally blew their brains out. This wasn't warfare. LDS pioneers walked side-by-side with individual emigrants. At the command "Do your duty!", each man turned and executed the defenseless man, woman or child walking right next to him at point-blank range. The LDS pioneers premeditated and agreed that no one old enough to bear witness could live. They slaughtered roughly 120 men, women, and children, sparing only 17 toddlers under the age of seven. These orphans were then forced to live with the very community that murdered their parents, brothers, sisters and grandparents. Finally, the LDS pioneers framed local Native Americans, auctioned off the victims' stolen property, and maintained a wall of silence. It took twenty years of federal pressure before a single scapegoat, John D. Lee, was finally brought to justice. I feel sick even writing this. Absolute evil.
This specific, intimate cruelty—posing as protectors, walking arm-in-arm with people they had just promised to save, and then executing over 100 men, women, and young children —is precisely why critics argue against the "primal fear" defense. They argue that while initial paranoia may have started the conflict, it takes a deeply ingrained, rigid ideological framework to systematically execute unarmed women and children at point-blank range through cold, organized deception.