Helaman 6-12: On evil government

Helaman strikes me as probably the most political portion of the Book of Mormon narrative, meaning the part of the book that reflects most overtly on what makes for good and bad government. Nephite society is in turmoil through most of this book—civil strife, violent religious schism, wars with the Lamanites resulting in dramatic shifts in territorial control, and, of course, the conspiracies and outlaw governments of the Gadianton robbers. This is also a period of massive "pioneer" migration into the north and accompanying mercantile expansion, which is to say that there are high economic stakes fueling the various political struggles and machinations.

So what does the Book of Helaman have to say about good government versus evil government? Good government, we're told, means ruling with "justice and equity" (3:20). Evil rulers "trample under their feet and smite and rend and turn their backs upon the poor" (6:39); elsewhere the book denounces "oppression to the poor," which consists of "withholding their foot from the hungry. withholding their clothing from the naked" (4:12). Nephite government reaches a crisis point of corruption ("they were in an awful state, and ripening for an everlasting destruction") when the Gadianton robbers "obtain the sole management of the government"—not by force, it should be pointed out (despite the recurring conspiracies to assassinate judges), but by virtue of having "overspread all the land of the Nephites, and [having] seduced the more part of the righteous until they had come down to believe in their works and partake of their spoils" (6:38-40). Despite the text's horror at the Gadianton robbers' secret ceremonies and signs and passwords, the reason the robbers pose such a danger isn't that they're a small, secret conspiratorial faction: rather, they're a danger because they're so widespread and because their (literally) cutthroat pursuit of wealth and privilege and power is so openly embraced by large segments of society. The Gadianton robbers aren't a conspiracy theory—they're not a Nephite Illuminati. They're an ideology that legitimates the pursuit of power and gain through corruption: bribes, perverting justice in the courts for the benefit of the wealthy, sexual conquest, theft/graft, violence (7:4-5).

You don't need to look to Masons, or the Mafia, or revolutionary guerillas for analogues to the Gadianton robbers. The United States government will do just fine. So will Wall Street. In fairness, I suppose I do have to give my country's power elites credit for refraining from routinely orchestrating the assassination of judges or senators or rival CEOs. They generally save that kind of effort for eliminating leaders of foreign nations who have ceased to serve American interests or for helping foreign governments that do serve our interests to suppress dissenters: that's what the secret combination called the CIA is for. Here at home, power elites can usually tromp their rivals in less bloody ways: the back-stabbing stays more metaphorical. And like the Gadianton robbers, they're able to exercise so much power because they've persuaded the country at large to buy into their ideology. Getting gain is the American way—we call it things like "empowering consumers" or "improving your family's quality of life." As every reality TV competition reminds us, success means doing what you have to to be the last one standing at the end. And every politician who wants to get anywhere these days—Republican or Democratic—has to commit to a preferential option for the middle class: the poor and their problems have no significant place in our political discourse.

When Nephi raises a prophetic voice denouncing this ideology, the pundits and opinion-makers of the day accuse him of hating America: "Why seest thou this man, and hearest him revile against this people and against our law?" (8:2). They're outraged: Who does this Nephi character think he is, with his inflammatory "God damn America" rhetoric? The rulers vaunt their country's military might and trust it—rely on it—to keep their power secure (8:5-6). As they soon discover, though, they're helpless in the face of environmental disaster (ch. 11).

So what does the Book of Helaman offer as a model for countering this kind of "get-gain-and-get-it-by-whatever-means-necessary-and-the-poor-and-other-collateral-damage-be-damned" ideology? Nephi responds the way revivalists always respond: he preaches repentance. Now, I have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand: yes, this is a question of values; this is a question of changing hearts and personal priorities; this is a question of warning people off a path that is carrying us all to destruction. In that sense, yes, I agree that a call for repentance is required. Nephi's way of going about that doesn't strike me as particularly helpful, though. A sermon that begins by denouncing corruption in government and society (ch. 7) but ends with a string of prooftexts to show that the scriptures prophesy of Christ (ch. 8) suggests a severe lack of rhetorical adaptability. And in fact, no conversions, no personal and societal transformations for good, come out of Nephi's preaching, despite the fact that he is effective at polarizing listeners for and against him (ch. 10).

So this narrative doesn't inspire me to put much stock in the revivalists' strategy. But what's the alternative? The author of the Book of Helaman can't seem to imagine an alternative except to lament that human nature is such that people don't repent until famine, war, or other disasters compel them to (ch. 12). "May God grant, in his great fulness, that men might be brought unto repentance and good works," the author prays in 12:24. I can say "Amen" to that prayer. But the author doesn't seem to be praying that prayer with much faith. Or perhaps more accurately, he doesn't see any way for that prayer to be fulfilled except for God to "chasten his people with many afflictions, . . . with death and with terror, and with famine and with all manner of pestilence." That's the only way, this author says: otherwise, "they will not remember him" (12:3).

That outlook goes a long way, I suppose, to explaining Mormon apocalypticism. As I've expressed elsewhere, I worry that the apocalypticists may be on to something. But I'm also too much of an Enlightenment-era liberal to be reconciled to that vision. I have to believe it's possible to bear a more productive kind of witness against social evils—that it's possible to bring about a positive shift in social values. That it's possible to be an effective instrument to inspire repentance and make life more abundant.