This is the fourth and final installment in a series of essays examining the psychosocial motivations of conspiracy belief and their expression in Mormon communities. In the previous essays, we have summarized the research literature on the cognitive and behavioral correlates of conspiracy belief along three general categories—epistemic, existential, and social motives. We further explored how these motivational factors are expressed within Mormon communities in ways that may contribute to the enculturation of conspiracist attitudes and behavior. In this essay, we will explore the relationship between religion and conspiracy theory generally by examining the functional similarities between religious and conspiracist worldviews, using Mormonism as an ethnographic lens.

Quasi-Religious Features

Researchers have long highlighted the intersections and similarities between religious and conspiracist beliefs. As early as 1945, Karl Popper cynically suggested that conspiracy theories may represent “the secularization of religious superstition” after noting that the unseen and nearly omnipotent agents of many grand conspiracy theories are virtually indistinguishable from “the Homeric gods whose conspiracies explain the history of the Trojan War.” In time since, many other researchers have noted that conspiracy theories have quasi-religious features inasmuch as “their contents, forms, and functions parallel those found in beliefs supported by institutionalized religions” and that there is an analogy (if not a homology) between religious beliefs and some of contents and functions of conspiracy theories (Franks et al., 2013). Religious studies scholar, Asbjørn Dyrendal, has more recently observed:

Since there are vital, shared underlying mechanisms, and shared forms and functions, one might ask whether it makes more sense to consider conspiracy theory as religion in the sense that they overlap, rather than as a substitute. The answer is more complicated. While some of the general mechanisms behind conspiracy beliefs and religious beliefs are identical, the empirical relations vary.

Dyrendal (2020). Conspiracy Theory and Religion.

In the sections below, we will further explore the intersections between conspiracy theory and religion by examining (1) the relationship between different expressions of religiosity and conspiracism, (2) the phenomenon of “conspirituality” and its history in American culture, (3) and the shared forms, functions, and cognitive mechanisms between religious and conspiracist beliefs. Throughout, we will use Mormonism as an investigative lens to assist in advancing our understanding of conspiracism within Mormon communities and, we hope, “the development and epidemiology of conspiracist narratives in relation to religious formations” more broadly (Dyrendal, Asprem, & Robertson, 2018).

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Table of Contents

• Religiosity & Religious Orientation
• Conspirituality
• Conspiracism as Quasi-Religion

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Religiosity & Religious Orientation

The year 2020 was a peculiar time to be active on Mormon social media. The combination of the COVID-19 pandemic, quarantine restrictions, earthquakes on the Wasatch front, nationwide social justice protests, and the US election, all brought out some especially brow-raising conspiracy discourse and behavior both on and offline. This was not limited to Mormon communities by any means, but I was afforded a front row seat to witness how this played out in Mormon spaces in distinctly Mormon ways. The pandemic, mask mandates, lockdowns, quakes, social unrest, and election controversies were interpreted by many as omens of the imminent apocalypse, and conspiracy theories in many flavors flourished within and beyond Mormon communities.

Observing this all unfold piqued my interest regarding whether there were features of Mormon communities in particular that may encourage conspiracist thinking, especially as I witnessed many Mormons embrace Operation Underground Railroad, the Utah-based anti-trafficking rescue organization directed by Tim Ballard. Within these circles, I observed the proliferation of pizzagate and QAnon conspiracy ideas—such as the Wayfair trafficking hoax, or supposedly coded messages in children’s media intended as grooming by pedophiles. I witnessed accusations that the nationwide social justice protests were part of orchestrated efforts by China, George Soros, or “cultural Marxism” to overthrow American democracy with a totalitarian socialist regime. I encountered these and other conspiracy theories being expressed in distinctly Mormon ways—referencing Mormon scripture, quoting Mormon leaders, invoking Mormon apocalyptic—in efforts to validate and legitimize narratives that sinister conspiracies were afoot. Two books published in 2020, Matthew Harris’s Watchman on the Tower and Christopher Blythe’s Terrible Revolution, further evinced to me that, for historical reasons, conspiracist narratives and attitudes are especially prominent and provided an authoritative status within Mormon communities. Thus began my personal research into the psychology of conspiracy theory and the historical reasons for the prevalence of conspiracy narratives within Mormon culture.

In May 2021, the Pew Religion Research Institute (PRRI) reported their findings regarding differences in endorsement of QAnon beliefs between religious groups in America. This was assessed by measuring participants’ endorsement of statements such as: “The government, the media, and financial worlds in the US are controlled by a group of Satan-worshipping pedophiles who run a global child sex trafficking operation,” or that “Because things have gotten so far off-track, true American patriots may have to resort to violence in order to save our country.” PRRI observed large differences between religious groups and acceptance of QAnon conspiracy ideas. Mormons were 50% more likely to endorse (21%), and 40% less likely to completely reject (24%), QAnon belief statements compared to the American public (14% and 40%, respectively). Differences between other religious groups were even more dramatic. For instance, white Evangelicals were 11 times more likely to endorse, and nearly 3 times less likely to reject, QAnon belief statements than Jewish Americans. Reports in March, June, and November 2021 observed similar differences between religious communities regarding COVID-19 vaccine hesitancy and refusal, which correlate with anti-vaccination conspiracy beliefs.

Clearly, there are pronounced differences between religious communities regarding general amenability to at least some conspiracy beliefs. What accounts for these differences? Are there cultural features that increase or decrease favorability to conspiracist ideation that differ between these groups? If so, what are those features and how do they operate?

The Varieties of Religious Experience

Research efforts investigating the link between religiosity and conspiracy beliefs have produced equivocal and inconclusive results. In some studies, religiosity is found to correlate with conspiracy beliefs, whereas others have found a protective effect or no relation at all (Dyrendal, 2020; Gilgoric et al., 2021; Lowicki et al, 2022). Further complicating matters, research also demonstrates that religiosity correlates with various measures that, on their own, are highly predictive of conspiracy beliefs—such as authoritarianism, paranormal beliefs, intentionality bias, and anthropomorphism—making the lack of a reliable, direct correlation between religiosity and conspiracism somewhat surprising (Altemeyer, 2003; de Regt, 2012; Petrican & Burris, 2012; Dyrendal, 2020).

One possibility is that religiosity per se is not predictive of conspiracism, but specific expressions of religiosity are either positively or negatively associated with conspiracism such that when equally represented together as a whole, they wash each other out. That is, some forms of religious devotion are more compatible with conspiracist thinking, while others have a deterrent effect. Indeed, the PRRI data discussed above, regarding religious denomination differences in QAnon beliefs, support such a hypothesis. Likewise, those studies on conspiracism that measure religiosity in a multidimensional manner indicate that some expressions of religious belief are more prone to conspiracism than others.

For instance, Oliver and Wood (2014) found that apocalypticism (e.g., “We are currently living in the end times as foretold by Biblical prophecy”) and endorsement of Manichean narratives (e.g., “Politics is ultimately a struggle between good and evil) were both strongly correlated with acceptance of a wide range of topical conspiracy theories. Notably, both apocalyptic and Manichean beliefs were more predictive of conspiracism that a measure of belief in supernatural agents (i.e., God, angels, the Devil). In fact, after accounting for apocalyptic and Manichean beliefs, endorsement of the supernatural had, if anything, a protective effect on conspiracy beliefs. Another study employed measures of both general religiosity and religious fundamentalism as predictors of COVID-19 conspiracy beliefs. They found that fundamentalism predicted conspiracy theory endorsement whereas general religiosity, apart from fundamentalism, was protective against COVID-19 conspiracism (Lowicki et al., 2022). These findings support the idea that certain expressions of religiosity are more compatible with conspiracy theories than others. As the leading scholar of conspiracism and religion, Asbjørn Dyrendal, observes:

Religious adherence does not necessarily predict specific conspiracy beliefs one way or the other. Nor does religious adherence typically predict the direction of belief or disbelief in conspiracy theories in general. But some types of religion seem to have a higher, more general propensity towards conspiracy beliefs than others. One of these groups is the cluster of religious identities commonly dubbed fundamentalism in folk categorisations.

Dyrendal (2020). Conspiracy Theory and Religion.

Religious Fundamentalism

What characteristics define religious fundamentalism and how do they relate to conspiracy belief? At a very simplified level, we can consider attitudes towards religious beliefs and identity along two primary dimensions—one vertical and one horizontal. Along the vertical dimension are attitudes regarding knowledge and relationship with deity. At the fundamentalist end of this dimension, religious knowledge is interpreted as absolute, essential, and incontestable Truths about humanity and divinity. It demands a faith “in which the world, its contents, and the relationship among them can only be interpreted based on absolute laws that cannot be disputed” (Ardi & Budiarti, 2020). Therefore, religious fundamentalists tend to prioritize orthodoxy, as being in right relationship with authoritative doctrine is requisite for being in right relationship with deity.

Along the horizontal dimension, religious attitudes are directed towards social identity and one’s relationship with others. This includes attitudes regarding religious diversity and the degree to which religious teachings may be openly interpreted. Attitudes along this dimension can be roughly divided in to exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism. Exclusivist believers tend to rigidly and restrictively interpret religious teachings in a way that emphasizes differences between groups and casts one’s own religion as the one true faith. In contrast, inclusivists and pluralists recognize truth in other religions, with inclusivists regarding their own religion as the most complete one, and religious pluralists affirming the equal validity of all religious paths (Ardi & Budiarti, 2020).

In their early efforts to develop a scale to “measure attitudes about one’s religious beliefs, rather than adherence to any particular set of beliefs,” Altemeyer and Hunsberger (1992) defined religious fundamentalism as:

The belief that there is one set of religious teachings that clearly contains the fundamental, basic, intrinsic, essential, inerrant truth about humanity and deity; that this essential truth is fundamentally opposed by forces of evil which must be vigorously fought; that this truth must be followed today according to the fundamental, unchangeable practices of the past; and that those who believe and follow these fundamental teachings have a special relationship with the deity.

Using this definition, they developed a scale of fundamentalist attitudes towards religious beliefs that has become the standard in the field of the social psychology of religion for decades. Research since has found that individuals scoring high in religious fundamentalism tend to also score higher in dogmatism, frequency of church attendance, belief in a dangerous world, self-righteousness, authoritarianism, lack of doubts about religious matters, religious ethnocentrism, need for cognitive closure, and collective narcissism (Altemeyer & Hunsberger, 2004; Brandt & Reyna, 2010; Ardi & Budiarti, 2020). Many of these we have already discussed in previous essays as being independently correlated with conspiracy beliefs. Dyrendal (2020) further observes:

These groups are more likely to hold a clearly dualist, 'Manichean' worldview. They are more likely to have apocalyptic expectations, and their political language is characterized by jeremiads listing woes as signs that the hour is drawing nigh. They are somewhat less likely to have had a higher education, and measures of right-wing authoritarianism are 'highly related to religious fundamentalism' (Altemeyer, 2003). All these factors contribute on their own to conspiracy beliefs and, in combination with cultural pessimism and high symbolic thinking, evidence clearly indicates that this form of religion tends more towards conspiracism than others.

Is Mormonism Fundamentalist?

What relationship does Mormonism have with regards to religious fundamentalism? First, we must acknowledge that “religious communities do not speak with one voice” (Dyrendal, 2020). There are more than 400 documented expressions of Mormonism with a variety of doctrinal and cultural differences. Moreover, adherents within a single one of these denominational expressions are not homogenous and comprise a diversity of religious beliefs and attitudes. Therefore, whatever statement we make regarding Mormonism and religious fundamentalism will be inherently a generalization that does not represent every Mormon or every Mormon community. With that said, I submit that the majority of Mormon expressions are generally fundamentalist, with various cases representing exceptions to the rule.

Mormonism generally promotes fundamentalist attitudes towards religious beliefs along both vertical and horizontal dimensions. The doctrinal concepts of a Great Apostasy and the Restoration present a narrative wherein the teachings of Mormon prophets and scripture represent absolute, essential, and incontestable Truth revealed directly from God. Indeed, the entire premise of Restorationism rests on the notion that Christendom has apostatized from the absolute, incontestable truths which must be followed in accordance with the essential and unchangeable teachings and practices of the “original church” in order to be in right relationship with God. Consequently, Mormonism promotes beliefs in absolute authority—whether it be Mormon scripture or the institutional hierarchy—to govern worship rituals and daily social behavior (cf. Ardi & Budiarti, 2020). Mormonism generally restricts the authoritative interpretation of religious teachings to a narrow group of religious hierarchs, whose opinions definitively eclipse those over whom they govern. Furthermore, Mormonism promotes attitudes towards religious diversity that are somewhere between exclusivism and inclusivism, inasmuch as Mormons recognize that other faiths may contain some truths but only Mormonism possesses “the fullness.” Similarly, Mormons believe in exclusivist priesthood authority, such that only those who receive ritual ordinances through the administration of ordained Mormon men—whether in this life or the spirit world—will obtain their salvation and exaltation in God’s presence.

Mormonism is also very preoccupied with boundary maintenance, both in terms of belief and behavior. Purity of doctrine is maintained not only by restricting who is authorized to interpret scripture or receive revelation on behalf of whom, but also by wielding excommunication as a means of excluding those who continue to espouse and promote “false doctrines” after formal censure. Likewise, purity of practice is policed regarding the proper demonstration of devotion to church standards, both in terms of the forms and regularity of worship and quotidian social conduct. Here too, church discipline serves as tool for excluding those deemed unacceptable to the ingroup, but softer forms of boundary maintenance also exist via the selective preference for those deemed sufficiently devout when extending callings to church leadership. These tendencies display a prioritization of group conformity to essential, fundamental standards of belief and practice and an intolerance for diversity of opinion regarding those standards.

Finally, as we have discussed at length in previous essays, Mormon communities are rife with many of the correlates held in common between religious fundamentalism and conspiracy beliefs—including the need for cognitive closure, preference for intuition, right-wing authoritarianism, Manichean worldview, apocalypticism, anomie, and collective narcissism, to name a few.

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Conspirituality

In recent years, sociologists of conspiracism have begun talking about the concept of conspirituality, the confluence of New Age spirituality and conspiracy theory. In their proposal of the concept, Ward and Voas (2011) characterize conspirituality as “a broad politico-spiritual philosophy” rooted in two convictions: “(1) a secret group covertly controls, or is trying to control, the political and social order, and (2) humanity is undergoing a ‘paradigm shift’ in consciousness.” While Ward and Voas characterize conspirituality as an emerging phenomenon specifically associated with “New Age” spirituality, other scholars have been quick to point out that the intermingling of conspiracy theory and countercultural spirituality is far from something new. Rather, these scholars argue that “it is not so much the confluence of alternative spirituality and conspiracy theory that is novel as the particular modes in which this ‘conspirituality’ is expressed” (Asprem & Dyrendal, 2015).

In this section, we will briefly explore the historic relationship between alternative spirituality and conspiracy theory, with each representing parallel currents within an ever-flowing countercultural stream of strategies for satisfying epistemic, existential, and relational needs. Furthermore, we will consider Mormonism as one of many ‘new religious movements’ emerging from the 19th-century milieu of Western esotericism and the alternative spiritualities that characterized the “Second Great Awakening.”

The Cultic Milieu

To situate our conversation, let us revisit the concept of the cultic milieu that we’ve discussed in previous essays. Briefly, the cultic milieu refers to the undercurrent subcultures within broader society wherein participants embrace marginal, forgotten, or rejected beliefs and practices in opposition to the orthodoxies of the societal mainstream. Importantly, the cultic milieu is not an independent category definable by the features shared in common between the beliefs and practices comprising its elements, except for the commonality that said beliefs and practices are marginal to the established epistemic hegemony. That is, the cultic milieu represents a tapestry of diverse beliefs and practices that are joined together primarily by their status as knowledge domains stigmatized by the mainstream. As such, the content domains of the cultic milieu change across time and place in accordance with evolving standards that separate respectable beliefs and practices from the marginal. As Asprem and Dyrendal (2018) relate:

This supportive, seedbed milieu is characterized by a network-based circulation of rejected knowledge, a shared ethos of seekership, and a shared identity based on deviance and opposition to perceived “orthodoxies”. Milieus of this sort are permanent features of any society, [...] but, due to the role of deviance in producing shared identity across the milieu, their content and thematic concerns are entirely contingent on the nature of “establishment” institutions at any given point in history.

The cultic milieu of 21st-century Western society is represented by those domains existing outside the epistemic hegemony of academia, officially-recognized religious institutions, and the mainstream media. Examples include parapsychology, astrology, alchemy, numerology, spirit channeling, near-death experiences, New Age spirituality, energy healing, homeopathy, etc. Some of these domains in more recent history enjoyed legitimacy among the societal mainstream, whereas others have only ever known acceptance among the fringe. As D. Michael Quinn convincingly demonstrates in Early Mormonism and the Magic World View, many practices that are marginal today—including astrology, divination, alchemy, protection magic, visions, and dream interpretation—were relatively common practices of Western “folk religion” and often even the academic elite, well into the 19th century (Quinn, 1998).

Because the knowledge domains that comprise the cultic milieu are “joined together by a common opposition to ‘establishment’ discourses rather than by positively shared doctrinal content,” conspiracy theory has traditionally been an accompanying feature that “affords a common language binding the discourses together” (Asprem & Dyrendal, 2015). That is, conspiracy theory provides a narrative mechanism that rationalizes the legitimacy of the discourses of the cultic milieu, despite their marginal status, by casting them as liberating truths being repressed by the conspiring epistemic hegemony of mainstream authorities.

Therefore, the conjoined relationship between conspiracy theory and the alternative spiritualities of the cultic milieu is neither new nor surprising. Rather, it is entirely consistent with historical trends. As Asprem and Dyrendal (2015) elaborate:

If we view [conspirituality] as a result of structural elements in the cultic milieu, rising from its interest in stigmatized knowledge, promotion of mystical seekership, and suspicion of ‘establishment’ discourses, we expect to find conspirituality across a much broader historical and cultural span, in all contexts where it makes sense to talk about a cultic milieu. [...] Conspirituality does not necessarily signify the merger of two formerly distinct cultural spheres, but may indicate the common origin of elements that have only later (and only partially) been separated from each other through ideological and situational elaboration in specific interest groups.

Western Esotericism

As an example of historical conspirituality, let us consider Western esotericism—the “set of practices and discourses on the intersection of European religion, philosophy, and science that have, historically, come to be rejected by the institutions that decide what counts as real knowledge” (Asprem & Dyrendal, 2018). Esotericism is of particular relevance for a number of reasons. First, the historical development of esotericism as a cultural category is teeming with conspiracist narratives, which has contributed to the current reality wherein esotericism is “a hotbed for conspiracy theorizing and its attendant publications and networks [are] central vehicles for the transmission of conspiracist motifs” (Asprem & Dyrendal, 2015). Secondly, Mormonism emerged as a new religious movement in a time, place, and community where esoteric practices were highly prevalent, which has consequently left a lasting imprint on the American-born religion (Quinn, 1998). Therefore, understanding the historical relationship between esotericism and conspiracy theory may prove critical to understanding the prevalence of Mormon conspiracism.

The origins of Western esotericism hearken back to the Gnosticism and Hermeticism of the Mediterranean during Late Antiquity. Each featured a dynamic between secrecy and the use of specialized means to obtain revelations of “higher” knowledge. Consequently, the theme of apokalypsis (i.e. revelation of secrets past, present, and future) is prominent in esoteric discourse. This tension between secrecy and revelation, and the emphasis on “special epistemic practices,” are part of what makes esoteric and conspiracist discourses especially compatible. As Dyrendal and colleagues (2018) explain, Gnosticism and Hermeticism were not always viewed as “esoteric” knowledge domains—each “were widely spread and occasionally sanctioned as integral parts of medieval and renaissance worldviews.” However, these subjects were stigmatized by the epistemic hegemony of the early church fathers and the later Reformation and Counter-Reformation, along with other pagan traditions that were “considered dangerous and heretical influences corrupting Christianity from within.” This stigmatization continued during the subsequent Enlightenment, as esoteric discourse was separated from its theological context and rebranded as bad science and philosophy (Dyrendal, Asprem, & Robertson, 2018). Thus, these knowledge domains became “esoteric” as they were rejected by the mainstream, though they continued to be promoted, in a clandestine manner, even by social elites (Quinn, 1998).

Both conspiracism and the emergence of new religious movements increase during times of social transition or upheaval. The decades following the American Revolutionary War and the establishment of the United States as a new nation was certainly one of those times. It is unsurprising that the period of pronounced religious revivalism now termed the Second Great Awakening began in this climate. Like the First Great Awakening of the early-mid 18th century, the Second Great Awakening was in no small part a reaction to the influence of Enlightenment rationalism in leading many to embrace Deism, Universalism, Unitarianism, and even atheism. However, whereas the revivalists of the earlier awakening built primarily upon the foundations of established traditions—Puritanism, Pietism and Presbyterianism—the momentum of the Second Great Awakening was primarily behind contemporaneously more marginal Christian movements, particularly the Methodists and Baptists.

This period also witnessed the emergence of several new religious movements, such as Restorationism, Adventism, the Holiness movement, and Mormonism. Furthermore, alternative spiritualities associated with Western esotericism, such as Freemasonry and Rosicrucianism, also saw a rise in popularity between the First and Second Great Awakenings. Asprem and Dyrendal (2018) elaborate:

Starting in the nineteenth century, people who were discontent with the rapid social, political, and religious upheavals that followed in the wake of the revolutions and the industrialization of society, found a useful resource for opposition in this body of rejected knowledge. [...] The ancient sages once more became the sources of “tradition,” but a sort of tradition that was now already cast as oppositional, underground, and potentially dangerous. Ancient wisdom had been remade as rejected, and possibly suppressed, knowledge.

The conflict over the authority to control epistemic capital continued during these periods of revivalism between the established hegemony of the rationalists and Protestant clergy against rising Christian movements and practitioners of magic and esotericism. Quinn (1998) explains that one of the strategies whereby Protestant clergy participated in the effort “to separate religion from magic” was to promote the idea that the age of Christian miracles was over and that any such manifestations of “spiritual gifts” or “supernatural effects” were either “fraudulent illusion or the workings of the Devil” (Quinn, 1998; Thomas, 1971). However, “the clergy and rationalist elite seemed to be losing a battle, ‘since, in part, folk magic represented a reaction against clerical elites and the established order'” (Quinn, 1998; Underwood, 1993).

This is the climate in which Mormonism emerged in early 19th-century New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. As Quinn and numerous other scholars have painstakingly documented, the Smith family and the earliest converts to Mormonism were thoroughly immersed in the esoteric practices of the 19th-century cultic milieu. The Book of Mormon and early Mormon teachings contain pronounced echoes of esoteric and folk magic discourse, in addition to participating in the debates over epistemic capital by denouncing Deism, Universalism, and atheism, while promoting the continuance of visions, miracles, spiritual gifts, and revelation. Mormon scripture is also teeming with conspiracist discourse including, for example, narratives about countless secret combinations (e.g., Ether 8), a conspiracy to steal and alter the early Book of Mormon translation manuscript (D&C 10), murderous plots against the Saints “in the secret chambers” (D&C 38:13, 28), “the Nicolaitane band and of all their secret abominations” (D&C 117:11), the order of Master Mahan (Moses 5), “evils and designs […] of conspiring men in the last days” (D&C 89:4), and “the subtle craftiness of men” who “lie in wait to deceive” and keep earnest seekers from the truth via “hidden things of darkness” (D&C 123:12–14).

For these and other reasons, I submit that Mormonism can be viewed as a particular expression of conspirituality that emerged from the cultic milieu at the periphery of the Second Great Awakening. It represents a blend of alternative spirituality, oppositional to the Protestant establishment, with the practices and conspiritualist discourses of Western esotericism. Mormonism subverted the epistemic hegemony of the day through claims to revelation of “higher” knowledge through specialized channels coupled with narratives of conspiracy to hide and suppress those truths by shadowy and powerful opponents. It situated Mormon converts as plucky underdogs, the heirs of the blessings of Israel through chosen lineages divinely-preserved through secrecy, and participating in the final moments of an eternal cosmic conflict between the forces of righteousness and the conspiring agents of Satan. At a very basic level, Mormonism combined diverse elements from nonconformist spiritualities and alternative histories of the 19th-century American cultic milieu, weaving them together with a conspiracist discourse regarding Apostasy and the exclusivist Restoration of the esoteric truths. Truths that would usher in a new age for humanity via the revelation of a “New and Everlasting Covenant” and the establishment of Zion—the utopian Kingdom of God on Earth.

As we have seen, “esotericism” stands as the result of processes of othering, and its modern heirs have returned the favour by demonizing authorized “interpretations of the universe and history”. Counterknowledge is the coin of the cultic milieu. Outside the milieu [...] the coin tends to be viewed as counterfeit. This provides motivation for conspiracy theory as a response to destabilizing information. Theorizing conspiracy is thus both occasioned by, and an active rejection of, the marginalization of esoteric knowledge claims. Indeed, theorizing conspiracy becomes an important cultic milieu-niche in itself, re-asserting the truthfulness of counterknowledge and the identity of the true epistemic elite.

Asprem & Dyrendal (2018). Close companions? Esotericism and conspiracy theories.

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Conspiracism as Quasi-Religion

The connections between conspiracy theory and religion go beyond the conspirituality of the cultic milieu. Scholars across multiple fields increasingly recognize that conspiracist and religious beliefs and discourse share many functional similarities—so much so that some have likened conspiracy theory to a form of quasi-religion. Franks and colleagues (2013) noted that:

There is an analogy, not a homology, between religious beliefs and some of the contents and functions of conspiracy theories. [...] Conspiracy theories are quasi-religious representations in that their contents, forms, and functions parallel those found in beliefs supported by institutionalized religions, though lacking certain features of organized religions.

These researchers further observed that akin to religious thinking, conspiracy theories appeal to epistemic motives by providing sense-making narratives about complex phenomena, while also fulfilling existential and social motives by providing purpose and belonging. When they contain the proper elements, conspiracy theories “may generate passionate commitment and collective action, […] translate vague existential anxieties into specific and urgent threats to sacred and deeply held values, [and] identify targets for counter-conspiracy action that correspond with established perceptions of inter-group competition” (Franks, Bangerter, & Bauer, 2013).

Some religious studies scholars have taken these ideas even further. In the introduction to the Handbook of Conspiracy Theory and Contemporary Religion, editors Robertson, Asprem, and Dyrendal (2018) propose that scholars ought to consider the three domains of conspiracy theories in, about, and as religion. Speaking on the lattermost, they implore scholars to explore whether conspiracy theories and religions share “cognitive, psychological, and social constraints” and whether both “provide some of the same functions, for example, with regard to creating ingroup identity, maintaining group cohesion, attributing evil, or providing worldviews that make issues of existential importance fathomable.”

When disparate conspiracy beliefs coalesce into a generalized worldview, the lines between conspiracist and religious discourses become even more blurred. This is not only because conspiracy narratives often incorporate religious themes into their contents, but because conspiracist discourse often parallels religious discourse in terms of theophilosophical functions. That is, many of the existential questions addressed by religious narratives are also addressed in some manner by conspiracy theories. As holistic worldviews, conspiracy theories and religion both provide narratives addressing the big questions of what is (ontology), how we know (epistemology), what to do (praxeology), and what to aim for (axiology) (Dyrendal, Asprem, & Robertson, 2018; Taves, Asprem, & Ihm, 2018).

Additionally, both conspiracy theories and religious myth are invoked to explain evil and ‘why bad things happen to good people’ (i.e., theodicy). Both affirm that the reality of the universe is more than it seems, with forces and phenomena that are beyond unenlightened comprehension (i.e., enchantment). Both invoke narratives about unseen, intentional agency driving momentous events. Both present values, persons, and groups in dichotomous terms of good and evil. Both often follow patterns of apokalypsis in the mode of prophetic speech that discloses the hidden course of evil’s designs, and through such revelations provide a means of salvation from disastrous consequences (i.e., soteriology). Finally, both promote a worldview that is intrinsically purposeful (i.e., teleology), propose claims that are epistemically unfalsifiable, and often present eschatological and millennialist narratives about the imminent transformation of present circumstances into a new utopian order (Dyrendal, 2020).

Let us briefly consider a few of these functional correspondences between conspiracy theory and religion in more detail, especially as they relate to Mormon conspirituality.

Enchantment

We may describe enchantment as a sense of wonder, awe, or even terror regarding the inscrutable complexity of the universe. Sociologists have long argued that modernity is characterized by “disenchantment” resulting from the demystification of the universe through science, secularism, and post-Enlightenment rationalism (Weber, 1948; Aupers & Harambam, 2018). Although the extent to which this argument is true is frequently debated, scholars generally agree that by challenging the epistemic hegemony of mainstream authorities, conspiracy theories re-mystify the world and society in particular. That is, conspiracy theories restore a sense of wonder and mystery regarding the unknown by directly challenging what is claimed to be known.

The notion that “nothing is what it seems” is reflected in both conspiracist and religious discourse, as in when unseen and mysterious forces are perceived as permeating and causing events in the natural world, or in modern society. The notion that the true reality is more than what we empirically perceive is foundational to both conspiracist and many religious worldviews. Likewise, the notion that human potential is greater than we can imagine, or that humans can access abilities or influence beyond rational comprehension, is found similarly in both conspiracist and religious discourse.

For early Mormons, the narratives of their faith challenged the epistemic capital of clerical and secular elites who denied the authenticity of visions, revelation, spiritual gifts (e.g., healing, glossolalia), and the authority of knowledge outside that of rational philosophy, science, or the Bible. Mormonism challenged the authority of the epistemic hegemony by affirming the reality of revelation, gifts, and miracles and by characterizing their apparent discontinuance as the products of a conspiracy perpetrated by the Great and Abominable Church (cf. 1 Nephi 13–14). Mormons challenged the exclusive authority of the Bible by producing new scripture, both modern and purportedly ancient, and by revising the Bible itself. In so doing, Mormonism called into question what mainstream clerical and secular authorities claimed as settled knowledge or acceptable epistemology. The world was certainly more than what it seemed and far more wondrous than what the establishment would have one believe.

Enlightenment

Religious and conspiracist discourse often feature narratives promising personal illumination and transformation resulting from access and adherence to higher knowledge. In religious discourse, this knowledge may be found via ancient scripture, the teachings of religious elites, contemplative ritual, or divine revelation. In conspiracy theory, knowledge of the hidden reality behind current events may be discovered via all of these same methods as part of broader effort to form syncretic associations (“connecting the dots”) between disparate marginal information channels—including those dubbed pseudoscience and pseudohistory by epistemic elites—to construct new narratives that attempt to explain the seemingly inexplicable and to inform future action. Knowledge of the hidden reality transforms individuals from part of the deluded sheep and recruits them to join the enlightened elect who see the world as it really is. As such, the quest for enlightenment is a theme shared in common between religious and conspiracist discourse.

Mormonism is no exception. Enlightenment through devotional scripture study, prayer and meditation, the teachings of Mormon spiritual elites, temple worship, and personal revelation, is a prominent feature of the faith. Access to higher truth is foundational to the Mormon narrative of Apostasy and Restoration, which exclusivist access to elite spiritual knowledge and priestly authority is at the heart of Mormon claims to being “the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth” (D&C 1:30).

Mormon scripture and religious materials promote inspiration via the Holy Ghost—a divine being with supernatural abilities—is the ultimate epistemic method for discerning absolute truth. Referencing the New Testament, Mormons teach that infallible inspiration comes through “the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.” This Holy Ghost “shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance.” Therefore, the inspiration of the Holy Ghost represents a specialized medium for obtaining higher knowledge, incomprehensible to the world which rejects it, and in defiant opposition to the boundaries established by the epistemic hegemony.

The Doctrine and Covenants teaches that “the glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth.” Going further, it states:

26 The Spirit of truth is of God. I am the Spirit of truth, and John bore record of me, saying: He received a fulness of truth, yea, even of all truth;
27 And no man receiveth a fulness unless he keepeth his commandments.
28 He that keepeth his commandments receiveth truth and light, until he is glorified in truth and knoweth all things.
29 Man was also in the beginning with God. Intelligence, or the light of truth, was not created or made, neither indeed can be.
30 All truth is independent in that sphere in which God has placed it, to act for itself, as all intelligence also; otherwise there is no existence.
31 Behold, here is the agency of man, and here is the condemnation of man; because that which was from the beginning is plainly manifest unto them, and they receive not the light.
32 And every man whose spirit receiveth not the light is under condemnation.

Doctrine and Covenants § 93:26–32

Here, Joseph Smith taught that light and truth, which are eternal and uncreated, are the essence of both Deity and humankind. Inasmuch as light and truth are two component parts of “enlightenment,” it follows that enlightenment—the expansion of intelligence—is the very glory of God in Mormon theology. This is opposed by “that wicked one [who] cometh and taketh away light and truth, through disobedience, from the children of men, and because of the tradition of their fathers.” Therefore, Mormon theology presents enlightenment as central in the cosmic Manichean battle between good and evil. The motifs of light and darkness in correspondence to the access and comprehension of higher knowledge echo themes of Western esotericism and other expressions of conspirituality.

Theodicy

Another theophilosophical function that conspiracy theories share in common with religion is that of theodicy—providing an explanation for why evil exists in the universe and why bad things happen to good people. The issue of theodicy is especially necessary in Western monotheist religions, particularly where Deity is presented as good, just, all-knowing, and all-powerful. In these cases, theodicy serves not just as an explanation of evil but also a vindication of Deity. However, narratives of theodicy are not limited to monotheism; explanations of evil and suffering are still presented in polytheist religious discourse, such as how members of the Greek pantheon—with their disparate motives and temperaments—influence human affairs in the course of their conflicts with other divines.

Conspiracy theories also provide narratives that explain evil and human suffering, by invoking the actions of hidden, powerful, malevolent agents—human or otherwise. Conspiracy narratives often also explain social injustices, which may increase their appeal to those who experience real or imagined social marginalization and disempowerment. Among these injustices may be the rejection and stigmatization of the systems of knowledge and epistemology among members of the cultic milieu. Dyrendal, Asprem, and Robertson (2018) observe:

If we agree that conspiracy theory often fills the role of 'theodicy,' an explanation of evil, it does so [...] through its construction of counterknowledge (Robertson, 2016). Conspiracy narratives in this mode are theodicies of the epistemically dispossessed. [...] Fitting the situation, "liberation of the oppressed is reconstructed as being realized through a revolution in knowledge, seizing not the means of production, but of the means of cognition" (Robertson, 2016). Entrepreneurs build and maintain a readership (or 'following') by claiming special knowledge, not only of the past and present, but about the conspiracy's future plans.

In the theodicy of Mormonism, evil and suffering exist as essential parts of the Plan of Salvation for humankind. Mormon scripture affirms that there “must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things. If not so, […] righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad” (2 Nephi 2:11). The essentiality of this opposition is elaborated upon in the temple endowment ritual, wherein Elohim instructs Jehovah and Michael that “we will place before [Adam] the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and we will allow Lucifer, our common enemy, whom we have thrust out, to tempt him and to try him, that he may know by his own experience the good from the evil.” Thereafter, when Lucifer tempts Eve to partake of the forbidden fruit, he entices her by explaining:

I want you to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil that your eyes may be opened, for that is the way Father gained his knowledge. You must eat of this fruit so as to comprehend that everything has its opposite: good and evil, virtue and vice, light and darkness, health and sickness, pleasure and pain. Thus your eyes will be opened, and you will have knowledge.

The veracity of Lucifer’s logic is affirmed in The Book of Mormon, when the prophet Lehi explains:

15 And to bring about his eternal purposes in the end of man, after he had created our first parents, and the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air, and in fine, all things which are created, it must needs be that there was an opposition; even the forbidden fruit in opposition to the tree of life; the one being sweet and the other bitter.
16 Wherefore, the Lord God gave unto man that he should act for himself. Wherefore, man could not act for himself save it should be that he was enticed by the one or the other.

2 Nephi 2:15–16

These passages demonstrate that at the heart of Mormon theodicy is a form of conspiracy. First, there is Lucifer and his agents, who having fallen from grace and being “miserable forever,” conspire against God’s and his children to bring about “the misery of all mankind” (2 Nephi 2:18). Second, there is Elohim and his Plan of Salvation, which may be conceived as a kind of “benevolent conspiracy” (a prominent conspiracy archetype; Walker, 2014), wherein God and his collaborators conspire to permit Lucifer to tempt and try humankind to fulfill the opposition in all things required for his grand design to work. Indeed, the Catch-22 scenario wherein God secretly wants Adam and Eve to disobey his prohibition regarding consuming the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden is conspiratorial in nature.

Soteriology

To the extent that both religious and conspiracist discourses present narratives explaining the existence of evil and suffering (theodicy), they also provide narratives regarding how one can obtain salvation from said ills (soteriology). In conspiracist discourse, evil and suffering are generally explained as resulting from the actions of malevolent conspirators, whose fragile power and influence are dependent upon avoiding detection through secrecy and deception. If the cloak of subterfuge can be penetrated, the power of the conspirators may be nullified.

In essence, enlightenment is the principal soteriological mechanism for individual salvation in conspiracist discourse. Proselytizing therefore becomes the primary method for communal salvation, with the understanding that society cannot collectively resist the oppression of the conspirators until a critical mass of people have been “awakened” to the realities of the conspiracy. As more and more individuals have the scales removed from their eyes, the community of the “awakened” can collectively restructure society into a new utopian Zion by pulling down the power of the conspiracy and reforming the systems that have enabled their oppression.

Mormon discourse echoes these conspiracist motifs of social soteriology. Individual salvation comes “by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel” (A of F 1:3), which first requires individual enlightenment to said laws and ordinances. Indeed, the Doctrine and Covenants records Joseph Smith as having taught that “it is impossible for a man to be saved in ignorance” (D&C 131:6). In keeping with our discussions above regarding enlightenment and theodicy, Mormon teachings affirm that knowledge of good and evil is requisite for one to learn “to refuse the evil and to choose the good” and ultimately fulfill God’s grand Plan of Salvation.

Because of the Great Apostasy, and because of the deceptions of Satan and his followers, “there are many yet on the earth among all sects, parties, and denominations, who are blinded by the subtle craftiness of men, whereby they lie in wait to deceive, and who are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it” (D&C 123:12). The Book of Mormon elaborates that the Great Apostasy is the product of a conspiracy by the “great and abominable church” to “pervert the right ways of the Lord, that they might blind the eyes and harden the hearts of the children of men” by removing from the Bible “many parts which are plain and most precious; and also many covenants of the Lord” (1 Nephi 13:26–27).

Therefore, while salvation from sin and damnation requires obedience to God’s laws and ordinances, that first requires individuals to penetrate the conspiracy against them to suppress knowledge of those laws and ordinances via the Restoration. Upon “awakening” to these hidden truths, the responsibility of every Mormon is “to waste and wear out our lives in bringing to light all the hidden things of darkness” (D&C 123:13) because “it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor” (D&C 88:81). As individuals are “awakened” to the truths of the restored gospel, they then become a part of a community engaged in the great work of opening the eyes of others and preparing for the coming time when a new millennial age will dawn upon a reformed utopian society, saved from all social ills.

Teleology

Both religious and conspiracist discourses are often teleological in that they explain phenomena via the ends to which they exist and operate. That is, they explain the operations of the universe in terms of functions and purpose. In religious discourse, teleological arguments may take the form of rational defenses (i.e. apologetics) for the existence of God, but teleology is often a feature of other theological questions. For instance, the question, “What is the purpose of life” is inherently teleological, as it takes for granted the assumption that life has a purpose. Likewise, questions regarding why the world exists, why humans exist, and what is the relationship between God and humanity are all addressed in teleological terms: “What is God’s purpose for the world and humanity?” Other theological questions are generally contextualized within these broader teleological narratives, such as the purposes of the church or other institutions of human society.

Conspiracist discourse frequently addresses similar philosophical questions in teleological terms, especially regarding society and its functions. Conspiracy theories describe a state of affairs in contrast to how things ought to be, often by presenting a utopian vision of how the world might be if it weren’t for a conspiracy subverting the natural order of things. Some conspiracy theories only address a limited subset of very specific questions (e.g., why JFK was assassinated), whereas others address much broader theophilosophical questions about the very nature of reality and the place of humans within it. Regardless of their scope, conspiracy theories are generally teleological. Notably, individuals who are more prone to teleological thinking are more likely to endorse conspiracy theories and/or be religious (Banerjee & Bloom, 2014; Douglas et al., 2016; Wagner-Egger et al., 2018; van Prooijen et al., 2020). Indeed, greater tendencies toward the intentionality bias, anthropomorphism, and believing that “everything happens for a reason” are all predictors of both conspiracist and religious beliefs.

Eschatology

Eschatology is that part of theology that deals with the termination of things—death, the passing of the present age, or the end of the world itself. While eschatology should not be confused with teleology (the end of the world is distinct from the end-purpose of the world), one can certainly see teleologically thinking as the framework within which eschatology operates. That is, eschatological discourse concerns itself with what will inevitably come to be and may therefore be understood as a teleological analysis of life, human history, or the fate of the world, wherein their end-purposes are made manifest via how they reach their end-states. The purpose of life is revealed in what happens when and after it ends. The impetus of human history is laid bare in how it resolves. The raison dêtre of creation is manifest in how it all ultimately culminates. Eschatology, then, is a teleological discourse that reveals the end-purpose of things by narrating how they eventually end.

Like religion, conspiracist discourse frequently invokes eschatological themes. Beyond simply incorporating religious eschatology into their narratives, conspiracy theories regularly describe how the world or the current age will unfold—either according to the designs of the conspirators or how it ought to unfold if believers can successfully intervene to restore the natural order. The themes of a “great awakening” or “a new age of enlightenment” are often featured as motivation for active evangelism among conspiracy believers.

Similarly, religious eschatology often invokes conspiracist themes. Christian eschatological discourses regarding the Great Tribulation are rife with narratives regarding conspiring groups who will afflict the world as it races towards the Apocalypse. Believers are taught how they can evade the perils of the coming times by opposing those who represent the Whore of Babylon. Commonly, a paradisiacal millennial age awaits the faithfully prepared. Indeed, many versions of Christian eschatology are framed as a grand Manichean conflict between a subversive conspiracy among Satan and his servants and a benevolent conspiracy led by God and the faithful.

Mormon eschatology draws heavily from the Christian tradition from which it emerged. As such, it inherits many of the same conspiracist themes commonly found in premillennialist/post-tribulationist Protestant traditions. However, Mormons adapt these via conspiracist narratives of their own creation, both in terms of the eschatology of the soul via death or the eschatology of the world via the Apocalypse. For example, the Plan of Salvation represents a conflict between a Luciferian conspiracy to usurp God’s kingdom vs Elohim’s scheme to try the souls of his children and provide a path for their redemption and eventual apotheosis. That is, the Mormon cosmological narrative describes humanity as caught between a sinister conspiracy and God’s benevolent counter-conspiracy. Awakening to the reality of these competing designs is essential to picking the winning side, and so everyone who has been awakened must likewise awaken their neighbor (cf. D&C § 88:81).

Mormonism’s eschatology of the world views the course of human history as following a more or less predetermined path, eventually culminating in “the dispensation of the fulness of times” and forthcoming millennial reign of Christ on Earth. While distinct from Protestant Dispensationalism, Mormons nevertheless developed narratives regarding the unfolding of human history in many ways parallel to the ideas popularized by men like John Darby, Cyrus Scofield, and Clarence Larkin. Human history is represented as progressing through cyclical phases of gospel dispensation and apostasy, with seven major dispensations, each associated with a representative prophetic figure—Adam, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus Christ, and Joseph Smith.

Latter-day Saints belong to an inherently eschatological faith. Latter-day Saints take part in preparing the world for the Second Coming of Christ in this final dispensation. They also prepare themselves to take refuge from the Great Tribulation that will consume the wicked in “the great and dreadful day of the Lord.” The Latter-day Saints are represented as part of the awakened elect, set apart from the sleeping masses, and bearing a special honor and responsibility as agents of God’s counter-conspiracy.

In an analogous fashion, many grand conspiracy theories present alternative narratives regarding the course of human history and the course of its future, often in the context of an overarching cosmic conflict. A conspicuous example is David Icke’s conspiritualist worldview positing that humanity is enslaved by a race of interdimensional, shape-shifting reptilians who have secretly directed human affairs for millennia. In this narrative, humans can resist the influence of their extradimensional oppressors by awakening to the true reality, filling their hearts with love, and helping others to do likewise. By awakening a critical mass of humanity to the truth, believers participate in the an effort to precipitate an evolution in human consciousness and usher in a new utopian age of enlightenment (Robertson, 2013; Smith, 2018; Harambam & Aupers, 2021). Similar themes are found in the QAnon movement and other grand conspiracy theories (Peters, 2022). In each of these examples, established religious eschatological discourse is seamlessly incorporated into the conspiracy narratives, rendering purported boundaries between conspiracist and religious worldviews essentially meaningless.

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Conclusion

As we have seen throughout this essay series, Mormon communities are well characterized by many of the motivational variables that social psychologists have identified as encouraging conspiracist beliefs and worldviews. These are understood as representing clusters of motivational conditions that may encourage modes of thinking and behavior congruent with conspiracy ideation, even to the point of developing a generalized conspiracist worldview. These motivational factors are can be divided into three primary clusters: epistemic, existential, and social motives. Examples include a communal aspiration for epistemic certainty and the prioritization of intuition over skeptical analysis as a means of discerning truth, as well as community discourse and practices that may facilitate experiences of dysphoric self-consciousness, encourage the development of collective narcissism, and intensify needs for belonging and uniqueness in the formation of social identity.

In this essay, we further explored the reliable observation that these same motivational factors are similarly predictive of both conspiracist and religious worldviews (see Wood & Douglas, 2018). The apparent motivational correspondence between religious and conspiracist modes of cognition represents one more significant reason to consider conspiracy theory and religion as related—but not identical—domains of belief and behavior. We discussed how religiosity and conspiracism are not reliably correlated overall, but how religious fundamentalism in particular is highly associated with conspiracist ideation. We explored the concept of conspirituality with regards to countercultural spirituality that incorporates conspiracist discourse as a mechanism for oppositional differentiation from the epistemic hegemony of the religious establishment. We further investigated how Mormonism emerged from the 19th-century cultic milieu characterized by the conspirituality of Western esotericism. Finally, we discussed the functional similarities between religious and conspiracist discourse with regards to addressing a range of theophilosophical questions. Taken all together, Mormonism may perhaps be best understood as an expression of 19th-century Protestant American conspirituality that has evolved over time with (and against) cultural currents into what it is today.

Mormon communities are teeming with conspiracist discourses—both historic and contemporary. Examples include anti-Mormon plots to persecute, defraud, or murder the Saints, the underground practices of polygamy in Nauvoo and territorial Utah, and numerous oath-bound secret societies such as the Danites, the Quorum of the Anointed, the Council of Fifty, and the Council of Friends. Competing theories are promoted regarding who started Mormon polygamy, who killed Joseph Smith, who holds the keys of the priesthood, how Joseph Smith convinced early members to follow him, and whether the LDS church is intentionally deceiving members regarding its truth claims and history.

Some Mormon conspiracist discourse is also enshrined in Mormon scripture, including, for example, narratives about secret combinations (Ether 8), a conspiracy to steal and alter the early Book of Mormon translation manuscript (D&C 10), murderous plots against the Saints “in the secret chambers” (D&C 38:13, 28), “the Nicolaitane band and of all their secret abominations” (D&C 117:11), the order of Master Mahan (Moses 5), “evils and designs […] of conspiring men in the last days” (D&C 89:4), and “the subtle craftiness of men” who “lie in wait to deceive” and keep earnest seekers from the truth via “hidden things of darkness” (D&C 123:12–14).

For all these reasons, I submit that Mormonism provides fertile soil for the development and proliferation of conspiracy theories. Mormon culture may justifiably be considered a conspiracy culture, though none dare call it such. One could go so far as to claim that Mormonism breeds paranoid men and women, but certainly not all Mormons develop conspiracist worldviews. My hope is that by analyzing, identifying, and discussing the ways that Mormon teachings and practices may encourage some Mormons to endorse conspiracy theories, we can develop better strategies to curtail their proliferation within our Mormon communities.

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