Blockchain Papers

Kirsten Schuhmacher

On March 30, 2024, a chunk of Highway 1 outside of Big Sur, California collapsed into the ocean stranding as many as two thousand people in the Big Sur area.1 Since its inception in the late 1910s, the cliff-perched highway has become an iconic feature of the American West, providing tourists with scenic views of the California coastline. More importantly, it has become an essential route for Californians. In some cases, it provides the only road between many of California’s coastal towns. With even the partial closure of Highway 1, many of California’s small coastal communities are severely impacted financially and physically with no tourists to drive business and no way to commute to other towns. The road collapse in 2024 was a minor incident in a long history of road collapses and landslides along Highway 1. Significantly, the January 2021 collapse left behind a 150-foot gap, and the March 2017 landslide covered twelve miles of the highway with more than a million pounds of debris.2 Most of the highway runs on top or alongside of the San Andreas Fault, which makes up the Circum-Pacific belt or the “Ring of Fire” where more than 80 percent of the world’s earthquakes occur—making the California coastline one of the most seismically active regions in the world. It is no wonder that each year tourists flock to the coast only to find parts of it closed, destroyed, or under construction. As part of the “Ring of Fire,” the California coastline is subject to constant change and geological shift, only made more unstable as the effects of climate change cause sea levels to rise, cliffs to erode, and temperatures to climb. The boundary between land and sea is moving farther inland, taking with it those lines and demarcations that are used to illustrate where California ends and the ocean begins. Undoubtedly, the future of California’s coastline will become a series of ghost stories of places long-gone, eroded and swept out to sea. The narratives, images, and maps representing California’s coast will no longer allow one to, as Don Quixote would have it, “stroll all over the world just by perusing a map” (Cervantes 588). Instead, those narratives, images, and maps will stand in for the remnants of coastlines sitting beneath the waves. The future looming over the coast forces us to consider what we will lose to the sea—what stories and artifacts will be lost to climate change? This essay takes up this question as a way of thinking with erosion, not as a devastating loss but as an opportunity to embrace change—to gnaw at the histories of colonial, racial, gendered, and environmental violence that make up the bedrock of America culture. To do so, it takes the history and continued effects of Sir Francis Drake’s supposed 1579 landing in Northern California as its case study to explore the violence of reconstructing and maintaining eroding narratives. It analyzes the narrative of Drake’s landing with erosion thinking, a bodily and geological practice of “gnawing” or “wearing away” (erode, v. 1.a and 2.a) at histories and narratives that continue to perpetuate violence upon bodies—human and nonhuman alike. This essay will move through time by adopting the methodology outlined by Frances E. Dolan in Digging the Past, whereby unearthing the past “is always in the service of the future.” To attend to an uncertain future, one must “hold different time frames in tension and face in multiple directions, moving forward in part by turning back” (2). This essay takes Dolan’s Janus-faced approach by first presenting the mythology of Drake and his landing. It will then oscillate between the early-twentieth century and the late-sixteenth century to illustrate the attempts to reconstruct and maintain the Drake mythology. Finally, it reflects on California’s coastal futures and the stories we tell about them. Erosion thinking affords us the opportunity to confront narratives and histories, whether explicitly violent or not, and decide whether they are worth maintaining, or whether they should, like the sands they were built upon, be swept out to sea. In December 1577, English privateer and sailor Francis Drake set sail on what would become the first successful circumnavigation of the world.3 When he returned to London in September 1580, he was lauded as a hero and knighted six months later aboard his ship, the Golden Hinde. The records of the actions that provoked Drake’s sailing and the events that followed are well-documented. What is less well-documented—and the subject of this essay—is the actual exploration that occurred during those three years. As England was in a decades-long conflict with Spain over control of the oceans and the wealth from overseas colonies, Drake’s voyage sought to legitimize England in the “New World” and, more importantly, find the speculative “Northwest Passage” that would allow England to reach the Pacific without passing through Spanish territories. Secretly, however, Drake was chosen for this mission due to his infamy among Spanish sailors, who referred to him as El Draque or “The Dragon.”4 Working covertly for the English Crown, Drake’s naval expertise established him as not only a successful captain but also one of the most dangerous pirates in the world.5 Though disguised as an exploratory voyage, Drake’s circumnavigation returned, at a low estimate, £500,000 in Spanish gold, “gems, and other precious items” (Bawlf 191).6 Adjusted for inflation, Drake returned with more than £100,000,000 in stolen Spanish goods, making him one of the wealthiest men in England.7 For his efforts against Spain, Drake was knighted in 1581 on orders of Queen Elizabeth by the French ambassador, the Seigneur de Marchaumont. This move was strategic, signaling to “King Philip [of Spain] the potential for a new alliance between England and France” (Bawlf 196). In choosing the French ambassador to knight Drake, Elizabeth indicated to Spain that France, despite aligning religiously with Spain, would condone piracy in service of the English Crown. After his knighthood, Drake requested to return to the sea, but he was ordered to remain in England for fear that further piracy might provoke Spain into war.8 Additionally, the specific details of Drake’s circumnavigation were kept secret due to the threat of such a war. During the voyage, Drake kept extensive journals and produced detailed maps of his route and the places where he anchored. These documents, however, were seen only by the crew of the Golden Hinde and the Queen following his return. Accounts of the voyage were spread by word of mouth, but while there were “books, pictures, and ballads [that] appeared in praise of Drake,” none revealed information about his actual journey (Bawlf 194). The details of where Drake sailed were a closely guarded secret and have remained so to this day. Drake’s first-hand account of the voyage has since been lost, with most historians agreeing that the journals and maps were either destroyed in the 1698 fire that razed Whitehall Palace or hidden and subsequently forgotten.9 Most surviving records come from second-hand accounts, notably Richard Hakluyt’s Principal Navigations (1589) and The World Encompassed (1628), compiled by Drake’s nephew, also named Francis Drake. These are, purportedly, true accounts of the voyage relayed by Drake or his Chaplain, Francis Fletcher, and published widely for the English public, but without Drake’s first-hand account, the validity of these texts is dubious at best. Both narratives provide details of Drake’s voyage, the lands he anchored on, and the that he along the The details of Drake’s are notably in narratives in of presenting a “New World” for English and of the of these accounts was to England as a set to Spain in its In this the Hakluyt’s Principal in presenting an England that was and to The of Drake’s first-hand narrative a in to Drake’s accounts relayed to and he sailed farther than Hakluyt’s of Principal Navigations that Drake sailed as from to him as as and as as in Drake’s account, Drake made it the which places Drake as as the de from by that in the of on the and his was in the of on the coast of Drake anchored at the or The of where Drake made with is and be no as to where Drake on the Pacific coast of the Drake’s Drake’s landing in there are, in so many for Drake’s landing that there is a from Northern to with through and the was has eroded and the remnants have been and to and for more than detailed Drake’s his Pacific for to his Sir Francis Drake was a sailor for his Sir an English naval captain for in the with Drake the for out his the of and the Crown, which were more than to on Drake’s naval in the that he would return from his overseas with In the of Drake from a sailor to one of the and most men in in would later become a for that was on the that Drake was a on the of The of Drake as a against an Spain with during the of the century as they to in California against the long history of and later and For many the of Drake as a of a of was an from which they a new for for to California have since Drake’s The true history of his Pacific sailing has been by with many of these narratives and religiously In the question of Drake’s we must his for an Pacific coast was not by but by the men who In the of a narrative has histories of and who have long the Pacific The of this essay some of these narratives and in the mythology of Drake’s Pacific In of a was on the San he a and a and a the was a of that be used to his so he it for months it to his than by with the would later be as the of from Drake’s voyage California to Queen Elizabeth by Richard in his Principal Navigations and by Francis Drake in The World Encompassed that long It its way to of and of the at the of long been on the for this specific so with it, his was this the only the accounts of Drake’s and Richard The was for by the of California and as an of California what and other either to that the of they so in a by the of and history who would to it been by in and the would not be a the it was first With the of and which was only the as Drake’s This in English since actual over California lands and The of the is that it was or even have in the of the of since the actual be The not and there were multiple of for since the to be that the was not in the English are to since the three of on the are the only of a it is that the were not as with the was but the was later by more Additionally, Queen Elizabeth is referred to as Queen Elizabeth of despite by the of Queen of France, and of the the more and widely used for the also the the English was with no there were of that are from the For was more was more and as out in a year the was is that the of the and it all such a Drake the in his and on to that is that the of the was so successful in the of such as and and up over the word and left out a in a of the it and always has that it is a The in the was a series of of the in that the to The who the at and at that the was most a of the late or century not a of Drake’s Pacific coast of of the at the of by and to more between the and the and to the out its the has always it is not a but its as a was no for the that As the it was a widely secret among the in history that the was and a the was not it was but behind just was and that there was a it, no one its validity for The established through Hakluyt’s and Drake’s more than three the was as history to a The of that the of the of on the of Hakluyt’s and Drake’s accounts of Sir Francis Drake’s voyage, in on who to those accounts by the Hakluyt’s and Drake’s the of on there a narrative that was by a The history of the Pacific from the San to and the that sought to and those coastlines has always on as the that sought to the to legitimize the of what Drake that attend to later in this Hakluyt’s and Drake’s of Sir Francis Drake’s In accounts, they such as and and that just as to of the landing also the of that to the to Queen Hakluyt’s account set a of as also of and to the a a was the and of with the of the and people into with and in a of of English the where was also the of Francis Drake’s account we from to be set a of as also of and and to that a of to a and is and the and of and of the of the and by the and into with and in a of English by a made of through the was the of These accounts to have been relayed by the with the of The World that the account is to Sir Francis are Drake’s is more these Drake’s the for the of The account that the must be with of and the and of of the and by the and into and a where of these accounts do not in the used by Drake to up a of they do provide information that one to a What that narrative like on who is the The the that to Queen Elizabeth and for two the to with the account in The World Encompassed to the and as in the land and history to the as a of English that of Drake’s account of has been lost to and eroded and swept out to sea, the second-hand accounts by and Drake’s to reconstruct a narrative that or not be in to an The of built upon those narrative to further on the Pacific these narratives one about the and by these narratives have been for the that in that have become The to the Pacific as an of is into the narrative of the Drake by and Drake’s Both narratives an of Drake as a who is as a the he Hakluyt’s account that Drake on to they supposed to be and would not be to the the which they were and of the of is as a to Drake as a The makes Drake as a to the that Drake and his men This of is a in the of an Pacific The between and is and it to the The of Drake as a a future in which are to English as the and of the land and the communities that The that have Drake’s all future part of and of Hakluyt’s account what the from and the lands that they on the has made it that the future of those and the land is a English In and the account the that the Pacific has always been English and will continue to be English in the to When Drake and his men to the Pacific the narrative that by Drake the This the of the the and the in its to those this not just the to Drake but also the of the people as they Drake’s and as a The people make and they are they and they Drake with the which the account is a of This the of that frames the people as not just but also as upon Drake’s in is to these and the and of the lands into his As Drake is a subject of the English Crown, the narrative a in the that he his as a The account that he his as a he not to he not what and it might be to The account Drake as a who not for his he the lands and its people for his at future is for them. This is built on the that the will the lands and and in this the makes it so that they the of landing and the land as the future where England and the Pacific The of the Pacific as on and the of a The narrative that Drake the and that for two the one in of the and which the and the it might some with in which was so The is in Drake’s landing as it a past to a not just it time in to the they are established as it is the land of in of of the of to the were of and by a for Hakluyt’s Principal Navigations is to as they to a between England and its Additionally, texts that praise the of English and It is for to not only a time in but also a as Drake’s taking up of the lands a future on the Pacific As the narrative is of a history and a of the of and cliffs in the In the was an as it of landing on As was first part of seen and later by in his the of In the Pacific coastline Drake is at a of a in of and and the of a that into the past and the The land and of are as new to the English and The of not just an English history but also a The a it is as it to a time the were one The that history into the future they are one with all the and lands from from the word or also the Pacific coastline to the of its English the as a to the maps the account and the a and the Pacific coastlines are as always been and while also Hakluyt’s the by Drake as a for the English and the land to between and the Pacific coastline. This narrative of its so into the Pacific coastline that it is to to consider those coastal without Drake. The Pacific and its demarcations on a in a narrative history from the that those narratives. the narrative is upon that Drake sailed along the Pacific coast and lands as as the and as as the and that he was the lands and the that be from those to to from In the of as the and the erode, the from and history has been to to the that and that to of Drake’s coastal landing. of as this essay what the is of the to the on is most in service to the the of Drake’s and and for one of the most the of the The with narratives, like Drake’s Pacific is to and this essay to through erosion as a of the on narrative that the coastal that they erosion also as it to the and artifacts that those narrative from the As one with this as part of the and is with the of artifacts and that the is and to the it have to in The to and make the question of what narratives one that expertise and and what is in that As the American Pacific coastline as a by climate it more to the of to specific coastal Both Hakluyt’s and Drake’s accounts of of the land and The accounts and which the with the only of the land that it is with and The people are to in the and from the of the of set and at the like on the of a which with no to and are It is to the of the upon specific Pacific despite attempts the to do the of the in the to a of a the account of these through Drake’s the and the actions of the his The account be outside of this and is by In the of specific the and cliffs have become a of all Pacific coastal For Drake and and American the of this has the opportunity to in the as is for and Most the lines of so by Drake have not just the Pacific coast and its demarcations but also the of the American Significantly, the of for England to to of that to set up a in Drake’s The of the of in English and of “is the and on the that Drake to of that and as his Pacific landing as would the of that that Drake established the America as used Hakluyt’s in his of which to the of overseas for the for the of coast and for the of to the Drake that “New England is that part of America in the to in the by the most Sir Francis Drake in his voyage about the In this is in the The was to Drake’s Pacific landing and to the English in the “New Drake’s landing on the Pacific coast the English over a not only of that coast but also over its The of and England was a for continued his established English over the America with the of hidden to be The from the to the Drake’s Northern and of by to illustrate that some of the land in the world. that “is also as as in the of which is as and as as other in the The first by Drake and then by for the English on the that lands at that been for the of such as and as from it, is the most part of the of the and the most of the and which is the part of which the Spanish in the time no with and then the The then the to in those as the the to and for a of of England moving from England to to and that that long World” The of the of and other artifacts and along the Pacific as of the Drake they have been and America making it to to consider these lands without Drake. In of has become and the land and coastlines that the and have come to into Hakluyt’s and Drake’s accounts at the of but the following have seen that to and Drake’s Pacific sailing has eroded The remnants one are not of history but of and attempts that are to What might it to have an America without the of Sir Francis What might it to gnaw at the question of Drake’s landing in of erosion, of narratives to but not to to not the lands that they have so As this essay has it has to California as not just an of but as a for the of many of the American the of the Drake in the Pacific has become a of The to to this like the Drake in continue to the that Drake in and the as as Drake’s as a only to a in the to of the to Drake and his landing. the narrative eroding with the lands that it was built upon, it of The to the only as to the of the the coastal that have been by its Northern California are to the As in his of in with the and as and The of the Drake with and the of climate with these making a of environmental and The over and coastal erosion reflects a fear of a future without future from a The future of California as a of its past through and and to only one future that the as it its as in California the more than one way to with but of what the coast be has the of what the past to the future has left for the with the coast as it is has been to reconstruct coastal to the of narratives to the Pacific even as this the of as in constant change and of the Drake eroding with the it has been The to and reconstruct the coast as an to environmental of a future of and This in many and are come to what coastal The potential future, just as it was for Drake, and all the that has for one must with change and the potential for environmental one also must not lose of the coast and the other potential futures that in the face of climate the with the coast is not about control or about the past and it with the It is about to change with the that erosion is and affords one the opportunity to gnaw at the continued histories of violence against and nonhuman by those histories to, and into the sea. Erosion thinking, as one to with the of and and such loss to of the coast and its narratives as they are and and and to those As erosion thinking is as it forces one to consider what is through the to the and for the coast and its narratives to the histories of the and who have the This essay for erosion, not as but as of with the coast of against it and with the histories and futures that one one

Patrick Q. Mason

I was a high school senior in September 1993, when Lavina Fielding Anderson, Avraham Gileadi, Maxine Hanks, D. Michael Quinn, Paul Toscano, and Lynne Kanavel Whitesides were disfellowshipped or excommunicated from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While these six people's lives were being upturned via Church discipline, the great drama in my life was spending too much money on the homecoming dance and then sulking that I didn't get asked to the next girls’ choice dance. My daily journal from the time, in which I painstakingly documented what I was learning in history, English, or calculus class on any given Tuesday, gives no intimation that I even heard about the excommunications. I was serving on seminary council and faithfully reading B. H. Roberts's History of the Church while some of the people whose works about Latter-day Saint history and theology I would read and admire only a few years later were being expelled from the LDS Church, if not necessarily the Mormon community. Despite my ignorance at the time, these events ended up having a profound effect on the trajectory of my life.I enrolled at Brigham Young University the following year, in fall 1994. No one in my social circles was talking about Mormon history, at least not in any academic sense. I don't recall any of my professors mentioning the September Six during my freshman year. The excommunications didn't really register for me until four years later, during my final year at BYU, when I took a course on Mormon history from David Whittaker, who was the curator of Mormon and Western Americana in the BYU library's special collections. It was my first exposure to scholarly Mormon history. Professor Whittaker talked about the September Six as the latest chapter in the long and complex relationship between the LDS Church and its intellectuals.That was the same year I applied to graduate school. I sought advice from several professors about my plan to pursue a PhD in American religious history. No one explicitly encouraged me to become a Mormon historian. Not Professor Whittaker—for whom I worked in special collections, who was one of my mentors, and who clearly thought highly of my abilities and potential. Not Richard Bushman, who was very gracious when I audaciously cold-called him. Maybe it was because they could tell I was interested in the broader American religious experience, not just Mormonism. Maybe it was because they believed—as I do—that it's important for students of Mormon history to also study other things. Or maybe it was because it was 1998, they had lived through 1993, and they were still nervous.From the perspective of institutional boundary maintenance, the September Six excommunications were a resounding success. The tactic worked, at least in the short to medium term. The show of force did exactly what it was supposed to. It made clear that Church leaders would not tolerate intellectual exploration that they perceived as challenging Church doctrine and what they deemed to be apostolic prerogatives. This wasn't about Church leadership feeling threatened by one individual or drawing the line on one issue, as we later saw in the high-profile excommunications of the 2010s (Kate Kelly and John Dehlin being the most prominent cases). It was a broadside, a frontal assault on the entire independent Mormon intellectual community. The fact that the six recipients of Church discipline were writing about different issues and occupied different positions across the ideological spectrum is precisely what made the excommunications so effective. The not-so-subtle message to the rest of the LDS scholarly community was clear: it could happen to you too.Part of the mythical power of Church discipline—the way that it intimidates those who are not directly affected by it—is the way that the decisions of Church leaders, working individually and together, are shrouded behind the veil of bureaucracy. Even three decades later, we don't know all the details about who directed these six cases to go forward all at the same time, or the degree of communication and coordination between General Authorities (which ones exactly?) and the various bishops and stake presidents on the ground. Boyd K. Packer's name frequently comes up, but the cast of characters was no doubt much larger. Their names and roles are largely anonymous, however, because they were acting in institutional roles that left no paper trail (or at least not a publicly available one). It's not really accurate to say that “the Church” excommunicated or disfellowshipped any of these six individuals; most Church members had no knowledge of these disciplinary actions. Though we frequently speak of it as such, “the Church” is not a historical agent. Collectivities (like “the Church”) neutralize the individual responsibility of any one person acting on behalf of the whole. Accountability is anonymized and diffused to the point that there is no longer any real accountability to speak of. And that allows collectivities—whether mobs, corporations, governments, or churches—to act with at least a certain amount of impunity.With all of this in the background, it makes sense that no one encouraged me to pursue a career in Mormon history. They didn't want to cheerlead me into a professional dead end or an antagonistic relationship with Church leadership. In the late 1990s, the prospect of ushering me, an eager and faithful young LDS undergraduate, to a doctoral program to study Mormon history would have seemed tantamount to pushing me out of the trenches and sending me across the demilitarized zone to a doomed fate on the other side. My professors had learned well the lessons of September 1993.But I hadn't. When I eventually learned about the excommunications, it seemed like ancient history—something that happened, like that homecoming dance, way back when I was in high school. Besides, the late 1990s were halcyon years for Mormons and Mormonism. The Church was the “fastest growing religion in the world”—at least, that's what we told ourselves, aided by sociologist Rodney Stark's grandiose projections.1 Anything that happened in 1993 was not just one but two Church presidents ago. The Church was in full Gordon B. Hinckley mode. No dour anti-communist, he. Instead, there he was smiling on national TV, matching Mike Wallace and Larry King stride for stride. What's more, the prophet was encouraging Church members to get all the education we could. Anti-intellectualism was a thing of the past!As I started graduate school, I had imbibed all of President Hinckley's ebullient optimism. I was living proof of Mormons’ newfound standing in the world. The Department of History at the University of Notre Dame was one of the best doctoral programs in the country for religious history, and it had admitted two—two!—Latter-day Saints. Yes, we were occasionally objectified, even exoticized; in almost every class session of a seminar we took with a distinguished Catholic historian, he gruffly asked, “What's the Mormon take on that?” But there we were, at the table! If any of my Catholic, evangelical, or secular colleagues and professors ever mentioned the September Six during those heady days, I don't recall.It was in the mid-2000s that it began to occur to me that perhaps 1993 was not so distant after all. I published my first article in Dialogue in the Spring 2004 issue. Two years later, I was invited to join the Dialogue Foundation's board of directors. I wanted to keep all my employment options open, so when I received the board's invitation, I called several people at BYU to ask if adding my name to the Dialogue masthead would be a problem were I to apply for a job in Provo. Most of them said that it was a new era—my board affiliation might get raised in an interview, but any concerns could easily be allayed once the interviewer heard me express my heartfelt commitment to the Church. Only one of my former professors cautioned me against joining the board, warning that any formal association with Dialogue would undermine an otherwise strong application to teach at BYU. I learned firsthand on two different occasions over the next few years that she was right.Fortunately, BYU wasn't my only professional option, as I found other good jobs to begin my academic career. Right as I was publishing my first book, The Mormon Menace, Claremont Graduate University opened a search for the Howard W. Hunter Chair of Mormon Studies. A chaired professorship in Mormon studies at a secular university was still a novelty. I decided, almost on a lark, to throw my hat in the ring. I knew I had no chance: I was thirty-four years old and had (barely) published one book. Endowed professorships are supposed to go to accomplished mid-career or senior scholars, people in their forties or fifties or sixties who have a long publication record and are recognized as leaders in their respective fields.The establishment of the Hunter Chair represented an opportunity to pass the torch to the next generation of Mormon studies scholars. But the handoff was a stretch. There was a pool of qualified candidates, but it was much smaller and more academically junior than it should have been. What explains the gap between Mormon history's founding generation and mine? No doubt there are multiple factors, but the fallout from 1993 must rank high on the list. The September Six excommunications resulted in a lost generation of Mormon intellectuals—smart, talented people who should have written books, led scholarly organizations like the Mormon History Association, and shaped both the academic field of Mormon studies and the broader public understanding of the religion.2 Latter-day Saints were primarily affected, but non-Latter-day Saint scholars also picked up on the cue that the Church wasn't enthusiastic about open inquiry into its past. A few Latter-day Saint intellectuals stuck with it, foremost among them Terryl Givens (interestingly, a literary scholar, not a historian). But there should have been an entire generation of Terryl Givenses.The Hunter Chair should have gone to a senior scholar. In fact, it had originally, with Richard Bushman coming out of retirement at Columbia University (where he held another endowed professorship) to get the endeavor off the ground. But when Bushman stepped down from the Hunter Chair in 2011, most members of the founding generation of New Mormon History were either at or near retirement age. Furthermore, many of that generation had spent their careers teaching at BYU or working in the Church History Department—neither of which was an especially attractive career profile for a secular university like Claremont. Philip Barlow would have been an excellent choice, but he had recently been hired as the inaugural holder of the Leonard J. Arrington Chair of Mormon History and Culture at Utah State University. There was another younger member of that generation who had published enough influential scholarship to be a potentially competitive candidate for the job. His name was D. Michael Quinn. Yet the principal donors to the Hunter Chair, who did not control the search but whose generous gifts creating the position afforded them some degree of influence with university administrators, made it clear that they did not consider an excommunicant to be an acceptable candidate for a position named after a Church president.3 September 1993 loomed large over Mormon studies, even at a secular university. The fact that a thirty-four-year-old with one book was hired for an endowed professorship at a highly regarded university can only be regarded as a fluke. The stars aligned in an unpredictable way that worked out splendidly for me, but only after many others had paid the price.Times change. Things did get better in the early 2000s. The archives started to open up again. The Church History Department started producing and supporting first-rate historical scholarship, most notably the Joseph Smith Papers and the research that culminated in Ronald Walker, Richard Turley, and Glen Leonard's masterpiece Massacre at Mountain Meadows. Latter-day Saint intellectuals found new confidence, and more non-Latter-day Saint scholars gravitated to the field. Mormon history has blossomed and expanded into the multidisciplinary field of Mormon studies. Social scientists, theologians, philosophers, literary scholars, scripture scholars, and others are all producing pathbreaking work. We are living in a golden age of Mormon studies. Tellingly, most of the work is being done by people who were either young enough, or started graduate school late enough, to have not been scared away by the events of September 1993.There are still whispers. Fear remains, even if we try to push it to the back of our minds. I am frequently asked, “Have you ever been called in by a General Authority for something you wrote or said?” The answer is yes, once. We spent a little over an hour together, enjoying a wonderful conversation that I genuinely cherish. He revealed himself to be a deep thinker and compassionate minister of the gospel. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of the September Six when I opened the letter and read this leader's “invitation” to meet with him in his office. When friends and colleagues publish or say things that push the envelope, I actively pray they will be met with the same generosity and understanding I experienced.4 There are no guarantees. Some of Joseph Smith's most poignant insights into the human condition came when he languished in Liberty Jail during the winter of 1838–39.5 In his masterful prison letter to the Saints, excerpted in Doctrine and Covenants section 121, he reflected on the nature of power in a fallen world. Power may be exercised in various ways. Too often it is used “to exercise control of dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men.” When this is the case, “the Spirit of the Lord is grieved.” In heaven's eyes, the unrepentant wielder of that kind of dominative, manipulative, compulsory power is in a posture of hostility or enmity not only toward other humans but also toward God. Alas, “sad experience” reveals that “almost all men” will “exercise unrighteous dominion” at some point.6 They may get what they want—God offers no promise to intervene in such cases—but this is not the order of heaven.The prophet's key insight comes next. “No power or influence can or ought to be maintained” unless it is predicated on the divine qualities of persuasion, longsuffering, gentleness, meekness, kindness, pure knowledge, and most of all “love unfeigned.”7 This oft-quoted scripture is usually interpreted with an emphasis on the ought. That is to say, we ought to be kind and gentle and loving in our relationships with one another. But the statement is more radical than that. This passage is not simply about the way the universe should work; it tells us the way the universe does work. It is descriptive, in other words, not merely normative. The key words are can, only, and maintained. Certainly, it's nice when people are nice. But in a world of agentive souls, power and influence can only be maintained over the long term when assent is granted freely. Compulsion, dominion, and manipulation can and do work in the short term. People can be controlled or subdued with the use of intimidation, fear, and violence. But the human soul yearns for freedom and fulfillment. Any form of power based on compulsion rather than persuasion, intimidation rather than invitation, fear rather than love is therefore inherently limited—not just in its ethical value but in its efficacy.The September 1993 excommunications effectively and tragically cowed a generation of Latter-day Saint intellectuals. When institutions and individuals are threatened by new ideas, there is always a temptation to retrench. The blunt force of Church discipline worked in the short term. Even within a few years, however, its effect had diminished. Why? Because ideas cannot be quelched by fiat. And, more fundamentally, because “no power or influence can or ought to be maintained” by fear, dominion, intimidation, and compulsion. A new generation of intellectuals arose and carried the torch of inquiry forward.Churches thrive when they count their intellectuals as assets not liabilities, partners not villains. Will intellectuals think unruly thoughts? Yes, because it is the divine nature of the human mind to inquire, to explore, to expand. The pursuit of knowledge resists institutional correlation. If members or leaders of a group encounter thinking they deem to be dangerous, they are generally served best not by attempting to prevent or squelch that thinking but rather by providing better, more persuasive thinking. Numerous historical examples suggest that the compulsory silencing of ideas deemed “bad” is ultimately more dangerous than the ideas themselves. Churches, like governments, lose their authority precisely when they have no recourse other than mere authority. If Church leaders want to promote or discourage certain ideas, they have ample opportunity to use their power as teachers to persuade the Church membership of their position. Even in a digital age, it is the rare intellectual who can even approach the reach of the general conference pulpit and other modes of official Church communication.Thirty years later, we can be grateful that the collective excommunications of September 1993 proved to be an exception rather than the rule in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints's ongoing relationship with its intellectuals. We cannot change the past. But hopefully we can learn from and avoid the unnecessary tragedy of future lost generations.

Harry N. Scheiber

Historians have recently given much attention to the active, formative role of state governments in the American economy before the Civil War.1 The states exercised nearly exclusive control over many aspects of economic life, and in such areas as labor, banking, and corporation policy the federal government interfered relatively little. The consequence was considerable decentralization of power in policymaking, together with variations in policy from state to state.2 Perhaps in no policy area were variations so dramatic as in state legislation on banking. In some states banking was prohibited outright, while in others the state government itself established and operated banks, sometimes on a monopoly basis. Elsewhere, safety funds were established and banks required to meet minimum standards of specie reserve and the like; and in a few states, stringent regulatory policies were pursued, with public commissioners given considerable discretion in administering policy.3