It Is Better to Give

Latter-day Saints are charged with building Zion, but we seem unsure where to start. Perhaps this is because we try to imagine what kind of society a unified and equal people would build. If so, we have it backwards. We should be asking what kind of society builds a unified and equal people. The answer to this question lies in appreciating the tension in God's design for our mortal probation. In both spiritual and temporal terms he promises abundance but first ordains scarcity. Divinely-ordained scarcity requires us to labor cooperatively. In working together, we are bound in a web of interdependence and we gain the opportunity to practice generosity, sacrifice, and grace. It is the communal pursuit of material and spiritual prosperity in the face of scarcity that enables us to grow in unity and equality. 

A Fragile Zion and the Necessity of Social Formation

The clearest expression of the necessary attributes of a Zion society comes from Moses 7:18, in which the Lord calls the people of Enoch Zion “because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them.” The phrase “of one heart and one mind” clearly establishes the first attribute of Zion: unity.

The second attribute of Zion is equality, but this is not clear from Moses 7:18 alone. One could interpret the clause “no poor among them” as requiring only a lower bound. Zion could not have poor people, but it could have rich people. However, D&C 49:20 shows that this reading is impossible. The Lord says, “it is not given that one man should possess that which is above another, wherefore the world lieth in sin.” This unites the “dwelt in righteousness” and the “no poor among them” clauses. In order for the people of a Zion society to “dwell in righteousness,” there must be neither rich nor poor (at least in relative terms). In other words: equality. 

By these criteria, the Nephite society depicted in 4 Nephi 1 qualified as Zion, or at the least a proto-Zion. There were “no contentions and disputations” (4 Ne. 1:2) and there were no “Lamanites, nor any manner of -ites; but they were in one” (4 Ne. 1:17). In other words: unity. Additionally, the people had “all things common among them [such that] there were not rich and poor” (4 Ne. 1:3). In other words: equality. 

Whether this society was a fully-realized Zion like that of the Enoch's people or proto-Zion that had not been completely realized, the haunting lesson of 4 Nephi is the same: Zion (or the path to it) is fragile. 

The first attribute of the Nephite Zion to fail was unity. This occurred when “a small part of the people . . . revolted from the church and [took] upon them the name of Lamanites” and consequently “there began to be Lamanites again in the land” (4 Ne. 1:20).

The second Zion attribute, equality, failed just a couple of decades later when some of the Nephites “were lifted up in pride” and began wearing “costly apparel” after which “they did have their substance no more common among them” and instead were “divided into classes” (4 Ne. 1:24–26).

People who had been born and raised in a Zion community chose to reject Zion's fundamental characteristics, demonstrating that the inhabitants of an earthly Zion are ordinary, fallible human beings subject to the same temptations as the rest of us. This is the sense in which Zion is fragile. 

Those citizens of the Nephite Zion who chose to revolt, leave the church, and take upon themselves the name Lamanite must have gone through a process of accumulating grievance and misunderstanding prior to the irreconcilable break. A similar process must have played out among those who were lifted up in pride. After all, where did they get the "costly apparel"? There was a period between temptation and execution during which the differentiating clothes and jewelry were constructed and a group consensus to wear them was reached. In both cases, there was a period of time when the Nephite Zion had an opportunity to curb the temptation towards division and inequality but failed to do so. 

We must stop imagining Zion in terms of the possession of fully-realized, perfect ideals of unity and equality and instead see Zion in terms of strong mechanisms for cultivating unity and equality in the face of omnipresent human temptation. In fact, it's impossible for any earthly society to embody perfect unity and equality. Random chance will introduce constant, low-level inequality to the society as (for example) one farmer's crops happen to prosper more one year than another's. Similarly, every new idea will provoke varied reactions from people based on their temperament and preferences, which must subsequently be harmonized into unity. 

The essential characteristic of a Zion society is therefore not the possession of unity and equality but the generation of unity and equality in an ongoing process and against a backdrop of ever-present temptation and random fluctuation. We must not suppose that in Zion there will be no disagreement because the people are perfectly unified, but rather that Zion incorporates the kinds of formal and informal institutions that resolve differences and restore unity again and again. 

It's very unlikely that Zion has no need of a court system because there is perfect unity, and far more likely that Zion has a court system calibrated to foster unity and reconciliation (in addition to justice) and therefore—thanks at least in part to that court system—Zion has perfect unity. Similarly, we must not suppose that in Zion there will be no inequality because everyone already has the same thing, but that Zion includes institutions that constantly respond to unfairness with countermeasures to ensure greater equality. 

Building Zion is therefore not something we do only until Zion is complete. Building Zion is something we do forever, even after we find ourselves living in a Zion community. If this is so, then the key to building a Zion is the same as the key to maintaining a Zion, which is why the example of the Nephite Zion—a failure in maintenance—is instructive for those who wish to build Zion.

We should not set out by imagining what a society of unified, equal people would look like and then try to build that society. Instead, we should innovate and adopt institutions (even imperfect ones) that have a proven ability to operate within divided, unequal societies to make them a little less so. We do not only form societies; societies also form us. 

Scarcity and the Necessity of Work 

Creation is bountiful, and the world around us is rich with physical resources. This is reflected in Hugh Nibley's view of “our Latter-day Saint creation story” as one of abundance in which “all the earth's food supply is indeed brought from above” so that God can tell Adam we “have placed in it everything you could possibly need . . . Help yourself—of every tree thou mayest freely eat.”  

Later, after Adam and Eve are cast out of the Garden, Nibley recounts that Adam “went right on with his work of cultivating the earth” as though nothing had changed. But of course, something had changed, and profoundly so. As Adam and Eve were cast from the Garden, God cursed the ground “because of you [Adam]” so that

in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life;
thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you;
and you shall eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your face
you shall eat bread. (Gen. 3:17–19)

In the garden, God said “thou mayest freely eat,” but in the fallen world he tells Adam that “in toil you shall eat.” In either case, Adam will eat. There is enough, in absolute terms, both before and after the Fall. 

What has changed is how Adam will eat. Before the fall: “freely.” After the Fall: “in toil.” It's not that there is not enough; it's that in order to get one thing (e.g. food), we will have to give up another thing (e.g. time and effort). God's gift of physical resources is abundant in absolute terms, but it is scarce in relative terms. This relative scarcity is the central tenet of all economic theory and from it flows the fundamental concept of opportunity cost. Every time we make a choice on earth, it comes at the expense of something else we could have chosen instead.

The relative scarcity of God's gifts is not incidental, nor is it relegated to only physical gifts. Consider the Lord's plan for the dispensation of spiritual gifts:

For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God. To some is given one, and to some is given another, that all may be profited thereby. (D&C 46:11–12, emphasis added)

In absolute terms, the spiritual gifts of God are abundant: he gives all of them to his children. But in relative terms, they are scarce: he only gives one gift (or, a limited number of gifts) to each person. God could give all of his gifts to each one of us, but he chooses not to. Why? As the verse we've just read says: “that all may be profited thereby.” 

The relative scarcity of God's gifts forces his children to depend on and work with each other to access his gifts. Consider those gifts which come in pairs like “faith to be healed” and “faith to heal,” “to speak with tongues” and “the interpretation of tongues,” and especially the gift “to know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God” and the gift “to believe on their words” (D&C 46:13–14). These pairings exemplify God's purpose in imposing scarcity: to create relationships of giver and receiver. 

God does not differentiate between the spiritual and the temporal (D&C 29:34). Physical scarcity is an ingredient of this mortal probation for the same reason as spiritual scarcity, and we are called to respond to it in the same way: through cooperative labor as well as freely giving and receiving. Elder Marion G. Romney taught this in his 1982 General Conference talk “The Celestial Nature of Self-reliance.” 

Can we see how critical self-reliance becomes when looked upon as the prerequisite to service, when we also know service is what Godhood is all about? Without self-reliance one cannot exercise these innate desires to serve. How can we give if there is nothing there? Food for the hungry cannot come from empty shelves. Money to assist the needy cannot come from an empty purse. Support and understanding cannot come from the emotionally starved. Teaching cannot come from the unlearned. And most important of all, spiritual guidance cannot come from the spiritually weak.

The Church urges self-reliance, then, because it wishes for us to “strive to help others in areas where we have strengths.” And when we are weak? In that case, “pride should not prevent us from graciously accepting the helping hand of another when we have a real need” because to do so “denies another person the opportunity to participate in a sanctifying experience.” In the Church's teachings, self-reliance is a blueprint to do interdependence well (to make it a “sanctifying experience”) rather than an attempt to escape or transcend it. As Elder Romney explained:

There is an interdependence between those who have and those who have not. The process of giving exalts the poor and humbles the rich. In the process, both are sanctified. The poor, released from the bondage and limitations of poverty, are enabled as free men to rise to their full potential, both temporally and spiritually. The rich, by imparting of their surplus, participate in the eternal principle of giving. Once a person has been made whole or self-reliant, he reaches out to aid others, and the cycle repeats itself.

God ordained relative scarcity to push us towards meaningful, cooperative labor through which we may learn to give and receive. Responding to scarcity brings us together and provides the opportunity to practice service as both givers and receivers. Scarcity does not guarantee that outcome, but it is a necessary prerequisite. 

A gift is not meaningful unless it addresses a want, and so scarcity is necessary to receive a meaningful gift. Similarly, a gift is not meaningful unless it imposes a cost (even just the expenditure of time and effort to pick something considerate), and so scarcity is necessary to give a meaningful gift. Relative scarcity creates the demand and relative scarcity gives meaning to the supply. God ordained relative scarcity so that, not having enough alone, we would seek each other out, and to give purpose and nobility to the acts of giving and receiving when we do.

God is both the ultimate giver, the one from whom all gifts flow, and the ultimate receiver, the one to whom all gifts flow. This follows from Jesus’ teaching that “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17). Every gift that we give ultimately comes from God. And every gift that we give ultimately goes to God. 

This emphasis on work does not undermine the central role of grace. Work does not earn us gifts. Rather, it prepares us to receive them. Furthermore, Jesus paid a tremendous personal price in order to be able to dispense grace freely. If we are to follow Jesus, then our task is to labor as he did so that, in lowly imitation, we can give as freely as he does. That takes work. We cannot give what we do not have. So rather than being in opposition, work is the other half of grace.

The Dangerous Blessing of Prosperity

One of the greatest promises in the Book of Mormon is the one the Lord made with Lehi regarding the fate of his descendants in their promised land, and how they would prosper if they were righteous. Lehi taught the promise to his children and grandchildren and the promise was subsequently referenced by Nephites time and time again to interpret their own history (2 Ne. 1:9). 

Jarom cited it to explain Nephite military successes in early wars against the Lamanites (Jarom 1:9). Amaron, the son of Omni, referenced it to make sense of a disaster that befell the Nephites before their flight to Zarahemla (Omni 1:6). King Benjamin cited it to his sons (Mosiah 1:7). The people of King Noah cited it to discount the warnings of Abinadi (Mosiah 12:15). His son, Limhi, subsequently cited it to explain why his people should have listened to Abinadi after all. Alma relied on it in his preaching to the people of Ammonihah (Mosiah 7:29) and again in his counsel to his sons (Alma 37:13, 38:1). Most of all, Mormon used the promise again and again as a primary lens to contextualize the highs and lows of Nephite history (Alma 50:17–20).

In all, the word “prosper” and related terms like “prosperous” and “prosperity” occur in 76 distinct verses in the Book of Mormon. There are three senses in which the word is used: 

• Growth in population and material wealth 

• Success in battle / safety from enemies

• Growth in membership of the church

Nephi provides an early and clear example of relating Lehi's promise to material wealth when he describes his people living “according to the law of Moses,” noting that “the Lord was with us, and we did prosper exceedingly” and then listing the growth of material possession like seed, flocks, and herds (2 Nephi 5:10–11). Mormon reiterates this connection when describing the people of Zarahemla under the leadership of Mosiah and Alma the Elder: “And the Lord did visit them and prosper them, and they became a large and wealthy people” (Mosiah 27:7). 

Does this mean that the Lord's promise to Lehi is a crude version of the prosperity gospel, the idea that good behavior leads directly to material wealth? Absolutely not. Mormon records how the righteous converts of Alma the Elder were brought into bondage and the Lord's response was to make their burdens bearable rather than immediately rescuing them (Mosiah 24:14). The apparent contradiction with Lehi's promise seems to have prompted Mormon commented on it directly, mentioning first that they “began to prosper exceedingly in the land” (before they were subjugated) and then adding: “Nevertheless the Lord seeth fit to chasten his people; yea, he trieth their patience and their faith” (Mosiah 23:19, 21).

The Book of Mormon also contains stark warnings of how Lehi's promise can be misused and abused. The people of King Noah rejected Abinadi's preaching in part by citing their prosperity, telling the king "thou hast prospered in the land, and thou shalt also prosper (Mosiah 12:15). Because they refused to heed Abinadi, they were conquered subjugated. This use of prosperity as an excuse for complacency is one of the devil's tools, as Nephi prophesied:

And others will he pacify, and lull them away into carnal security, that they will say: All is well in Zion; yea, Zion prospereth, all is well—and thus the devil cheateth their souls, and leadeth them away carefully down to hell (2 Ne. 28:21).

One of the Book of Mormon's anti-Christs, Korihor, also presented a perverted version of the Lord's promise to Lehi, stating that “every man prospered according to his genius” and using that logic—that prospering was a result of personal merit—to conclude that “whatsoever a man did was no crime” (Alma 30:17).

We can neither presume that righteousness will lead directly and inevitably to material prosperity, nor that material prosperity is proof of righteousness. So what are we to make of Lehi's promise, and of the consistent interpretation of that promise in material terms by prophets from Nephi to Mormon?

Elder Christofferson provided a potential explanation in his talk, “The Sealing Power,” during the October 2023 General Conference. Speaking of the wrath of God in the context of D&C 115:6, he said that “‘wrath’ in this context may be understood as the natural consequences of widespread disobedience to the laws and commandments of God.”

This interpretation of the wrath of god as “natural consequences” fits with the Book of Mormon’s teachings about God’s curses. When the Amlicites defected from the Nephites, they placed a “mark of red upon their foreheads” (Alma 3:13), which Mormon interpreted as fulfillment of the Lord’s promise that “I will set a mark upon him that fighteth against thee and thy seed” (Alma 3:16). Mormon pointed out that “they brought upon themselves the curse” and then generalized this, saying: “even so doth every man that is cursed bring upon himself his own condemnation” (Alma 3:19).

If we apply the same logic to God's favor and blessings, then we see that prosperity is a natural consequence of industriousness, honesty, and care for each other. In economic terms, prosperity is an endogenous variable (from within the system), not an exogenous one (coming from outside).

This fundamentally changes the nature of Lehi's promise. It's one thing to bribe a child to get the behavior that you want, like paying them to read a book. It's another thing to coax them into good behavior by assuring them of the good consequences that will naturally follow, like enjoying the story if they read it. Although, like any parent, God uses a variety of mechanisms to instruct and protect us, the underlying reality is that the blessings that come from obedience generally reflect the natural consequences of the commandments that we follow. The commandments we are asked to obey are based on underlying principles that are intrinsically good and naturally lead to beneficial results for those who follow them. Promised blessings are not payment for doing what God asks, but assurances that the things God asks of us are good. 

Of course, in this fallen world, it's not the case that every good action leads directly and inevitably to its natural good result (and vice versa). God “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous” (Matt. 5:45, NRSVue). In this life, there must be an unpredictable separation between good behavior and positive results in order to allow us the opportunity to choose virtue for its own sake.

In this case, Lehi's promise reflects the idea that in general righteousness leads towards peace and prosperity because that's the nature of righteousness. It does not, however, reflect a crass system of bribery, nor does it provide any kind of exemption from hardship, nor is it without exceptions.

Having addressed these dangerous corollaries of Lehi's promise, let us turn to the most dangerous aspect: prosperity itself. As the Book of Mormon shows, the almost inevitable consequence of the prosperity that follows righteousness is pride. 

As social animals, humans are hardwired to seek status. Because status relies on differentiation, it is a zero-sum game. The only way to gain status is at the expense of someone else. One common expression of status-seeking/differentiation is through acquiring and displaying luxury goods, which are valuable precisely because only some can afford them. We saw this with the downfall of the Nephite Zion. Another example was the Zoramites who cast “the poor class of people” out “because of the coarseness of their apparel” (Alma 32:2).

Another expression of status-seeking is political power. Thus the recurring insurrections the Nephites faced from monarchists and from Gadianton robbers stemmed from the common temptation to influence and political power. As Gadianton promised his followers that “if they would place him in the judgment-seat he would grant unto those who belonged to his band that they should be placed in power and authority among the people” (Hel. 2:5).

This does not mean that prosperity is intrinsically evil. It is possible—although exceedingly rare—for societies to be both prosperous and righteous. One such example occurred under the reign of Alma the Younger as the Nephites' first chief judge when the members of the church “began to be exceedingly rich” but nonetheless cared generously for the poor and “did not set their hearts upon riches” (Alma 1:28–29).

The message of the Book of Mormon is that prosperity—including material prosperity—is a blessing from God that naturally befalls righteous communities and that it is desirable insofar as it allows us to alleviate suffering and meet each other's wants and needs. Jacob taught to seek for the kingdom of God first and said “after ye have obtained a hope in Christ ye shall obtain riches if ye seek them; and ye will seek them for the intent to do good” (Jacob 2:18–19). But prosperity is a perilous blessing, for when we view wealth as an end in itself, or as a means to social status, we set our hearts upon riches and are doomed.

Doux Commerce and Zion

We are currently living through one of the greatest revolutions in human history, and chances are you've never heard of it. The revolution is a stunning, world-wide, permanent decrease in poverty. As Walker Wright and I noted over a decade ago:

As a recent issue of The Economist explained, one of the main targets of the Millennium Development Goals (MDG) was to halve global poverty (extreme poverty being defined as $1.25 a day in 2005 prices) between 1990 and 2015. That goal was achieved years early . . .

The World Bank reported that for the first time, all six developing regions—East Asia and Pacific, China, Eastern Europe and Central Asia, Latin America and the Caribbean, Middle East and North Africa, South Asia, Sub-Saharan Africa—have seen progress. In 2008, 22% of the developing world’s population lived on $1.25 a day or less compared to 43% in 1990 and 52% in 1981.

But the vast majority of Americans (as well as those in other countries) are unaware of this incredibly good news, and in fact most Americans think that poverty has increased during that time frame. So if this is news to you, fear not: you've got plenty of company.

The key to the decrease in global poverty is economic growth, and the incredible decreases in the past few decades are just the continuation of a much longer story. As this chart from Our World in Data shows, for most of human history there was essentially no economic growth, until a slight upward trajectory beginning around 1500 that grew much steeper around 1800.

This matters because a society that can only create $1,000 worth of goods and services per person cannot provide living standards comparable to those of modern, developed nations and it lacks the resources that modern societies can deploy for purposes like disaster relief and disease prevention. 

In addition, no-growth societies are a toxic environment where the only way to provide more for yourself or your family is by taking it from someone else. No-growth societies embed exploitation and extraction as fundamental operating principles. A tiny ruling elite consumes most of what their entire society produces by appropriating a large proportion of what the vast majority—who live at the subsistence level—produce.

This is why the New Testament is less nuanced in its treatment of wealth than the Book of Mormon. It records the response of Jesus to precisely such an oppressive, exploitative economy (i.e. the Roman Empire). As Walker Wright notes, “wealth was largely seen as inherently evil in New Testament times” because “wealth was seen as synonymous with extractive imperial practices.” In the context of zero growth, equating inequality with exploitation is reasonable.

Everything changes in the context of growth. Now there is the potential to accumulate wealth without depriving anyone else. This should not be abused as a rationalization for inequality because, as we've already seen, the Lord stipulates that inequality is intrinsically wrong, not just when it results from exploitation (D&C 49:20). But while inequality is intrinsically immoral, wealth—in a growth context—is not. In fact, as Jacob taught (Jacob 2:18–19), pursuing wealth can be good, and the reason is obvious: “prosperity relieves suffering,” as Nate Oman wrote. He further explained: “Health care requires material resources . . . The misery inflicted by AIDS and malaria simply cannot be mitigated without wealth . . . the same is true of other diseases.” On the other hand, “poverty makes everything worse.” 

It is a good thing that global poverty has been halved thanks to economic growth. It is a good thing that the world can now produce 17 times the goods and services as we could in ancient times. Remember that we are not talking about money, we're talking about the goods and services that a society can produce, i.e. creative capacity. Wright cites Steve Horowitz responding to a common critique of growth skeptics:

Critics of markets sometimes say ‘you can't eat GDP.’ What they miss is that you can't eat, or learn to read, or go to school, or leave a bad marriage, or do pretty much any of the basics that we might see as required for a flourishing life without the wealth and time created by the market.

Food and medicines are goods. Education and scientific research are services. Prosperity is not sufficient to such laudable aims as feeding the world and curing cancer, but it is absolutely necessary. That is why economic growth is important.

So where does economic growth come from? The answer, in a word, is markets. As Oman writes, “well-functioning markets are a necessary condition for the creation of sustained economic growth.” 

Oman's definition of “well-functioning markets” is pragmatic rather than ideological, focusing on core concepts such as private property and (since the focus of his book is contract law) basic legal components such as “security of exchange, freedom of contract, and sanctity of contract.” The idea is not to enshrine a particular, philosophically-pure ideal of markets, but simply to defend the sorts of markets that have developed in modern, liberal democracies throughout the world.

But isn't it the case that markets are, at best, amoral institutions that celebrate greed, competition, and acquisitiveness? As it turns out, quite the opposite. Oman again:

Well-functioning markets deliver three morally desirable outcomes. First, they generate a set of moral habits—virtues—that support a liberal political order. Second, they respond to the pervasive problem of moral pluralism in modern life, providing a mechanism by which those with sharply differing religious, moral, and political beliefs can peacefully cooperate. Finally, they generate wealth, which has an ameliorative effect on a host of moral evils.

Oman's position is supported both by doux commerce, an Age of Enlightenment–era theory that holds that commerce—trade in markets—tends to make people more humane: cooperative, empathic, peaceful, and rational, as well as by a wealth of experimental and observational data from the 21st century that affirms doux commerce with rigorous social science research.

Wright summarizes much of this research in his paper “Is Commerce Good for the Soul? An Empirical Assessment,” finding that “all in all . . . there is good evidence for the claim that markets make us better people, morally speaking.”

In reviewing almost 100 articles and books, Wright finds that markets foster:

• Greater fairness in interactions with strangers

• Greater trust between strangers

• Reduced prejudice towards, greater tolerance of, and better outcomes for minorities

• Reduced public corruption

• Greater charitable giving of both time and money

• Reduced violence within and between nations

“It seems that the mentality of the market is one of tolerance, universalism, and generosity,” he concludes. In his work, Oman notes that the “doux commerce tradition was correct that markets breed virtues that support a liberal polity,” explaining:

Markets require one to consider the point of view of others and alter one's behavior to satisfy their desires. This disposition supports three important liberal values. The first is deliberation, the ability to consider an opposing viewpoint. The other two virtues are negative. Markets weaken loyalty to tribe and family, cultivating the ability to relate to strangers according to impersonal criteria. Finally, markets break down aristocratic habits, encouraging people to relate peaceably as equals.

The idea of relating to anyone according to “impersonal criteria” might not sound wonderful until one considers that the alternatives which markets displace are favoritism towards kin and bigotry against outsiders. The impersonality of market transactions paves the way for peace between strangers and, combined with the necessity of considering the wants and needs of others, draws us away from adversarial relationships and paves the way for–though does not alone guarantee–unity. 

Markets are the only institution in human history that have led to the kind of sustained economic growth necessary to establish the creative capacity that underpins every material thing we value in modern life—from electricity to medicine. They do this not at the cost of immorality or amorality, but in part because they cultivate particular moral values, among which are unity and equality, or at least anti-aristocratic egalitarianism, which is a good start.

Conclusion

This article has been predominantly about markets as a beneficial response to divinely-ordained relative scarcity. Markets–especially the kinds of generally free but regulated markets common to well-functioning liberal societies–enable cooperation and coordination between strangers. They enable vast material prosperity and, even more importantly, inculcate values of trust, tolerance, and empathy. In other words, markets are one example of precisely the kinds of social institutions that exhibit robust social formation in the direction of equality and unity. They are an obvious candidate for the kind of social institution that could be a part of creating Zion.

But modern markets did not arise in isolation. They are, according to Jonathan Rauch, one of “the Big Three liberal institutions” alongside democracy and science. Liberalism can mean different things to different people, but Rauch uses it to “mean the modern tradition of freedom, toleration, minority rights, and the rule of law on which the American republic was founded.”

In his recent book, Cross Purposes: Christianity's Broken Bargain with Democracy, Ruach describes how he has come to see Christianity as “a load-bearing wall” in American liberalism, and how prominent strains of Christianity have become unable or unwilling to do their part.

But Rauch also sees a shining exception: the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He takes as his primary source President Oaks, beginning with his 2021 Joseph Smith Lecture at the University of Virginia. According to Rauch, Oaks argued in that address that “that seeking unity through patience, negotiation, and mutual accommodation is not merely a stratagem for getting along with others; it is a charge from God.” Thus, according again to Rauch, Oaks argued “for an alignment between God's moral constitution and Madison's political one.”

Oaks explained his vision for this “mutual accommodation” in an interview with David F. Levi for Judicature:

How do we live through this time of toxic political partisanship? Compromise must obviously be sought, but that is not a good label for our goal, because it seems to focus on what is given up, not what is gained. “Principled accommodation” is a better label. We approach this by seeking an accommodation under which contending parties identify and preserve the deepest interests of the greatest number of parties through mutual respect, principled toleration of differences, and shared commitment to the common good.

It is no coincidence that terms like “negotiation” and “accommodation” have both political and economic connotations. Listen to Rauch's description of compromise in a legislative context: “Simply by having to interact and do business, the parties to a negotiation develop the civic habits of peaceful coexistence and unlearn the habits of domination and distrust.” This is basically identical to the doux commerce theory discussed earlier in this paper, but applied to liberal democracy instead of markets. 

The same pattern of compromise can even be extended to the third of Rauch's Big Three: science. Science is not amenable to the same kinds of compromise as market or political negotiations, but “deference to empirical evidence [which] gives science its special explanatory power” plays a similar role. Rather than seeking accommodation with each other (as in markets and democracy), scientists seek accommodation with the facts while employing similar mechanisms of mutual respect, toleration of differences, and shared commitment to objective data. It is the cooperative (if, at times, also adversarial) nature of modern science that separates it from its precursor, alchemy. Alchemists hid their methods and experimental results. Scientists, at least in principle, publish theirs. 

So in every domain of liberalism—markets, democracy, and science—we find similar patterns of humans being driven together by a need and, in the best-case scenario, learning to cooperate while retaining their differences through a process of “principled accommodation” that leads to peace and prosperity. The key feature for our purposes is that cooperation precedes unity. These are social institutions with a proven track record of pro-unity social formation. 

Rauch, an openly gay, Jewish atheist who says “I treasure feeling like an outsider,” sees something in our tradition that not enough of us have seen, or at least not seen plainly enough. The kinds of institutions that provide strong social formation towards equality and unity might have been right in front of us the whole time.

That's not to say that we stand on the doorstep of Zion. As American history shows, there has been a wide and terrible gap between the liberal ideals of our Founding and reality. Social formation does not happen overnight. It is, rather, to suggest that as we ponder the best way to move from where we are towards Zion, we should keep in mind the institutions and ideals that have gotten us this far. Perhaps the tools to build Zion are closer to hand than we realize.

Nathaniel has written for Deseret News, Deseret Magazine, First Things, Real Clear Religion, Public Square Magazine, and others. He is the coauthor of Into the Headwinds. He lives in Ashland, VA with his wife, children, cats, dog, and chickens.

Art by J. Kirk Richards, @jkirkrichards