Utah’s world-famous reputation for its family-friendly values often obscures a more complex reality—one where religion and political extremism have been deeply intertwined for decades, creating a battleground for cultural conflict, with "family" at the center of the crosshairs.
A key instigator in this long-standing war on LGBTQ+ rights in the state is the leadership of the LDS Church. Their influence has shaped both Utah's political landscape and its broader role in national culture wars. This battle is not new, nor is it confined to Utah; it is part of a larger legacy that we must confront if we are to move forward as a state.
One of the most prominent leaders in these culture wars is Dallin H. Oaks, the second in command of the church and next in line to be the prophet. Oaks has played a pivotal role in shaping the church’s legal strategy against LGBTQ+ rights for over 40 years. As president of BYU, Oaks oversaw practices that subjected LGBTQ+ students to conversion therapy—a barbaric treatment that sought to “cure” their sexual orientation through psychological torture. Oaks also crafted a broader legal and ideological framework designed to keep LGBTQ+ individuals out of positions of influence, particularly in education. His message was clear: gay people should not be allowed to teach, lead, or hold any position where they could influence young minds.
Oaks wasn’t the only church leader contributing to this fight. Boyd K. Packer and Spencer W. Kimball reinforced the church’s hardline stance against LGBTQ+ individuals, with Kimball’s infamous book The Miracle of Forgiveness casting homosexuality as a sin that could be overcome through suffering and repentance. This ideology took root in LDS doctrine and has permeated Utah’s political and social landscape for decades. Ernest Wilkinson, another former president of BYU, took it upon himself to rid the campus of LGBTQ+ students entirely, expelling them and subjecting them to public shame. This combination of religious doctrine and institutionalized discrimination created a hostile environment that continues to impact Utah’s culture today.
The LDS Church’s influence didn’t stop at the state border. In the 1990s, the church led efforts in Hawaii to block same-sex marriage, marking its first foray into national politics on this issue. The strategy in Hawaii became the blueprint for what would later unfold in California with Proposition 8. In 2008, the LDS Church bankrolled and organized support for Prop 8, a ballot initiative that sought to ban same-sex marriage in California. Ironically, while Utah’s far-right is often afraid of “California-ing their Utah,” they had no problem exporting their influence to “Utah California.” The Prop 8 campaign became a national symbol of the church’s influence in the culture wars, with disastrous consequences for LGBTQ+ individuals.
Today, Utah remains a central battleground in these culture wars, though the fight has shifted to anti-trans legislation, book bans targeting LGBTQ+ literature, and efforts to restrict healthcare access for transgender individuals. Extremist groups like Moms for Liberty, Eagle Forum, and DezNat have taken up the mantle, pushing for more aggressive legislation designed to marginalize LGBTQ+ people and reinforce rigid moral standards. Some of these groups have engaged in stochastic terrorism—spurring bomb threats and violence against the LGBTQ+ community. Their rhetoric fosters real-world harm against marginalized groups.
Religious leaders like Jeffrey R. Holland have further inflamed this dangerous environment. In a 2021 speech at BYU, Holland urged faculty and students to metaphorically “use musket fire” to defend the church’s position on LGBTQ+ issues, calling for less “affirmation” and more aggressive opposition. Such rhetoric has emboldened extremist groups and individuals who feel justified in using violence to defend their beliefs.
Meanwhile, political extremists like Ammon Bundy, Eric Moutsos, Tim Ballard, Phil Lyman, and even Senator Mike Lee have capitalized on this climate of fear and division. These figures, fueled by a mix of religious conservatism and far-right politics, have made Utah a stronghold for extremist views. “Don’t California my Utah” has become a rallying cry for those who fear progressive change and use it to dismiss any attempt to bring balance or moderation to the state. It’s the same reactionary attitude that has left Utah stuck in battles that other states have long since moved on from.
But this isn't just about LGBTQ+ rights or progressive policies. It’s about what kind of state Utah wants to be. Does Utah want to remain entrenched in a legacy of fear and exclusion, or does it want to embrace the diversity that is already here and growing? The upcoming 2034 Winter Olympics will bring the world to Utah again, offering the perfect opportunity to showcase the state’s strengths: its natural beauty, welcoming spirit, and diverse community. To put our best foot forward, we must first confront the extremism that has dominated our politics and build a more inclusive future.
Utah’s strength has always been in its diversity. Even as the early saints gathered from across the U.S. and Europe, the cultural diversity of those pioneers became Utah’s strength. The phrase E Pluribus Unum—out of many, one—speaks to the promise of unity through diversity. As we prepare to welcome the world in 2034, we must remember that a prosperous Utah is one where differences are celebrated, not condemned. The future depends not on forcing conformity through laws or fear but on building a community where everyone has a seat at the table.
Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations—a phrase that speaks to the beauty of difference—reminds us that Utah’s true prosperity comes from acknowledging that diversity is our greatest strength. We cannot thrive as a state by legislating exclusion or promoting intolerance. Instead, we must reject the culture of fear that has gripped this state for too long. The LDS Church, as a powerful force in this community, has the opportunity—and responsibility—to lead by example. Rather than continuing to sow division, the church can focus on Christ’s teachings in Matthew 25, emphasizing compassion, service, and love for those on the margins.
The path forward requires us to abandon the extremism that has defined so much of Utah’s political and social history. If we want to thrive, we must build a Utah where E Pluribus Unum and Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations are not just slogans but lived realities. That means creating a space where dialogue replaces division, and community is built on shared values, not rigid conformity. A Utah that rejects fear and celebrates its diversity can lead, not just in this country, but on the world stage.
As the Governor says, “We need to disagree better.” The first step is recognizing that the other side isn’t the enemy—they are part of our community. A future where all voices are heard and all identities respected is not just desirable—it’s essential. Utah can lead the way, but only if it chooses a path of unity over division.
Drew Reese is an emeritus chairman of the Utah Veterans Caucus, a retired Air Force and Army National Guard veteran with a background in communications and strategic messaging. He is an advocate for Veterans issues, social justice, political accountability, and a hopeful, inclusive future for Utah.