PAUL SNOW is 40 and happily married, but he’s still scared to touch himself.

Snow (not his real name), a lifelong member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, has battled his urge to masturbate to porn since he hit puberty. In households outside of the Mormon Belt, young Snow might have been allowed to succumb to his body’s need for sweet release.

But this is the Mormon Church. It’s a religion that condemns masturbation as unchaste. It’s a religion whose clergy view pornography as evil, and as addictive as heroin. It’s a religion whose 13th president, Ezra Taft Benson, famously said, “The Book of Mormon places unchastity next to murder.”

It’s a religion that could care less about the separation of church and state. Its ultra-faithful lawmakers just brought Mormon ideology into national politics by passing a resolution declaring pornography a “public health crisis” and an “epidemic.”

To the Mormon Church, Snow was a sex fiend and a sinner in dire need of God’s internal addiction program.

“I was led to the sexual addiction program by my bishop — I had been struggling with a pornography addiction since the first year of my marriage, and a masturbating addiction since I was 12,” Snow says. “I was not able to stop on my own, and stopping was necessary as the church looks at porn and masturbating as a very grievous sin. … I felt tremendous guilt for sinning all the time, with no ability to stop.”

For two years, Snow sat in a circle with other Mormons suffering from the same affliction, in church-led therapy sessions modeled after Alcoholics Anonymous’ 12-step program. He learned that he was trapped; that he’d have to forget about his right hand and repent if he had any chance of getting back his family’s trust.

He says his dark desires ebbed after graduation. In secret, though, he still watches porn — only one time in the past six months, he says — and his wife still holds his previous addiction against him. An addiction, mind you, that was church-diagnosed.

That’s what leaves him conflicted. He acknowledges that he was born into a social construct that made him feel guilty in the first place, but that same social construct was there to take the mess off his hands, too.

“I think [sex addiction therapy] really can help people. I think it did have a positive effect on my life. I was happier afterward, after being able to safely open up to some random people about my struggles, with nobody judging me. I couldn’t do that with my wife, so this was a helpful way to cope.”

Today, Snow says he’s a relatively happy guy, and he’ll stay involved in the church because leaving would mean abandoning his family. But so many others have had their faith rocked by a church that can’t stand sexuality. We spoke with rape survivors who were investigated for sexual misconduct, teens whose lightweight porn habits cost them their families, and members of the LGBT community who were shunned by their church.

”HE STILL WATCHES PORN, AND HIS WIFE HOLDS HIS ADDICTION AGAINST HIM.”

To understand their stories is to understand a religion that is at war with what you watch. Previously, that war was wholly internal, fought solely on the battleground of Utah, a state whose Mormons make up 59 percent of its 3 million citizens. That war went public in April, when Utah’s anti-porn resolution placed Snow’s so-called addiction among the worst afflictions that have ever plagued the state.

To be clear: A state comprised of many people who are nervous — and, we found, super curious — about sex just passed unprecedented and flat-out misleading legislation about sexuality. Meanwhile, its lawmakers appear to be ignoring bona fide matters of public health.

***

On March 29, Mormon Gov. Herbert signed a resolution slamming porn as a “public health hazard leading to a broad spectrum of individual and public health impacts and societal harms.”

Senate Concurrent Resolution 9, penned by Mormon Sen. Todd Weiler, doesn’t ban porn or carry any legal implications, but Weiler hopes the federal government will eventually adopt similar legislation and label porn an epidemic, as addictive to our children as tobacco, cocaine, or methamphetamine.

The baffling measure is the first of its kind, probably because it doesn’t make any sense. It ignores federal procedures for declaring an epidemic, and worse, lacks scientific evidence to back up its claims. Weiler’s resolution relies heavily on a misleading report, filed by a known anti-porn group, to proclaim:

WHEREAS, exposure to pornography often serves as childrens’ and youths’ sex education and shapes their sexual templates

WHEREAS, because pornography treats women as objects and commodities for the viewer’s use, it teaches girls they are to be used and teaches boys to be users

WHEREAS, pornography normalizes violence and abuse of women and children

WHEREAS, pornography equates violence towards women and children with sex and pain with pleasure, which increases the demand for sex trafficking, prostitution, child sexual abuse images, and child pornography

WHEREAS, potential detrimental effects on pornography’s users can impact brain development and functioning, contribute to emotional and medical illnesses, shape deviant sexual arousal, and lead to difficulty in forming or maintaining intimate relationships, as well as problematic or harmful sexual behaviors and addiction

WHEREAS, pornography use is linked to lessening desire in young men to marry, dissatisfaction in marriage, and infidelity

Those are some bold allegations.

Under questioning, Weiler admits he’s no scientist, and avoids giving his definition of pornography. He’ll point out that his facts came from a report by the National Center on Sexual Exploitation (NCSE), which is a not-so-objective group dedicated to ending the scourge of pornography. Too bad the NCSE, like Weiler, lacks scientific evidence. A recent report in The Huffington Post found that many of the NCSE’s more brazen claims — including that porn is a direct cause of violence against women and risky sex behavior — are based on a 2012 review of research that in no way confirms causality.

In fact, that original paper states: “Researchers have had difficulty replicating these results, however, and as a result the aggregate literature has failed to indicate conclusive results.” When there’s no science, the NCSE uses anecdotes to give the feeling of a problem when there may not be one at all. There’s no concrete evidence that sexual addiction even exists, or that there’s a causal relationship between pornography and violence.

But hey, we get it! Facts are boring, and anecdotes are powerful. We tell several gut-wrenching human-interest stories in this very article. But unlike the LDS Church and Utah legislature, we also have to throw a little expert analysis and statistics your way to prove our argument, rather than just stroke your imagination and scare you. We do apologize, but you know…science.

Dr. Nicole Prause, a sexual psychophysiologist who has more than a decade of research in addiction, sexual desire, erectile dysfunction, and sexual problems, thinks Weiler’s bill is as naughty as a Mormon spanking video.

“The resolution is completely ridiculous and without scientific merit,” she says.

Anti-porn groups like the NCSE often point to legitimate, yet unrelated studies to draw outlandish conclusions. For example, Prause says, there are peer-reviewed studies proving that pornography stimulates the reward centers of the brain, sending dopamine flooding into your head the same way methamphetamine does.

“It’s true — pornography does that,” she says. “It’s also true with images of chocolate and images of puppies. You don’t see puppies being declared a public health hazard. These sex addiction studies are relying on ignorance, claiming that pornography is the same thing as cocaine and hoping you don’t know any different.”

There’s also evidence of porn users mimicking the stuff they watch. A woman who watches porn that features clitoral stimulation could be more likely to explore the clit in the bedroom, Prause says. That logic could, in theory, be used to argue that men who watch violent porn are more likely to assault women. But that’s only for men who are more inclined to do so in the first place, and there’s still no causality linking the problem back to porn.

“If I tie the Pope to a chair and show him violent porn for five days straight, he’s not gonna be a rapist,” she says. “There’s no evidence of that. There is an argument to be made for sexual assault and violence among people who already inclined to do so. But we’re not sure what that mechanism is, and there’s no scientific evidence that pornography is the cause of that shift.”

Tennessee and as many as 10 other states are reportedly looking to draft their own versions of Weiler’s misguided measure, which means the war on porn may soon come to your doorstep. In the meantime, Utah legislators are turning a blind eye to the real public health crises staring them right in the face.

***

The Beehive State is a quirky place with an identity problem. On one hand, Utah boasts nationwide political influence, one of the country’s happiest populations, and a focus on family values that would’ve made Mary reroute her flight to Galilee. And yet each glance under Utah’s hood reveals sweeping dilemmas: Sexual assault, child abuse, and suicide rates among them.

It’s the nation’s most church-going state, with 51 percent of its citizens attending services on a weekly basis, according to recent Gallup polls. Utah skews low in teen pregnancy rates, and its abstinence-based sex education could be the reason why young Utahns have sex about a year later than their peers in other states, according to Dr. Prause.

Local practicing Mormons will tell you that they have an unmatched sense of family and community. That has a lot of truth to it — Gallup polls consistently rank Utah among the top 10 states with the highest “well-being index,” and its people overall feel secure financially, take pride in their communities and have support networks to lean on.

Many ex-Mormons, however, say that sense of family is mandatory. The family unit — which, by the way, is strictly between one man and one woman, and hasn’t officially included polygamy since the church disavowed the practice in 1890 — is unwavering and unquestionable. Stories of abandonment and ex-communication abound, especially when kids seek answers from other faiths or come out as gay, or when adults turn to vices like booze or ejaculating into a sock.

In any case, drunk homosexuals masturbating to porn should be the least of Utah’s worries.

Utah had the fourth highest suicide rate in 2015, and the state Department of Health claims that suicide is the leading cause of death among young people.

Religious LGBT youth, especially: Between November of 2015 and January, 26 Mormons between the ages of 14 and 20 took their own lives, according to Mama Dragons, a support group for gay Mormons and their families. Their deaths came in the wake of an LDS Church decree in November that children of parents in same-sex marriages can’t be blessed or baptized, unless they disavow their parents when they reach 18.

”I AM NOT SOME KOOKY MORMON TRYING TO IMPOSE HIS RELIGION ON THE NATION.”

Utah also ranks first in the nation in reports of child sex abuse and eighth in child abuse overall, according to state records. It skews high in sexual assault, rape, and domestic violence in comparison to the rest of the nation. Infection rates for common STDs have skyrocketed over the past five years, and gonorrhea rates have quadrupled.

Plus, the state still struggles with rising homelessness, suffers from some of the worst air quality in the country, and has a proven track record of punishing rape victims.

Why, then, are Utah’s lawmakers focusing on pornography?

“I personally do not care for pornography, but that’s a choice for individuals to make. There are way more urgent matters for our legislature to focus on,” says Rachel Nelson, a Democratic candidate for District 59 in the Utah House of Representatives and a practicing Mormon herself.

“Even though a great majority of the population and legislature are involved in the LDS Church, our legislature isn’t actually serving that group. Sexual assault is high, as is child abuse. We’re not creating legislation that helps people breathe clean air. We have a huge teacher shortage and we’re leaving children behind in our education system. That’s not very family friendly.”

Mormons hold all of the power and take none of the responsibility. They make up about 80 percent of the state legislature, which serves as a kind of worry-free pipeline between conservative legislation and Gov. Herbert’s signature. Not that the governor needs his House or Senate to make decisions that don’t help anyone — in September, he ordered state agencies to stop funneling federal money into Planned Parenthood.

And it was Herbert whose signature put porn on par with Flint, Michigan’s contaminated water crisis.

***

Herbert had a truckload of other problems to focus on, but instead he signed the resolution filed by Weiler, a politician who’s known to mix his ideology with his policy.

He’s a senator who proudly admits that he would overturn Roe v. Wade — the U.S. Supreme Court decision making abortion a protected and fundamental right nationwide — if he could. He made the remark during a recent debate over Utah’s bizarre, one-of-a-kind bill requiring that doctors administer pain relief to fetuses at 20 weeks of gestation or later:

“I don’t believe that Roe v. Wade is an accurate representation of the U.S. Constitution, but I do believe in the rule of law. We have to follow that,” he said. “Nobody’s looking out for the baby. You’re trying to kill the baby. An abortion ends the life of anunborn human being.”

Yet the senator has regurgitated, in several interviews about his resolution, some variation of the same quote: “I am not some kooky Mormon trying to impose his religion on the nation.”

Depending on who you talk to, the LDS Church has either “about the right influence” on state lawmakers’ decisions, or way, way too much. Polls by UtahPolicy.com found that state Republicans and “very active” Mormons think the church’s influence is just right, while Democrats, political independents, and non-Mormons overwhelmingly believe the church has too much influence on Salt Lake City’s Capitol Hill.

“Saying that Mormonism affects Utah politics is the understatement of the century,” says Kate Kelly, a lawyer and ex-Mormon who left the church during her fight to get women ordained (so far, it hasn’t worked). “Utah’s statehood was propagated by the Mormon settlers here, and to this day, attending a legislative session is like attending Sunday school, with prayers and all.

“Meanwhile, sexual repression in the church extends to school children, many of whom are not Mormon. Families are often damaged by it, and kids are left without accurate information to turn to,” she adds. “And because of the patriarchal nature of the church, women have little authority in the state’s leadership structure, which really negatively impacts women at every level.”

The LDS Church demands an unwavering moral compass and strict chastity, in Utah especially. But it’s not as if Utahns aren’t curious. On the contrary, they’re horny as hell — which is probably fine, because there’s no hell in the Book of Mormon.

Utah ranks 34th in the nation in traffic going to Pornhub.com, and each Utahn spends an average of 9 minutes, 15 seconds on the site before the shame kicks in. When compared to other states, Utah disproportionately searches for terms like “cosplay,” “creampie,” “first time anal,” and yes, “Mormons.”

They’re sinners, the lot of them. Sinners like 28-year-old Devin McLeod, who says he was drawn to porn specifically because he wasn’t allowed access to it. Growing up a homeschooled Mormon, McLeod says his parents would shut off the WiFi when they left the house because the boy couldn’t stop exploring himself.

“My only parent-approved sex education came in the form of a book titled ‘The Miracle of Forgiveness,’ which assured me that I was to never masturbate, ever. That was the beginning and end of my authorized sexual education,” he says.

His parents were keen on search history, too, so he found a workaround: Spanish.

“I quickly became engrossed in las chicas Latinas,” he says. “That worked out pretty well, and I’d only get caught maybe one time in 10.”

McLeod’s sexual repression was a factor in his resignation from the church at a young age, and in turn, he was forced to leave his family. By the age of 18, he was cut off and living on his own. He says his parents only recently started talking to him again, likely because he’s now married, which could be an opportunity for conversion down the road.

Whether you’re talking about politics or sexuality, Utah’s values are overwhelmingly Mormon values. And the church’s war against sexuality goes beyond pornography, often with serious consequences.

***

Madeline MacDonald was an 18-year-old freshman at Brigham Young University when she was sexually assaulted. It was December of 2014, and she remembers clearly that was a Monday night. That’s “family night” at the Mormon university, when you’re supposed to be paired with a handful of other students to play “house” — complete with a mommy, a daddy and children who play board games together.

“I was like, no way, I’m not gonna go and bake cookies with some random girl who’s supposed to be my mom,” MacDonald recalls.

She chose an activity that’s a little more normal for adults her age: Swiping left and right on Tinder. She matched with a boy from another school who claimed to be Mormon and agreed to slink off for 20 minutes to meet.

That meet-up turned into a long drive through the mountains alongside BYU’s campus in Provo. Her date stopped in a desolate parking lot, and his small talk quickly turned into aggressive, sexual advances. There he assaulted MacDonald, and then drove her home, telling her that she was lucky to have such a good guy, “because other guys would have raped me,” she says.

She was frozen from fear after the incident, but it wasn’t until hours later, after conversations with her friends, that she knew she’d become a victim. Luckily, the campus had a women’s resources center, whose counselor was kind and empathetic.

What MacDonald didn’t know was that BYU would spend the coming days investigating whether she, a sexual assault victim, had violated the university’s storied “Honor Code” by engaging in sexual activity. She says her case was forwarded to BYU’s Title IX office, which handles student sexual harassment and violence investigations, and then handed over to the Honor Code office.

“I hadn’t realized that when I was reporting my sexual assault, I was actually reporting myself to BYU,” she says.

Still, she had hope that her case would be resolved; that her abuser would meet justice and that her church would rally around her. Instead, she says, her bishop asked her what she did wrong that led to the assault. Local police essentially ignored her, she says, even after she provided the clothing she wore during the attack as evidence. BYU, meanwhile, was taking a highlighter to her witness statement, deciding whether she had broken school policy. Nobody was looking for a suspect.

Her case wrapped up in Feb. 2015, and she wasn’t reprimanded by the school. Other victims haven’t been so “lucky.” BYU is under fire for several other recent incidents in which the Honor Code office issued violations against victims, or interrogated them over their purity.

BYU sophomore Madi Barney, who is fighting her own rape case in court, is also under investigation by the Honor Code office. She started an online petition on Care2’s website calling for an end to “punishing victims of sexual assault,” which by this writing is nearing its goal of 120,000 signatures.

She and other victims are leading the charge against the university, hosting protests on campus, offering counseling service to other survivors, and calling for sweeping policy changes that give immunity to victims from Honor Code investigations.

Kelsey Bourgeois, sexual assault survivor and a former BYU student, organizes those demonstrations. In April, dozens of protesters joined Bourgeois and candidate Nelson and delivered a petition with 60,000 names to the school administration office, again calling for an immunity clause.

Bourgeois says the school’s treatment of women isn’t out of the ordinary. Women of the LDS Church are regularly defined by their body’s “purity.” She and other Mormons we spoke to recalled a dated but oft-cited statement made by the church’s First Presidency in 1974, which implied, according to the Salt Lake Tribune that a woman would not be “guilty of unchastity” if she fought off her attacker “with all her strength and energy.”

In other words, you’re better off dying as a rape victim than living as a defiled Mormon.

“As a woman in particular your greatest asset is your virtue, meaning your virginity,” Bourgeois says. “If you lose it, you’re worthless trash. No man will ever want you, and that’s all that matters. It’s harmful messaging, and creates a culture of victim blaming.”

It also creates an atmosphere of shame, and leads to self-censorship. Bourgeois says she didn’t report an incident of date rape out of worry that she was a “Bad Mormon” whose school would reprimand her.

“There’s a ton of fear about retribution from your religion, your school, your family. You’re very much shunned if you’ve been used,” she says. “It’s well known that the Honor Code is not what you think — it’s not about a commitment to being a religious, family person. It’s more like, ‘You signed a contract, and if you violate it we’re going to hunt you down.’ Your peers and your administration are watching you at all times.”

BYU administrators released a statement in April promising to “study these issues, including potential structural changes within the university, the process for determining whether and how information is used, and the relationship between the Title IX Office and the Honor Code Office.”

Bourgeois, her fellow survivors on campus, and an undoubted list of silent victims are waiting for real change.

It’s these types of Mormon principles that are guiding public policy in Utah. That policy is beginning to leak across state borders, and signals a terrifying trend in which the fear of our children watching porn evolves into an all-out crusade against sexuality.

Nobody wants to show their young children pornography, much like nobody wants their toddler driving to preschool. By the same token, nobody wants their government — or that government’s preferred religion — to define their sexuality. Even the LDS Church touts free agency and “the privilege of choice which was introduced by God.”

Plus, we’ve got a hell of a lot more to worry about than what we masturbate to.

“I don’t know one woman who hasn’t had unwanted sexual advances or been the victim of sexual assault,” Nelson says. “It’s extreme. It’s too much. And it’s bred into our culture. We’re faced with problems that are more urgent than pornography, and we’re not dealing with them.”

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