The Book of Mormon musical & why we need free speech more than ever
The musical, written by South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone, is irreverent, vulgar, funny and, most of all, fearless. This week alone, their TV show came under fire from Tr*mp supporters after an episode mocking Tr*mp aired. Online, his supporters called for it to be canceled.
As people of conscience all over the world raise their voices for Gaza, for justice, for basic human dignity, authoritarian governments are clamping down on the words that challenge the global trend of hegemony. In the midst of this chaos, destruction and ideological warfare that lays waste to the world around us… I went to see The Book of Mormon.
The musical wastes no time diving into its main storyline: two 19-year-old Mormon missionaries, Elder Price and his bumbling, overeager sidekick, Elder Cunningham, are surprised to learn of their assignment to a village in rural Uganda, and not the glamorous, kitchy Floridian mission Elder Price had been praying so fervently for. The villagers they’re sent to convert are grappling with real, harrowing issues: rampant disease, the constant threat of violence from a local warlord and the threats and trauma of female genital mutilation. The absurdity of their American optimism delivered in pristine clothing and childish naïveté collides with a brutal reality they’re unequipped to face.
As the crowd erupted in laughter, I sat there slack jawed, in a mix of awe and aghast. I was watching a company of Black and White Americans mock something more American than McDonald’s: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. The show opens innocently enough with the upbeat number “Hello,” but quickly plunges into absurdity with songs like “Hasa Diga Eebowai” (F*** you, god) and “All-American Prophet.” They tear through the flimsy mythology of Mormonism with ruthless precision. “We Are Africa” takes it further, skewering white saviourism with a ridiculous, self-congratulatory anthem that’s all ego and no awareness. I laughed hard. So hard, it was easy to forget that the belief system I was raised in was all too similar - missions trips, selling God to people who have earthly problems they are in far greater need of a cure for and the kind of wide-eyed optimism of thinking my faith was the “right” one.
My slacked jawed gaze in a theatre uproarious with laughter perfectly captured the duality that existed within me. I had wanted to see this musical for more than a decade, I remember being anxious to catch it when it first toured in Canada, but I couldn’t afford the ticket. In hindsight, that might have been for the best. Back then, still performing the rituals of my upbringing, going to church on Sundays, would hardly have allowed me to take in, and appreciate the through-line of the show: freedom of speech is what keeps belief, be it political or spiritual, honest.
Freedom of speech isn’t just a snappy slogan western countries like to throw around. It’s cultural oxygen. It keeps us free. Free from groupthink, from blind obedience, from the creeping normalization of thoughtcrimes. The moment certain belief systems become too sacred to question, parody, or laugh at, they become something else entirely: untouchable dogma. And that’s when freedom begins to rot. Satire is a safeguard, not just against religion, but against the authoritarian instincts that can hide behind it. When we joke, when we mock, when we ask “Wait, does that actually make sense?”We fight to keep our societies honest. We remember that no one, no institution, no belief, is above scrutiny.
Authoritarian governments and control structures like church boards, oversight committees, and elders groups thrive on no one asking the question “Why?”
In the show, the song “Turn It Off” captures this perfectly. It’s a cheerful, toe-tapping number about suppressing anything inconvenient: feelings, doubts, trauma, even identity. Just smile, sing louder and shut it down. Beneath the humor is something disturbingly real, the idea that questioning is dangerous, that obedience is safety. And that message doesn’t just belong to religion; it’s the anthem of authoritarianism everywhere. When you're taught to turn off the part of your brain that asks “why,” you become governable.
There is no doubt that we’re living in strange times, and there was something surreal about sitting in a theatre, watching free speech in action at the very moment when, elsewhere in the world, Christian nationalism is gaining ground at a chilling pace. The Book of Mormon felt like both a time capsule and a provocation. On stage, the musical gleefully tears into the absurdities of faith, while offstage, religion is being elevated as untouchable.
This isn’t just about religion. It’s about who gets to speak, what gets to be questioned, and what institutions are considered off-limits. Free speech isn’t just a right, it’s a cultural lifeline. And satire, mockery, and discomfort are part of that lifeline.
As a child of the Gulf, free speech was a distant idea, disconnected from daily realities of life. It was only when I came to Canada that I truly understood its value. Now, more than ever, as governments at home and abroad silence dissent amid the starvation and brutalization of Palestinians, free speech is essential. It lets us question power and expose contradictions. Instead of being offended when our religious or political beliefs are challenged, we should see it as an opportunity to examine those convictions and confront them if necessary. Free speech isn’t an incendiary device; it’s an invitation to better understand the beliefs that define us.
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