Nibley has commented on Korihor’s approach:
That reminds us of another thing—it is all miraculous, totally beyond our power of comprehension. Before the loaves and fishes there was the manna. The manna was a gift from heaven, yet some shrewd and far-sighted Israelites tried to show their appreciation by going into business. And the manna rotted before the day was over (Ex. 16:15–21). They were not allowed to hoard it. It was not negotiable. It was a gift of God. The miracle of the loaves and fishes was also the miracle of our daily bread, for which the Lord has told us to pray to him. It was just as miraculous, following King Benjamin, as the loaves and fishes. In it we acknowledge the hand of the giver whenever we give thanks; whenever we give the blessing, we acknowledge the hand of the giver. But we still have the attitude of the old Danish man in Sanpete, whom Brother Jensen used to tell about: “That’s a fine carrot patch you and the Lord have there, Brother Peterson.” “Yes, and you should have seen what it looked like when the Lord was doing it alone.”
As long as we turn our minds to the things of this world, which means just that, and think that we can manage things pretty well for ourselves, we are doomed—not only to frustration but to destruction. So say the prophets, and now every newspaper and magazine tells us that they are right. It’s a poor time to dedicate ourselves to that philosophy.
Finally, there is no free lunch, says Korihor (Alma 30:17–18). It is all free lunch, says King Benjamin. I side with Korihor the realist—if lunch is the aim and purpose of life, then Korihor is right, as he firmly believed, when he said that “when a man dies that is the end thereof” (Alma 30:18). A Marriott lunch is the best thing you can hope for in that world, and so he’s right. But since I accept the gospel, that’s out of the question. Either we believe that the lunch has been taken care of, or we are in for a long, horrible contest, both internal and external, over who is going to get the most.
Culture: A fascinating result of Korihor’s preaching is not just that people were led away from the gospel but that they began to “commit whoredoms.” Perhaps Korihor’s removal of religious law encouraged his listeners to these men and women to engage in polygamy, the same situation which Jacob denounced as “whoredoms” (Jacob 2–3). Another plausible reason is simple unchastity. Without religious sanctions surrounding the union between men and women, perhaps many lost their desire to avoid “sin” and let “the creature” take over their own management. Certainly we understand that the powerful urge is never removed, only controlled by our wills. For those whose control was motivated only by a fear of sin, removal of the fear would have removed the restraint as well.