Basic Info
FTND was founded in 2009 in Salt Lake City, Utah, a city deeply embedded in the cultural and religious environment of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS Church). The group claims to be secular and non-religious, but its founding context is far from neutral—Utah is known for being one of the most socially conservative and religiously homogeneous states in the U.S., particularly in relation to sexuality, pornography, and LGBTQ+ rights.
FTND was created by four college-aged men: Clay Olsen, Ryan Werner, Cameron Lee, and Beau Lewis—with Clay Olsen emerging as the public face and most vocal leader. These men were students in marketing and media, not public health, neuroscience, or psychology. Their professional backgrounds were not in mental health, but in advertising, branding, and viral media, which shaped the tone and design of FTND’s campaigns. Critics argue this is key to understanding FTND’s style: slick messaging, emotionally charged visuals, and a strong “us-vs-them” narrative wrapped in pseudo-scientific language.
Clay Olsen himself has spoken in past interviews about how his upbringing influenced his concerns about porn. Mormon doctrine is famously anti-porn, associating it with moral corruption, spiritual decline, and family breakdown. Even though FTND carefully avoids overtly religious language in its materials, critics suggest this is a strategic branding decision, not an indication of neutrality.
Furthermore, FTND has worked alongside or been promoted by groups like the National Center on Sexual Exploitation (NCOSE), which has deep ties to religious-right movements and a long record of opposing LGBTQ+ rights, sex work, and even comprehensive sex education. This indirect alignment raises valid concerns that FTND’s supposedly secular framing is a repackaged purity culture message aimed at making religiously motivated sexual conservatism more palatable to a secular audience—especially youth.
Coverage indicates that the Boyer Company and Ashton Family Foundation are significant early funders of FTND. Alan C Ashton of The Ashton Family Foundation is also reported as having donated $1 million to California’s Proposition 8 campaign which prohibited same-sex marriage. Ashton has held high leadership roles within the LDS Church, including serving as Provo Temple president and mission president.
Main Controversies
One of the most persistent critiques of FTND is its alleged connection to Mormonism and conservative Christian values. Although the group publicly asserts that it is non-religious and non-legislative, critics note that it was founded in Utah—a predominantly Mormon state—and that several founding members have ties to the LDS Church. While FTND claims that its content is secular and evidence-based, skeptics argue that the organization’s messaging mirrors religious abstinence culture, particularly in its framing of pornography as morally corrosive and harmful to relationships. FTND has responded to this by publishing statements insisting it has no religious affiliation and that staff come from diverse backgrounds. Nonetheless, the overlap in values has led many to suspect a spiritual subtext, even if not officially declared.
FTND frequently describes pornography as an addictive “drug,” comparing its effects on the brain to substances like cocaine. This narrative is a cornerstone of their brand. However, many neuroscientists and sex researchers have pushed back, arguing that the scientific evidence for pornography addiction is far from conclusive and that FTND misrepresents dopamine’s role in brain behavior. Critics note that using the language of addiction may pathologize normal sexual behavior and create unnecessary fear or shame. While FTND does cite studies suggesting problematic porn use can exist, opponents argue they ignore research showing that most people who consume pornography do so without adverse effects. The tendency to generalize from extreme cases to all consumers is a major point of contention in academic circles.
FTND has delivered school presentations across the U.S. and abroad, often without using licensed educators, therapists, or sexologists. These presentations frequently target youth and are framed around protecting their “mental health” from pornography. Critics—including therapists, educators, and sex-positive organizations—argue that the material lacks balance and scientific rigor. Instead of promoting media literacy or healthy sexual development, FTND is said to emphasize fear, shame, and abstinence. Some schools have canceled appearances after public backlash, citing concerns about psychological harm or ideological bias. Detractors say that their presence in educational settings is especially problematic given the sensitive nature of the topic and the lack of professional qualifications among many of their speakers.
Another common critique is that FTND’s tone is guilt-driven, with some describing it as echoing the logic of purity culture or even addiction recovery cults. Their “Fortify” platform, a companion site for quitting porn, uses terminology like “Basic Training,” “Battle Tracker,” and badge rewards—structures that some former users have described as emotionally manipulative. These systems often mirror evangelical recovery models such as 12-step programs but are delivered without medical oversight. Critics argue this approach can foster self-loathing and isolation rather than genuine sexual well-being. Some mental health professionals have warned that such tools risk increasing anxiety and shame, especially in teens struggling with natural sexual urges.
FTND is frequently accused of cherry-picking research to support its message while omitting studies that present more nuanced or contradictory findings. Their content often paints a one-size-fits-all picture: that porn leads to addiction, social isolation, relationship breakdowns, and even violence. Critics counter that while some people do report negative experiences with porn, others find it beneficial or harmless. Moreover, FTND rarely addresses intersectional factors such as queer sexuality, kink, or consensual sex work, framing all sexual content as part of a singular “harmful industry.” This reductionist view, detractors argue, fails to respect sexual autonomy and reinforces outdated moral hierarchies rather than promoting informed choice or consent.
External Links + Sources
https://youtu.be/4nF_7KpnKuU?si=a8hHe7IuOhphNGG8
https://archive.sltrib.com/article.php?id=4680276&itype=CMSID
Known Connections