Writing for UnHerd, Felix Pope reported on a December 13 Christmas celebration organized by the English nationalist Tommy Robinson. It involved a procession from Trafalgar Square to Whitehall, where the group sang carols in front of 10 Downing Street. Some held banners emblazoned with “Jesus is King.” Vendors looking to make a pound sold St. George flags on the sidelines. The mixture of piety and politics was very much in evidence.
Pope interviewed some attendees. One said, “I think my prime motive for coming is to defend Christmas against the Muslim hordes [that are] eroding our culture.” A young speaker testified to his salvation in Christ, adding, “And wouldn’t it be great to see this nation restored back to its ancestral roots?” One of the event organizers championed the revival of “masculine Christianity.”
In advance of the event, some Anglican bishops expressed “grave concern” that Christianity was being used to “justify racism and anti-migrant rhetoric.” A cleric in the crowd shouted that Jesus had been a migrant. The vicar of an Anglican church was handing out leaflets that featured an AI-generated nativity scene in which “black people, Muslim women and three white men wearing Union Jack T-shirts gaz[ed] at the baby Jesus in his crib.”
Both the “ancestral roots” and the “all are welcome” themes express political Christianity. Tommy Robinson may be a cynical opportunist, but undoubtedly there were sincere Christians among those marching to Whitehall. These “Tommy Robinson Christians” believe that national revival requires a return to the religious foundations of Albion. This is probably a correct assessment. The multicultural and inclusive Christians wish for contemporary Britain to realize the universal mission of Christianity: The gospel is for all of humanity—Great Britain must be open to all.
It would be an abuse of the common usage of “nationalism” to speak of the multicultural and inclusive Christians as nationalists. But they have a decidedly Christian vision of the nation, and indeed of Western civilization. For them, the open society realizes the inner truth of Christianity. It promises to heal societies fragmented by identity politics and demographic change. Their vision is akin to that of the Christians who advanced the Social Gospel more than a century ago. They held that progressive politics would Christianize the raw and often inhumane realities of modern economic life. In this regard, the “post-nationalism” of Christians who oppose linking Jesus the King to a recovery of ancestral roots advances a vision for the future of the West.
Paul Kingsnorth has cautioned against the temptation to turn Christianity into a prop for Western civilization. It was the thrust of his 2024 Erasmus Lecture, “Against Christian Civilization” (January 2025). Kingsnorth is right to issue this warning. As a friend of mine said many years ago after a speaker at a conference exhorted the Christians in attendance to “save” Europe: “Our Lord did not die on a cross to found Europe and establish Western civilization.”
But even those who are keen to emphasize that we are pilgrims in a strange land must harken to the counsel that Jeremiah offered to the Israelites in Babylon: “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (29:7).
Globalization, mass migration, and the weakening of solidarity are clear and present dangers. It’s fitting for Christians to propose ways forward amidst these challenges. How could it be otherwise? And in view of the growing polarization of politics, it’s not surprising that Christians offer divergent visions of the future, one keen to return to roots and the other seeking a new and more united world. It’s wrongheaded to accuse one side or the other of “politicizing” Christianity. Seeking the welfare of the city—that’s the intention of both Christian nationalists and Christian post-nationalists.
The Christian political enterprise can be done well—or poorly. Our tradition provides tools to purify our political judgments. The concept of an order of love helps to frame our duties to our near neighbors, as distinct from our far neighbors. Natural law can clarify moral issues. The history of Christian statesmanship offers useful instruction. The Sermon on the Mount unsettles our complacent consciences.
Let’s not imagine that Christianity exists to sustain (or transform) Western civilization. The object of faith is not to renew (or transcend) our nation, or any other nation. But let’s also not ignore the truth that Christianity has a great deal to say about what kind of civilization we should seek to nurture. Our faith informs our citizenship.
Paul VI spoke of Christianity’s vocation to cultivate a “civilization of love.” As I survey the city to which God has sent me in exile, I’ve come to a conclusion: The open society, with its vision of a civilization of inclusion, encourages philanthropy but undermines love. This judgment makes me sympathetic to the St. George flags waved beside banners announcing the lordship of Christ, even as I recognize the dangers of nationalistic idolatry. I suppose that makes me a Christian nationalist. It’s a label I’m willing to accept. As I do so, I hope that, when I met my Maker, he will judge that I elevated the Christian above the nationalist.
