Christian nationalism is often treated in the UK as a foreign problem, loud, evangelical, and unmistakably American. Images of megachurches, Trump rallies, and Bible-quoting politicians feel far removed from Britain’s largely secular public life. Yet this assumption is becoming increasingly unsafe.
While Christian nationalism in the UK is quieter and more institutional than its US counterpart, its presence is growing. Ideas, language, and legal strategies developed in American culture wars are crossing the Atlantic, intersecting with British anxieties about identity, social change, and belonging. Understanding this trend matters — not because Christianity itself is a threat, but because when nationalism fuses with religion, it distorts both faith and democracy.
Christian nationalism is not the same as Christian belief, church attendance, or public expressions of faith. Rather, it is an ideology that claims:
- The nation is fundamentally Christian
- Christianity should be privileged by the state
- National identity and Christian identity are inseparable
- Law and public institutions should reflect a narrow moral theology
Many UK Christians reject this outright. Christian nationalism reduces a living, diverse faith into a political identity marker — a way of drawing boundaries between who belongs and who does not.
At first glance, the UK seems an unlikely environment for Christian nationalism. Church attendance is low, religious affiliation is declining, and British politics has long been pragmatic rather than ideological. Yet several conditions have created fertile ground:
- Cultural anxiety around immigration and multiculturalism
- Rapid social change concerning gender, sexuality, and family life
- Declining trust in political institutions
- Nostalgia for a perceived moral and Christian past
The Church of England’s constitutional role — bishops in the House of Lords, the monarch as Supreme Governor, and compulsory collective worship in schools — offers symbolic leverage. Christian nationalism exploits these remnants of establishment, even as lived Christianity becomes more marginal.
The UK does not have a single mass movement but rather a network of campaigns, pressure groups, and media narratives.
Protests against LGBT+ inclusive education, most visibly in Birmingham in 2019, framed equality teaching as an attack on Christian families. Campaigns against Relationships and Sex Education continue to deploy language of parental rights and religious persecution. Legal advocacy organisations such as the Christian Legal Centre have pursued cases on workplace evangelism, school policies, and LGBT+ inclusion, echoing strategies developed by US groups like Alliance Defending Freedom.
Arguments that Britain is a “Christian country” increasingly appear in debates about asylum, immigration, and national identity. Here, Christianity functions less as a faith and more as a cultural boundary a way of signalling who is truly British.
These developments do not exist in isolation. UK activists, lawyers, and commentators operate within transatlantic networks that share funding, training, and messaging. Phrases such as “woke ideology”, “religious liberty under attack”, and “parents’ rights” have migrated almost directly from US evangelical media into British debate, often without regard for the UK’s different legal framework.
Social media accelerates this process. UK audiences increasingly consume American Christian nationalist podcasts, influencers, and conspiracy narratives framed in biblical language. This digital ecosystem collapses national boundaries and intensifies polarisation.
Crucially, Christian nationalism faces sustained resistance from within the churches themselves.
Senior Church of England figures have repeatedly warned against conflating Christianity with national identity. Former Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby argued that nationalism is a form of idolatry, placing nation above God. Theologians such as Professor Elaine Graham have emphasised that Christian ethics prioritise hospitality, justice, and care for the marginalised, values fundamentally at odds with exclusionary nationalism.
Public statements from Anglican, Methodist, Baptist, Catholic, and United Reformed leaders have defended refugee protection, opposed racism, and affirmed the dignity of LGBT+ people. Groups such as Christians Against Racism and Fascism and Inclusive Church explicitly challenge attempts to weaponise Christianity for political exclusion.
Biblically, Christian nationalism struggles to account for teachings that centre love of neighbour, care for the stranger, and suspicion of earthly power. The New Testament consistently resists the fusion of faith with state authority, portraying the Kingdom of God as distinct from political empires.
The danger of Christian nationalism is not religious belief but power. It risks undermining equality before the law, framing political disagreement as moral warfare, and marginalising religious minorities and non-believers. A plural democracy depends on the state remaining neutral between belief systems, protecting freedom of religion and freedom from coercion alike.
Christian nationalism in the UK remains a minority position, but it is an organised and increasingly confident one, shaped by global networks and domestic unease. Ignoring it because Britain is more secular than the US would be a mistake.
The challenge is not to remove faith from public life, but to resist attempts to turn Christianity into a nationalist identity. Many UK Christians are already doing this work, insisting that faith speaks most clearly not through power and exclusion, but through humility, justice, and care for the common good.
@newdaystarts
