Are we witnessing the beginnings of a Christian nationalist movement in Britain – one inspired by a distinctly American form of evangelicalism, rooted not just in belief, but in an aggressive pursuit of power?
By chance or calculation, Tommy Robinson’s far-right march in London took place on the same weekend that Christians were marking the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, which honours Christ’s sacrifice through the cross. And the ‘Unite the Kingdom’ gathering was no ordinary Robinson rally. It was saturated in Christian symbolism: gospel rock blared from loudspeakers, crosses were hoisted like banners, and images of the late Charlie Kirk, the Trump ally, conservative influencer and ‘Christian martyr’ as US evangelical circles are hailing him, made their way through the sea of Union Jacks and flags of St George.
Robinson, who claims to have found Christ while in prison, has, it seems, begun fusing religious themes into his nationalist, far-right messaging. Whether his conversion to Christianity is genuine or not, it raises a pressing question: are we witnessing the beginnings of a Christian nationalist movement in Britain — one inspired by a distinctly American form of evangelicalism, rooted not just in belief, but in an aggressive pursuit of power?
In the US, this ideology has already taken hold. Charlie Kirk may have started as a political influencer, but in recent years, he came to symbolise a broader shift within American conservatism. Once a champion of secular politics and the separation of church and state, Kirk had, by the 2024 presidential election, rebranded himself as one of Donald Trump’s most vocal evangelical surrogates.
Addressing megachurch congregations and campaign rallies, Kirk increasingly portrayed politics as a form of spiritual warfare, declaring Democrats “stand for everything God hates,” and framing elections not as civic exercises, but as battles between good and evil.
His influence extended beyond US borders. Last week, the European Parliament briefly descended into chaos as far-right MEPs demanded a minute’s silence in Kirk’s honour. Hungary’s Christian nationalist prime minister, Viktor Orbán, claimed Kirk’s murder was “the result of the international hate campaign by the progressive-liberal left.”
Yet Kirk is just one figure in a much wider and increasingly powerful movement.
Pete Hegseth and the weaponisation of faith
At the heart of this movement is the entanglement of religion and state. Under Trump, a new ‘faith office’ has been created within the White House, tasked with recommending changes to federal policy to combat what it describes as “antisemitic, anti-Christian, and other forms of anti-religious bias.” A subsequent executive order established a federal task force to investigate so-called “anti-Christian bias” in government agencies.
One of the key architects of this agenda is Pete Hegseth, Trump’s Secretary of Defence. A former Fox News host and army veteran, Hegseth has emerged as a leading voice in the mainstreaming of Christian nationalist ideas within the highest ranks of government.
Earlier this month, Trump announced plans to rename the Department of Defense as the “Department of War.” “It just sounds better,” he explained, pointing to its use during the World Wars. But as The Atlantic observed, the rebranding also reflects how Trump, and Hegseth, view themselves: not as defenders, but as warriors, engaged in spiritual and ideological combat.
Hegseth, who has often described America as a Christian nation under threat, recently came under fire for promoting a video featuring pastors claiming women should not be allowed to vote or hold leadership positions in the military. He reposted the video with the caption: “All of Christ for All of Life.”
Critics were quick to condemn the post. Doug Pagitt, a progressive evangelical pastor and executive director of Vote Common Good, called the views “very disturbing” and “deeply fringe.”
Still, a Pentagon spokesperson defended Hegseth, describing him as a “proud member” of the Communion of Reformed Evangelical Churches (CREC)-affiliated church.
Yet Hegseth’s personal conduct appears to contradict the values he publicly champions. The LA Times reports that by the age of 45, he had already been married three times. His first marriage ended after he admitted to multiple extramarital affairs. He later paid off a woman who accused him of sexual assault, an allegation he denies. Even his own mother once accused him of being “an abuser of women,” though she later retracted the claim during his Senate confirmation process.
Then came a serious breach of national security. In March, Hegseth shared classified information about an impending US airstrike in Yemen via an unsecured Signal group chat, which included his wife and, accidentally, a journalist from The Atlantic.
As the LA Times put it, Hegseth, may be the “least serious man ever to lead this nation’s armed forces.”
In the wake of Charlie Kirk’s assassination, Hegseth issued a warning to all military and civilian personnel, stating that the Pentagon was now “tracking” any government employee who mocked or celebrated the killing.
Douglas Wilson
Then there’s the Pastor Douglas Wilson, a controversial and influential figure within the American Christian right. Earlier this month, Wilson shared a stage with members of the Trump administration at an event in Washington.
“This is the first time we’ve had connections with as many people in national government as we do now,” he told the Associated Press.
Wilson and his acolytes within the CREC espouse views that are unapologetically patriarchal, authoritarian and regressive. They teach that empathy can be a sin, that the United States is a Christian nation, and that giving women the right to vote was a bad idea.
Hegseth recently reposted an interview with Douglas Wilson, in which the pastor elaborated on his worldview: women, he claimed, should serve as “chief executive of the home” and should not have the right to vote, as their husbands can do that for them. He called for the criminalisation of gay sex and same-sex marriage. “We know that sodomy is worse than slavery by how God responds to it,” he told CNN.
While he insists that slavery is “unbiblical,” he has also defended it. In a 1990 pamphlet, Wilson bizarrely claimed that slavery in the American South produced “a genuine affection between the races” unmatched in any nation before or since the Civil War.
And Wilson’s influence is growing. His Christ Church, based in Moscow, Idaho, opened a new branch just blocks from the US Capitol this summer. Pete Hegseth, who’s a member of a CREC church in Tennessee, was present at the opening.
Together, Wilson and Hegseth represent a new front in American politics. Under the banner of Christian nationalism, they seek to reshape American democracy around explicitly religious, often authoritarian principles.
What about in Britain?
As this ideology gains ground in the US, echoes are being felt in the UK, where discussions around the rise of Christian nationalism are emerging.
Writing for the Young Fabians, Ryan Rodrigues, who was a Parish Priest in East London and now works as a researcher in Parliament, says the deliberate co-opting of Christian imagery to stoke division and fear is emerging in British politics.
Rodrigues notes how from Diane Abbott to Sadiq Khan, high profile people-of-colour have long been the targets of abuse, with issues of race and migration fuelling the hate. “But increasingly today, that hostility is often cloaked in Christian language and symbolism.”
Abroad, figures like JD Vance have defended hardline immigration policies as a “very Christian concept, turning ideas of “loving your neighbour” on its head.”
“This is more than just rhetoric – it’s a calculated effort to use the language of Christianity as a tool to divide.”
Rodrigues notes how the Labour Party itself was founded on the values of Christian Socialism, whose co-founder, Keir Hardie – of whom Keir Starmer is named after – was himself a devoted believer.
“I wonder whether the version of Christianity promoted by some of these figures today would be recognisable to Hardie,” he writes.
Turning to the recent flag-waving spectacle across the UK, Rodrigues argues that it’s ironic that what has become the symbol of English nationalism is the cross of a Christian saint, St. George, itself a reference to the cross of Jesus.
“With the nationalist agenda being popularised, the growing resurgence of movements such as Blue Labour, which call for a renewal of local faith communities such as Churches, must prompt us to examine what it really means to incorporate the values of faith into public life?” he continues.
But while some argue that a US-style religious right is emerging in Britain, others remain sceptical. In a paper entitled Is there a ‘Religious Right’ Emerging in Britain?, the religion and society think-tank Theos contends that although there is increasing coordination among Christian groups with strong socially conservative views, particularly on issues like sexuality, marriage, family life, and religious freedom, it is misleading to describe this as a US-style religious right.
“There is no sign of the kind of tight-knit, symbiotic relationship between a right of-centre political party and a unified Christian constituency emerging in Britain as it did in the last quarter of a century in the US,” the report states.
The key difference, it argues, is structural. In the US, the religious right transformed politics by aligning with the Republican Party. Britain, by contrast, lacks a similar alliance between a religious voting bloc and any major political force.
What about Farage?
Yet some moments challenge that conclusion.
Farage’s populist brand of politics may rarely make reference to the Christian faith, but in 2024, he stood on stage in Blackpool declaring that “Judeo-Christian values” lie at the heart of everything British. Earlier that year, at a US right-wing conference, he bizarrely claimed that pro-Gaza protests across Western cities threatened these very values.
According to MEND, a charity that supports British Muslims in media and politics, Farage’s invocation of ‘Judeo-Christian values’ serves to marginalise Muslims. Sadly, it works for some though in that the Tory MP and noted evangelical Christian Danny Kruger, and former MP Maria Caulfield, a practising Roman Catholic opposed to abortion rights and defender of ‘family values, both joined Reform this week. Farage might be all about division but bringing an evangelical and a Catholic together shows that for a small number of people, Christian nationalism has political potency.
Pro-life march in London fuelled by US Christian ‘hate group’
And if we thought the influence of US evangelical Christianity hadn’t reached the UK, we should think again.
Earlier this month, a major anti-abortion march took place in London, heavily influenced by the US-based Christian right group, Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF). Headquartered in Arizona, ADF is a legal advocacy organisation designated by the Southern Poverty Law Center as an anti-LGBTQ+ hate group.
The Good Law Project reported that more than half of the speakers at the 2025 ‘March for Life’ event in London had direct ties to ADF, including Northern Irish MP Carla Lockhart.
ADF played a key role in the 2022 US Supreme Court decision that overturned federal abortion rights, and it actively supports state-level bans on gender-affirming care for minors in the US.
Among the UK religious leaders present was Andrea Williams, co-founder of Christian Concern, a group that opposes banning LGBTQ+ conversion therapy and has worked closely with ADF.
Perhaps the most unsettling development is the growing role of religion in Tommy Robinson’s activism. One has to suspect that ‘born again’ Tommy is being opportunistic, but the overt use of Christian symbols at a highly charged political event that was mired in violence and intimidation, suggests a troubling trend, that a faith centred on compassion is being reframed as a tool of division and dominance. Moral high ground matters in politics and it is ground that the far-right, with its message of hate, has always struggled to command. Co-opting Christianity provides a readymade, off the shelf suit of clothes in which to dress pernicious policies. It’s all a long way from those trade union marchers a century ago with their banners proclaiming Christ the Carpenter.
To end on a personal note, my grandad was a vicar. He embodied the values I’ve always associated with Christianity: humility, compassion, forgiveness, and selfless care. These stand in stark contrast to the division, hostility, and disdain for democratic institutions that figures like Robinson, Trump and his allies push under the guise of ‘Christianity.’
Gabrielle Pickard-Whitehead is author of Right-Wing Watch
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