How Republicans Convinced Themselves America Was Supposed to Be a “Christian Nation”

As a progressive black sheep who has distanced himself politically from my lily-white Republican family, I have ample opportunity to witness the damage the MAGA movement has done to people I once considered reasonable, although conservative. Most of them are sadly predictable: those who denounced Bill Clinton’s crude but consensual affair are now making excuses for Donald Trump’s sexual assaults. There is the voluntary participation in conspiracy theories that they know very well are absurd. And of course, when they are completely incapable of making sense of their own political “beliefs”, the fallback of the stupid “let’s go Brandon”-type jokes.

What really surprised me, however, was how a group of people who weren’t very religious before turned completely to Jesus. Maybe not enough to go to church, mind you, but enough to start littering their social media posts and other communications with Bible verses and sentimental religious images. Not so long ago, many of these people scoffed at the ostentatious piety of their fundamentalist neighbors. I blame the MAGA movement entirely, of course.

The survey data shows that my experience is not unique. Despite Trump’s blatantly false Christianity, most Republicans abandoned their secular impulses in this era. Instead, being a performative Christian has become an increasingly mandatory part of having a Republican identity. Even for those who never go to church.

Want to learn more from Amanda Marcotte on politics? Subscribe to his newsletter Standing Places Only.

In 2010, the Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI) surveyed Republicans about their views on conservative Christianity and the Tea Party movement, which we can now see was a precursor to MAGA. At the time, only 31 percent of Republican or Republican-leaning voters identified with conservative Christianity. 13 years later, the landscape has radically changed. A PRRI poll shows that a majority of Republican voters align not only with conservative Christianity, but also with Christian nationalism. Fifty-four percent of Republicans somewhat or strongly agree with sentiments such as “Being a Christian is an important part of being truly American” and “God has called Christians to exercise dominion over all areas of American society “.

These numbers are likely not the result of millions of Americans suddenly finding Jesus, but of how Trump and the MAGA movement have solidified the GOP as an ethno-nationalist party, instead of just a conservative party . In other words, now that they are a tribe, they need ways to define their tribal identity. Religion provides one aspect of this identity. (So ​​does whiteness, although most will rarely if ever do it, so say it out loud.) That’s why polls show that more than 40% of self-described “evangelicals” don’t even do this. to go to church. “Christian” has moved from a religious tradition to a marker of ethnic/political identity.

How did so many people go from being mildly indifferent to religion to centralizing Christianity in their view of themselves as an American? It was certainly not by chance. This is the result of decades of work by Christian fundamentalists to generate propaganda and disinformation, all to support the myth that the United States was founded to be a Christian nation. Then Trump came along with his authoritarian “us versus them” message, creating the need for Republicans to define exactly what they mean by “us.” Christian nationalists were willing to fill this “we” with their own ideas that Christianity is a mandatory part of American identity.

The central character in this story is David Barton, a Christian peddler who made a name for himself on the right by posing as a “historian.” Barton earned a bachelor’s degree in religious education from Oral Roberts University in 1976 and has no academic training in history. His “research” is a joke, to the point where even conservative Christian academics reject his claims. For example, Jay Richards of the Discovery Institute rejects the theory of evolution, but even he had to admit that Barton’s field of work is full of “embarrassing factual errors, strangely selective citations, and highly misleading assertions.”

And yet, as Tim Alberta describes in his new book “The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism,” Barton is treated like a major historical authority in Republican circles for a reason: “He believed that the separation of church and state was a myth. He believed that the time had come for evangelicals to reclaim their rightful place at the top of the nation’s governmental and cultural institutions.” Barton has been repeatedly discredited by real historians, with a book even considered “the least credible printed history book” by History News Network.

And yet Barton’s influence is so vast in the world of republican thought as to be immeasurable. He enjoys heavy promotion in right-wing media and consults with top Republican leaders, including new House Speaker Mike Johnson. But even those who have never heard his name have likely absorbed his ideas through the right-wing media ecosystem, which is steeped in them. When Republicans repeat false arguments, like “separation of church and state is a myth” or “the founders envisioned a Christian nation,” most of these words go directly back to Barton and his false stories.

Want to learn more from Amanda Marcotte on politics? Subscribe to his newsletter Standing Places Only.

That all this has intensified under Trump is arguably a bit strange, because Trump’s “Christianity” is as blatantly false as Barton’s historical research. However, perversely, Trump’s false faith has likely fostered the widespread adoption of an “evangelical” identity by Republican voters who were previously not particularly religious. By brandishing a Bible he doesn’t read and talking about a Jesus he doesn’t believe in, Trump highlighted how “Christian” is a marker of tribal identity more than a religious tradition, at least in the MAGA world. This has encouraged many people who don’t really want to be involved in a church community, to start projecting a “Christian” identity out into the world, without much concern for their lack of faith at home.

I have no doubt that most people who have adopted this performative piety think it is a fairly harmless, if not socially beneficial, practice. Jesus’ speech can seem very kind and caring, even to people who do not accompany public performance with private prayer. But the fact that Christian identity is increasingly tied to an authoritarian, far-right worldview is dangerous. After all, if “real” Americans are Christians, then the question of what to do with the majority of Americans who do not adhere to conservative Christianity calls for dangerous answers. For example, far-right influencer Nick Fuentes is there, calling for the mass execution of anyone which does not proclaim a Christian identity.

It’s tempting, of course, to write him off as a troll that no one takes seriously. Except of course he had dinner with Trump. Oh yeah, and the The Texas GOP recently refused to adopt a rule Banning members from associating with neo-Nazis after a major fundraiser took place with Fuentes. Keeping Fuentes in the fold must be important to Republicans, if they are willing to accept “neo-Nazi” headlines rather than disassociate themselves from him.

As I wrote yesterday, there is simply no way to reconcile Christian nationalist ideology with traditional American values ​​like equality, free speech, and freedom of religion. Of course, it is perfectly acceptable for people to be Christian, just as it is also acceptable for people to identify as Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Wiccan, or worshiper of Odin. But what these trends suggest is that, for Republican voters, the idea has taken root that being a “real” American requires considering oneself Christian. But, as the example of Fuentes shows, this necessarily means marginalizing non-Christians, who now represent more than a third of Americans.