Christian Nationalism Is a Cult (It Just Learned to Hide Better)

Author’s note: This essay reflects my understanding of Christian Nationalism as a political and cultural force, not a judgment on individual faith, spirituality, or personal belief.

I’ve been thinking a lot about cults lately.
Which is probably a sentence you’re not supposed to say casually.

But here we are.

I don’t think I’m fascinated by cults because I’m morbid. I think I’m fascinated because once you understand them, you start recognizing the same mechanics everywhere — especially in places we’re told not to look too closely.

Here’s my working theory:

Every belief system starts small. Someone has an experience, an idea, a story. Other people find meaning in it. Authority forms. Rules follow. Bad actors appear — because humans have been human since the beginning of time. Some systems collapse. Some adapt.

The ones that last are the ones that learn how to institutionalize forgiveness, normalize contradiction, and protect leadership.

Time doesn’t make something pure.
It makes it familiar.

And familiarity is powerful.

Over enough generations, what would’ve looked like a cult becomes tradition. What would’ve raised alarms becomes heritage. What once demanded scrutiny becomes something you’re expected to inherit quietly and never question.

That’s not an insult.
It’s anthropology.

Why Humans Are So Easy to Organize Around Belief

This part is uncomfortable, but necessary.

Humans are pattern-seeking, authority-respecting, comfort-loving creatures who are deeply unsettled by uncertainty. We want answers. We want belonging. We want someone to tell us the story makes sense — and that we’re on the right side of it.

That’s not a character flaw.
It’s a survival trait.

But it’s also the exact psychological landscape that belief systems — especially rigid ones — are built on.

Throughout history, there has never been a belief system immune to manipulation. There was absolutely a Thor prophet who committed adultery. There was a Zeus intermediary who abused power. There was a holy man somewhere who realized divine authority was a very efficient way to shut people up.

Gods didn’t prevent that behavior.
Gods were used to excuse it.

People created gods.
Not the other way around.

Belief didn’t civilize humans — humans structured belief to manage fear, chaos, and control.

The Modern Problem: A Cult Without Walls

This is where Christian Nationalism enters the conversation.

Christian Nationalism doesn’t feel like a cult because it doesn’t look like one. There’s no compound. No charismatic leader asking you to move to a desert. No pamphlet that says Welcome to the ideology.

That’s why it’s more dangerous than most cults.

It doesn’t ask you to join.

It assumes you already belong.

Christian Nationalism doesn’t care whether you believe in once saved, always saved or daily repentance. It doesn’t care whether your denomination once condoned slavery, child marriage, or colonial violence — or still quietly protects abusers.

It doesn’t even care if your theology matches the church across town.

The only requirement is this:

You believe that people like us should be in charge.

Heaven becomes a membership perk.
Patriotism becomes a sacrament.
Christianity becomes a cultural weapon instead of a belief.

Doctrine stops mattering.
Identity takes over.

Why It Feels More Like a Cult Than Cults

Most cults fail because they grow too fast or become too visible. They make demands that can be traced. They leave fingerprints — financial, behavioral, social.

Christian Nationalism solved that problem.

It’s abstract enough that:

• No one can tithe to it

• No one can formally leave it

• No one is officially in charge

• No one claims the label

• Everyone denies responsibility

It’s a belief system that dissolved itself into culture.

That’s the pinnacle form.

When something is everywhere and nowhere at the same time, accountability disappears.

This Isn’t About Mocking Belief

I don’t hate religion because I don’t believe in God.

I’m uneasy with religion because I’ve watched how easily meaning turns into machinery — and how efficiently that machinery protects itself once it’s big enough.

Christian Nationalism isn’t frightening because it’s religious.

It’s frightening because it’s a cult that doesn’t need to recruit, doesn’t need to explain itself, and doesn’t need to admit it exists.

History shows us what happens when belief stops being a choice and starts being an inheritance.

Things don’t get more moral.

They get more obedient.