We Need to Talk About the Strange Christian-Atheist Unholy Alliance
How long can this unlikely anti-woke alliance last?
I write from my hotel room before my third day at the Alliance for Responsible Citizenship (ARC). Organised by Baroness Stroud and Jordan Peterson, the centre-right conference pits together many of the biggest names in the anti-woke culture war sphere (Douglas Murray, Konstantin Kisin, Toby Young) with…lots of priests and clergy.
As I walked with a comedian past one such flock, he pointed out that the main hall was beginning to resemble a chess board. He had to resist the temptation to move these gowned men of worship to protect the king (undoubtedly, at this event, either Douglas Murray or Jordan Peterson).
Outshining the rest of the Christians was Calvin Robinson, who was recently double-cancelled after being thrown out of GB News and then defrocked by the church for satirically parodying Musk's ostensibly accidental Sieg Heil. Standing at about 6'7" with a Star Wars-like gown, he made for an unforgettable figure.
All this glamour did make me wonder if, despite the church's teachings on modesty, there's something of a competitive fashion show taking place among members of the religious aristocracy.
Or are they competing for the love and affection of the world's most famous Christian, Jordan Peterson?
Aren't we all?
For years, Peterson avoided explicitly confirming his literal belief in the Bible's stories. This became a meme, with his deflection to questions about ecclesiastical themes resulting in philosophical musings:
"Well, that depends on what you mean by God/Jesus/truth."
Meanwhile, many atheists quietly agreed that they were mostly interested not in his religious analysis but in his razor-sharp psychological commentary. Many—myself included—believe he has done more to help young men (and, consequently, women) than anyone else alive today.
Whatever Peterson's religious beliefs really are (it will take someone far more studious than me to dissect them), it is clear that ARC is replete with literal believers and worshippers. Its day begins with the Prayer Breakfast and many talks have religious themes. Peterson’s performances - they are very much gospel-influenced performances - are held in a stadium that recalls American mega churches. His words are punctuated by trumpets and calls in pious voices for donations.
Yesterday, I had lunch next to a lovely American chap who is a modern-day missionary. As is customary with any evangelism, ARC is far more religious this time than during its inaugural incarnation two years ago. Many secular attendees are quietly showing concern for the next one.
If you're wondering whether this is relevant to the UK and the state of the world, know that the leader of the Conservative Party, Kemi Badenoch, opened it this year, with the BBC and many mainstream TV channels and news outlets around the world covering the conference. I've even bumped into the Financial Times (for whom I did an interview) and The Guardian (who don't seem to know who I am—not that they should).
Most shockingly, I heard the Beeb describe this event - one packed to the rafts with chess-like fundamentalist Christians and missionaries - as 'centre-right'. This is a marked - and perhaps welcome - change from the broadcaster, who had signed up for the woke mind virus and would therefore be expected to label ARC as Far-Right.
We are starting to win the culture war.
So what does this mean for the seculars, the agnostics and the atheists among us?
It seems that to defeat the illiberal ideas of wokeness, the anti-woke seculars made an unholy alliance with the religious Christians (and Jews). In the 90s, we might have been staunch enemies. Today, the anti-woke atheists see Christians as a far better alternative to wokeness, neo-Marxism and the red-green alliance of Leftism and Islam (the Islamo-woke).
The religious Christians and Jews, meanwhile, having fallen from their cultural pedestal after Monty Python’s The Life of Brian, seem happy to find a willing partner that has respect for its history, institutions and political motivations.
It is interesting to note that, just as Peterson was historically careful about alienating the atheists, many of my colleagues in the anti-woke space are equally reluctant to publicly admit to atheism. Those who do—such as Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins—are not expelled, but they do not carry the same cultural cache within the space as once they did.
Even the anti-woke's most pronounced atheist creator, my friend Alex O'Connor (one of the few people I know to whom I'd attribute the status of genius), sometimes talks in quasi-spiritual riddles and has admitted to being open to adopting belief later on. It is hard to know if he means this seriously—but he knows, just as I do, that declaring disbelief in God in absolutist terms contributes little and wins few friends.
That's not to say there's no dissent.
On my first day at ARC, I made about five faux pas by wondering aloud about the piousness of my surroundings. Some humourless people promptly left the group, a couple of whom told me they were offended. Others—particularly among the mostly-secular female TERFs at the festival—have sent group messages beseeching more down-to-earth conversation and temporal matters after listening to speeches that remind them of the magical thinking behind the gendered soul.
We even see a version of this mixed religious reach at the very top.
I'm not sure many would consider Trump a genuine Christian, and Musk certainly isn't. But JD Vance is a passionate worshipper.
So how stable is this holy alliance?
Here's my alarming concern:
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