As we start our new research project exploring Christian Nationalism, Nick Spencer reflects on the meaning of national pride. 29/10/2025

As I start out on Theos’ big project looking at the rise of Christian Nationalism worldwide, I look around at all that has been written on the subject, and I stand aghast at all the hard work that lies before me.

Who am I kidding? Big fat academic tomes on nationalism, theologies of nationhood, academic articles attempting to quantify the public’s understanding of and loyalty to national identity: I am like a pig in sugar.

It was when reading one of these, last week, that I had a bit of a (self)–revelation; or rather, it was what happened after reading it. When seeking to understand the depth and nature of the (British) public’s ‘Christian nationalism’ (a term we will disambiguate and problematise as the project goes on), it’s helpful to get a sense of the depth and nature of their nationalism. So, I do what I like to do when faced with all such questions, and turn to the British Social Attitudes survey, which helpfully had a chapter on just this question a year or so ago.

The BSA study does lots of interesting things – traces levels of nationalism, compares civic and ethnic varieties, contrasts English and Scottish kinds, etc. To ascertain the patterns, the BSA puts to respondents a variety of questions and statements, often asking how strongly they dis/agree with them. Two of those statements are, “I would rather be a citizen of Britain than of any other country in the world”, and “Generally speaking, Britain is a better country than most other countries”.

Now, maybe it’s because I’m a (prejudiced, university–educated, soft, elite) Londoner, but when I read those statements, an image of the kind of person who would agree strongly with them appears, unsolicited, in my mind. (Do you see him too?) I have been well trained by those powerful cultural currents in which we all swim, to know the kind of person who says, “I’d rather be British than anything else because Britain (or perhaps England) is one of the best countries in the world!” Ah yes. “This little world… the envy of less happier lands… our green and pleasant land… the White Man’s burden… Play up! play up! and play the game!… England, my England… my country right or wrong… I wouldn’t give tuppence for all of the rest!” etc, etc. Even if I would rather be a citizen of Britain than anywhere else – and whenever I think that, my alter ego barks back at me, “how on earth would you know?” – I would never say it out loud.

Anyway, that was in the morning. Later in the day, I joined a conversation between a local authority representative, a residential charity that helps people with severe life–long difficulties, and my brother. My brother experienced a stroke as a toddler, and has faced numerous painful hurdles in his life as a result: brain damage, learning difficulties, epilepsy, dystonia. He is unlikely ever to work, though dearly wants to (he volunteers where he can), and will certainly never be able to earn enough money to pay his way or organise his own affairs.

The local authority social worker was calling to assess how things were going. (Well, if you’re interested). He asked and listened respectfully to my brother (even though he has some problems expressing himself as he would like to). He went through a detailed list of questions with the charity worker to ensure everything was being done to the highest standard possible. (It is) He even asked me for my impressions. (Very positive.) And, of course, just in case you didn’t realise, you are paying for all (well, most of) this, with disability residential care funded largely by the local authority, which ultimately means taxpayers.

And it was as this was going on, the thought struck me… wow, this is amazing. The whole experience was thorough, respectful, sensitive, kind, generous. It was a remarkable example of a whole country – taxpayers, politicians, policymakers, vocational educators, care workers, charity workers, etc. – working together to make sure that the life of someone who is genuinely “vulnerable” and has had to endure so much, has been made not just possible or tolerable, but agreeable and enjoyable. Am I proud of that? You bet. Am I honoured to be part of a society that does that? Yes, I am.

And then the chaser thought. How many countries around the world could boast that? To be honest I have no idea, but I would be surprised if it were very many. Which means… say it out loud, man… Yes, I would rather be a citizen of Britain than of many other countries in the world, because, generally speaking, Britain is better than most in the way the state organises to look after vulnerable people here.

I know, I know, there are lots of spin offs. Why is Britain like this? (Long debate) Why are so few other countries? (Longer debate) Is this intrinsic to Britain? (Of course not) Could we lose it? (Obviously) Is Britain always like this? (Obviously not) Could it be better? (Yes) Are there other things about which we should be a damn sight less proud? (Duh) Are there things that other countries, including less ‘developed’ countries, do better than us. (Yes, of course) Could other countries develop similar statutory patterns and levels of care? (Yes, obviously) Will they? (I hope so)

All worth debating. Being fiercely proud of Britain does not mean ‘my country right or wrong’ or ‘my country is better on every available metric’. But the revelation – minor and self– as it may have been – was how I had been subtly conditioned to hear any clear–throated expression of national superiority or even pride as somehow arrogant, or exclusionary, or unjustifiable, or jingoistic.

I am convinced that one of the reasons why Britian is like this is because of its Christian foundations and heritage. I am familiar enough with our theo–political history to know that you cannot simply draw a line from Old Testament injunctions to look after the vulnerable, through Jesus’ ethics, to the modern welfare state. I am familiar enough with the history to have read the Christian voices that were resistant to the state’s assumption of such responsibilities. I am open minded enough to know that there were other non– or even anti–religious influences in this systemisation of care. But I am also familiar enough to know that the sense of self–conscious Christian identity was crucial to the formation of most European welfare states (see chapter 12 of this, in case you are interested). As the philosopher Charles Taylor puts it in A Secular Age, “Seen within the history of Western civilization, the present–day welfare state can be understood as the long–term heir to the early Christian church.”

But that is less my point here, than the basic observation that pride, even intense pride, in your nation, need not be an unwarranted, arrogant or exclusionary emotion. It may be thoroughly justified.

In his remarkable performance at the National Parliamentary Prayer Breakfast this year, the Welsh performance poet Dai Woolridge made a very similar point for a very similar reason. He said,

“That’s why I value our values…
That blend Equality with Freedom Justice with Compassion
So a Neurodiverse, Potter–loving 42–year–old [his own brother] has a right to vote, and also to be cared for by society.”

Yes. Yes. That is something to be proud of.

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