The presence of religion in American politics, particularly within the conservative faction, is nothing new. Religion and public policy have historically been intertwined. The history here is rather peculiar: many of the first colonies were founded by religious exiles, like the pilgrim colony in Plymouth, Mass., and many of the settlers ended up on this continent in the 17th century as religious zealotry gripped Europe with its bloody hands. The United States has, from the very beginning, maintained itself as a place in which Christianity, in its varied forms, can flourish without discrimination.
This says nothing about the modern religious bloc — most vocally, evangelical Christians — that has, with its full weight, thrown itself behind former President Donald Trump. The reasoning behind this, at least superficially, is quite intuitive: a conservative bloc supports the conservative candidate. However, when taken into context with the racism that flourishes within these movements and the embrace of religion, we see that this is far more than just a conservative movement — it is a reactionary one. Trump is an integral part of it, certainly, but he is merely its face. It’s not Trump that we should be concerned about, but the bloc itself.
We must remember here that religious settlements in the United States by immigrants were precisely that: religious settlements of foreigners. They violently displaced and committed genocide against Indigenous peoples. Their justification for the displacement was purportedly God-given, that God had delivered this “uninhabited” land to the religious to conquer and make their own. Even after this “salvation,” the white savior maintained the top position as the “pure.” In the minds of many in the evangelical bloc, Christianity is an identity of whiteness just as much as whiteness is an identity of Christianity, and they are inseparable. It ought not to be surprising that while the unifying demographic of the Trump bloc is evangelical, it is also overwhelmingly white.
As Trump embraces more evangelical support, I am reminded of what had occurred between Paul Atreides and the Fremen in Frank Herbert’s “Dune.” Paul, an outsider to the Fremen, “embraces” the way of the native people of Arrakis, who have claimed Paul as their Messiah. The Fremen myth of the Mahdi — who they refer to as the “Lisan al-Gaib,” or “the voice from the outer world” — is an outsider who will unite the Fremen under religion. The name “Lisan al-Gaib” begins as a prophecy and, after Paul’s arrival, it becomes a rallying cry. Even the most respected leaders, untouchable and incorrigible in their acumen, become blind followers of this outsider and throw their lives away without thought. In the same vein, within the evangelical bloc, the name, Donald Trump, has become slowly equated to the divine name of Jesus Christ. Even more telling is the veneration of Jan. 6 within these circles as a sort of “holy war” held by this bloc in the same esteem as the Crusades.
To ignore the racist aspirations of many within this evangelist bloc would be absurd, and the acknowledgment of the historical reality is precisely why this unity between a religious bloc and a conservative bloc is dangerous. Conservatism in the United States has always meant oppression — whether it is BIPOC, women, queer people, the disabled, immigrants, the poor and so on. However, the sentiments resulting from this oppression are easily countered by swaying minds and interacting with people — conservatism is premised on improper “data,” which points to an inferiority of the oppressed. However, data pointing to conservative conclusions has always proven to be incorrect. Scientific racism is not at all scientific and is entirely racist; queerphobia and ableism are based solely on negative perceptions of people; and the “science” of women’s inferiority is pure misogyny.
The involvement of religion, particularly the blind faith evangelical Christianity, changes this entire calculus. Scientific reality means nothing when it confronts blind faith. What the enmeshment of Christianity with conservatism means is that all of their beliefs are not beliefs based on empirical reality but instead a circular logic of faith in belief and belief in faith, an explanation that underlines the group’s wholesale rejection of science. With this, both the boot of oppression and the armor of privilege find their substance in the same breath.
I suspect, but hope I am sorely incorrect, that the implications of the religious reaction when this group attains power is an oppression that finds its basis in blind belief; an oppression whose entire justification is that the beliefs dictate that it be done. It will mark the inception of an ethnostate, not unlike those that presently exist and ally with the United States. Like those that do so already, it will wield their state power, with the justifier of religion, to do inconceivable harm. They have said themselves that they will do so.
Kathryn-Alexandria Rossi, FCRH ’27, is a philosophy and economics major from Arlington, Va.
