March 5th, 2025

Christian nationalism isn’t just a political ideology. It’s a closed feedback loop of paranoia, entitlement, and moral superiority. And like any unchecked system of belief that refuses contradiction, it’s beginning to mirror the symptoms of a national psychological break.

Take the social media response to Ukraine. In certain Christian nationalist circles online, support for Ukraine has somehow become synonymous with being anti-American. Patriotism, in this worldview, is no longer about democracy or diplomacy; it’s about loyalty to a myth that centers the United States as God’s chosen nation and its most extreme believers as its only rightful stewards. To deviate from this narrative is, in their eyes, to betray the country itself.

This isn’t just political polarization. It’s collective narcissism: the belief that one’s group is exceptional and persecuted, even while it dominates. Christian nationalists claim moral high ground while cozying up to authoritarian regimes, accusing others of treason while supporting policies that undermine democratic norms. They do not view dissent as a civic feature. They view it as a sin.

And like all forms of narcissism, this one is pathologically allergic to reality.

Try offering historical context or a nuanced perspective on American foreign policy, and you’re met not with debate but deflection. Expertise is labeled “elitist.” Journalism is dismissed as “fake news.” Dissent is cast as betrayal. Real dialogue cannot exist within the delusion.

Even personal relationships fracture under this mindset. My cousin recently declared on Facebook that she refuses to read anything I write if it includes contributions from AI. Never mind that the ideas are mine, just more efficiently arranged. She regularly shares content from fringe platforms like “American Christian Prophetic TV,” which traffic in tribalism and apocalyptic rhetoric, encouraging followers to see themselves as divine warriors under siege. In these echo chambers, complexity is erased, and every disagreement becomes proof of persecution.

Christian nationalism doesn’t want democracy; it wants dominion. It doesn’t want conversation; it wants compliance. When reality fails to conform, it rewrites it or burns it down.

There is something deeper at play here than political conservatism. We are watching a significant, well-funded subculture collapse into what resembles a mass mental health crisis. It’s not just the denial of truth. It’s the emotional rigidity, the moral self-righteousness, the rejection of empathy, and the chronic state of siege. These are symptoms of a group identity that can’t self-regulate and won’t self-correct.

This is not a fringe phenomenon anymore. It’s an increasingly dominant feature of the American right. It has institutional backing and media infrastructure, shaping school boards, election outcomes, and judicial appointments. And it frames every challenge to its authority as a form of religious persecution.

The irony, of course, is that the very democracy that allows Christian nationalism to thrive is the one it most disdains. And yet, for all its bluster, the ideology reveals a profound fragility. It cannot bear contradiction. It cannot tolerate ambiguity. It cannot admit wrong. These are not the traits of a movement rooted in strength. They are the traits of one in profound psychological distress.

What we are dealing with is not just a political problem. It is a mental health emergency masquerading as patriotism. And the longer we pretend it’s just another partisan divide, the more damage it will do to our institutions, communities, and collective sense of reality.