God And Country

The relationship between major religions and nation states has long been an uneasy one. It was at its strongest during the medieval period, and has faded with the advent of modernity, most democracies opting for secularism. The US is an interesting exception. Despite the clear concerns outlined by the men who developed its constitution, it has maintained a view of itself as broadly Christian for the past 250 years, and over the past three decades theology has exerted an increasingly powerful influence over its politics.

This subject is nothing new in cinema. It has been the subject of several past documentaries, but Dan Partland’s documentary finds its own angle by examining the subject from the perspective of the country’s other Christians – those who dislike the idea of their religion being appropriated for a cause which they consider quite alien to its central tenets. They’re a mixed bunch and include some individuals who have themselves presented Christianity in ways that others might consider extreme, but what their presence clearly establishes is that there is no consensus around what MAGA movement preachers increasingly try to present as the one true way.

There is an assumption here that viewers will have a certain level of familiarity with distinctly US flavours of Christianity to begin with. The film opens with scenes from the Capitol building riots of 6 January 2021, in which a Christian flag is pointed out. To many outside the US (and some within it), the very concept of such a flag will be novel, and indeed it’s not much over a century old. There’s a whole story to be told there about religion and nationhood, and the film might have benefited from some of this wider context. In suggesting that the MAGA movement and its tributaries’ appropriation constitutes a novel phenomenon, it is arguably disingenuous and definitely misleading. That said, it can be harder to recognise such things from the inside, and that’s partly what makes the film intriguing. What it misses is as informative as its intentional messaging.

Important here is the situating of this particular movement in the context of the country’s ongoing obsession with race, and as such the documentary makes a useful companion piece to films like Origin, contributing to ordinary citizens’ understanding of the intentionally racialised context within which they lives, and doing so at a time when access to related historical analysis is being stifled in schools. It’s to schools that God And Country traces the movement, associating it with the backlash against desegregation and what that revealed about the political opportunities bound up with racism. Survey data highlights the persistence of racist beliefs amongst Christian nationalists today. 80% of white Evangelicals voted for Trump (although, one might note, the blame for his victory was frequently placed on the small proportion of Black people who did not vote).

All of this historical analysis ignores one salient point: that the country was inhabited for thousands of years by non-Christian people. Its pre-colonial days are overlooked entirely, and little attention is paid to the existence of people of other faiths or none – we seem to be inside a bubble in which a vaguely Christian US is perceived as eternal (and has probably always been at war with Eastasia). Is this naivety on Partland’s part, or an effort to create a safe space for viewers who might be alienated if the veil were lifted all at once? That’s not clear, but within the space he has created, Partland makes some interesting choices. There is a dissection of myths around the development of the US constitution which is nicely handled and valuable in the present context. There is also a look at the way the Nazis appropriated Christianity, a convenient example whereby to illustrate that the religion is by no means incompatible with tyranny.

Will those already attracted to the movement listen? Perhaps not. History tells us that such beliefs often remain for a lifetime, even (perhaps especially) after the political power of a movement is crushed. The threat to democracy will not be easily resolved, but talking about it within Christian spaces is a positive step. That said, this is easiest to for those with the least skin in the game. Although this film touches on LGBTQ+ and women’s rights, it does so very lightly, and a number of its participants – though this is never stated – outright oppose equality for both of these groups. There is a risk that in sensationalising the dangers of what it labels as Christian nationalism, it allows for slightly more presentable but still highly problematic belief systems to slip under the radar.

What it does do well is to highlight the economic and political interests driving the pretence of moral authority as an instrument of power, and it substantiates this in a way which might help to armour people at risk of being drawn into such movements, even if it can’t help those already there. A little slow in places, with too many speakers from very similar backgrounds essentially saying the same things, it is pleasingly thorough in others. There will be many genuinely humble and loving Christians out there who will relate to its final plea to reject the nationalist agenda and focus instead on feeding the hungry, lifting up people at their weakest and welcoming refugees. Their horror at how their religion has been used is understandable. The more awkward question is whether or not their approach has ever really represented their religion as a whole.

Nothing in this documentary is as clear cut as it might seem to be. It does some things very, very well, but it needs to be watched with a critical eye and, like the good faith its speakers profess, not taken for granted.