Terence Corrigan
Nigeria has recently found itself in the crosshairs, literally, of President Donald Trump. Last year he took to social media to denounce the situation in that country, culminating in a Christmas Day missile strike on Islamist bases.
At issue was the fate of Nigeria’s Christians and the violence to which they were being subjected. Trump came in for a lot of pushback, critics arguing that he had simplified a complex issue which he did not understand. That may be correct, for it is part of an issue about which far too little is understood, and not enough said.
Open Doors is a confessional charity based in Ermelo in the Netherlands. Founded in 1955 by Andrew Van Der Bijl, a Dutch evangelist who had couriered contraband religious literature into Communist societies (he became known as “God’s Smuggler”), it advocates on behalf of Christians suffering persecution across the world. For those with an interest in this, its annual World Watch List is an indispensable resource, the latest iteration of which was released at an event hosted by the Italian Senate on 7 January.
The World Watch List sets the scores and rankings assigned to countries based on a number of analyses concerning the freedom of Christians to practise their religion, and more importantly, to gauge the impediments they face in doing so. It looks at state policy, at the societal environment, and at threats or occurrence of violence. The more restrictive these are in practice, the higher the resulting score; each year, the top fifty are presented as the Watch List. In 2026, Christians in 13 countries faced “extreme” persecution, and 37 a “very high” level, descriptors that are self-explanatory – essentially that there is very little space in these societies to practise or be identified with the Christian faith. Doing so comes with grave risk.
In all of them, the Christian populations (or large parts of them) endure restrictions on their ability freely to live their religion. It may be circumscribed by official diktat, by harassment from the wider society, subject to mob and criminal violence or effectively excluded from societal life. In some cases, professing the faith may prove fatal.
According to Open Doors, some 388 million Christians worldwide suffer some significant form of persecution, accounting for around one in seven globally. Geographically, this is concentrated in Africa (where around one in five lives with this reality), and in Asia (two in five).
Topping the list pf persecutory environments is North Korea, where the blend of Marxism, bellicose nationalism and personality cult causes Christianity to be regarded as an inherent threat to the regime. Ironically, at one time, Pyongyang was a centre of Christianity, known as “the Jerusalem of the East”. Somalia, Yemen, Sudan and Eritrea follow, each of these being beset by conflict, where Islamist ideology plays a role. Syria comes in at sixth position, also having endured a savage civil war marked by ethnic and religious animosities. Nigeria, at seventh, endures an Islamist insurgency in its north, along with violence between nomadic herders and farmers, which often comes with ethno-religious dimensions.
Vengeful regimes
Pakistan, Libya and Iran complete the top ten, representing varying combinations of vengeful regimes, instability and politicised Islam.
Further down the list are India (12th), where Hindu nationalism and an increasingly illiberal state have placed mounting pressure on religious minorities; Mali (15th), subject to an Islamist insurgency and facing the prospect of falling to an Al Qaeda affiliate; China (17th), whose Communist Party demands absolute control and is suspicious of anything that might challenge it; and Mexico (30th), where organised crime groups are a universal menace, targeting Christian leaders as an obstacle to their operations.
Open Doors identifies three impulses behind persecution. The first is what it terms a “secularist impulse”. This seeks to contain if not eradicate religion. Most prominent in this respect has been communism. Ideologically hostile to religion in its philosophical conception – Karl Marx had described it as “the sigh of the oppressed creature” and the “opiate of the people” – communist regimes have typically taken a confrontational line towards most expressions of faith. The intention has been to strip religion of its public influence, and through the incubation of a new consciousness, to promote its extinction. This is the form of persecution found in China, Cuba, and North Korea.
The second is the “exclusivist impulse”. At issue here is the desire to purge a society of those who don’t quite fit in. The dominant expression of this today is in politicised Islam. It has found expression in various ways in governments, and among insurgent groups – exponents of which ideology exist in various ways in a belt of territory from Morocco to Pakistan. Other forms of exclusivism, more localised but not insignificant, have emerged out of Hinduism in India and Nepal, and Buddhism in Bhutan and Myanmar. There have also been instances, as in Ethiopia, where dominant Christian denominations have proved intolerant of rival Christian denominations. The exclusivist drive is often not solely a confessional matter but can be conjoined with clan loyalties and tensions between ethnic groups.
Being fundamentally ideological, these two drivers are united by what Richard Shortt has called “the denial of alternative sources of authority”. Since Communism pretends to have a scientific understanding of history, it can confidently dismiss any perspectives outside its paradigm. In practice, repression has always been a part of its governance repertoire. For religiously founded ideologies, the fusion of political ambition with supernatural belief is one in which persecution of outgroups can seem to be a positive moral duty.
The third is the “exploitative impulse”. This relates in large part to organised crime, and accounts for the rankings of countries like Mexico and Colombia, despite their being predominantly Christian themselves. It is a persecution rooted in brutal pragmatism rather than ideology, seeking to intimidate or eliminate potential opposition that religious bodies and their leadership might offer.
Disorder and dysfunction
Beyond these impulses, persecution is in many instances enabled by disorder and dysfunction. Much of the persecution Open Doors describes is perpetrated by non-state actors. This in turn is frequently made possible by weaknesses of domestic governance. Even where formal protections exist, they may mean nothing if they cannot be actioned – or where state officials choose not to act, and to allow mobs or insurgent groups to do their worst.
In practice, these factors often coexist in combination with one another. In Nigeria, for example, a number of its northern states have instituted Islamic law, to the dismay of its religious minorities. Islamist insurgents target Christians, state institutions and any others who oppose them (including other Muslims). A corrupt and under-capacitated state is unable (and is accused of being unwilling) to provide those under threat with the protection they need.
Nigeria, incidentally, figures conspicuously in another area: Open Doors’ record of the number of Christians killed for faith-related reasons. In 2025, the total across the world came in at 4 849. Of these, 3 490 were in Nigeria, making it the centre of contemporary Christian martyrdom.
Admittedly, Open Doors’ work has come under scrutiny, as have those using it to draw conclusions. This centres on the use of its work to support contentions like “Christians are facing a genocide” or “Christians are the most persecuted group on earth”.
One objection is methodological. For example, calculations of the numbers of Christians facing persecution have been criticised for conflating the number of Christians living in a given country with those actually suffering – a matter of considerable importance in a large, populous and diverse country like Nigeria, where regional concentrations of religious adherents mean that the experiences of certain communities may be far removed from that of their co-believers elsewhere. There is merit to this argument, and it is actually acknowledged by Open Doors, in reference to the “split personality” of some of the jurisdictions it covers. Nigeria is simultaneously a country of pogroms and murderous attacks on churches, and one of ardent Christian devotion, megachurches and evangelisation ministries.
Affinity
Others might criticise Open Doors for confirmation bias, since it is an explicitly Christian organisation. Its focus is specific in orientation and activist in intent. It is not concerned primarily with general religious freedom, nor with generic human rights abuses, but with the fates of people with whom it shares an affinity.
While that is a valid caution, it must be noted that this is not a compelling critique. Narrowly focused work on the circumstances and suffering of particular groups is frequently undertaken by those with a dedicated concern. Think of the bodies associated with Muslims or homosexuals, for example. And it does not imply that persecution is limited to Christians, globally or for that matter in the countries where Christians endure it. It merely makes Christians the object of its enquiry.
Indeed, data from other, secular sources lend credence to Open Doors’ work. The Pew Research Center has undertaken regular assessments of religious persecution (harassment by government or social groups) across a range of jurisdictions since 2007.
In the last iteration – in 2022 – Christians faced at least some such harassment in 166 of the 192 countries and territories surveyed, more than the adherents of any other faith. Muslims came in second at 148. The extent of Christian persecution owes much to the large numbers of its adherents, and to their geographic spread; that much is clear. Christians, Buddhists and Muslims in China, for example, suffer from a combination of regime paranoia and communist secularist exclusivity.
Yet, still, it appears that Christians face an elevated level of hostility. The International Society for Human Rights, a secular NGO, stated in 2009 that Christians are believed to make up as much as 80% of those subjected to religiously motivated discrimination worldwide. This is an old figure, but ISHR officials have stated privately to researchers that little has changed to suggest improvement.
Modern phenomenon
Catholic journalist Susan Brinkman, meanwhile, has pointed out that of the estimated 70 million Christians who died for their faith across history, some 45 million did so since the start of the 20th Century. In terms of scale and intensity, Christian persecution is a modern phenomenon. Across the Middle East and North Africa, the cradle of Christianity, Christian communities that had endured for two millennia, and survived (sometimes precariously) under a succession of overlords, have seen their numbers decline to a point where their very existence is in doubt. Iraq, for example, had a Christian population in excess of one million in the 1990s. Today – although estimates vary greatly – as few as 150 000 remain.
But if indeed this is a major concern – and on the pure human rights grounds it’s hard to see why it should not be – why is it that Christian persecution should be a relatively niche issue, seldom meriting mention, and often qualified by downplaying the religious-sectarian aspects of it.
One reason for this is that the weight of “Christian” geopolitical power – Europe and North America – has progressively ceased to claim a religious mandate for the exercise of that power.
The separation of church and state and the recognition of religion as a matter of free conscience was an outgrowth of the Enlightenment. The French Revolution was openly hostile to the institutional power of the Catholic Church, while the American Revolution established a separation between church and state. Of course, this has never been universal; the colonial experience functioned as a vehicle for the spread of Christianity, for example, even if this was typically undertaken by missionaries under the protection of colonial powers, rather than by the powers themselves. But the trend has been clear. By the mid-twentieth century, it was hard to find European or American statespersons – even those with strong personal religious convictions – arguing for a special bond with Christians in distant parts. Rather, normative appeals are couched in universalist terms, such as freedom of religion (an important matter, indisputably), which can inadvertently obscure the specific sufferings of particular groups. Besides, the assumption that human rights are in fact universal – rather than culturally specific or determined by a country’s socio-political status – has been widely criticised, not least by some of the world’s more repressive regimes.
“Islamic” geopolitics
Contrast this with “Islamic” geopolitics, where Muslim countries come together in the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (the second largest intergovernmental group in the world after the United Nations).
With a combination of large populations, significant voting strength at international bodies and considerable wealth, “Islamic” concerns are articulated in those terms. Persecution of Muslims – real or perceived – will be addressed as such. (There is even an Islamic Human Rights instrument, the Cairo Declaration on Human Rights in Islam, less a charter for the protection of universal entitlements than a limitation on them in terms of Islamic law.) To a significant degree, Judaism has achieved something similar with a network of communal bodies and a state to champion them. There is, in short, a concept of the “Umma”, of “Jewry”, though no longer of “Christendom”. Islamophobia and Anti-Semitism are commonly understood terms; there is hardly a commonly understood term that conveys similar attitudes towards Christians.
Another reason is that Western societies – those with the potential resources to act – have become increasingly secular. The idea of an obligation to “fellow Christians” rings hollow when Christianity is experienced as a cultural ritual twice a year, if that. It’s even embarrassing, where Christianity is identified with the sins of Western culture.
A third reason is that much of the institutional muscle of Christianity, its global churches and church bodies, have undergone something comparable to the secularisation of many historically Christian societies. It is now unremarkable for senior clerics in the mainline Protestant churches to openly reject central teachings, and supernatural faith is now often relegated to second-tier importance in church engagements with interlocutors. It is not inconceivable that some church leaders struggle to understand why persecution would take place on religious grounds – rather than, say, over resources – and still less why people would be willing to suffer it on those grounds alone.
Christianity has traditionally had a strong sense of commitment to the downtrodden, and a long tradition of activism against societal ills. In the 20th Century, this led many Christian thinkers to endorse revolutionary movements irrespective of their outlook on religious faith. This hinged on a mutual criticism of the nature of existing “capitalist” societies, on the colonial project (by then dying rapidly) and the promise of a utopia on earth.
Sympathetic reception
Communist revolutionaries from around the world often found a sympathetic reception in religious circles, even after the nature of their regimes and their contemptuous attitude towards Christians under their rule became apparent.
For the World Council of Churches, this meant an activist stance that was energetically engaged against such regimes as apartheid South Africa or Pinochet’s Chile, but largely silent on abuses in the Soviet Union or Cuba. (Quite the contrary in fact: despite Cuba having declared itself an “atheist” state, it was not uncommon for WCC officials to fawn over Cuba as an example to the world.)
Moreover, the WCC was unwilling to imperil the participation in its structures of churches from communist states, and so tactfully followed their assurances that nothing was amiss. It was only after the fall of communism in Europe in the 1990s that some belated and half-hearted admissions of failure were made. (Though it must be said that the Catholic Church under Pope John-Paul II played an important role in motivating the mobilisation that rocked the communist bloc in the 1980s.)
All of this set an unfortunate precedent: that Christians would largely be ignored by their own nominal brethren when large political or social questions were at issue. Today, so the logic would have it, calling out the persecution of Christians must be balanced against pursuing other objectives, the need to respect the diversity of the human experience, the imperatives of dialogues with other faiths, and (probably) above all the desire to avoid being seen as prescriptive or as latter-day imperialists. Some of the issues are just too combustible to touch.
Thus, very little condemnation is forthcoming of Islamist militias and the doctrines that drive them, or of the fact that they target Christians. Rather, it is easier to speak of the commonalities between Islam and Christianity, the diversity of victims and the importance of addressing crises relating to poverty and the climate. Where the subject is raised, it is typically in a manner familiar to secular activists, drawing attention to the abstract principles at hand or emphasising that people other than Christians are victimised too.
Or, churches may surrender entirely, as the Vatican did to the Chinese Communist Party through an agreement that probably rivals the ill-fated Concordat that it signed with Nazi Germany.
No interest
South African Chief Rabbi Warren Goldstein recalls suggesting to a delegation of religious leaders that they issue a statement on the persecution of Christians ahead of last year’s G20. There was no interest in doing so.
Altogether, this begins to explain why this story is often overlooked and sometimes “contextualised” into oblivion. Or such concerns are ascribed to the morbid fantasies of right-wing American culture warriors. Nothing to see here. Well, only to the extent that one is reluctant to look.
Giles Fraser, an impeccably “progressive” Anglican vicar from the UK, put it well in a 2019 article in The Guardian following a lethal attack on churches in Sri Lanka (body count close to 150, including several children caught in a playground):
Why the blind spot – especially given that we do care about so many other forms of oppression? No, it’s not a competition. But I do wonder whether on some unconscious level the secular and broadly progressive west thinks that Christianity had it coming. They associate Christianity with popes and their armies, with crusades and inquisitions, with antisemitism, British imperialism, Trump supporters and abortion protesters…
And maybe there are some who don’t want to talk about Christian persecution because they fear that it could easily be used – as it sometimes is – as an alibi for Islamophobia. Easier to fall silent about the murder of Christians than to be seen to side with those racists who blame Muslims for everything. I understand this – but it’s still not good enough.
Needs to be told
Not good enough, indeed. It’s a story that needs to be told, and not just by those who mourn for their co-religionists, but for those who proclaim a concern for the wellbeing of all, irrespective of their confession, and their feelings towards those whose politics they despise.
It needs to be told with appropriate nuance and accuracy, yes, but also clearly elucidating its reality, with a proper vocabulary to express it. This is a concern for the age – and if Trump or “the right wing” is seen to monopolise it, it might well be asked why so many good people have been silent about it.
Terence Corrigan is the Project Manager at the Institute, where he specialises in work on property rights, as well as land and mining policy. A native of KwaZulu-Natal, he is a graduate of the University of KwaZulu-Natal (Pietermaritzburg). He has held various positions at the IRR, South African Institute of International Affairs, SBP (formerly the Small Business Project) and the Gauteng Legislature – as well as having taught English in Taiwan. He is a regular commentator in the South African media and his interests include African governance, land and agrarian issues, political culture and political thought, corporate governance, enterprise and business policy.
https://www.biznews.com/rational-perspective/christians-under-fire-corrigan
This article was first published on the Daily Friend.
