For over a decade, I’ve sounded a call as a non-Western church leader: Christian civilization, the bedrock of democracy and human flourishing, needs defending—not only for the West, but for the world.
The West’s retreat from its Christian roots, worn down by progressive ideologies and colonial guilt, risks unravelling a legacy built on the idea that all and sundry bears God’s image and is redeemed by Christ’s sacrifice. From Asia, Africa and beyond, I’ve watched this erosion with alarm, wondering if the West still has the voice to reclaim its heritage.
Then got here the ARC (Alliance for Responsible Citizenship), led by Jordan Peterson. This movement of unapologetic thinkers stirred hope. I followed their early talks and, in February 2025, attended their London conference. Peterson’s unpacking of sacrifice as Christianity’s core thread—echoing Christ’s cross—resonated deeply.
Sessions on human dignity, family, and practical energy solutions, paired with a rejection of divisive ideologies, felt like a clarion call. Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s incisive voice and the British Conservative Party leader Kemi Badenoch, added welcome breadth.
Yet I left unsettled. ARC could easily turn into a white-majority echo chamber, a peril for a civilization that’s never been sure by race. The early church spread from Jerusalem to Rome and Africa, defying ethnic lines. Today, most Christians live outside the West, wrestling with secularism while constructing faith-rooted societies. If ARC wants global impact—think Nigeria’s vibrant churches or India’s persecuted believers—it must elevate non-Western leaders and their thought. Otherwise, it risks being dismissed as a ‘Christian right’ relic, irrelevant to the Majority World.
The conference nailed essentials: humans aren’t cosmic accidents but bear divine purpose; families anchor society; sacrifice blesses beyond self. Peterson’s riff on Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac hinted at larger questions: what does sacrifice mean not only for us, but for the outsider? Missionaries once answered that: serving the poor globally. Today, figures like Trump and Musk, eyeing corrupt aid cuts, face a test. If Trump’s push for religion in America skips James 1:27—caring for widows and orphans—it’s hole. Who’s America’s neighbour in 2025?
But one absence loomed largest: the emphasis on local Christian communities. Scripture and history shout their power. Acts 2’s Spirit-filled bands toppled Rome’s pagan grip, compelling Constantine’s reckoning by AD 313. These weren’t institutions but living hubs—messy, authentic, transformative.
Today, ‘church’ conjures scandals—the Archbishop of Canterbury’s resignation over apparent abuse cover-ups – or slick, star-driven services. Millennials and Gen Z, even Christians, crave real connection over dogma. ‘Church plants’ often peddle belief-first cliques, not belong-first communities that Jesus modelled – “Come unto me all you who’re burdened and I provides you with rest” (Matthew 11:28-30).
This gap matters. Jesus didn’t just save ‘souls’; He built a Body ( read family) (1 Cor. 12). The West’s crisis isn’t only lost faith, it’s lost belonging. Family decay gives rise to isolation; 1 in 5 US adults report loneliness, per 2024 data, fuelling mental health woes and narcissism. ARC’s emphasis on sparking hundreds of thousands of small, vibrant communities—open to doubters and devotees alike—is a missed probability. Imagine a billion such groups, lifting a world mired in despair. Without such communities, can Christian civilization endure?
Peterson’s sacrifice lens could bridge this. Christ’s death wasn’t for insiders only but for all (John 3:16). Early Christians lived that, feeding the poor, burying the dead, stunning Rome. Today’s non-Western church echoes it—think Uganda’s orphan care or Brazil’s favela ministries. ARC mustn’t stop at ideas; it should seed communities where faith meets flesh. Not religious silos, but places where anyone—sceptic or saint—belongs, prays and meets Jesus.
Why the disconnect? The word ‘church’ is usually a stumbling block, evoking control and institution, not communion. Yet Scripture’s ‘ekklesia’ isn’t a constructing but a people—called out, gathered in. My non-Western lens sees this clearly: where Western individualism reigns, community withers. ARC’s renewal can’t lean on nostalgia or policy alone. It needs a billion Acts 2 sparks—small, local, real.
For a lot of us that is personal. You’ve felt the ache of shallow fellowship or the sting of church hurt. You know faith thrives in relationship, not isolation. ARC could rally us, but provided that it dares to reimagine community—not as a buzzword, but as Christ’s living witness. Can it rise above ‘church’ baggage and ignite a worldwide movement of belonging? Our civilization—and our faith—hangs within the balance.
