NATION OF ASLAN

I’ve pretty much given up on the idea of traditional Christianity making a comeback in England—not that I have any real grounds to call for its return, given that my connection to the faith has been limited mostly to singing hymns in school assemblies and later falling in love with Western sacred music dedicated to praising God, such as Bach’s St. Matthew Passion and Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis—on a purely musical, non-theological basis.

No, I regretfully say this as someone who grew up in a generation where denigrating God and the Bible was considered cool and edgy in a Ben Elton-like way, sticking two fingers up to anything holy. Sardonic atheism seemed the logical progression for culture and society to truly evolve—only for us now to see how wrong we were.

For in that vacuum of skepticism, demons lurked, waiting to fill the absence of God with new prophets fueled by social justice, eco-apocalypse, and gender dysmorphia. Now, we have strayed so far from genuine meaning that we scarcely know what is right or wrong anymore—what is good and what is evil. The pillars of meaning have been thoroughly smashed, and though the "oracles" of the commentariat—wedded to their religions of science and politics—like to pretend the country isn’t hurtling toward ruin, you’d have to be wilfully blind not to see the hell realm we’re currently descending into. We have lost our way and drifted far from the divine. And I say this with all humility as a non-believer.

So far have we fallen, in fact, that I am seriously considering a rebranding exercise for Christianity—through a new yet familiar guise. This would both summon the spirit of deep England and its magic while conveying the eternal value of Christianity through an allegorical presentation that could be beloved by all, young and old.

And its name, you ask?

Of course, it’s Aslan—as in the Lion King of Narnia from C.S. Lewis’s children’s novel The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. In its singular noun, I call it Aslanism. For I believe we are fundamentally a nation of Aslan, though we have yet to break through the seemingly perpetual winter of authoritarian rule imposed by our Morgim-like Prime Minister, who clearly works under instruction—not from a Witch, but from a WEF (World Economic Forum) bent on the destruction of the nation-state.

The only way to counter this systematic demolition of England and the United Kingdom, as I currently see it, is the return of Aslan or Aslanism: to bring back the joy and hope of a brighter spring, where freedom is restored from tyranny and faith rekindled by courage.

And so, from now on, if asked which religion I align myself with, I shall say Aslanism, for I am truly an Aslanist. This is the perfect description for someone who finds their spiritual home in allegorical childhood tales, recognising their symbols as reflections of their real-world environment and values—values we must protect at all costs.

After all, if it’s permissible for people to identify as believers in “The Force,” from Star Wars then why shouldn’t I be able to identify as an Aslanist?

I even have the theme tune ready.