The Devil’s Manifesto COUNTRY SQUIRE MAGAZINE

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BY DOMINIC WIGHTMAN

A Strategy to Undermine Christianity

_{(In the style of Paul Harvey’s 1965 broadcast ‘If I were the Devil’)}

If I were the Devil, I’d have one aim: to tear down Christianity piece by piece, until nothing remains but hollow rites. With a grin, I would drift past the crescent moon and shroud Christian lands, weaving ideologies through the fabric of their societies to fog the minds of believers, bending them gently away from their faith.

First, I’d introduce Marxism. I’d tell them God is a myth and life is just material struggle. I’d sell them a story of justice where equality comes only from revolution and upheaval. They’d be so consumed by class and systems, they’d forget the Gospel’s teachings of love and forgiveness.

Soon, they’d chase utopias on earth, and heaven would slip out of sight.

Next, I’d bring in socialism but dressed as kindness. I’d say it’s the Christian thing to do—to care for the poor by making them dependent on the state. I’d reward poverty, shame success, and slowly smother virtues like hard work and self-reliance. Charity would change from an act of love to a chain that binds. In time, Christian compassion would become a tool for control.

Then I’d turn to environmentalism. I’d paint nature as sacred, man as its foe. I’d have Christians worship the earth and turn from God, fearing they’d ruin it. They’d take up secular creeds, chanting ‘Net Zero’ in place of hymns. ‘Save the planet’ would ring louder than ‘Save your soul.’ With nature in the place of the divine, their beliefs would shrink to guilt and duty.

I’d bring forth a host of ‘isms’ to scatter their focus—New Age, cults, and other grass-is-greener lures to draw them away from the Cross. I’d flood them with distractions in a world where every shiny new belief, sport and hobby competes with the old Truth.

Soon, they’d look to astrology, perversion or self-help, anything that swipes at the soul while weakening the bond that unites them as Christians.

I’d then peddle progressivism, dressing sin as social justice. I’d teach that morality is found in being ‘woke,’ in trading scriptural truth for society’s applause. With inclusion and tolerance as their highest ideals, they’d silence any inner objections to sin, afraid of seeming judgmental. I’d make them slaves to Narcissus’ Pool, each inundated by their own soul-absorbing screens. Soon, they’d value the world’s acceptance over the Word itself.

One of my most powerful tools would be fear, especially the fear of death. I’d make them dread it above all, grasping for comforts, clinging to this world, even closing their churches for fear of contagion. By fearing death, they’d fast forget the promise of resurrection and eternal life, turning instead to the safety of the material world. In time, their faith would become faint, and they’d see faith as something that consoles, not as something that saves.

And I would weaken Christianity’s message. I’d recast Jesus as soft and sweet, never challenging or fierce. Christianity would drift from bold proclamation to a harmless nicety, a feel-good slogan, just another T-shirt. It would lose its power, becoming no different from secular teachings that comfort but do not change. Without its edge, the faith would fade.

In each generation, I’d ensure church leaders were more interested in popularity than principle. They’d focus on being ‘nice’ rather than righteous, fearful of offending rather than bold in truth. These leaders would shun confrontation, loving peace more than purpose, forever apologising, and in doing so, they’d drain the faith of all strength.

Finally, to lay Christianity flat like Carthage, I’d seize control of language. I’d redefine words like love, family, and truth, making them vague and malleable. With Critical Theory, I’d blur these meanings until nothing is clear and faith itself feels outdated, oppressive. In a world where language fails, Christians would struggle to understand, much less proclaim, their beliefs.

Then I’d sit back and laugh*, watching the world burn like hell.

*Alas for the Devil, for all his schemes, however deft, are dust before true Christian faith. God’s word and Spirit stand radiant and unbroken, guiding His people like stars through the blackest night. Those who hold fast to scripture, firm upon its ancient truths, pierce the Devil’s veil, casting aside his clever lies. Through tides of shifting ideologies and the world’s relentless pull, they press on, steadfast and unswayed. Fear not. For every dark effort spent, faith rooted in God’s unyielding truth and boundless love rises, a fortress unshaken, a bulwark against all fury. Some churches may crumble, some black flags may climb the sky, and at times, even God may seem to lie still—but where shadows gather and silence grows deep, there was, and ever will be, light.

Dominic Wightman is the Editor of Country Squire Magazine and the author of Dear Townies, Arcadia and Truth among other books including ‘Conservatism’ which publishes later this month.