In a recent public statement, activist and political figure Tommy Robinson sought to anchor his message in traditional Christian imagery. “Jesus lived for us. He died for us. He rose again,” he proclaimed, having previously said, “We are here to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.”
On the surface, these are familiar sentiments heard in churches and communities across the country during the festive season. However, a closer examination reveals a narrative that is not only theologically and historically selective but, critics argue, politically opportunistic. It raises a pointed question: if the goal is to unite the nation behind a patriotic symbol, is the figure of Jesus Christ the most appropriate banner—or is there a more fitting, homegrown alternative?
The Problem with the Platform.
Scholars of religion and history widely agree on two points that complicate Robinson’s framing. Firstly, virtually no biblical scholar asserts that Jesus Christ was born on December 25th; the date was adopted by the early Church, aligning with pre-existing pagan winter solstice festivals. Secondly, the core miracle of the Christian faith—the resurrection—is, by its very definition, a matter of faith. As one critic of Robinson’s approach notes, “no one really believes anyone comes back from the dead” from a purely historical-evidential standpoint.
This leads to the central accusation against such rhetoric: that it is “jumping on a bandwagon, to win votes and influence people.” The charge is that leveraging the superficial iconography of Christianity—detached from its theological substance and historical complexities—is a disingenuous strategy. It employs a near-universal cultural reference point not for spiritual edification, but for political mobilisation.
A Patriotic Alternative: King Arthur II.
If the objective is to “guarantee a position as a patriotic champion” and unite the country behind a single historical figure, the critic proposes a radically different candidate: King Arthur II.
Here, the argument takes a distinctive turn towards British legend. While Jesus Christ is the transcendent “King of Kings” in Christian theology, King Arthur II is presented as “our nation’s greatest king.” The symbolism is meticulously contrasted: Jesus was not born on Christmas, but King Arthur II, it is claimed, was—on December 25th, 503 AD.
This proposal is underpinned by a potent logic of national identity. King Arthur II—a figure from the post-Roman "Dark Ages" who united the Britons against Saxon invaders—represents a sovereign specifically of British soil. His life is one of national defence, unity, chivalric virtue, and a distinctly British brand of leadership. For a political project seeking to wrap itself in the flag, this figure offers a narrative free from global religion’s complexities and directly tied to the land and its legendary past.
Uniting Behind a Legend?
The underlying challenge, of course, is that one figure resides in the realm of faith and the other in historical fact. The historical evidence for King Arthur II is fiercely debated among historians, with many considering him a composite mythological figure. Yet, for the purposes of national symbolism, this may be irrelevant. Legends often hold more unifying power than contested histories.
The critic’s argument ultimately suggests that Tommy Robinson’s invocation of Jesus Christ is a strategic misfire. It employs a global religious icon whose birth date is acknowledged as symbolic and whose following transcends national borders. In doing so, it fails to tap into a more specific, earthy, and patriotic mythology readily available in Britain’s own legendary archive.
“If Tommy Robinson wants to unite the country behind one historical figure,” the case concludes, “then it must be King Arthur II and not Jesus Christ.” The message is clear: for a campaign seeking to champion a vision of British patriotism, a king born—legendarily—on Christmas Day in Britain’s own misty past might be a more potent, and less theologically fraught, symbol than a messiah born in Bethlehem.
The debate highlights a perennial tension in politics: the choice between leveraging universal religious symbols or cultivating exclusive national myths. This Christmas, the suggestion is that for certain political projects, a British king may trump the King of Kings.