On 19 January, I was a respondent at the launch of Veronique Altglas’ Judaizing Christianity and Christian Zionism in Northern Ireland: For God, Israel and Ulster.
I highly recommend the book – you can read my remarks below.
By now, I am sure most of you are eager to delve deeper into Judaizing Christianity and Christian Zionism in Northern Ireland. The best way, of course, for you to do this is to read the book! I hope my remarks serve the purpose of further commending this book to you. To that end, I will highlight what I see as its key contributions, of which I will focus on three: 1) its exemplary methods; 2) its relevance to understanding Northern Ireland politics; and 3) its wider contribution to the social scientific study of religion.
Exemplary Methods
In an era where researchers and research are often rushed and compromised by the demands of time-limited funding, this book shows what can be done when a researcher slows down (in a good way) and takes the time to conduct a classic ethnography. Veronique clearly invested in the lives of the participants. Her research, spanning four years and incorporating participant observation, media analysis, and document collection, exemplifies not only methodological rigor, but also an ethical commitment to honestly portraying her subjects.
The reader can see that Veronique really got to know many of the participants through dedicated attendance at their meetings and events, as well visiting an informant who worked for a time in Hungary; and embarking on a trip to Israel with them. Throughout the book, descriptive vignettes of encounters and events enriched the analysis. As a reader, I really got the sense of entering this religious world.
When Veronique came to conduct interviews, they were all the richer for the relationships she had built up with her participants. Her candid account of emotional challenges—such as navigating her Jewish identity (ascribed, it must be said, by her participants) and coping with personal loss—adds depth to the discussion. Here, the participants are portrayed as caring people, sending Veronique spontaneous messages of support.
Ahava members revered Jews as bearers of divine truth and as pivotal actors in eschatological narratives. This fascination was not merely theological but deeply emotional, shaping interactions with the ethnographer herself, who was consistently recognised as Jewish and introduced as such. Veronique’s reflections on her discomfort and eventual recognition of this dynamic as analytically significant are poignant.
Veronique’s own reflections on her methods are equally instructive. Her critique of overreliance on interviews in the sociology of religion underscores the importance of immersion and contextual understanding. As someone whose own research has at times featured interviews without the undergirding of sustained commitment to participant observation, I humbly acknowledge her point! As she argues, interviews reveal what people think they do, not necessarily what they actually do. For those of us whose methods include interviews, it’s a timely warning to acknowledge their limitations – and to consider if and when we can anchor our interviews in deeper observation and engagement.
Understanding Northern Ireland Politics – Why do Loyalists fly Israeli flags?
For anyone who has ever wondered why there are Israeli flags flying in Loyalist areas, this is the book for you. Of course, there have been a number of research articles on this topic over the years, which Veronique notes, confirming some of their insights and findings. But she provides greater depth and perspective on this phenomenon, demonstrating how support for Israel functions as a symbolic resource, reinforcing Protestant identity and legitimizing unionism through biblical narratives. It’s all there in the subtitle of the book: ‘For God, Israel and Ulster.’
It might be assumed that an ethnographic study of a small group – which has since disbanded – would have little say about Northern Ireland politics. Yet this is not the case. Veronique convincingly situates Ahava within Northern Ireland’s distinctive religious and political landscape, marked by high levels of religiosity and a strong Protestant evangelical presence. Here, Christian Zionism emerges as a potent ideology, aligning conservative evangelicals, loyalists, and unionist politicians.
While Ahava no longer meets, Christian Zionism continues to flourish; I suspect most of the people who participated in Ahava are still active in this milieux. For them and for similar groups, spiritual warfare encompasses political issues: Brexit, elections, Israel’s victories, and opposition to liberal reforms. This seamless integration of the divine and the political challenges secular assumptions about the separation of religious and political spheres. Ahava’s members also read world events—from Gaza to Brexit—through prophetic lenses, merging divine and political realms. Such apocalyptic worldviews, while providing meaning and agency, risk fostering fatalism and resistance to compromise. This all raises questions about the efficacy and ethics of symbolic politics and apocalyptic assumptions: to they translate into tangible change, or do they remain performative?
Here, the relationship of the DUP with Christian Zionism is instructive, with Veronique providing multiple examples of its support for Israel. While many DUP politicians are likely sympathetic to Israel, the party’s support seems to be a way for it to maintain a connection with its conservative evangelical base, even as it is forced to make other unpalatable compromises in an increasingly secularizing society. At the same time, Veronique tells us about an Ahava member who stopped voting for the DUP when one of its representatives publicly supported a two-state solution.
The DUP, of course, has little power to actually make a difference in Middle East politics – its influence in Westminster and European politics is limited. DUP support for Israel, then, is quite performative – a way to reinforce Protestant, Unionist and Loyalist identity.
Yet this is not inconsequential; the impact on politics on the streets of Northern Ireland is very real indeed.
Wider Contributions to the Social Scientific Study of Religion
Again, it might be assumed that an ethnographic study of a small group in a small region would have little to say to the social scientific study of religion more widely. This is not the case. Here, Veronique’s comparisons of Ahava to her early study, published in 2014 as the monograph, From Yoga to Kabbalah: Religious Exoticism and the Logics of Bricolage, are especially insightful.
This is accomplished through the book’s emphasis on the deregulation of religion. Veronique situates Ahava within a broader trend where traditional denominational structures are weakening, giving rise to fluid networks and individualized forms of religiosity. This resonates with global patterns: while mainstream churches decline, new movements—whether ‘spiritual but not religious’ or fundamentalist—proliferate.
The comparison between spiritual seekers and conservative evangelicals is particularly thought-provoking. Both reject institutional authority and navigate fragmented religious spheres, yet their motivations differ profoundly. Spiritual seekers pursue self-realization and autonomy, reflecting middle-class aspirations, whereas Ahava members’ anti-institutional stance stems from experiences of powerlessness and marginalization within the working class. For Ahava, authenticity was linked to origins—the Hebrew roots of Christianity—rather than to universal techniques for self-improvement, as in many New Age movements. Ahava’s members were predominantly older, working-class individuals with limited autonomy and symbolic capital. Their anti-institutional stance, apocalyptic narratives, and conservative values reflect not only theological commitments but also social experiences of marginalization. This insight is crucial: it situates religious bricolage within broader structures of inequality, challenging culturalist or overly ideological explanations that overlook material conditions.
A lesser ethnographer might have exoticized or dramatized Ahava’s practices and beliefs. In contrast, Veronique demonstrates that the quest for religious authenticity and depth is not confined to liberal or alternative milieus but can permeate conservative settings as well. This insight invites us to reconsider dominant sociological frameworks that portray all conservatives as rigid and prescriptive. Ahava, while conservative, exhibits flexibility and bricolage, selectively appropriating Jewish practices and reinterpreting traditions. It even draws on the heritage of the Celtic Church and the stories of St Patrick, reinventing new forms of Irishness which, while unattractive to cultural Catholics, are still serve to enthuse those who adopt them. Such hybridity underscores the complexity of contemporary religiosity, where boundaries between categories blur.
Concluding Thoughts
Finally, Judaizing Christianity and Christian Zionism in Northern Ireland demonstrates the significance conservative countercultures—not as relics of the past but as dynamic actors in the present. In an era of uncertainty and perceived threats to Christianity, movements like Ahava offer their members not only a sense of authenticity and belonging but also a framework to interpret and intervene in the world.
Whether such interventions remain symbolic or acquire political traction is an open question—not just in Northern Ireland, but in an increasingly polarised world.