When the United States acts militarily or in foreign policy, it rarely takes long before the same explanation appears in Swedish debate: it must be about religion—preferably in its most dramatic form. The media quickly fills with theories about the apocalypse, doomsday beliefs, and “Christian nationalism.” But what happens when an explanation becomes more appealing than it is true?
Few have advanced the idea that Donald Trump will bring about the end of the world as consistently as the Swedish professor of church history Joel Halldorf.
In interviews, Halldorf has described how parts of the American Christian right view the Middle East through a biblical lens. He speaks of “apocalyptic Zionism” and of a belief that it is a “holy duty” to support Israel.
Halldorf refers to “a faction within the Christian right” that connects attacks on Iran to biblical passages describing the final battle preceding the return of Christ.
“When Trump starts this war, it is seen as following God’s script. A holy war,” Halldorf says.
“Apocalyptic Christian Zionism is an important driving force for many around Trump: they should support Israel in foreign policy, and they should also confront Iran.”
It is a narrative that has everything: religion, conflict, drama.
And it fits perfectly into a Swedish self-image in which religion — especially conservative Christianity — is often portrayed as irrational, emotionally driven, and ultimately dangerous.
That is precisely why it should be handled with greater care.
From marginal phenomenon to leading role
Halldorf himself is clear that those he describes as “Christian nationalists” represent a minority.
Yet it is precisely this minority that, in Swedish debate, is repeatedly cast not only as an explanation for the foreign policy of the world’s most powerful nation, but almost as the horsemen of the apocalypse themselves.
The fact that President Trump has left the Presbyterian Church to align himself with non-denominational Christians is, for Halldorf, yet another sign that the end times are near:
“The preaching is high-octane, the ideas are unpolished, and the message is often prosperity theology: if your faith is strong, you can expect health and wealth. The world is described as a battle between light and darkness, where spiritually awakened individuals play a key role. Charisma is more important than character,” Halldorf writes.
“The saved are portrayed as mini-gods whose spiritual power can be used to manifest a bright future. It is self-help on steroids.”
This is a remarkably skewed logic: when our own countries make decisions that in practice support and sustain military conflicts, we speak of necessity, strategy, resources, and balance of power. When the United States does the same — seeking to put an end to a brutal regime—Swedish debate turns instead to theological ideas about the end times.
But this is not analysis.
It is a selective interpretation from a liberal-Christian, woke-oriented left that views all forms of traditional Christianity as expressions of dark forces.
The intellectual shortcut
Terms like “Christian nationalism” function here less as analytical tools and more as rhetorical shortcuts. What Halldorf effectively suggests is that we already know what we are dealing with: the Enemy. It is Us versus Them. Good versus Evil. Liberals versus the Far Right. “Respectable” Christians versus “Unacceptable” Christians.
It is a convenient explanation. Because the moment it is invoked, one is relieved of the more difficult task: actually analyzing geopolitics.
But reality is far more mundane—and at the same time more complex.
Regardless of what Scandinavian woke Christians may believe, U.S. actions in the Middle East are not primarily shaped by the Book of Revelation.
American foreign policy is driven by strategic interests: military alliances, energy flows, and regional power balances. The same logic applies to all great powers. In the case of the Trump administration, the United States has also sought to give Iranians their first real opportunity for freedom since 1979.
To replace this with references to apocalyptic visions is not to deepen the analysis — it is to substitute it with something more theatrically appealing.
The Swedish reflex
There is also something revealing about who these kinds of explanations are applied to.
When American Christians engage in politics, it is described as apocalyptic.
When institutions like the Church of Sweden or the Church of Norway engage in politics, it is described as values.
When traditionally minded Christians hold convictions—even when those convictions aim to protect life — they are treated with suspicion.
When woke Christians hold convictions — even when those convictions justify harm — they are normalized.
This way of reasoning reveals something fundamental about Swedish public discourse: traditional Christian faith is not seen as a possible source of rational action, but as a deviation that requires explanation.
Convenient — but misleading
None of this means Halldorf is entirely wrong. Of course, there are religious currents in the United States that interpret world events through a biblical lens. Religion also plays a far more visible role in American politics than it does in Sweden or Norway.
But to make this the primary explanation is something else entirely. It is to choose the most dramatic explanation over the most plausible one.
This is where the analysis breaks down—and becomes comfortable.
Halldorf offers a simple narrative in which complex geopolitics is reduced to a suspect interpretation of Christianity, emotions, and ideology. In that narrative, “the others” appear irrational—and he himself appears as the rational observer.
Reasoning in this way is like urinating in your pants to stay warm: it may provide a brief sense of comfort, but it is not sustainable.
Trump as a mirror
Still, let me give Joel Halldorf credit for one thing: his argument serves a function in Swedish public discourse. He offers a coherent — and for many appealing — story about a complex world.
But when Swedish debate makes apocalyptic thinking the key to understanding American politics, something paradoxical happens:
We believe we are explaining the world.
In reality, we are revealing our own distorted image of it.
Because when Trump is portrayed as the orange horseman of the apocalypse, it is not necessarily the United States that becomes more understandable — it is our own desire to simplify that becomes visible.