From the hedge-fund billions that bankroll Nigel Farage, and tie that funding to evangelical expansionism, to Nietzsche’s fulminating assault on Christianity as a “slave revolt”: this essay tracks the troubling way religion has reappeared at the heart of British public life. Arriving in London with walking boots, a rucksack, and a philosopher’s skepticism, the author follows the money, theology, and street culture surrounding charismatic Christianity and its seemingly unappeasable growth. At the centre stands Sir Paul Marshall: billionaire financier, Christian media mogul, and embodiment of a faith that feels entitled to reach for elite power.

But this is more than merely an unveiling of the knot that binds together wealth and religion. It is also a confrontation with Nietzsche’s deepest historical claim: that Christianity triumphed because the so-called weak learned to moralize against the strong. Wandering through churches, cafés, and city streets, the essay asks whether contemporary evangelical London represents a new form of that revolt—or its complete inversion.

Part I explores the rise of influential evangelical networks in modern Britain and their uneasy alliance with finance capitalism. Part II, which will appear shortly, returns to the first Christians themselves.

This article is a follow-up to Henry Holland’s account of hiking through Glasgow’s Muslim Southside (part I, part II).

Nietzsche is generally regarded as a literary philosopher whose aphoristic nihilisms not only conjure up the death of God, but who also reinforced the dark sides of German history as a posthumous master thinker. In contrast, the following text would like to be part of the series What does Nietzsche mean to me? invite you to learn to read Nietzsche anew as the discoverer of the all-too-unknown philosophical continent of Mediterranean existentialism.

In his recently published study Theory of Liberation [Theorie der Befreiung]Frankfurt philosopher Christoph Menke describes liberation as “fascination,” as pleasurable desubjectization and dedication. He refers decisively to Nietzsche — but for him, “fascination” means bewitching, entanglement in lack of freedom and resentment. Can the mystical power of fascination really set us free — or is it not rather Nietzsche's right and liberation means above all self-empowerment and autonomy, whereas the fascinated sacrifice means submission, not least to a fascist leader?