Understanding authority from Rome to Beijing

As geo-political tensions between China and the West rise, K.K. Yeo explores authority and religion in China, finding complex questions and nuanced answers.

K.K. Yeo

K.-K. Yeo, a diaspora Chinese, lectures widely in majority world including China on cross-cultural understanding of civilization and religion.

Haidian Christian Church

Is the West Christian and China Confucianist? Or is the West secular and China communist? Binary understanding of our world in conventional terms, such as East versus West, or the sacred-secular divide, is superficial and confusing. Given the biases, divisiveness and, at times, toxic geopolitical reality today, the topic of government and Christianity in China today is more complex than meets the eye. A much better option is a meaningful cross-cultural perspective that enables constructive conversation, while honoring different contexts and nuanced understandings.

Does it surprise you that, an atheist, and at times anti-religion, ‘party-state’ China is the world’s largest Bible printer? Christianity in China has existed since the seventh century when the Syrian Church of the East had rigorous cultural, religious, and commercial exchanges with many nations as far as those in East Asia. Recently the regime in China has become concerned about the growth of the Christian population that might be outnumbering the Party’s members. There has been the suppression of believers, burning of crosses, and demolition of churches across the country. The Communist Party eliminated the State Administration for Religious Affairs in 2018, and the United Front Work Department of the Communist Party now has direct control on all religions.

Does it surprise you that, an atheist, and at times anti-religion, ‘party-state’ China is the world’s largest Bible printer?

Churches in China exist in a harsh reality similar to that of first century Roman Empire, so they inevitably find the teaching of St. Paul in the Bible to be of great interest. Chinese Christians have long had nuanced responses to their government. The house church remains committed to love Christ only - rendering to God the things that are God’s, and only then would they render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s. This ‘separation of religion and government’ position (preservation of religious freedom from government intrusion) is considered to be politically subversive to the authoritarian rule of the Party. Therefore, the house churches have long distanced themselves from politics, while acknowledging that their Christian behaviour, such as loving their neighbor as a religious duty, is ‘the best politics’ for nation building.

By contrast, the Three-Self Patriotic churches—and also the current Vatican-China agreement on the appointment of Chinese bishops—do not find a serious discrepancy in loving Christ and the communist state. They seek to work with the government primarily in the matter of social welfare but have range of mixed views on the scope of combining patriotism with Christian belief. To maintain no or minimum separation of government and religion is becoming more and more challenging as the government centralises its control of all aspects of national and personal lives.

Christians in China are asking harder questions than those in churches outside China.

Can a Christian church adopt a state ideology or become a member of the Communist Party to support Christian identity and social harmony in China?

Are church attendance and participating in church activities politically subversive?

And what does it mean to say that ‘Jesus is Lord’ in that land?

I remember teaching at Peking University and seeing the students debate a scenario in the Bible in which the Thessalonian crowd was charging the apostle Paul and his colleague Silas for contradicting the decree of Caesar, for ‘saying that there is another king named Jesus’. Paul was surely preaching neither about insurrection nor subversion of the Roman Empire. However, Roman audiences then, and Chinese crowd or government today, are more likely to have perceived the belief in ‘Jesus as Lord’ as a political threat.

A case in point concerns Wang Yi, the pastor of the Early Rain Church in the city of Chendu, who preached Jesus as the Lord of lords - thus implying that the current political ruler is subsumed under Jesus Christ. Yi was sentenced to nine years in prison in 2018 ‘for inciting subversion of state power’. Cardinal Joseph Zen, a 90-year-old Catholic bishop in Hong Kong, was arrested in 2022 for criticizing the Vatican’s unwise deal with China, and for being an advocate of democracy in Hong Kong.

Christians in Hong Kong are treading similar water regarding their religious faith clashing with the politicized perception of such faith as treason, such as in the Umbrella Movement or the Occupy Central with Love and Peace that protest the will of the Chinese Communist rule in Hong Kong.

Can a Christian church adopt a state ideology or become a member of the Communist Party to support Christian identity and social harmony in China?

Using the teaching of St Paul in his letter to early Christians in Rome as a resource, the Chinese argue that he encourages these Roman Christians to critically reflect on government power so as to bring all nations to obedience of God’s justice. The popular reading of Paul as asking Roman Christians to ‘be subjected to the governing authorities’ for the reason that ‘for there is no authority except from God’ is a weak English translation. To the Chinese church, Paul admonishes Roman Christians to ‘subject themselves to the governing authorities’, and that is not a passive submission but a voluntary involvement as good citizens in the process of bringing about change to their government. The Chinese church sees that Paul challenges government politics, first by stating the principle that, ‘it is not an authority if not from God’, i.e., ‘unless from God’. In other words, there may be some governing authorities that are not appointed by God, thus begging the question: how does one know if governing authorities are from God and those not from God?

It seems that Paul is not concerned about whether a government or the head of state is Christian or not. What matters to Paul is not what the government says but the way the government or the head of state acts in accordance to the following principles:

Rulers are not to terrorize good conducts and good citizens; the rule of law is meant to approve the good-doers and punish the evil-doers;
Rulers are ‘ministers’ of God for the common good of the people, even though Roman Empire has its mythic origin from Jupiter, a Roman god;
Rulers are ‘worship leaders’ of God as they administer collected taxes not for their own concentration of power, but for the dignity and flourishing of the citizens, thus realizing God’s compassionate justice on earth, promoting the welfare of the city.

Churches outside China read Paul on government politics based on their assumed cultural context of Christian values. Yet, the Chinese church’s courage and humility to ask hard questions for themselves is an enlightening conversation. For those outside China, a cross-cultural and global understanding of government and religion can shed light on the promotion of a robust public life.

NHS: How far do we go to feed the sacred system?

Balancing safeguards and economic expediencies after the assisted dying vote.

Callum Elwood

Callum is a pastor, based on a barge, in London's Docklands.

A patient eye view of six surgeons looking down.

National Cancer Institute via Unsplash.

“Die cheaply, protect the NHS” It sounds extreme, but it could become an unspoken policy. With MPs voting on 29th November to advance the assisted dying bill, Britain stands at a crossroads. Framed as a compassionate choice for the terminally ill, the bill raises profound ethical, societal, and economic concerns. In a nation where the NHS holds near-sacred status, this legislation risks leading us to a grim reality: lives sacrificed to sustain an overstretched healthcare system.

The passage of this legislation demands vigilance. To avoid human lives being sacrificed at the altar of an insatiable healthcare system, we must confront the potential dangers of assisted dying becoming an economic expedient cloaked in compassion.

The NHS has been part of British identity since its founding, offering universal care, free at the point of use. To be clear, this is a good thing—extraordinary levels of medical care are accessible to all, regardless of income. When my wife needed medical intervention while in labour, the NHS ensured we were not left with an unpayable bill.

Yet the NHS is more than a healthcare system; it has become a cultural icon. During the COVID-19 pandemic, it was elevated to near-religious status with weekly clapping, rainbow posters, and public declarations of loyalty. To criticise or call for reform often invites accusations of cruelty or inhumanity. A 2020 Ipsos MORI poll found that 74 per cent of Britons cited the NHS as a source of pride, more than any other institution.

However, the NHS’s demands continue to grow: waiting lists stretch ever longer, staff are overworked and underpaid, and funding is perpetually under strain. Like any idol, it demands sacrifices to sustain its appetite. In this context, the introduction of assisted dying legislation raises troubling questions about how far society might go to feed this sacred system.

Supporters of the Assisted Dying Bill argue that it will remain limited to exceptional cases, governed by strict safeguards. However, international evidence suggests otherwise.

In Belgium, the number of euthanasia cases rose by 267 per cent in less than a decade, with 2,656 cases in 2019 compared to 954 in 2010. Increasingly, these cases involve patients with psychiatric disorders or non-terminal illnesses. Canada has seen similar trends since legalising medical assistance in dying (MAiD) in 2016. By 2021, over 10,000 people had opted for MAiD, with eligibility expanding to include individuals with disabilities, mental health conditions, and even financial hardships.

The argument for safeguards is hardly reassuring, history shows they are often eroded over time. In Belgium and Canada, assisted dying has evolved from a last resort for the terminally ill to an option offered to the vulnerable and struggling. This raises an urgent question: how do we ensure Britain doesn’t follow this trajectory?

The NHS is under immense strain. With limited resources and growing demand, the temptation to frame assisted dying as an economic solution is real. While supporters present the legislation as compassionate, the potential for financial incentives to influence its application cannot be ignored.

Healthcare systems exist to uphold human dignity, not reduce life to an economic equation.

Consider a scenario: you are diagnosed with a complex, long-term, ultimately terminal illness. Option one involves intricate surgery, a lengthy hospital stay, and gruelling physiotherapy. The risks are high, the recovery tough, life not significantly lengthened, and the costs significant. Opting for this could be perceived as selfish—haven’t you heard how overstretched the NHS is? Don’t you care about real emergencies? Option two offers a "dignified" exit: assisted dying. It spares NHS resources and relieves your family of the burden of prolonged care. What starts as a choice may soon feel like an obligation for the vulnerable, elderly, or disabled—those who might already feel they are a financial or emotional burden.

This economic argument is unspoken but undeniable. When a system is stretched to breaking point, compassion risks becoming a convenient cloak for expedience.

The Assisted Dying Bill marks a critical moment for Britain. If passed into law, as now seems inevitable, it could redefine not only how we view healthcare but how we value life itself. To prevent this legislation from becoming a slippery slope, we must remain vigilant against the erosion of safeguards and the pressure of economic incentives.

At the same time, we must reassess our relationship with the NHS. It must no longer occupy a place of unquestioning reverence. Instead, we should view it with a balance of admiration and accountability. Reforming the NHS isn’t about dismantling it but ensuring it serves its true purpose: to protect life, not demand it.

Healthcare systems exist to uphold human dignity, not reduce life to an economic equation. If we continue to treat the NHS as sacred, the costs—moral, spiritual, and human—will become unbearable.

This moment requires courage: the courage to confront economic realities without compromising our moral foundations. As a society, we must advocate for policies that prioritise care, defend the vulnerable, and resist the reduction of life to an equation. Sacrifices will always be necessary in a healthcare system, but they must be sacrifices of commitment to care, not lives surrendered to convenience.

The path forward demands thoughtful reform and a collective reimagining of our values. If we value dignity and compassion, we must ensure that they remain more than rhetoric—they must be the principles that guide our every decision.