We need to take back control of Catholicism

A strange thing has happened to me recently. I am suddenly surrounded by Catholics. You would not think this was a strange thing for me. I am, after all, a lifelong Catholic myself (nominally, now lapsed). I was christened when I was four weeks old. I went to convent primary and secondary school. I’ve done the confession, communion and confirmation. I grew up on the Falls Road in west Belfast, perhaps the only place in the world with a higher concentration of Catholics than Vatican City. And yet never before has Catholicism dominated my life like it does today. Where are all these Catholics coming from?

Or perhaps the better question is, where are all these fully grown, fully ripened adult Catholics coming from? Because the boom is not a baby boom – as the pronatalists frequently despair – it’s an adult convert boom. We may have lost Pope Francis, but in his place we have brand spanking new, shiny Catholics popping up all over the place. In France, 10,000 adult Catholic converts were baptised over this Easter. In the US, the National Catholic Register is reporting huge year-on-year increases of converts (in one part of Bible belt Texas, it was 72%). Even in England, a deeply Protestant country both in official religion and in vibes, Catholicism is having a moment. In the country’s biggest Catholic diocese, Westminster, at least 500 people were received into the church last month.

All right, a more specific question then: why is adult Catholic conversion suddenly chic? And where are all these adult Catholic converts coming from?

Easy. They’re coming from the right. From JD Vance down to Dasha Nekrasova, a deluge of conservative voices have found themselves called to the Vatican, to all the aesthetics and history that makes up modern Catholicism, to a religion that might just be, well, chic. When Pope Francis died and his funeral was screened across the world, something curious happened. The masses saw a sea of cardinals in red velvet robes and sunglasses, a parade of weeping beautiful women in lace mantillas. They saw gold coffered ceilings, incense gently rising to the sky, and they looked at one another, bemused, curious. Catholics know how to do mourning. Catholics know how to do fashion. Could it be that Catholicism is… cool?

I would not mind the Catholicism boom if it was strictly down to this perception of coolness. In some circles of the internet, being a young Catholic is simply a kind of cosplay, a new genre for theatre kids who a decade ago might have been dressing up as the Doctor or running Sherlock blogs or saying that they believe themselves to be wolves. There’s an odd sexual undertone to it all, sure: kneeling by bedsides; twiddling Rosary beads between cleavage; dressing solely in slip dresses and knee socks; communicating that you’re not allowed to have sex before marriage while constantly oozing a sort of Nabokovian, Virgin Suicides vibe from your every alabaster-skinned pore – but it’s ultimately harmless. It’s dark academia for bored Protestants who spend too much time on Pinterest.

The aesthetic appeal is understandable, but sadly, that’s not all there is to it. Some newbies take Catholicism Very Seriously Indeed. They know the theology. They’ve read the Bible (nobody I know has ever read the Bible). They love Latin Mass (again, weird). They think we need to go back to basics, toughen up, remember our fire-and-brimstone roots. For those on the right, Catholicism can offer a fast-track to a number of things; not just traditionalism and aestheticism – a sort of mystic chicness – but also a cloak for less than savoury unpopular opinions. The alliance between the Catholic church and the new Republican era in the US is not just theatrical and embarrassing, it’s chilling. It’s emboldened the public endorsement of reactionary and sinister ideas, particularly from the pro-life lobby.