The curious conversion of Russell Brand

Questioning the sincerity of a fellow Christian’s faith is a big no-no. It would be wrong, then, to doubt the sincerity of Russell Brand’s Christianity, just as it would be wrong to pour scorn on the boy who broke out of Sunday school into the main church during the sermon, shouting of his joyful discovery that Jesus was his best friend. Young Christians like that need some helpful shepherding in the virtues of silence, not condemnation.

The YouTube-star-turned-evangelist has been increasingly vocal about his recently-acquired faith

Brand, who last year faced a string of allegations over his treatment of women (which he denies), revealed in April that he had been baptized as a Christian in London’s River Thames. In recent weeks, the comedian-turned-YouTube-star-turned-evangelist has been increasingly vocal about his recently-acquired faith, including on Tucker Carlson’s show. Carlson treated him as a significant spiritual figure, and Brand did not seem entirely resistant to such a depiction. Soon after that appearance, Brand posted a picture of himself in skimpy underpants, helping to baptize a friend. His Twitter/X feed is a stream of praise for Jesus. “As long as I know that I’m in relationship with Him, criticism doesn’t matter,” he wrote over the weekend.

Let’s recap on Brand’s journey. For about a decade, he was a fairly straight-forward rock-star-type comedian and presenter, known for his frank promiscuity. But he gradually started presenting himself as a spiritual person, in a wide sense, rooted in his identity as a recovering drug addict. There was a political side to this, which he set out in a book of 2014 called Revolution. It was a hippie-type message, of utopian possibility, love and peace, with some echoes of English Romanticism. This phase of his thought was rather attractive. Brand was seen as an exciting maverick figure of the British radical left. In the 2015 election, Labour’s Ed Miliband courted his support.

Seemingly bored by conventional politics, he flirted with anti-globalist conspiracy theories; the pandemic, of course, fueled such a shift. Brand continued to hold forth about spiritual enlightenment, in a vaguely Eastern way.

About a year ago, a spate of stories surfaced about his sexual mistreatment of women. Though not found guilty of anything, he became an officially toxic male, banned from mainstream broadcasting outlets. Then, this spring, he announced his conversion to Christianity, and was baptized in the Thames by Bear Grylls. It is unclear what sort of Christianity he was baptized into: his wife is Catholic, but his rhetoric has been more evangelical, and he has links with the (Anglican evangelical) Alpha movement. 

It’s a delight for Christians when sinners repent. As I say, I do not for one minute question the sincerity of Brand’s Christian faith. The problem is that this conversion looks very like a man spying a new opportunity to air his ego.

Is this what motivated Brand to embrace Christianity? Leftish radicalism was getting a bit stale and mundane perhaps (and he didn’t fancy hanging with Jeremy Corbyn), so he moved into a vaguer anti-globalism? Brand found a substantial online following, but saw that American libertarian pundits had far larger audiences, especially when they tapped in to the conservative Christian crowd. 

As I say, I do not doubt the man’s sincerity, but this is how it looks, to more cynical eyes. It looks like a man addicted to adulation has found a new way to impress large crowds and seem like a figure of rare spiritual insight. Ironically, he admits to his addiction to adulation in the bad old days — but now seems to want us to agree that any adulation he receives is in a good cause, a humble and holy cause.

A more authentic-looking conversion might have involved Brand rethinking his conspiracy theories, not least, perhaps, his discussion of the “Great Reset.” He might have questioned whether such theories were another form of attention-seeking, along with the wild rock-star act. Instead, his conversion has allowed him to continue smoothly on his old course, of sounding like a brave prophet, standing up to the system.

Brand’s conversion has validated him in his old course. A true conversion — sorry, a more authentic-looking conversion — would shake him out of that course, and bring a period of silent reflection as he took stock. And he might, from that process, end up with views that were mild and moderate, ones that did not get him invited onto stage with right-wing loudmouths.

This article was originally published on The Spectator’s UK website.