Jesus Christ preached neither conquest nor coercion. His message was disarmingly simple yet morally demanding: love thy neighbour, turn away from hatred, and resist injustice without surrendering compassion. Christmas, which marks the birth of Christ, embodies this philosophy—not as a political statement, but as a civilisational ethic rooted in humility, peace, and freedom of conscience.
Yet, in today’s increasingly polarised world, even this most benign of religious celebrations is no longer immune from intimidation.
Across parts of Europe—most disturbingly in France—reports have emerged of Christmas celebrations being curtailed, discouraged, or quietly cancelled in certain neighbourhoods under pressure from Islamic fundamentalist elements. Public displays are toned down, church events are restrained, and ordinary citizens are coaxed—sometimes threatened—into silence for the sake of “social harmony.” This is not harmony. It is surrender.
France’s predicament is especially revealing. The Republic that once championed liberty, equality, and fraternity now struggles to protect the most basic expression of religious freedom: the right to celebrate a festival without fear. Laïcité, intended to shield society from religious domination, has been twisted into a one-sided restraint—binding those who follow the law, while emboldening those who reject pluralism altogether.
This is not a failure of Christianity. Nor is it an indictment of Muslims as a whole—millions of whom live peacefully, reject extremism, and respect the laws of their countries. The problem is fundamentalism, and Europe’s chronic unwillingness to confront it honestly. Political timidity, cultural guilt, and intellectual dishonesty have created a vacuum—one increasingly filled by radical ideologies that see coexistence not as a virtue, but as a weakness.
‘Christmas commemorates the birth of God’s Son’. It is not a declaration of supremacy. It does not demand submission from others. It commemorates the birth of a man who renounced worldly power and embraced sacrifice. That such a festival can be perceived as threatening tells us far more about the insecurity of the intimidator than the intent of the celebrant.
The deeper issue is civilisational confidence. Europe today appears uncertain of its own inheritance—Christian, humanist, and Enlightenment values alike. It has no trouble accommodating aggressive assertions of identity in the name of diversity, yet hesitates when its own traditions seek public expression. This asymmetry is neither liberal nor secular; it is self-negation.
Contrast this with India—a civilisation routinely lectured by Western elites on tolerance and pluralism. Despite its immense diversity and internal challenges, Christmas in India is celebrated openly. Churches are illuminated, carols are sung, and people of all faiths participate without anxiety. The festival is not viewed as an intrusion but as part of a shared cultural rhythm. That such openness exists in India, while parts of Europe retreat into fearful accommodation, should provoke uncomfortable questions.
Jesus Christ’s teachings emphasised moral courage. “Do not be afraid,” he said—repeatedly. Fear, however, has become the organising principle of contemporary Western policymaking. Fear of being labelled intolerant. Fear of confronting uncomfortable truths. Fear of acknowledging that multiculturalism without mutual respect is not diversity, but disorder.
When the state cannot guarantee a church’s right to celebrate Christmas without intimidation, it has failed in its most basic duty. When citizens self-censor religious expression to avoid conflict, the erosion of liberty is already complete. Freedom, once surrendered incrementally, is rarely reclaimed without cost.
What is unfolding is not merely a religious issue—it is a test of democratic resolve. If public celebration of Christmas can be suppressed today, any tradition can be targeted tomorrow. This is how pluralism dies—not through dramatic decrees, but through quiet, calculated intimidation and institutional silence.
Christmas endures because it speaks to something universal: hope amid despair, light in darkness, dignity in humility. These values are not Western, Eastern, Christian, or secular—they are human. To defend Christmas is not to privilege one faith over another, but to affirm a principle that sustains all free societies: that belief must remain voluntary, expression must remain free, and fear must never become policy.
A civilisation that cannot protect its festivals cannot protect its future.
As the world confronts rising extremism and ideological absolutism, the message of Christ remains profoundly relevant—not as theology alone, but as moral guidance. Peace without cowardice. Tolerance without surrender. Faith without fear.
To celebrate Christmas openly today is not merely an act of devotion. In many parts of the world, it has become an act of quiet courage.
And that, perhaps, is precisely why it must be defended.
