Crossing the halfway point in this look at the 2021 census, things move to a category that revealed some of the more dramatic changes: religion (or lack of).
A reminder of the ground rules:
- The figures will be counted at council level (the 22 unitary authorities). There are probably more interesting results at a local level/ward level, but that’s not for me to do. You can look these up yourselves using the ONS’s interactive map.
- Percentages are rounded to the nearest decimal place and changes are percentage point increases or decreases (unless stated otherwise).
- 2021 will be compared to both the 2011 and 2001 censuses unless comparable figures are unavailable (i.e. things were counted differently in 2021 compared to previous years) or I couldn’t find the data for whatever reason. In some instances, there won’t be a comparison because it’s a new category.
- Any conclusions are educated guesses rather than hard/academically rigorous ones.
Â
What’s the overall national picture?
The proportion of residents who consider themselves to be Christian has declined precipitously over the last 20 years.
Fewer than half of the Welsh resident population (43.6%) now consider themselves to be Christian – a lower percentage than across EnglandandWales as a whole (46.6%). It’s the first time ever that Christians have been officially recorded as a minority in Wales.
What’s remarkable is the decline has been consistent across the last two censuses, falling by roughly 14-15% every 10 years. There haven’t been any signs of recovery at all.
What are the standout findings for individual councils?
Only three council areas have a majority Christian population: Anglesey (51.5%), Flintshire (51.2%) and Conwy (50.8%).
There’s a rough correlation between living in a more rural council area and higher levels of Christianity. The likes of Carmarthenshire (47.6%), Ceredigion (46.7%), Powys (48.9%), Monmouthshire (48.7%) and Pembrokeshire (48.8%) have higher proportions of resident Christians than the Valleys – though all local authorities have seen big declines.
Bridgend has seen the fastest decline in the proportion of Christians over the last 20 years (-31.7%), though almost all urban local authorities in the south have seen declines of between 28-29% since 2001.
What may be the reasons behind the changes (if applicable)?
There’ll be an age link. Levels of religiousness amongst younger people are generally low – except for Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus – and Christians had the highest average age of any religious group in 2021 (51). You would therefore expect local authorities with a higher proportion of older people to have a higher proportion of residents who consider themselves to be Christian.
There’s also a difference between a cultural Christianity/Christian-in-name-only (i.e. marking Christmas and Easter as near-secular holidays) and practising Christianity. Identifying as “Christian” in the past may have been more closely tied to national identity, cultural heritage and even race. “Christian” as a label is also very broad and covers multiple denominations.
The number of practising Christians – those who regularly attend worship or are actively involved in church/chapel life – is probably far lower than those who identify as Christians, probably as low as a single-figure percentage of the population.
There may be a case that Christian denominations have rendered themselves irrelevant by not keeping pace with social changes since the 1960s or have adapted too late. Subsequent generations have been brought up in non-religious households or not had faith passed on to them in the same way as Muslims or other minority faiths. So a parent’s faith will, therefore, play a big part in whether their children end up religious.
Are there any public policy implications?
Christians remain the largest religious-identifying group in Wales. What those at the top end of the hierarchies will be concerned about – with an element of self-pity, perhaps – is losing their privileged status as the default arbiter of religion, morality and spirtuality.
There’s no doubt that organised Christian groups in Wales face an existential crisis. I don’t have accurate figures for the number of churches and chapels that close every year due to falling congregations but it’s likely to be a lot. Many will find (or have already found) a new role for themselves as a community support network. Some groups are already very successful at that, being heavily involved in things like food banks and homelessness outreach – “doing” rather than “telling”.
In terms of policy, the idea that non-faith schools should continue to have a daily act of worship “that’s Christian in nature” – or that the new religious education syllabus should focus mainly on Christianity – is clearly unsustainable.
Of course, many people just don’t believe any more or don’t think they need a rigid hierarchical structure – often beset by scandals – to live by Christian teachings or to set moral standards for themselves. The importance of the church/chapel will also vary depending on which denomination you belong to.
The risk bubbling in the background is that practising Christians end up turning to more fundamentalist groups as their numbers decline. They might feel secular society not only rejects them and their beliefs but is actively hostile towards them as part of the culture war. We might start to see more organised (loud, but ultimately unsuccessful) anti-abortion, anti-sex education and anti-LGBTQ+ campaigns. The far-right also increasingly portrays themselves as defending “Christian values” and protecting an increasingly “persecuted Christian (read, white) minority”.
