The global persecution of Christians is the unreported catastrophe of our time
Imagine if correspondents in late 1944 had reported the Battle of the
 Bulge, but without explaining that it was a turning point in the second
 world war. Or what if finance reporters had told the story of the AIG 
meltdown in 2008 without adding that it raised questions about 
derivatives and sub-prime mortgages that could augur a vast financial 
implosion?
Most people would say that journalists had failed to provide the 
proper context to understand the news. Yet that’s routinely what media 
outlets do when it comes to outbreaks of anti-Christian persecution 
around the world, which is why the global war on Christians remains the 
greatest story never told of the early 21st century.
In recent days, people around the world have been appalled by images 
of attacks on churches in Pakistan, where 85 people died when two 
suicide bombers rushed the Anglican All Saints Church in Peshawar, and 
in Kenya, where an assault on a Catholic church in Wajir left one dead 
and two injured.
Those atrocities are indeed appalling, but they cannot truly be 
understood without being seen as small pieces of a much larger 
narrative. Consider three points about the landscape of anti-Christian 
persecution today, as shocking as they are generally unknown. 
According 
to the International Society for Human Rights, a secular observatory 
based in Frankfurt, Germany, 80 per cent of all acts of religious 
discrimination in the world today are directed at Christians. 
Statistically speaking, that makes Christians by far the most persecuted
 religious body on the planet.
According to the Pew Forum, between 2006 and 2010 Christians faced 
some form of discrimination, either de jure or de facto, in a staggering
 total of 139 nations, which is almost three-quarters of all the 
countries on earth. According to the Center for the Study of Global 
Christianity at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in Massachusetts, an
 average of 100,000 Christians have been killed in what the centre calls
 a ‘situation of witness’ each year for the past decade. That works out 
to 11 Christians killed somewhere in the world every hour, seven days a 
week and 365 days a year, for reasons related to their faith.
In effect, the world is witnessing the rise of an entire new 
generation of Christian martyrs. The carnage is occurring on such a vast
 scale that it represents not only the most dramatic Christian story of 
our time, but arguably the premier human rights challenge of this era as
 well.
To put flesh and blood on those statistics, all one has to do is look
 around. In Baghdad, Islamic militants stormed the Syriac Catholic 
cathedral of Our Lady of Salvation on 31 October 2010, killing the two 
priests celebrating Mass and leaving a total of 58 people dead. Though 
shocking, the assault was far from unprecedented; of the 65 Christian 
churches in Baghdad, 40 have been bombed at least once since the 
beginning of the 2003 US-led invasion.
The effect of this campaign of violence and intimidation has been 
devastating for Christianity in the country. At the time of the first 
Gulf War in 1991, Iraq boasted a flourishing Christian population of at 
least 1.5 million. Today the high-end estimate for the number of 
Christians left is around 500,000, and realistically many believe it 
could be as low as 150,000. Most of these Iraqi Christians have gone 
into exile, but a staggering number have been killed.
India’s northeastern state of Orissa was the scene of the most 
violent anti-Christian pogrom of the early 21st century. In 2008, a 
series of riots ended with as many as 500 Christians killed, many hacked
 to death by machete-wielding Hindu radicals; thousands more were 
injured and at least 50,000 left homeless. Many Christians fled to 
hastily prepared displacement camps, where some languished for two years
 or more.
An estimated 5,000 Christian homes, along with 350 churches and 
schools, were destroyed. A Catholic nun, Sister Meena Barwa, was raped 
during the mayhem, then marched naked and beaten. Police sympathetic to 
the radicals discouraged the nun from filing a report, and declined to 
arrest her attackers.
In Burma, members of the Chin and Karen ethnic groups, who are 
strongly Christian, are considered dissidents by the regime and 
routinely subjected to imprisonment, torture, forced labour, and murder.
 In October 2010, the Burmese military launched helicopter strikes in 
territories where the country’s Christians are concentrated.
A Burmese Air Force source told reporters that the junta had declared
 these areas ‘black zones’, where military personnel were authorised to 
attack and kill Christian targets on sight. Though there are no precise 
counts, thousands of Burmese Christians are believed to have been killed
 in the offensive.
In Nigeria, the militant Islamic movement ‘Boko Haram’ is held 
responsible for almost 3,000 deaths since 2009, including 800 fatalities
 last year alone. 
The movement has made a speciality out of targeting 
Christians and their churches, and in some cases they seem determined to
 drive Christians out altogether from parts of the country.
In December 2011, local Boko Haram spokesmen announced that all 
Christians in the northern Yobe and Borno states had three days to get 
out, and followed up with a spate of church bombings on 5 and 6 January 
2012, which left at least 26 Christians dead, as well as two separate 
shooting sprees in which eight more Christians died. In the aftermath, 
hundreds of Christians fled the area, and many are still displaced. Over
 Christmas last year, at least 15 Christians are believed to have had 
their throats cut by Boko Haram assailants.
North Korea is widely considered the most dangerous place in the 
world to be a Christian, where roughly a quarter of the country’s 
200,000 to 400,000 Christians are believed to be living in forced labour
 camps for their refusal to join the national cult around founder Kim Il
 Sung. The anti-Christian animus is so strong that people with Christian
 grandparents are frozen out of the most important jobs — even though 
Kim Il Sung’s mother was a Presbyterian deaconess. Since the armistice 
in 1953 that stabilised the division of the peninsula, some 300,000 
Christians in North Korea have disappeared and are presumed dead.
As these examples illustrate, anti-Christian violence is hardly 
limited to a ‘clash of civilisations’ between Christianity and Islam. In
 truth, Christians face a bewildering variety of threats, with no single
 enemy and no single strategy best adapted to curb the violence.
Though fellow believers in the West may have special reason for 
feeling concern, the reality is that no confessional convictions at all 
are required to justify alarm over this rising tide of anti-Christian 
animus.
Because the bulk of the globe’s 2.3 billion Christians today are 
impoverished and live in the developing world, and because they are 
often members of ethnic, cultural and linguistic minorities, experts 
regard their treatment as a reliable indicator of a society’s broader 
record on human rights and dignity. 
Just as one didn’t have to be Jewish
 in the 1970s to care about dissident Jews in the Soviet Union, nor 
black in the 1980s to be outraged by the Apartheid regime in South 
Africa, one doesn’t have to be Christian today to see the defence of 
persecuted Christians as a towering priority.
Why are the dimensions of this global war so often overlooked? Aside 
from the root fact that the victims are largely non-white and poor, and 
thus not considered ‘newsmakers’ in the classic sense, and that they 
tend to live and die well off the radar screen of western attention, the
 global war also runs up against the outdated stereotype of Christianity
 as the oppressor rather than the oppressed.
Say ‘religious persecution’ to most makers of cultured secular 
opinion, and they will think of the Crusades, the Inquisition, Bruno and
 Galileo, the Wars of Religion and the Salem witch trials. Today, 
however, we do not live on the pages of a Dan Brown potboiler, in which 
Christians are dispatching mad assassins to settle historical scores. 
Instead, they’re the ones fleeing assassins others have dispatched.
Moreover, public discussion of religious freedom issues often suffers
 from two sets of blinders. First, it’s generally phrased in terms of 
western church/state tensions, such as the recent tug-of-war between 
religious leaders in the United States and the Obama White House over 
contraception mandates as part of health care reform, or tensions in the
 United Kingdom over the 2010 Equality Act and its implications for 
church-affiliated adoption agencies vis-à-vis same-sex couples. 
The 
truth is that in the West, a threat to religious freedom means someone 
might get sued; in many other parts of the world, it means someone might
 get shot, and surely the latter is the more dramatic scenario.
Secondly, discussion is sometimes limited by an overly narrow 
conception of what constitutes ‘religious violence’. If a female 
catechist is killed in the Democratic Republic of Congo, for instance, 
because she’s persuading young people to stay out of militias and 
criminal gangs, one might say that’s a tragedy but not martyrdom, 
because her assailants weren’t driven by hatred of the Christian faith. 
Yet the crucial point isn’t just what was in the mind of her killers, 
but what was in the heart of that catechist, who knowingly put her life 
on the line to serve the gospel. To make her attackers’ motives the only
 test, rather than her own, is to distort reality.
Whatever the motives for the silence, it’s well past time for it to 
end. Pope Francis recognised this in remarks during a General Audience 
last month.
‘When I hear that so many Christians in the world are suffering, am I
 indifferent, or is it as if a member of my own family is suffering?’ 
the Pope asked his following. ‘Am I open to that brother or that sister 
in my family who’s giving his or her life for Jesus Christ?’
In 2011, the Catholic Patriarch of Jerusalem, Fouad Twal, who leads a
 church with more than its fair share of new martyrs, phrased the same 
questions more plaintively during a conference in London. He bluntly 
asked: ‘Does anybody hear our cry? How many atrocities must we endure 
before somebody, somewhere, comes to our aid?’
There may be no question about the destiny of Christianity in the early 21st century more deserving of a compelling answer.