The fight over Christian nationalism in a small Tennessee town

Looking out over the lush green forests and pastures nestled in the Appalachian hills of Tennessee, Josh Abbotoy describes what he plans to build here: a community with dozens of residential lots centered around a working farm and, most importantly, a church.

“The client could very well buy and build around where we are now,” he says as we climb to the top of the ridge.

Mr. Abbotoy is the founder of the Ridgerunner real estate company, which has purchased land here and in neighboring Kentucky. But this is no ordinary residential complex.

Mr. Abbotoy is prominent in conservative circles in the United States and describes his development as a “community of shared interests” aimed at people interested not only in the peace and quiet of rural life, but also in a constellation of right-wing ideals.

“Faith, family and freedom,” he says. “These are the values ​​we are trying to celebrate.”

It didn't initially attract much attention from locals after opening its store in Jackson County.

But in late 2024, local television news showed conflicting statements from two of Mr. Abbotoy's first and most outspoken clients: Andrew Isker, a Minnesota pastor and writer, and C.J. Engel, a California businessman.

They call themselves “Christian nationalists” who question modern values, such as whether women's suffrage and the civil rights movement are good ideas, and call for mass deportations of legal immigrants, far beyond President Donald Trump's current plan. They also sometimes say: “Abolish the 20th century.”

The TV report caused alarm among some local residents.

“You don't know who these people are or what they're capable of,” said Nan Koons, a middle-aged woman who spoke with a thick Southern accent during a recent interview near the town square in Gainsborough, of which the land is part.

“And that’s why it’s scary.”

While Abbotoy doesn't consider himself a Christian nationalist, he says concerns about his tenants are overblown.

Since then, the Ridgerunner's development has attracted national attention. And residents of Gainsborough, which has a population of around 900 and one traffic light, are now at the center of a dispute that is a harbinger of much larger political battles.

Mr Isker and Mr Engel announced their move to Gainsborough last year on their podcast Contra Mundum, which is Latin for “against the world”.

In their show, currently being recorded at Ridgerunner's studio in Gainsborough, they encourage their fans to move into small communities, seek local influence and join them in their fight to put strong conservative Christian values ​​at the heart of American government.

“If you could build places where you could gain political power,” Mr. Isker said in one episode, “it might mean sitting on [board of] county commissioners or even listening to the county commissioners and the sheriff… being able to do those things is extremely, extremely valuable.”

At X, Mr. Engel popularized the idea of ​​“American heritage,” a vague concept but one that applies primarily to Anglo-Protestants whose ancestors arrived in the United States at least a century ago. He says it's not explicitly white, but has “strong ethnic correlations.”

He called for mass deportation of immigrants, including legal ones, writing: “People such as Indians, Southeast Asians, Ecuadorians or African immigrants are the least able to adjust and should be sent home immediately.”

They also expressed anti-gay sentiments in their radio broadcasts and publications. The podcasters deny they are white nationalists.

Both are Ridgerunner clients, and Mr. Isker's church will move into the community chapel when it is completed.

Their radical views alarmed residents, with some locals forming an informal resistance group.

“I believe they were trying to brand our town and county as the headquarters of their ideology of Christian nationalism,” says town matriarch Diana Mandley, a prominent local businesswoman who until recently owned a pub in Gainsborough's central square.

Mandley led the charge late last year, writing a message on a board outside her office: “If you are a person or group who promotes the inferiority or oppression of others, please eat somewhere else.”

More signs followed against the new development. When people found out that the Ridgerunner boys were holding a meeting at a nearby fast food joint, dozens of people showed up to confront them.

Ms. Koons, whose ancestors have lived in Gainsborough since around the time of the American Revolutionary War, said she engaged Mr. Engel in conversation.

“He explained to me that they were promoting what he called 'family voting'… one vote per family, and of course the husband in that family would vote,” and women were excluded from the electorate.

Engel has since publicly stated that women voting is not “wrong,” although he supports the idea of ​​household suffrage.

In a county that voted 80 percent for Donald Trump in the last election, Ms. Coons is accustomed to living next door to conservative neighbors.

But she and others left the protest more convinced than ever that their new neighbors' beliefs were too radical.

They say they don't want to drive them out of town, but they intend to sound the alarm about what they say are extreme views and discourage any future attempts to take over the local government.

“This is where we have to draw the line,” Ms. Koons says.

Christian nationalism is a vague worldview without a single coherent definition.

At the extreme, as theorists including author Stephen Wolfe have noted, Christian nationalists advocate rule by a “Christian prince”—an all-powerful religious dictator who rules over the civil authorities and leads his subjects to “godliness.”

Less radical versions take the form of calls for Christian laws to be explicitly enshrined in American legal codes, for religious leaders to be actively involved in politics, or simply for recognition of the Christian origins of America's Founding Fathers.

This diversity of definitions has created a strategic ambiguity that experts say has helped Christian nationalism penetrate the mainstream.

Mr Abbotoy's development is still in its early stages – his company builds roads and organizes sanitation infrastructure. When the BBC visited in November, workers were busy demolishing a ramshackle old barn, one of many that dot the Appalachian landscape.

But business is brisk. Contracts have already been concluded for approximately half of the lots. Mr Abbotoy expects the first homes to be built and new customers to begin moving in in early 2027.

Many of his clients, he said, are moving to Republican-majority Tennessee from Democratic-majority states such as California and New York.

“People want to live in communities where they feel they share important values ​​with their neighbors,” he says.

Mr Abbotoy says he does not call himself a Christian nationalist but calls his clients' criticism “absurd” and says they have no intention of trying to take over local government.

“They talk about great ideas and books,” he says. Regarding some of their more controversial views, he insists that “the rollback of the 20th century can mean many things. A lot of conservatives would say we've taken a lot of wrong turns.”

Mr. Isker and Mr. Engel did not respond to multiple requests for comment and a list of questions.

The fight here in Gainsborough attracted players from as far away as small town Tennessee.

Mr. Abbotoy, who was educated at Harvard Law School, is also a partner in the conservative venture capital fund New Founding and the founder of the American Reformer website, which publishes the writings of a number of other prominent Christian nationalists.

Meanwhile, his opponents have received research help and advice from States at the Core, a national organization created last year to combat authoritarianism in small communities. It is funded by a constellation of leftist organizations. States at Core declined our request for an interview.

The Ridgerunner people pointed to this organization as evidence that resistance to their project was organized by powerful liberals. Locals say it's funny.

“Nobody wrote me a check for me to say anything,” Ms. Coons said.

In Gainsborough, people on all sides see a much larger story – one of the large-scale political battles unfolding in rural America.

Republicans have made huge gains in rural areas this century, and Trump extended his lead in rural communities in 2024, winning 69% of the vote. The Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee recently announced an eight-figure investment ahead of the 2026 midterm elections, part of which will be aimed at winning rural voters.

“There's definitely an updated one, [Democratic Party] focus on engagement with the countryside,” says Mr Abbotoy. “And at the same time, there is a wave of people moving to small towns in America precisely because they like the Bible Belt, they like the conservative traditional culture.”

But Nan Koons and her allies say they are not prepared to cede rural areas like her hometown to Christian nationalists.

“If we're going to turn this around, it's going to start on your street, it's going to start in your neighborhood, it's going to start in your small town,” she says.

“I have to stand for something, and this is where I stand.”