From Wikimedia Commons: Views in the Levant: A Ruined Byzantine Church (Willey Reveley, circa 1785)
The Christian presence in the Middle East, particularly in the Levant, Anatolia, and North Africa, is one of the oldest in the world. From Antioch to Alexandria, these lands were once vibrant centers of Christian theology, philosophy, and art. Yet today, the ancient communities teeter on the brink of extinction. The reasons for this prolonged decline are manifold: from the early Islamic conquests, accompanied by random carnage and enslavement, to centuries of institutionalized discrimination and periodic abuse by deluded mobs or sectarian rebels — culminating in recent genocidal campaigns like those waged by ISIS.
Nearly as revolting as the onslaught of Muslims is the apparent indifference — and treachery — of the post-Christian West. In the absence of historical awareness, preoccupied with internal social concerns and secular ideals, Westerners have apparently forgotten that the roots of Christianity lie not in Rome, London or Washington, but in Jerusalem, Damascus, and Nicaea.
The decline of Christian communities in the Levant began during the 7th-century Islamic conquests under the Rashidun Caliphate. As Arab Muslim forces swept through Byzantine-held territories — Syria, Palestine, Egypt — they encountered flourishing Christian populations that had, for centuries, formed the majority in these lands. Rather than mass extermination, early Muslim rulers implemented a system of structured subordination: “dhimmitude”. Christians were permitted to keep their faith, but at a cost: they were taxed (through the so-called “jizya”, a tax selectively imposed on non-Muslims), denied equal legal status, and subjected to numerous social restrictions.
While this proto-apartheid system ensured short-term survival, it cemented Christian inferiority. Over generations, economic pressures, legal discrimination, and the incentive structures of conversion led to a slow but steady Islamization.Though sporadic persecutions occurred, characterized by arbitrary sadism, the deeper erosion of Christian demography and influence came through these more subtle, systemic mechanisms.
The Crusades (1095–1291) temporarily reversed some Islamic gains in the Levant. In the long run, however, they did more harm than good. Latin Crusaders tended to view Eastern Christians — Orthodox, Syriac, and Armenian — with suspicion or disdain, failing to recognize their shared faith under differing rites. Meanwhile, Muslims saw local Christians as collaborators. When Islamic power was reasserted by figures like Saladin (and later by the Mamluks), Christians were punished collectively. Restrictions were intensified, and their communities, already fragile, were further marginalized.
Under the Ottoman Empire, Christians were reorganized into “millets” — religious communities with some degree of self-governance. This arrangement offered relative protection but reinforced their status as second-class citizens. Though periods of relatively peaceful coexistence occurred, Christians remained politically powerless and subject to arbitrary state or mob violence. The 19th and early 20th centuries were particularly disastrous, marked by pogroms, forced conversions, and massacres. Ethnic cleansing of Armenians, which also targeted Assyrians and other Christian minorities, marked a turning point — the first large-scale attempt at eradicating Christianity from its Eastern heartlands in the modern era.
With the collapse of the Ottoman Empire after WWI, the newly drawn borders of the Middle East gave rise to nationalist regimes that distrusted Christian minorities, unfairly viewing them as deserted “colonial collaborators” or “fifth columns for the West”. This suspicion intensified as Arab nationalism, Ba’athism, and later Islamism gained momentum. Despite moments of integration and representation, such as in mid-20th century Lebanon or Syria, Christians remained vulnerable to persecution. The Lebanese Civil War (1975–1990), the Iraq War (2003–2011), and the Syrian Civil War (2011–present) accelerated their exodus.
The Syrian civil war has had devastating effects on the country’s diverse population, with the Christian minority suffering greatly amid the chaos. Prior to the conflict, Christians, who made up about 10% of Syria’s population, lived unnoticed and protected under the secular and authoritarian rule of Bashar al-Assad. However, the collapse of Alawite control in many parts of Syria created a power vacuum exploited by extremist groups, most notably ISIS.
From around 2013 to 2017, ISIS controlled large swaths of Syrian territory and imposed a literal interpretation of Sharia law. Under ISIS rule, Christians faced brutal persecution, being forced to convert to Islam, pay heavy jizya taxes or flee their homes. Like when they vandalized Palmyra and smashed everything “foreign” (i.e., non-Islamic) with sledgehammers, Muslim warriors furiously attacked centuries of Christian heritage in the region.
Indeed, the rise of ISIS marked one of the darkest chapters in the history of Middle Eastern Christianity. In Iraq and Syria, Christian communities, having endured persecution and survived for nearly two millennia, were systematically targeted; (a) churches desecrated or destroyed, (b) clergy and ordinary believers alike abducted, tortured or murdered, and (c) entire towns emptied. From the Nineveh Plains to Raqqa, ISIS sought to expel or enslave remaining non-Muslims (including Yazidis) and erase every cultural-historical trace of the pre-Islamic period. Iraq’s Christian population, over 1.5 million before 2003, now numbers fewer than 250,000. Similarly, Syria’s Christian population has plummeted by 85% (from 1.5–2 million before 2011 to 300,000–500,000 today).
These were not isolated acts of terror — they were deliberate attempts at genocide, aimed at eradicating Christianity from its birthplace.
With ISIS being pushed back, the Assad regime, heavily supported by traditional allies (i.e., Russia, Iran), regained some control over the province. Hesitantly, a limited number of displaced Christians returned to government-held areas. However, their communities remain fragile. Having lost family members, homes, and livelihoods, they face the prospect of religious persecution and economic hardships. Found to include Islamists notorious for organized cruelty, the “transitional government” in Damascus (formed on March 29, 2025), has increased fears of indiscriminate reprisals. Apart from widespread suffering, the war has dramatically altered the demographic and cultural landscape of Syria, putting its Christian communities at risk of disappearing entirely.
In the face of such atrocities, the Western response has been tepid at best. Caught in the throes of internal social conflicts, identity politics, and an increasingly secularized worldview, the West has lost its historical memory. The lands of the Bible — where Paul preached and the early Church Fathers wrote — no longer hold any significance in the minds of Western Christians or policymakers. A deep irony persists: while Western nations debate the relevance of Christianity within their own societies, they remain largely silent as the religion dies out in the very lands from which it originated.
Moreover, Western engagement in the Middle East — whether through military intervention or foreign aid — has often destabilized Christian populations further. In Iraq, the power vacuum following the U.S. invasion allowed extremist forces to rise. In Syria, Western support for rebel factions ignored the fate of minorities caught in the crossfire. The West has not only forgotten its Christian brethren in the East — at times, it has unwittingly accelerated their exsanguination.
What is being irretrievably lost is a conglomerate of culturally distinct communities, an irreplaceable spiritual and cultural heritage. The monasteries of the Egyptian desert, the churches of Mosul, the liturgies sung in Aramaic — the language of Christ — are disappearing. If present trends continue, Christianity could all but disappear from the region within a generation.
The extinction of Middle Eastern Christianity is simply a civilizational tragedy. It marks the end of a chapter of human history that has shaped philosophy, art, language, and ethics for centuries. Likewise, it underscores a broader, unsettling reality: the intolerance of an ideology characterized by inherent supremacism and expansionism. In the Muslim world, minorities are living on borrowed time. Historical memory is weak and geopolitical interests prevail over human dignity. Implications are far-reaching for Christians and the world at large.
The fate of Christian communities in the Levant is a religious concern. Primarily, however, it is a matter of “historical justice” and “cultural preservation”. From the early Islamic conquests to the ISIS genocide, the decline of these communities has been steady and, at times, disastrous. Yet the silence of the global community — especially the (post-)Christian West — adds a layer of moral failure to this tragedy.
The Christian heartlands of the East are being emptied. Whether they disappear completely or survive in diaspora form depends not only on the whims of their persecutors but also on the memory and conscience of the West. It is not too late to act — but it is very nearly too late to save what remains.