by Matthew Avery Sutton
January 15, 2026
In the early years of World War II, the U.S. State Department asked all American personnel living near enemy lines in China to return home. Baptist missionary John Birch refused to leave. God, he believed, wanted him in Asia. For years Birch had worked with local Chinese communities. He knew their language, their customs, and the layout of their land. He soon put this knowledge to work—not just for God but for Uncle Sam. In 1942 his life took a dramatic turn when a squadron of bombers led by Lieutenant Colonel James Doolittle crashed in the Chinese countryside. The American airmen had taken off from a carrier in the Pacific, dropped bombs on Tokyo, and then flown toward safety in China, where they parachuted from their planes as their fuel supplies ran out. When Birch received word of the raid and subsequent crash, he rendezvoused with the soldiers and helped them navigate through enemy lines and to freedom.
Birch’s performance impressed the Army and the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). They saw in Birch a loyal foot soldier who knew the Chinese language and understood the geography and politics of the region. They put him to work, baptizing him in the waters of covert operations. During and immediately after the war Birch provided the OSS with intelligence on Chinese communism while still fronting as a missionary. He was eventually captured by communists and killed, becoming the first “martyr” of the Cold War. He later became the inspiration for Robert Welch’s extreme right-wing, anti-communist John Birch Society. Birch’s work for the government revealed that religious activists could make extremely valuable contributions to American intelligence services. But his death also demonstrated the potential consequences of mixing faith with work for the U.S. government.
What follows investigates the complicated relationship between the CIA and religion. Since its inception, the CIA has used missionaries and other religious activists for intelligence and espionage work; it has used religion as an effective propaganda tool, and its agents have even posed as clergy. CIA agents and religious activists managed to keep their partnerships mostly hidden until the 1970s. But in the wake of Vietnam and Watergate, numerous journalists and then Congress began scrutinizing the agency more closely. They revealed to the world that the CIA had been employing missionaries to further its agenda and that some religious activists were receiving substantial rewards for their work on the government’s behalf. In fact, the CIA and religious activists have long collaborated to achieve numerous policy goals.
In recent years, historians of religion have worked to better embed their narratives in the rich and complex historical contexts in which their subjects acted, linking issues of faith and belief to the ebbs and flows of particular environments. Historians Jon Butler, Paul Harvey, and Kevin Schultz have called for better integration of religion into more “mainstream” American history. The case of missionary-CIA collaboration answers that call by demonstrating how important it is for scholars to understand the many ways that religion functions in ostensibly nonreligious spheres. In the specific case of intelligence and espionage, religion had tangible impacts on American covert activities abroad. CIA-missionary relationships highlight underexplored intersections between religion and foreign policy; they expose in new ways the complicated nature of church-state collaboration; and they offer fresh insights into the many ways in which religion functions in nontraditional spheres.
At the same time, historians have much to learn by probing how and in what ways individuals and religious groups have benefited from their cooperation with the government. The State Department has often helped missionary groups expedite visas and gain entry into new regions of the world in return for their collaboration. Some government agencies have also provided humanitarian ministries with cash, food, and other supplies, subsidizing and supporting their work. Missionaries have received equally valuable, even if less tangible, benefits as well: many have found satisfaction in the conviction that in serving Uncle Sam, they were serving God. Despite the official disestablishment of religion, these partnerships illustrate how the state can serve as a historical actor, substantially aiding, or substantially undermining, a wide variety of missionary ventures.
And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.
—John 8:32, inscribed on the wall at CIA headquarters, Langley, VA
In the early years of World War II, the U.S. State Department asked all American personnel living near enemy lines in China to return home. Baptist missionary John Birch refused to leave. God, he believed, wanted him in Asia. For years Birch had worked with local Chinese communities. He knew their language, their customs, and the layout of their land. He soon put this knowledge to work—not just for God but for Uncle Sam. In 1942 his life took a dramatic turn when a squadron of bombers led by Lieutenant Colonel James Doolittle crashed in the Chinese countryside. The American airmen had taken off from a carrier in the Pacific, dropped bombs on Tokyo, and then flown toward safety in China, where they parachuted from their planes as their fuel supplies ran out. When Birch received word of the raid and subsequent crash, he rendezvoused with the soldiers and helped them navigate through enemy lines and to freedom.
Birch’s performance impressed the Army and the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). They saw in Birch a loyal foot soldier who knew the Chinese language and understood the geography and politics of the region. They put him to work, baptizing him in the waters of covert operations. During and immediately after the war Birch provided the OSS with intelligence on Chinese communism while still fronting as a missionary. He was eventually captured by communists and killed, becoming the first “martyr” of the Cold War. He later became the inspiration for Robert Welch’s extreme right-wing, anti-communist John Birch Society. Birch’s work for the government revealed that religious activists could make extremely valuable contributions to American intelligence services. But his death also demonstrated the potential consequences of mixing faith with work for the U.S. government.
What follows investigates the complicated relationship between the CIA and religion. Since its inception, the CIA has used missionaries and other religious activists for intelligence and espionage work; it has used religion as an effective propaganda tool, and its agents have even posed as clergy. CIA agents and religious activists managed to keep their partnerships mostly hidden until the 1970s. But in the wake of Vietnam and Watergate, numerous journalists and then Congress began scrutinizing the agency more closely. They revealed to the world that the CIA had been employing missionaries to further its agenda and that some religious activists were receiving substantial rewards for their work on the government’s behalf. In fact, the CIA and religious activists have long collaborated to achieve numerous policy goals.
In recent years, historians of religion have worked to better embed their narratives in the rich and complex historical contexts in which their subjects acted, linking issues of faith and belief to the ebbs and flows of particular environments. Historians Jon Butler, Paul Harvey, and Kevin Schultz have called for better integration of religion into more “mainstream” American history. The case of missionary-CIA collaboration answers that call by demonstrating how important it is for scholars to understand the many ways that religion functions in ostensibly nonreligious spheres. In the specific case of intelligence and espionage, religion had tangible impacts on American covert activities abroad. CIA-missionary relationships highlight underexplored intersections between religion and foreign policy; they expose in new ways the complicated nature of church-state collaboration; and they offer fresh insights into the many ways in which religion functions in nontraditional spheres.
At the same time, historians have much to learn by probing how and in what ways individuals and religious groups have benefited from their cooperation with the government. The State Department has often helped missionary groups expedite visas and gain entry into new regions of the world in return for their collaboration. Some government agencies have also provided humanitarian ministries with cash, food, and other supplies, subsidizing and supporting their work. Missionaries have received equally valuable, even if less tangible, benefits as well: many have found satisfaction in the conviction that in serving Uncle Sam, they were serving God. Despite the official disestablishment of religion, these partnerships illustrate how the state can serve as a historical actor, substantially aiding, or substantially undermining, a wide variety of missionary ventures.
