Due to QAnon’s broadness and changing dynamics—it is “fairly easy to understand” yet “slippery to pin down”—Rothschild remains unsure what to label it. He is open to thinking of QAnon as a new religious movement. And he notes that sociologists and scholars of religion are wary of the term “cult” due to its historical baggage: There have been many instances of people pejoratively labeling as a cult any religious tradition they don’t like, as when evangelical and atheist critics called Mormonism a cult. In this nonjudgmental view now standard in the academy, one man’s cult is another man’s religion. Even so, the word “cult” has remained an easy shorthand for much of the coverage of QAnon and undoubtedly such a provocative term (used in the book’s subtitle) will help drive more clicks and sell more books.

Though Rothschild touches upon QAnon’s religious elements, he doesn’t do a deep dive into its theological convictions. Because of QAnon’s growing appeal among white evangelicals, I think it is best understood as a kind of para-Christianity—that is, something that “goes with” or “side by side” an evangelical Christian worldview. For many believers, QAnon is not a significant alternative to their orthodoxy or orthopraxy, but a complicating add-on. If one already believes that the world is besieged by demonic forces, then fine-tuning that conviction into ideas concerning a secret cabal of cannibalistic Satan-worshiping pedophiles is not a great leap of faith, as we have already seen during previous Satanic panics. QAnon might even be thought of as a kind of Trumpian gnosticism, with seemingly “ordinary” Christians indulging in unconventional extracurricular activities beyond the supervision of their clergy. One can keep going to weekly Bible study and maintaining regular Sunday attendance while logging on each night to await the latest drops from Q and praying for the coming storm.