Pope Francis’ celebrated “silences” have come under scrutiny again in recent days, this time over China’s encroachment on Hong Kong’s freedoms and Turkey’s decision to convert Hagia Sophia from a museum into a mosque.
For some, the pressure he faces to speak out shows just how much Francis has bolstered the moral authority of the papacy. His geopolitical interventions carry real impact; every word he speaks is carefully parsed, and every silence pored over. Francis must navigate between two poles: his desire to open up new pathways for dialogue, honouring his title as a bridge builder – a pontifex – not bridge burner, and his desire to speak out fearlessly and prophetically in the face of injustice.
On 12 July, after praying the Sunday Angelus, the Pope said he was “very saddened” by the decision of the president of Turkey, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, to turn Hagia Sophia into a mosque. The Greece-based Orthodox Times website criticised his “sad silence” on the matter. The Pope’s intervention came some days after the Ecumenical Patriarch, Bartholomew I, and the World Council of Churches had spoken out. He chose his words carefully. Speaking slowly and with emotion, Francis used the word addolorato, which can also be translated as “pained”, or “distressed”. The emphasis was not on condemnation but on expressing his feelings of sadness.
The Pope does not want to add fuel to the potential clash of civilisations between a Christian West and a Muslim East which the reconversion is likely to stoke. Francis has made the building of stronger relations with Muslim leaders a priority. The human fraternity document he and the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar jointly signed in 2019 is the most important text on Christian-Muslim relations since the Second Vatican Council. Francis is also juggling a delicate relationship between President Erdogan and the embattled Catholic Church in Turkey, which has no legal status (significantly, the Turkish bishops did not take a public position over Hagia Sophia).
In 2015, the Pope knew he would upset Ankara when he used the word “genocide” to describe the killings of Armenians by Ottoman forces a century earlier. Turkey briefly recalled its ambassador to the Holy See. Three years later, however, Erdogan and Francis met in the Vatican, the first meeting between a Pope and a Turkish president in nearly 60 years. At the end of the 50-minute discussion, Francis gave the Turkish leader a bronze medallion showing an angel embracing the world while battling a dragon. “This is the angel of peace who strangles the demon of war,” he told him. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.
Francis eventually broke his silence on Hagia Sophia, but decided not to say anything about a new security law passed in Beijing that threatens the survival of democracy and free speech in Hong Kong. As has been widely reported, on 5 July, as he spoke to the crowd in St Peter’s Square after the Sunday Angelus, he skipped a passage about Hong Kong in the pre-prepared remarks that had been distributed to journalists.
For some, the pressure he faces to speak out shows just how much Francis has bolstered the moral authority of the papacy. His geopolitical interventions carry real impact; every word he speaks is carefully parsed, and every silence pored over. Francis must navigate between two poles: his desire to open up new pathways for dialogue, honouring his title as a bridge builder – a pontifex – not bridge burner, and his desire to speak out fearlessly and prophetically in the face of injustice.
On 12 July, after praying the Sunday Angelus, the Pope said he was “very saddened” by the decision of the president of Turkey, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, to turn Hagia Sophia into a mosque. The Greece-based Orthodox Times website criticised his “sad silence” on the matter. The Pope’s intervention came some days after the Ecumenical Patriarch, Bartholomew I, and the World Council of Churches had spoken out. He chose his words carefully. Speaking slowly and with emotion, Francis used the word addolorato, which can also be translated as “pained”, or “distressed”. The emphasis was not on condemnation but on expressing his feelings of sadness.
The Pope does not want to add fuel to the potential clash of civilisations between a Christian West and a Muslim East which the reconversion is likely to stoke. Francis has made the building of stronger relations with Muslim leaders a priority. The human fraternity document he and the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar jointly signed in 2019 is the most important text on Christian-Muslim relations since the Second Vatican Council. Francis is also juggling a delicate relationship between President Erdogan and the embattled Catholic Church in Turkey, which has no legal status (significantly, the Turkish bishops did not take a public position over Hagia Sophia).
In 2015, the Pope knew he would upset Ankara when he used the word “genocide” to describe the killings of Armenians by Ottoman forces a century earlier. Turkey briefly recalled its ambassador to the Holy See. Three years later, however, Erdogan and Francis met in the Vatican, the first meeting between a Pope and a Turkish president in nearly 60 years. At the end of the 50-minute discussion, Francis gave the Turkish leader a bronze medallion showing an angel embracing the world while battling a dragon. “This is the angel of peace who strangles the demon of war,” he told him. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.
Francis eventually broke his silence on Hagia Sophia, but decided not to say anything about a new security law passed in Beijing that threatens the survival of democracy and free speech in Hong Kong. As has been widely reported, on 5 July, as he spoke to the crowd in St Peter’s Square after the Sunday Angelus, he skipped a passage about Hong Kong in the pre-prepared remarks that had been distributed to journalists.
It wasn’t entirely surprising to experienced Vatican-watchers. From the start of his pontificate, Francis has made establishing a relationship with China a key priority, and he has been careful not to publicly criticise Beijing. His obvious affection for China and the Chinese people has seen him face repeated criticism, particularly from those who fear the geopolitical consequences of China’s growing economic power and are alarmed by its increasingly authoritarian communist leadership.
The persecution of Uighur Muslims and the tightening restrictions on Christian worship have increased the pressure on the Pope to speak out. Inside the Vatican, some officials are ready to be more critical of China; the inclusion of a passage on Hong Kong and Francis’ decision to pass over it in silence might reflect that internal tension.
For the Holy See, Beijing’s clampdown on religious freedoms makes maintaining some sort of dialogue with China more urgent. Explaining the provisional 2018 agreement between Beijing and Rome on the appointment of bishops – which expires in September and is currently under discussion – Cardinal Pietro Parolin, the secretary of state, said it would help “to advance religious freedom in the sense of finding [some] normalisation for the Catholic community”. Last week, Paul Ma Cunguo, 49, underground bishop of Shuozhou diocese in the northern Shanxi province since 2004, was recognised by the Chinese state.
It would be easy to make speeches condemning the Chinese government. The Pope prefers to face down criticism from the commentariat and expend some of his moral capital, if he can help the forgotten Catholic Church of China start to grow.
The persecution of Uighur Muslims and the tightening restrictions on Christian worship have increased the pressure on the Pope to speak out. Inside the Vatican, some officials are ready to be more critical of China; the inclusion of a passage on Hong Kong and Francis’ decision to pass over it in silence might reflect that internal tension.
For the Holy See, Beijing’s clampdown on religious freedoms makes maintaining some sort of dialogue with China more urgent. Explaining the provisional 2018 agreement between Beijing and Rome on the appointment of bishops – which expires in September and is currently under discussion – Cardinal Pietro Parolin, the secretary of state, said it would help “to advance religious freedom in the sense of finding [some] normalisation for the Catholic community”. Last week, Paul Ma Cunguo, 49, underground bishop of Shuozhou diocese in the northern Shanxi province since 2004, was recognised by the Chinese state.
It would be easy to make speeches condemning the Chinese government. The Pope prefers to face down criticism from the commentariat and expend some of his moral capital, if he can help the forgotten Catholic Church of China start to grow.
Mario Draghi declared in 2012 that he would do “whatever it takes” to preserve the euro. Now the former head of the European Central Bank has been invited by the Pope to join the Pontifical Academy for Social Sciences. Bringing in the 72-year-old is a sign that Francis will do “whatever it takes” to influence a serious rethink of the global financial system in the light of the coronavirus pandemic.
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