Article
Character
Creed
Leading
Politics
5 min read

World leaders can learn a lot from Pope Leo

Graham Tomlin was at the Pope's inauguration in Rome. This is what he noticed.

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

A VIP couple stand and talk with the Pope.
Usha and J.D. Vance meet the Pope after his inauguration.
Vatican Media.

On Sunday morning, along with a host of bishops, patriarchs, priests and assorted others, I was led around the back of Peter's Basilica in Rome, into the cavernous spaces of that extraordinary building.

As we walked through the echoing church with the sunlight slanting through the windows like shafts of light from an angelic realm, our small group of Anglicans waited for our turn to walk out into the blinding sunshine. The names of the churches were ticked off like a game of ecclesiastical bingo: “Coptic Orthodox Church of Alexandria? OK.” Syriac Orthodox Church of Antioch? – This way please. “Armenian Apostolic Church – just wait a minute…” 

As we moved through the front doors of the Church, the first thing we saw was a crowd of 200,000 people stretching as far as the eye can see. Behind us was the imposing face of St Peter’s, that great monument to Catholic supremacy and authority. The world’s media looked down from the balconies above us. Opposite our seats were the rich red velvet chairs ready for President Zelensky, J.D. Vance, and the heads of state of numerous countries across Europe and beyond.  

As we walked out, I turned to a friend in our group, and instinctively said to him, “you'd need to be someone of remarkable humility not to let all this go to your head.” 

I couldn't help thinking of Robert Prevost, who was about to walk through these doors, a man who was made a bishop in 2015 - only became a cardinal two years ago, and was now to find himself the focus of rapt attention by this vast crowd and millions of others on TV, as the spiritual leader of 1.4 billion Catholics, catapulted from relative obscurity to being the most famous man in the world within a couple of weeks. 

St Peter’s is designed to impress. The piazza in front of the church is surrounded by imposing statues of apostles, saints, martyrs, and fathers of the church, all looking down on proceedings below. It was this church that inadvertently triggered the Reformation, as a fund-raising scheme for its construction involved selling some indulgences in Germany that raised Martin Luther’s fury. The frontage, with its soaring pillars, grand windows, sumptuous balconies and rich tapestries, is meant to overawe you. Inside, the space is huge, with vast windows letting in the light, stunning works of art everywhere. This was a display of the Renaissance papacy, leading into the Counter-Reformation, the confident Baroque spirit that announced the triumph of the Church over all its enemies. 

A Pope with a streak of vanity would be a dangerous thing. Everything points to the power of this position – the successor of Peter, the one on whom the rock of the Church was to be built; the leader of the largest body of Christians in the world; someone instantly recognisable across the globe, to whom world leaders have to come, cap in hand. No wonder some popes in the past have become political manipulators, vying with emperors and kings over who has more power.  

Yet these days, the Catholic Church sounds a humbler note. Pope Francis started the church down a line of ‘synodality’, inviting other voices into the church’s deliberations rather than just male priests. Pope Leo seems to want to continue down that line. 

Referring to his election he said: 

 “I was chosen, without any merit of my own, and now, with fear and trembling, I come to you as a brother, who desires to be the servant of your faith and your joy, walking with you on the path of God’s love.” 

The tone was not of self-aggrandisement, asserting the power of the position. There was no strategy to dynamically change the church and the world. No grand design to use the levers of power to shape society according to his vision. Instead, this was about unleashing a more elusive and uncontrolled force: the power of self-denying compassion.  

As Pope Leo put it: 

“The ministry of Peter is distinguished precisely by self-sacrificing love, because the Church of Rome presides in charity and its true authority is the charity of Christ. It is never a question of capturing others by force, by religious propaganda, or by means of power. Instead, it is always and only a question of loving as Jesus did.” 

Now that’s different from the way popes have sometimes spoken in the past. The Church has no power other than the power of love – the kind of self-sacrifice seen in the life of Christ. If the pope ‘presides’, as Presidents do, he ‘presides in charity’. A little different from some other Presidents I can think of.  

Admittedly we don’t know much about him yet, But Bob Prevost strikes you as a humble man. Someone who can turn down a place at Harvard Law School to go instead to serve the poorest communities in Peru for 20 years, sleeping on the floor of huts, travelling by donkey to remote villages, unnoticed and obscure, suggests a distinct lack of self-importance. You don’t canvas to become pope, announcing your candidacy, working your way up the ranks, arguing your merits to the electorate. Instead, you get on with what you do, and if the call comes, you follow it.  

As Pope Leo, he will need that humility as he takes on this role for the rest of his life. He will need it to resist the subtle lure of the deference others offer him, the adulation he will receive wherever he goes, the buildings he lives in, the magnificence of the popes who went before him, the way people will hang on his very word. The temptation to think that Bob Prevost is, after all, a mighty big fish, someone whose talents have got him to this point will be strong.  

But if he gives in to that temptation, he will slip back into the run of the mill way of the world, lording it over those he oversees. He seems aware of the slippery nature of such a position. Whoever was called to be the successor of St Peter, he said, needed to exercise oversight “without ever yielding to the temptation to be an autocrat, lording it over those entrusted to him. On the contrary, he is called to serve the faith of his brothers and sisters, and to walk alongside them." 

It was Jesus who said:

“Among the nations, their rulers lord it over them. But it is not so among you. Whoever wants to be great among you must be your servant.” 

Other Presidents, prime ministers and patriarchs could take a leaf out of that book.  

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Article
Change
Politics
Psychology
5 min read

How to be a wise diplomat about the election result

It’s not just American citizens weighing-up and trading-off.

Emerson Csorba works in deep tech, following experience in geopolitics and energy.

An ambassador presents credential to President Trump
President Trump accepts credentials from Indonesian ambassador M. Lutfi.
White House via Wikimedia Commons.

The American election result, whatever the case, is a landmark event in geopolitics. And here, it is unclear which result is better for the world in the long-term, given the ambiguous motives, interests and intentions of its main characters.  

Whereas the Biden Administration led by the Democrats has been fraught with war, the Trump Administration was comparatively peaceful, with breakthroughs such as the historic Abraham Accords. Yet, the rhetoric of President Trump is aggressive and divisive.  

Despite mainstream media assertions focused on the clear best choice in the election, a balanced perspective is necessary involving consideration of trade-offs between what the parties and their leaders each offer. This balance, however, is difficult to achieve as polarisation encourages retrenchment into simple views.  

As the American election approaches, it is worth considering what a diplomatic approach to an election transition might entail. Here we can look to the example of Henry Kissinger, whose diplomatic mindset is illustrated in Barry Gewen’s The Inevitability of Tragedy. Gewen eloquently illustrates the Kissingerian – even if often cold-hearted – approach to the consideration of trade-offs in diplomacy.  

Gewen traces the early-life experience of Kissinger, a German Jew forced to flee Nazi persecution, both serving in the US Army and attending Harvard. Unlike his American peers, Kissinger understood through personal experience that authoritarianism could rise through democratic means, Adolph Hitler the primary example.  

It is partly for this reason that Kissinger was willing as US Secretary of State to intervene in the affairs of foreign states to halt dictators emerging through democratic processes. The trade-off was here between respect of democratic process and the possibility of dictatorship, a trade-off which Americans without German-Nazi experience would never understand and which they saw as deeply unsettling.   

Kissinger is the archetypal diplomat. His example is worth reflecting on in the wake of the American elections. Kissinger approached geopolitics with little emotion, instead considering what course of action in a particular situation served as the least worst evil available.  

He engaged across a wide variety of networks, talking with individuals who would not speak with each other. And he maintained a considerable sense of calm throughout his career as both an actor and commentator, responding to events as they developed. 

An initial consideration in emerging from the American elections is that too much emotionality – amplified by political polarization – will expose politicians, diplomats and the public to risk. Emotion colours careful, strategic calculation of various scenarios and actions across potential scenarios.  

‘People constantly show you who they are; we are just too busy to notice,’ 

An effective diplomatic (or strategist) will carefully consider what might happen and think through potential steps in case these realities actually transpire, while recognising that too much anticipation risks cascading into fantasy. Too much emotion impedes this careful process of reflection and deliberation as part of the development of strategy.  

A second element of effective diplomacy and strategy is to consider people as they are, rather than rely on superficial descriptions in the media, biased second-hand accounts or who or what one hopes another person is. People’s motives, intentions and interests are not easily discernible at first glance, instead requiring careful probing and questioning.

At the same time, there are few more accurate sayings than ‘People constantly show you who they are; we are just too busy to notice,’ conveying that counterparts are always providing information as to who they are, few careful or disciplined enough to mask their real thinking.  

An effective diplomat might consider the early upbringing – much like that of Kissinger – that shapes a person’s character and behaviour, if not their worldview informing action.  

Consider Donald J. Trump, learning right from wrong on the streets of New York City via the mentorship of lawyer Roy Cohn, who served as Chief Counsel to Joseph McCarthy while McCarthy prosecuted potential American communist sympathisers.  

Cohn’s rules of life, work and play were as follows (these summarized by a friend well-acquainted with Cohn and his colleagues): ‘One, attack, attack, attack! Two, deny everything! Three, always claim victory!’ The logic of these three rules of life are readily understandable when considering the harsh New York realities within which Cohn and later Trump operated.  

These considerations are overlooked, however, amid the onslaught of media which fails to consider what really shapes the character of a man or woman.  

Curiosity, a critical mindset and self-restraint in the face of the human temptation to reach rapid and satisfying answers are here necessary, as part of figuring out what exactly is driving action.

A wise diplomat would pay particular attention to these pivotal factors – such as the influence of a long-standing mentor or advisor – as they might manifest in the present. This requires an intellectually honest and serious consideration of the worldview that shapes a counterpart, rather than considering superficial media commentary.  

Third, a wise diplomat will maintain relations across a wide variety of networks, understanding that it is fine to talk with two or multiple individuals whose own relations are fractured (in fact, these strains in relations can be beneficial within diplomacy, the diplomat in this case able to play broker as he or she needs or wishes).  

The maintenance of broad networks is vital, because this enables action under a wide array of potential circumstances, understanding that anything can happen (we are here reminded of Harold MacMillan’s saying “Events, dear boy, events!”) And a key lesson in diplomacy and in the cultivation of strategy is that, once crises unfold, it is the preparatory work in developing networks and alliances that counts; little new network-formation is possible afterwards.  

The previous two points suggest that a wise diplomat will not pay too much attention to what is in the media, but will instead consider their own learning gleaned through in-person interactions with others, as well as the perspective of their most trusted contacts. Curiosity, a critical mindset and self-restraint in the face of the human temptation to reach rapid and satisfying answers are here necessary, as part of figuring out what exactly is driving action, and what can in turn be done to shape action in accordance with interests.  

Finally, an effective diplomat will not try to play God, serving as the arbiter of right or wrong, adopting instead a more considered approach anticipating and responding to circumstances as they gradually or quickly evolve. Effective strategy requires an aloof approach (caring – but not caring too much), removing the self from a given situation so as not to allow natural human vices such as presumptiveness, arrogance or short-term self-interest to affect judgment.  

And the American election bring with them a number of trade-offs, these to be weighed carefully by American citizens, as well as by diplomats and strategists in other countries. These trade-offs will be considered most effectively if approached with calmness – the aloof, even if cold-hearted, approach personified by Henry Kissinger. 

In an age of catastrophising, emphasing emotion, it is easy to descend rapidly into despair, rather than consider action from a long-term perspective. Diplomacy and strategy require the latter, which will be a key to success for those who emerge effective in advancing their interests in the wake of the American elections.