It is not often that reality imitates art quite so promptly. Just a month or two after most of us first watched Ralph Fiennes in Conclave, we have a chance to see the real thing. Pope Francis died on Easter Monday, and today in the Sistine Chapel the actual conclave is gathering — the meeting of the cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church (or rather all those under 80) to elect a successor over the coming days.
And as with so many “real things” these days, we are watching through the lens provided by a dramatic fiction. Even the most seasoned Vatican commentator will be tempted to ask who in the real conclave corresponds to Stanley Tucci or Lucian Msamati.
The film appealed to the fascination we always feel with the lives of tight-knit communities that seem to be sealed off from life experienced elsewhere. Countless headlines repeat that the process of electing the Pope is “secretive” — an irresistible lure carrying the hint of “They don’t want you to know about this” that skilful journalists deploy to keep you reading.
Read also: How accurate is Conclave? What the film taught us about the process after the Popee’s death
In fact, the process is not notably more secretive than any realistically confidential selection mechanism. The more theatrical aspects — the locked doors and news blackout, the solemn oaths of confidentiality taken by staff looking after the cardinals and so on —come from an era when papal elections were a matter in which European rulers took an active (and unhealthy) interest. Up to the beginning of the 20th century, the Austro-Hungarian Emperor could veto a candidate. The secrecy was a strong bid for the Church to be allowed to set its own agenda and not be co-opted into the geopolitical intrigues of the day.
History makes plain that this was not exactly an unqualified success. But the aim was and is a serious one. And understanding why this is may help us understand the conclave as more than just a costume drama.
The Pope is a head of state. The Vatican is a sovereign entity partly because of anxieties about the historical risks and realities of co-option by other political powers. But it is a ridiculously small sovereign entity for the same reason; when the Pope was still a contender in territorial conflicts in Italy (up to the mid 19th century), even more when he was a significant player and broker in European alliances, as in the mediaeval and Renaissance periods, it was easy enough to dismiss papal authority when it suited you (think of Henry VIII) because the Pope was — for many purposes — just another head of state.
The conclave is about the election of an internationally authoritative figure
But the final settlement that in 1929 established the Vatican City as sovereign was a carefully constructed guarantee of independence for the papacy from purely national politics, while blocking any lingering temptation to become a political force in itself. And this means that the conclave is about the election of an internationally authoritative figure — the final court of appeal in spiritual affairs for a large part of the world’s population — who is for all practical purposes not subject to any set of purely local political concerns.
This does not mean that he does not or should not express views specifically to do with local issues. Pope John Paul II famously lent the weight of his position to regime change in his native Poland. And such interventions seldom go unchallenged: Pope Francis faced sharp criticism for comments on Ukraine and Gaza, and for what some saw as an unduly compliant approach to China.
But this is not at the heart of what the papacy is meant to be about. Like John Paul II, Pope Francis set out in a series of authoritative “encyclical” essays a wide-ranging vision for global security, justice and well-being. His pronouncement on the environment was the fullest and strongest statement to date of the ethical and spiritual imperative to protect the most vulnerable from environmental disaster, and it was followed by an equally powerful declaration of fundamental human solidarity and interdependence, challenging narrowly nationalist and protectionist agendas. His passionate advocacy for the welfare of migrants belonged in the same context. He was able to expound a vision that was not dictated by anxieties about purely national interests.
We all have a stake in the conclave. It is more than a replay of the film
This is why the conclave is important — for non-Roman Catholics like myself who do not fully share the theoretical beliefs that provide the basis for papal authority, and even for non-Christians. It matters a great deal that there are voices in our moral debates that can see beyond the walls of purely local identities and continue to ask, “But what if we really were deeply dependent on every other human being? What if no one could prosper unless everyone did?”
Translating this into specifics within existing nation states is brutally hard — and there are plenty of people who do not want even to try. But the intuition that keeps coming back for most of us — the intuition that at some level the well-being of the human family is deeply interconnected — makes it difficult just to ignore this perspective, and we mostly recognise that we are all poorer (and more at risk) if it is forgotten.
We all have a stake in the conclave. It is more than a replay of the film. We desperately need moral and spiritual voices like that of the Pope that are free to remind us of what we owe one another across whatever barriers we have created.
Rowan Williams is the former Archbishop of Canterbury
