The President and the Pope

By Jayd Henricks

Donald Trump has begun his second term with the energy of a man who believes his time is short and his task large. His flurry of executive orders bespeaks a man on mission. The long-term consequences of advancing a strong-hand presidency are unknown, but the short-term achievements are noticeable and effective, reflecting a perceived mandate to do things differently—dramatically differently. He is shaping the policies of the United States according to his convictions and will in an effort to fulfill his campaign promises. How Congress responds remains to be seen, but we now live in a Trump-shaped world, for both good and ill.

As much as the Holy See might like to think otherwise, some striking similarities link Trump’s approach to governance and that of Pope Francis’.

There is an obvious desire by both men to break things or, in the memorable words of Pope Francis, to “make a mess.” In this way fresh approaches to longstanding questions can be pursued. Intentional disruption creates something new. What that something “new” is remains unclear, and when pursuing it within a two-thousand-year-old divinely inspired institution, some reasonable concerns tend to surface about what it could be and its consequences.

A shared appetite of both men is the appointment of lieutenants and advisers who personify a different vision from the traditional approach of their respective institutions. Like many of President Trump’s high-profile political appointees and collaborators who come from outside the Washington mainstream and will shake up the status quo, Francis’ ecclesiastical appointments come from some version of the margins.

Here in the United States, the Holy Father has named men to major metropolitan sees who fit uneasily within the U.S. episcopate. The enhanced influence of men like Cardinals Blase Cupich and Robert McElroy can only be understood as efforts to rewire the priorities of the U.S. Church. Both men are theologically on the margins and have personalities that are less than collegial. Similar examples abound in Pope Francis’ picks in key curial appointments, as well as in many of the men he curiously protects or celebrates. It is impossible to understand such events except as a desire to disrupt things through personnel who mirror the personality at the top. The same can be said of Donald Trump.

This approach seems intentionally conflictive within high-level ecclesial circles, but it is impossible to contain the resulting divisions there. They bleed into the entire Church. Trump likewise uses intentional provocation to advance his agenda. He is a master divider, and it works to attain many of his ends. A unified Catholic community might be a counterweight to such political divisions. Sadly, the Francis pontificate has only aggravated cultural divisions by its pattern of doctrinal ambiguities and an ill-disguised distaste for most things American.

As in Trump World, the Francis papacy is marked by the influence of a small group of advisers whose personal loyalty seems to be a priority qualification. Penetrating that bubble with differing views seems nearly impossible, which allows biased judgements to go unchallenged. In effect, both leaders tend to govern by personal fiat. President Trump’s flurry of executive orders is an obvious example, and it tracks with Pope Francis’ extensive use of the motu proprio (he has issued motu proprios at a rate of more than five times that of John Paul II and Benedict XVI). This reflects an arbitrariness that, at least in the case of Pope Francis, creates significant instability within the global community he leads. So many of the motu proprios that come from the Holy Father’s desk seem to be spontaneous acts that lack any effort at consultation or legal vetting. This very quickly takes on the appearance of governance by whim, which then fosters discouragement, confusion, and disunity.

Simply put, both leaders’ style of governance is top down. Nothing surprising for President Trump. That is who he is and why he is effective. For all his emphasis on synodality, however, Pope Francis fails to govern in a synodal way. Talk of decentralization and synodality is followed by heavy-handed executive mandates that override the judgements of local bishops about their local churches—resulting in global consequences. This mirrors Trump’s sweeping reform of USAID. Neither man has a flair for nuance.

There’s an unsubtle arrogance that pervades such a style of governance. For Donald Trump, it’s a hallmark of his leadership that he celebrates. For Pope Francis, it’s less overt but, nonetheless, real. His berating of bishop-participants at the Synod on the Family back in 2015 was an obvious example but there are many others. “Synodality for you but not for me” is not an inspiring way to lead.

This approach feeds into another commonality shared by Trump and Francis: a gift for creating anxiety. Part of Trump’s “art of the deal” is his seeming unpredictability, mixed with a sprinkling of belligerence—a quality that puts and keeps opponents on a back foot. Francis may be less intentional about his “gift,” but the effect is often the same. There is a fear that permeates the hierarchy with respect to ecclesiastical life. A cardinal, bishop, or priest may be afraid to speak honestly about the situation for fear of the consequences. Others may complain that courage is in short supply, but it is fair for clergy to ask what can possibly be said or done that would make things better and to weigh the costs. Prudence should be coupled with courage, and so it is perhaps best for men in ecclesiastical positions of power to not say anything and let the laity fulfill its role by speaking to the situation with honesty and, hopefully, charity. It is not as simple a dynamic as some make it out to be.

Which brings us to the question of immigration—another complex situation that is often reduced to a soundbite. Obviously, Francis and Trump see the issue very differently. The pope seems to yearn for a world with open borders. He gives a nod to the need for security from violent criminals, but that amounts to little more than a footnote compared to how forcefully he speaks about the rights of everyone to find a better home wherever they would like to go. He has little time for those who find that their consciences demand a different approach.

Trump, on the other hand, has made tighter regulation of the U.S. border and prioritizing the deportation of violent illegal immigrants (along with many others) key goals of his presidency. The two men could not be more different with respect to a policy position and yet, even here, similarities exist with respect to methodology.

The pope moralizes in broad terms, missing opportunities to catechize the faithful about the issue in a way that would draw them more deeply into the Church’s rich tradition. He employs little theological precision or even concern for such precision, which opens him up to easy criticism. Trump, in like manner, speaks about the issue in excessive, inflammatory terms. He rarely makes important distinctions that might otherwise allay fears that he’s the Deporter in Chief (a title, by the way, that the USCCB immigration staff used to call President Obama, who went uncriticized by the Holy See).

Both men use sweeping language that appeals to their base but too often fails to move those who are not already with them. It feeds into the deep polarization that inflicts our country and, at some levels, the Church. This is not a good way for the Church or, perhaps, the White House to govern. Arguments around immigration should acknowledge the complexity and nuance of a painfully human crisis.

What we need now is a more sober and serious mode of leadership in our Church and in our government. Even when their respective goals differ, the mode of governance should be more curious, compassionate, and calm. If that’s not possible from the two leaders mentioned here, then let us hope and pray that it can come from other good sources like bishops or cabinet members, or leaders in their respective fields of expertise. Too much is at stake to surrender the future to an erratic form of leadership that only fosters greater division in the Church and in society.

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Jayd Henricks is the president of Catholic Laity and Clergy for Renewal. He served at the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops for eleven years and holds a STL in systematic theology from the Dominican House of Studies. He has written extensively on the Church in America.