Why so secret?
The first conclave, in which the cardinals were locked into a room (the word "conclave" derives from the Latin words for "with a key") occurred in 1241, when Italian noblemen grew impatient with the cardinals who had been deliberating for more than two months. Later in that same century, another papal election lasted a record three years, prompting frustrated Catholic laymen to remove the roof of the cardinals residence, and eventually cut off their food supply, to prod them toward a decision.
In more recent years, the main purpose of the conclave, and the secrecy that goes with it, has been to preserve the cardinals, and thus the Church, from outside pressures. Since their deliberations are secret, the cardinals cannot be rewarded or punished by any outside agency; they can vote as their consciences dictate, without fearing the consequences. In the oath with which they begin their proceedings, the cardinal-electors swear that they will neither offer nor accept any inducements in exchange for votes. They are forbidden to put any conditions on their votes, such as a requirement that the new Pope must enact a certain policy or appoint a particular official. Universi Dominici Gregis even specifies that if any such conditions are imposed, despite the prohibition, they must be considered null and void after the election. The new rules also prohibit any cardinal from acting as an agent for a secular government, and explicitly reject the claim of certain governments to exercise veto power over papal candidatesa claim invoked by an Austrian emperor as late as 1903.
Once they enter the Sistine Chapel, the cardinals can only consult with each other. Aside from the few cooks who prepare their meals, and doctors ready to attend to any prelates who are ill, they are cut off from contact with the outside world. No mail, newspapers, or other reading material can enter the Chapel, or the Casa St. Martha where the cardinals sleep at night. Radios and televisions are disconnected. The area is carefully swept before the conclave, to ensure that there are no electronic eavesdropping devices. The cardinals isolation is as complete as scrupulous organizers can manage.
Once the conclave begins, therefore, the thousands of reporters who are expected to gather in Rome for the papal election will be virtually powerless to find new stories. The worlds most powerful news syndicates will be reduced to doing what ordinary Catholics have done for generations: standing in St. Peters Square, waiting to see white smoke.
However, if reporters are inclined toward guessing what the conclave might be doing (and the Vatican-watchers of the Italian press are notorious in that regard), they will have plenty of material for their discussions. From the moment of the Popes death until the doors close on the Sistine Chapel, every statement by an influential cardinal or other Vatican official will be carefully dissected. Even after the conclave begins, those cardinals who are over the age of 80, and thus ineligible to participate, may be willing to tell journalists about earlier meetings with their colleagues, lending their own perspectives on the events that could be developing behind the closed doors.
Ambitious reporters will pay especially careful attention to the eulogy delivered at the funeral Mass for the deceased Pope. The terms in which the late Pontiff is praised might point toward the qualities that the homilist would like to see displayed in the next Pope. Virtually every cardinal, as he arrives in Rome, will be questioned by the media about his vision for the future of the papacy. The results of those interviews will appear in print and on the airwaves, andat least until the conclave beginsthe other cardinals will see them. Cardinals will also visit each other socially in the days before the conclave, and although their discussions theoretically should not focus on the papal election, inevitably they will talk about the challenges that face the Church. By the time they actually enter the conclave, the cardinal-electors will have developed a clear sense of what they can expect. The best reporters in Rome will also have refined their own lists of the likely papabili, or candidates for the papacy.
Of the many changes that have occurred since 1978, the one most likely to affect the process of the next papal election is the explosive growth in communications technology. Thousands of journalists will be in Rome, buttonholing prelates and asking for their insights. Enterprising reporters might even stake out Romes more popular restaurants, taking note of the cardinals choice of dining companions. Working with Internet connections and satellite links, reporters will be able to question one cardinal, consult with an expert analyst about his answer, and get a reaction from another cardinal, all in the space of a few hours. The speed of the "news cycle," exponentially faster today than it was in 1978, will allow the collection of millions of bits of information over a period of 15 days or more. Whether journalists can assemble all those pieces of information into a single meaningful mosaic is another question, naturally.
The ubiquitous presence of the mass media will also prompt various special-interest groups to visit Rome, hoping to influence the cardinals decisionor at least to gain their bit of news coverage. We can safely assume that representatives from groups like We Are Church, the Womens Ordination Conference, Voice of the Faithful, Dignity, and even Catholics for a Free Choice will circulate around the Vatican, looking for cameras. Their presence will be a reminder of the reason why, when the formal deliberations begin, the cardinals will be sequestered inside the Sistine Chapel.
Another important new development will be the need for tighter security. In his book Conclave, John Allen reports that 7,000 security officials were on duty in Rome for the funeral of Pope Paul VI. That event was before September 11, 2001before the Western world became acutely conscious that terrorists can strike at any moment. When John Paul II dies, and world leaders assemble at the Vatican for his funeral, a small army of security experts will be required. Officials at the Vatican are understandably reluctant to discuss the details of security arrangements, but St. Peters Square is now routinely cleared and searched by bomb-sniffing dogs, and guests are asked to pass through metal detectors, before any important public celebration. The papal funeral will doubtless call for more stringent methods: snipers on the roof of the apostolic palace, helicopters circling the Vatican grounds, and more.
A third important change since the conclaves of 1978 is the opening of the Casa St. Martha, a guesthouse inside the Vatican grounds where the cardinals will be lodged during the conclave. The facilities are not luxurious (and many "princes of the Church" have grown accustomed to luxury), but they are an enormous improvement over the old arrangement, in which cardinals were assigned cots, set up in rows of tiny cubicles, along the corridors of the apostolic palace. The 1978 conclave that elected Pope John Paul I took place during a sweltering August heat wave, and the cardinals had neither air-conditioning nor adequate water supplies. Perhaps it is no surprise that the cardinals finished their work in less than two days.
As they begin their discussions about the qualities that are required in a new Pontiff, the cardinals must ask themselves whether they are looking for someone who will boldly confront the challenges facing the Church, or a "caretaker" who will carefully steer the Church through a period of transition. A preference for the bold approach would suggest a younger, physically robust candidate; the choice for a transition Pontiff could be an older man. But any cardinal who thinks that he is voting for a "caretaker" should be mindful of the perception that Pope John XXIII would be likely to preside over a quiet pontificate; instead, he summoned the Second Vatican Council, inaugurating the most turbulent period in Catholic history since the Reformation.
The next question might be whether the new Pope should be "Roman" or not that is, whether he must have close connections with the Roman Curia. In the past 170 years, only one Pope was serving on the Curia immediately before his electionand that one, Pius XII, was elected under extraordinary circumstances, with Europe marching into World War II and the cardinals looking for a prelate with a certain grasp of Vatican diplomacy. On the other hand, both Popes John XXIII and Paul VI had long careers in Vatican diplomacy before being named Archbishops of Venice and Milan, respectively, and elected from those sees to the papacy.
Background briefings on the election of a Pope often cite traditional Roman adages, some of them demonstrably untrue. There is, for example, the saying that when a conclave begins, "he who goes in a Pope, comes out a cardinal" meaning that front-running candidates are rarely elected. Actually both Popes Pius XII and Paul VI appeared at the top of most lists of papabili before the conclaves at which they were elected. John XXIII also figured prominently on those lists, as (to a lesser extent) did John Paul I. Of the past five Popes, therefore, the only one who could really be counted as a surprise is John Paul II. And even his election might not have caught observers so thoroughly off guard if they had not assumed that the 455-year Italian monopoly on the papacy would continue.
A more useful principle is encapsulated in the saying that "a fat Pope follows a thin Pope." With the notable exception of Blessed John XXIII, no recent Pontiff has been at all stocky; but the adage is not meant to be taken literally. The point is that in choosing a Pope, the cardinal-electors often look for personal qualities that were missing in the most recent Pontiff.
This explains why reporters pay such careful attention to the eulogy preached at a Popes funeral, and to the remarks made by other prelates in reaction to the Holy Fathers death. In their praise for the deceased Pontiff, the cardinals are taking the measure of the man: the fine qualities that he had and, perhaps by inference, those he lacked. Their statements may provide the first sketch of the character the cardinal-electors will be seeking in the new Pope.
The measure of the man
Looking back across the pontificate of Pope John Paul II, eulogists will be able to point to spectacular accomplishments; they may only hint at particular weaknesses. Pope John Paul has had an enormous impact on the history of our era; he has been one of the most widely beloved Popes in history, and unquestionably the most visible. He played a pivotal role in the collapse of the Soviet empire. His list of writings is prodigious: 14 encyclicals, 15 apostolic exhortations, 11 apostolic constitutions, 42 apostolic letters, and 3 full books. He has made 102 foreign trips, and held over 1,000 public audiences, attended by more than 17 million people.
The quality of this Popes teaching is as remarkable as its quantity. Historian James Hitchcock remarks: "He is by far the most important thinker ever to occupy the papal throne: a theologian and philosopher who would be important even if he were not Pope. The quantity of his output is daunting and will require a century for the Church to digest fully."
Yet in spite of his remarkable energy and intellectual vigor, Pope John Paul has not been successful in stemming a general decline in the practice of the Catholic faith. The enormous personal popularity that he has demonstrated during his apostolic voyages has not translated into higher rates of attendance at Mass in those countries after his departure; the charisma that has riveted millions of teenagers attending World Youth Day ceremonies has not led to a surge in vocations to the priesthood and religious life. In his own personal statements on controversial public issues, the Pope has been staunch in his support of Catholic tradition; yet in his appointment of bishops, he has frequently chosen clerics who are quite ready to make their peace with prevailing liberal trends.
After 25 years, the pontificate of John Paul II remains an enigma. It is a popular misconception that he has been a deeply conservative, authoritarian Pope. While his public pronouncements have certainly been conservative from the perspective of the secular world, his governance of the Church has been remarkably liberal. The mass media have failed to recognize his laissez-faire governing style, however, primarily because liberals within the Church keep insisting that he has repressed them.
He isagain, contrary to a popular mythan unflinching champion of the reforms proclaimed by the Second Vatican Council, in which he played a large and enthusiastic role. He appears to be particularly determined to practice the collegial style of Church governance presaged in the Lumen Gentium, the Councils Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. He has gone to great lengths to avoid any perception that the Holy See is "interfering" in the work of a diocesan bishop.
In the rare cases when the Vatican has intervened to chasten a wayward bishop, the discipline has been handled by other officials of the Roman Curia, not by the Pope himself. In the case of Bishop Jacques Gaillot, who was removed from the Diocese of Evreux, France, after making a series of heterodox pronouncements, the Vatican explained that the bishop was guilty of failure to cooperate with his colleagues in the French bishops conference. Today there are clear disagreements among members of the Roman Curia. Cardinals Ratzinger and Kasper have disagreed about the ecumenical import of the Vatican statement Dominus Jesus; the papal master of ceremonies has contradicted the prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship regarding the propriety of liturgical dance. Such public disputes would be unthinkable during the reign of an authoritarian Pope.
As they prepare for the coming conclave, some cardinals will praise John Paul II for his energy, but hint that it may be time for a more "open" approach to Church governance. Others will offer exactly the opposite message, saying that the Church needs to "consolidate," and adopt a more disciplined approach. Some prelates will extol the Popes support for social justice, and speak wistfully about "pastoral" solutions to contentious issues such as contraception and homosexuality; others will applaud John Pauls stalwart opposition to "the culture of death," and question whether the Church can cooperate with leftist political movements. In all these statements, the cardinal-electors will be dropping hints about the sort of man they hope to elect as John Pauls successor.
Part One of "The Coming Conclave"
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