Until 1870, the Papal States were a conglomeration of territories on the Italian peninsula under the direct sovereign rule of the Pope. Since the Middle Ages, the Papal States had expanded and contracted, playing a significant role in Italian politics and serving as the temporal domain of the papacy. In 1870, the Papal States were annexed by the Kingdom of Italy, marking the end of the Pope’s political power. From 1870 to 1929, the Pope lived without a state, becoming known as the “Prisoner in the Vatican.” This situation changed on February 11, 1929, when the Lateran Treaty was signed between Italy and the Vatican. This treaty, negotiated by fascist dictator Benito Mussolini and Pope Pius XI, established Vatican City as a sovereign state. Ever since, the papacy has governed the Vatican City State, a tiny territory of 44 hectares within Rome.
But the Vatican certainly punches above its weight. While it may have lost its vast territorial holdings after 1870, the modern Vatican has cultivated a different kind of power through its financial operations and diplomatic reach. The Holy See maintains formal diplomatic relations with 179 nations, demonstrating its international clout. Financially, the Vatican Bank manages billions in assets for the Church and affiliated institutions. This financial leverage, combined with the Pope’s religious authority and the Vatican’s extensive global network, allows the tiny city-state to exert significant influence on world affairs, arguably surpassing its former territorial power.
Consequently, when it comes to electing Popes – via the mechanism of a secret assembly of cardinals, known as a ‘conclave’ – the stakes are high. And for that very reason, there have been quite a few nasty affairs in the history of conclaves. For example, the papal election of 1268 lasted nearly three years and ended only when the townspeople of Viterbo took drastic measures: they locked up the cardinals, removed the roof from their palace, and fed them nothing but bread and water until a decision was made. Another contentious conclave took place in 1378, where angry mobs threatened violence if a Roman Pope was not elected. The cardinals, under duress, chose Urban VI, who turned out to be so unstable that they later declared the election invalid and selected a different Pope, leading to a schism in the Church.
We may live in a more civilised age, but the recently released film Conclave — directed by Edward Berger and based on Robert Harris’ novel— gives reason to think that within the walls of the Vatican, the Medieval dog-eat-dog world may be alive and kicking. The film unveils the raw human dynamics within the conclave, exposing a world where ambition, secrets, and competing ideologies collide, ultimately culminating in an unexpected papal selection that challenges the Church’s traditional foundations.
While secular political gatherings in many countries might mirror the procedural mechanics of a papal conclave, the catholic tradition distinguishes itself through a unique supernatural claim: that the Holy Spirit actively guides and influences the election, transcending mere human political machinations. This divine intervention, catholics believe, elevates the conclave from a simple organisational process to a mystical event where human choice is mysteriously intertwined with celestial guidance.
The notion of divine guidance in papal elections is difficult to reconcile with the historical record of questionable outcomes, such as those I previously mentioned. The tightrope walk between free will and divine guidance creates a logical conundrum: if the cardinals truly have free will, then the Holy Spirit’s influence becomes negligible at best; conversely, if the Holy Spirit genuinely guides the process, it would render the cardinals’ choices predetermined, negating the concept of free will.
Be that as it may, while catholics believe in the Holy Spirit’s guidance during papal elections, they do not claim that everything the Pope does or says is infallible. The doctrine of papal infallibility only emerged in 1870 during the First Vatican Council and was highly controversial at the time. Some cardinals argued that this doctrine lacked a solid foundation in scripture or Church tradition. For instance, they pointed to historical cases of Popes who had erred in matters of faith, such as Pope Honorius I, who was posthumously condemned for heresy in the 7th century.
In truth, this doctrine is far more limited than many assume. It stipulates that the Pope is only infallible when speaking ex-cathedra on matters of faith and morals, binding the whole Church to his declaration. This specific condition has been invoked extremely rarely since the doctrine’s establishment. In fact, there are only two universally recognised instances of infallible papal pronouncements: Pope Pius IX’s declaration of the Immaculate Conception in 1854 and Pope Pius XII’s declaration of the Assumption of Mary in 1950.
Nevertheless, the doctrine of infallibility essentially provides a blank check that any future Pope could cash at will. Provided he speaks ex-cathedra, a Pope could theoretically declare that the vision narrated by the book of Ezekiel 1:4-28 actually refers to UFOs — a claim long favoured by conspiracy theorists — and Jesus is actually a being from another planet. catholics would be obligated to accept this radical reinterpretation as infallible truth.
There is no formal mechanism to impeach a Pope or even to declare one mentally unfit for the role. This lack of oversight and balances means that even in extreme scenarios—such as a Pope exhibiting clear signs of mental instability or making wildly unorthodox proclamations—there is no established process to remove him from office or nullify his declarations.
Catholics generally trust that, since the Holy Spirit guides the papal election process, they would never end up with such a Pope. This line of reasoning bears a resemblance to the prelogical thinking behind medieval ordeals. Just as surviving a trial by fire was seen as divine proof of innocence, the mere fact that a Pope remains in office is taken as evidence that his ex-cathedra statements are divinely inspired. If one reasons that the Holy Spirit would never allow a Pope to make wild claims ex-cathedra, then that means that if a Pope ever did make them — such as Jesus’ extraterrestrial origins —, the Holy Spirit approves it.
In Conclave, the selected candidate is not mentally unstable or does not make wild proclamations — in fact, he is the most lucid of the lot. But he does have a secret that in previous epochs might have barred him from priesthood altogether (I will not spoil the plot). However, an intriguing thought experiment arises: How would the global catholic community react if a completely unfit Pope were elected? This scenario presents a dilemma. Would the faithful view it as a testament to the Holy Spirit’s inscrutable wisdom, embracing the Pope’s condition as part of a divine plan? Or would it spark a crisis of faith, prompting believers to question long-held dogmas about the Holy Spirit’s role in papal elections and the infallibility of ex-cathedra pronouncements? We skeptics can only hope for the latter. Contrary to catholic dogma, the Vatican operates as a terrestrial institution—an anachronism rooted in monarchical systems that no longer hold relevance in the modern world. The idea of divine right, once wielded to justify absolute rule, was emphatically dismissed during the French Revolution. Today, the prevailing understanding is that legitimate authority arises from human dynamics and social contracts, not from supernatural dictates. Yet, in a particular State wielding significant influence—disproportionate to its size—, over a billion people maintain that its leader’s power is divinely sanctioned. Only time will reveal whether these beliefs will be critically examined and questioned.
