Pope Francis and asymmetric government

Pope Francis appointed Archbishops on July 29th: Msgr. John J. Kennedy, Secretary for the Disciplinary Section of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, and Msgr. Philippe Cuberlié, Undersecretary of the same Dicastery. The choice is rather out of the ordinary, at least in part. It is especially eyebrow-raising, when one considers the other Secretary of the Dicastery, Monsignor Armando Matteo, a theologian esteemed by the Pope, has not been given a ring and a mitre, let alone the personal dignity of Archbishop.

Pope Francis, in other words, has made one Secretary an Archbishop, and left another a priest. At the same time, he has made the Dicastery’s undersecretary—on paper a subordinate to the two Secretaries—an Archbishop.

In the Vatican’s curial system, Secretaries are Archbishops. At least, they have been. Francis, however, has dispensed with the old scheme and occasionally upended it.

The Secretary of the disciplinary section is an archbishop, but the Secretary of the doctrinal section of the Dicastery is not an archbishop. The Undersecretary is an archbishop, therefore with a rank on a par with that of the dicastery’s number 2, which could also create problems within the Dicastery itself.

This is a further example of what could be called “asymmetric government.” What does this mean? Since the beginning of his pontificate, Pope Francis has shown that he considers episcopal appointments more like a military rank than part of the dignity of a specific role.

Among his very first decisions, Pope Francis made Victor Manuel Fernandez—currently the Prefect of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith but a mere priest in 2013 —a titular Archbishop. Today, Fernandez is a cardinal and prefect of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, but he was then simply rector of the Catholic University of Argentina.

Another example: When Francis wanted to emphasize the Synod of Bishops, he appointed Lorenzo Baldisseri, an archbishop who would become a cardinal, as its general Secretary. Then, he also created his successor, Mario Grech, a cardinal.

The General Secretary of the Synod of Bishops had usually been an archbishop, but no more – with the exception of Cardinal Pieter Schotte, who however was created a cardinal after having served for nine years in the position. Now, he is a cardinal. The Undersecretary of the Synod only had the title of monsignor. With Pope Francis, this Undersecretary has the title of Archbishop.

The situation at the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith is the latest case of an “asymmetric” choice, if one may say so, but it is not the first or the only one.

The Dicastery for Evangelization has a prefect, the Pope himself, and two pro-prefects. One, Luis Antonio Tagle, is a cardinal, and the other, Rino Fisichella, is an archbishop.

Pope Francis did even more when establishing the Migrants and Refugees section within the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace. Cardinal Turkson led the Dicastery, but the section was under the direct government of Pope Francis, who then decided to create one of the two undersecretaries, Michael Czerny, a cardinal. Thus, we found ourselves in the paradox of a dicastery led by a cardinal, with a section led by the Pope whose deputies—formally equal—were a cardinal and a priest.

These questions are of little interest, but they are essential for understanding how Pope Francis perceives power. Pope Francis implies, in some way, that the cardinalate is an honorific title, and he uses it above all to create an electoral base and for “reparation” with some choices of the past.

The examples could continue.

It is interesting to note how, within a government that—at least in its narrative—aims to give greater weight to the laity in the Church, there is instead a proliferation of episcopal ordinations, even for roles where generally there was no need for a bishop.

Within a government that constantly emphasizes the importance of women, then the women chosen by the Pope to work in the Curia or in positions of responsibility are almost always nuns, and only in sporadic cases – such as those of the two undersecretaries of the Dicastery for the Laity, Family, and Life – women with careers and families of their own.

When we talk about asymmetric government, however, we must consider another fact. If Pope Francis ordains bishops as though they were generals and appoints those who are his colonels, he often does so without considering the institution and its balance.

Thus, there are equal positions where one finds himself a cardinal and the other an archbishop, and even positions where a simple priest is—on paper, at least—an archbishop’s superior. Such asymmetry has powerful consequences because these titles are not frills but also say something about the power of decision and speech of the people to whom they are assigned.

For Pope Francis, what matters is who is a bishop, that is, who is called to swear fidelity to the Church and obedience to the Pope. If the cardinal is the strategic consultant, the bishop for the Pope is the colonel in battle, faithful to his general and ready to die for him. Thus, the cardinalate becomes an extra, a modality that also serves to send messages to the world and create a basis of representation. The episcopate becomes a deep bond, signaling possible promotions or a particular interest of the Pope in specific topics.

In this way, the choices are ad personam. The idea of giving the top positions of the Curia at least an episcopal dignity resided in the fact that it was wanted that all those who made decisions were in college with the Pope because the Pope is also a bishop.

However, suppose dignity is not linked to the position but to the Pope’s decision. In that case, the asymmetric Curia also leads to an inverted episcopal dimension, in which the mission the Pope gives counts, not the episcopal ordination itself. Everything is centered on the Pope, now more than ever.

Could this asymmetry also be a message from Pope Francis? Could the Pope want to show his priorities, likes, and dislikes this way? History will tell.