Pope Francis, the autobiography that is not really an autobiography

Pope Francis published his autobiography on Friday of this past week, to significant fanfare, at least from the Vatican side of the operation and certain obliging media outlets.

Titled Spera in Italian—Hope in English, to be read not as a noun but as a verb in the imperative mood—the book hit stores on January 16th and follows closely the release of three other books: a book-length interview with journalist Hernan Reyes, a book-length interview on his relationship with Benedict XVI with journalist Javier Martinez-Brocal, and another book on his life in relation to historical events, with journalist Fabio Marchese Ragona.

Hope was written by the Italian literary editor Carlo Musso, making “autobiography” rather an imprecise term, though that’s how they’re billing it. At the very least, “autobiography” does not fully explain the literary effort found in the book’s pages.

Pope Francis does not limit himself to looking at the past, putting events in order, and trying to give them an organic, orderly, and complete story. Instead, Francis uses episodes from the past to justify some of his actions as Pope.

Hope, in other words, is rather a sort of Apologia pro vita sua. Pope Francis even responds to criticisms, among them his rarely smiling since his election to Peter’s see. Above all, he selects the episodes and carefully chooses what he wants and what he does not want to tell, skipping whole chunks that—chronologically—would have stood to come in for some treatment.

Little or nothing is said about his “exile” in Cordoba. Little or nothing is said about his doctorate, which began and was never completed in Germany. Even his papal voyages are carefully chosen, as are the episodes he recounts. In Pope Francis’ book, there is a taste for minute history, at least when it comes to giving a precise image of the pontificate.

Of course, everything can be interpreted in different ways. Pope Francis dwells at length on the conclave that elected him. He doesn’t give details, but he does provide essential context. We learn that Francis had not written out the famous speech that would later be released by Cardinal Ortega. The latter asked him for a copy of it, and he reconstructed his remarks just to get it to him.

We learn that Pope Francis did not look at his new job with a sense of official purpose. He only looked at how he felt personally. He took off his cardinal’s ring, put on his archbishop’s ring, refused what was offered to him, and so on with the pectoral cross. He did not wear the mozzetta because “it is not for him.” He did not wear white pants because he “[didn’t] want to be an ice cream seller.”

Some see in these details the greatness of a man who does not bow to tradition, and those who instead can see the vanity of a man who does not think he is serving an institution but rather that he is governing an institution. History will let us know which is the most correct interpretation. For now, the readings all appear to have more than a little or the Rorschach Test about them.

His relationship with his mother helps explain why he said that if anyone spoke about his mother, he would punch them – a statement that created quite a bit of controversy. The Pope also says he did everything he could to talk to Argentine dictator Jorge Raphael Videla and get news of the disappeared Jesuits in in his country, and even asked priests who were supposed to celebrate with the generals to call in sick so he could replace them.

The issue is still an open discussion, even though the remarks Pope Francis had made to Hungarian Jesuits who had asked him about the business a few years ago were something of an attempt to put the matter to rest.

So, what does this book by Pope Francis tell us?

It tells us, first of all, that the Pope has decided to go down in history by providing his explanation of the facts.

The genre of the papal autobiography, as well as the book-length interview with the Pope, is not new. However, John Paul II and Benedict XVI used these means with discretion.  They always put the Church first, although they were both accused of some personal protagonism.  Pope Francis puts his own thoughts before everything else—and his own thoughts crowd and overflow the stories he tells in the book. Every detail is a pretext for the Pope to reiterate his vision of the world and deny or criticize those who have criticized him.

Second, the biography tells us that Pope Francis is aware of the controversies surrounding his pontificate.

Pope Francis defends his decisions with respect to such hot-button issues as Fiducia Supplicans and Amoris Laetitia. However, the issue of abuse, which has been a focus of the pontificate, is touched upon almost superficially, as if it needs in-depth exploration elsewhere. Diplomacy is only included in generic appeals for peace and ceasefires, but no actual geopolitical reasoning exists. Even ecumenical relations are touched upon almost superficially.

Where there is a deep controversy, Pope Francis does not address it. He gives his opinion, sometimes even outside the Holy See’s canons, and then leaves others to find a solution, seeking a balance to his words.

Finally, Pope Francis’s biography confirms this pontificate as one of redemption more than construction. Francis came to the office with his vision of the world and has from the outset desired to impose it in some way. This is noticeable in his harsh comments on the resistance to his reforms or even in those on the so-called “backsliders.”

That the Francis pontificate is also one of “revenge” is evident from many small details. For example, it created “remediation cardinals” or cardinals whose purple serves to respond to, support, or reverse situations of the past.

It also reconstructs the narrative in which the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, led by Pope
Francis’ friend, Cardinal Fernandez, is also engaged.

At the end of the month, the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith will publish a document on artificial intelligence. Then, it is preparing another on slavery of yesterday and today, another on monogamy today, and one on Mariology. It is an unprecedented public activity, but it aims to create a precedent.

The truth is that there is no great care for the institution as it is traditionally handed down. The institution has become Pope Francis, and everything revolves around him—his moods, his decisions. Francis, however, came to the office not with a tradition to defend but with prejudices to overcome.

The one thing on which everyone agreed going into the conclave that elected Francis was that the Roman institution was—is—corrupt and in need of reform.

Under Francis, the institutional for which churchmen clamored in the pre-conclave meetings have received little in the way of substantial address. Francis has basically given the Roman Curia a face-lift.

Is this a sign that corruption is not so widespread or that it is actually spreading in secret?

The autobiography seems more like an excuse to reiterate the concepts dear to the pontificate, which Pope Francis repeats until exhaustion. It is not an autobiography, then, but not even a spiritual exploration of God’s will.

In this book, there is only the Pope. There is never the Church, which the Pope is called to serve.