The Progressive's Papal Pardon: An Anti-Trump Absolution?

An American pope, an unlikely flock: you couldn't make it up, could you? Ironically, we could say that Trump is a unifier.

Well, an American Pope. You have to admit, there’s a certain novelty to it, isn’t there? Like discovering your local vicar moonlights as a Vegas magician. But perhaps more intriguing than the nationality of the man now residing in the Vatican is the rather peculiar ripple of enthusiasm emanating from some decidedly unexpected quarters here in the West. I’m talking, of course, about those bastions of liberal thought, those very same circles where, traditionally, religious dogma is viewed with the sort of suspicion usually reserved for a surprise tax audit or, indeed, a US President of a certain bombastic persuasion.

And yet, here we are. Glance across the digital commentariat, wade through the social media pronouncements, and you might detect a distinct, almost gleeful, hum. Why? Is it a newfound appreciation for Thomistic philosophy? A sudden revival in Latin Mass attendance? One suspects not. The whispers, growing rather louder now, suggest a far more terrestrial, and dare I say, politically convenient reason: this particular Pontiff, it’s said, has historically aimed a few choice words, social media barbs perhaps, at the ever-polarising figure of Donald Trump.

So, in our relentless, often bewildering, political sphere — where the enemy of my adversary is apparently my new spiritual guide — are we witnessing a fresh chapter in ideological contortionism? Is this a fleeting moment of 'any port in a storm', or does it point to something more profound about the state of modern allegiances, where even the supposedly secular are willing to embrace the mitre if it’s perceived to be tilted against the right (or wrong) political bogeyman?

It does make one wonder, doesn't it, about the foundations upon which these progressive critiques of religion were supposedly built?

The Usual Suspicions

Now, let’s be fair, or at least, let's attempt to be. For a significant swathe of modern liberal thought, particularly that which self-identifies as 'progressive' here in the West, organised religion hasn’t exactly been top of the Christmas card list — if Christmas cards are even still a thing one admits to sending. The intellectual heritage, after all, often traces a proud lineage back to Enlightenment thinkers who championed reason over revelation, empirical evidence over ecclesiastical authority. From this perspective, faith, especially the structured, hierarchical kind embodied by institutions like the Catholic Church, is frequently cast as, at best, an anachronism; at worst, an impediment to progress, a repository of outdated social mores, or even an engine of historical oppression.

You know the arguments, surely? Religion is the 'opiate of the masses' (to borrow from a rather less liberal ideologue, though the sentiment often finds echoes). It’s seen as the stubborn grit in the otherwise smoothly turning gears of scientific advancement and social liberation. Public discourse, particularly in academic and certain media circles, often frames religious belief as something to be tolerated in private, perhaps, like a peculiar hobby for collecting antique thimbles, but certainly not something to be taken seriously as a guiding force in the public square or, heaven forbid, as a source of moral authority.

Of course, one must tread carefully here. To paint all 'liberal-types' with a broad, anti-religious brush would be a caricature, and a lazy one at that — the very kind of intellectual shorthand we’re often encouraged to deplore. Plenty of individuals hold deep religious convictions alongside politically liberal views, finding no contradiction whatsoever. However, the dominant narrative within many influential progressive institutions, the intellectual zeitgeist, if you will, has leaned heavily towards a secular, and often explicitly critical, stance on traditional religious belief. It’s this prevailing scepticism, this almost default posture of distrust towards the pronouncements of men in frocks, that makes the current papal pleasantries so… noteworthy, shall we say?

A Curious Chorus of Approval

And yet, despite this well-established tradition of ecclesiastical side-eye, something rather curious has been bubbling up since the white smoke cleared over St. Peter's. Cast your gaze across the digital town square, scroll through the pronouncements of the usually reliably secular commentariat, and you might just detect it: a subtle warming, a softening of the critical edges, perhaps even — dare I say it — a flicker of something approaching... approval? For a Pope? An American Pope, no less!

Suddenly, it seems, the pronouncements from Rome are not automatically dismissed as relics of a bygone era or the mutterings of an institution hopelessly out of step. Instead, one observes tentative nods, thoughtfully stroked chins (metaphorically speaking, of course, across the Twittersphere), and op-eds cautiously suggesting that this Pope, well, he might just be a bit different. You might almost be forgiven for thinking a memo had gone out, suggesting a temporary ceasefire in the long-standing culture war between secular progressivism and traditional faith.

Is it the man's purportedly humble beginnings? His choice of papal name (though one doubts many could readily recite the historical significance of previous Leos without a rapid search)? Or perhaps it's simply the sheer novelty of it all, like a political reality show suddenly taking an unexpected, and for some, refreshingly unscripted turn. Whatever the surface-level justifications, there's an undeniable shift in the usual weather patterns. The forecast, which typically reads 'deeply sceptical with a chance of outright condemnation' when papal matters arise, has suddenly brightened to 'cautiously optimistic, with scattered outbreaks of what looks suspiciously like… well, glee.' One can’t help but raise an eyebrow. What, precisely, is powering this unexpected sunshine?

The Orange Elephant in the Room

So, what is this mysterious elixir, this apparent papal panacea capable of soothing the habitually sceptical liberal brow? If you’ve been following the more astute, or perhaps merely the more cynical, whispers in the political ether, the answer won't come as a galloping shock. It seems the newfound appeal of this particular Bishop of Rome, for some at least, has less to do with his views on transubstantiation and rather more to do with past pronouncements, rumoured tweets, or artfully timed social media 'likes' perceived to be critical of one Donald J. Trump.

Aha! The penny, perhaps, begins to drop. For in the fiercely polarised amphitheatre of modern Western politics, particularly in the long shadow cast by the Trump presidency and its continuing reverberations, allegiances are often forged in the crucible of shared antipathies. The US President, it’s fair to say, is not just a political figure but a veritable political litmus test, a Rorschach blot onto which all manner of anxieties and animosities were projected. To be anti-Trump, for many, particularly within liberal and progressive echelons, isn't just a political stance; it is a core tenet of their ideological identity.

Could it be, then, that the new American Pope, irrespective of his doctrinal positions or the centuries of tradition he represents, has simply been awarded bonus points — a halo, if you will, polished bright by the reflected animosity towards Mar-a-Lago? Is his primary qualification for this sudden liberal embrace not his pastoral experience or theological acumen, but rather his perceived membership, however tangential or inferred, in the 'Anyone But Trump' brigade? One can almost picture the checklist: 'Critical of traditional values? Potentially problematic. Questions unchecked capitalism? Getting warmer. Thrown shade at the Orange One? Welcome, Your Holiness, pull up a chair and tell us more!’

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (Romanum, That Is)

So, let's pause for a moment and savour the sheer, delightful absurdity of it all, shall we? On one hand, we have a significant portion of the Western liberal intelligentsia, historically predisposed to view the pronouncements of any Pope with, shall we say, a rather jaundiced eye, seeing in the institution a bastion of patriarchal tradition, an opponent of various social 'progresses', and a general stick-in-the-mud when it comes to the relentless march towards a secularised, enlightened future. Fair enough, from their perspective.

And on the other? That same cohort, or at least a vocal segment of it, now seemingly performs mental gymnastics worthy of an Olympic gold medal to welcome the latest incumbent of Peter’s Chair into the fold. Why? Because he might have, on occasion, dissented from the holy pulpit to Trump. Suddenly, it seems, the centuries of theological baggage, the doctrinal sticking points, the very notion of papal infallibility itself (a concept usually guaranteed to induce a liberal eye-roll), can all be conveniently shuffled to the side, like embarrassing relatives at a wedding.

One can’t help but chuckle. What becomes of all those principled stands against the encroachment of faith into the public sphere when the faith leader in question might just be on 'your side' in the latest round of political mud-wrestling? Are we to believe that the deep-seated scepticism towards religious authority, cultivated over generations of secular thought, simply evaporates when the figurehead in question offers a useful counterpoint to a shared political nemesis? It does rather make you wonder about the true depth and consistency of some of those loudly proclaimed secular principles. Is it that old maxim again — 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' — now extended to include even those whose fundamental worldview one ostensibly rejects? The intellectual acrobatics alone are surely worth the price of admission to this particular circus.

Other Readings of the Papal Tea Leaves?

Now, before we’re accused of painting with too broad a brush or indulging in unalloyed cynicism (a tempting pastime here in modern Britain, one must admit), it’s perhaps worth acknowledging that the picture might not be entirely monochrome. Could there be other, less overtly political, reasons for this thaw in relations between some liberal commentators and the Holy See?

One could argue, charitably perhaps, that certain pronouncements from any Pope on issues like global poverty, climate change, or social justice (were this new Pontiff to major on such themes) might naturally find a sympathetic ear among those on the centre-left, irrespective of their views on divine intervention or the former occupant of the White House. After all, 'liberal' is not a monolithic bloc, and many individuals within it may well be capable of applauding a message while remaining sceptical of the messenger’s broader theological framework. Perhaps, for some, it’s a case of genuinely finding common ground on specific societal concerns, a fleeting alignment of disparate worldviews on a narrow set of issues.

It’s a possibility, of course. One shouldn’t discount the capacity for nuanced appreciation. Yet, given the sheer, almost Pavlovian, intensity of feeling surrounding all things Trump, and the rather sudden and specific nature of this papal enthusiasm, one might still be forgiven for suspecting that these other factors, however valid in isolation, are currently enjoying a rather significant piggyback on the ‘anti-Trump’ bandwagon. The principle of Occam’s Razor, applied to political motivations, often points to the most powerfully resonant explanation, doesn’t it?

Final Thoughts from the Sidelines

So, where does this leave us, as we observe the curious case of the politically palatable Pontiff? We’ve seen the traditional liberal wariness of religious institutions, the sudden sunburst of approval for an American in the Vatican, and the rather large, orange-hued elephant in the room that seems to account for this unexpected theological détente. It’s been quite the spectacle of ideological flexibility, hasn’t it?

The amusement, at least from this vantage point here in Britain — where we’re no strangers to political ironies ourselves — stems not from any particular animosity towards the individuals involved, but from watching the often-Byzantine dance of political expediency. When deeply entrenched principles, such as a secular distrust of religious authority, can be so readily set aside, or at least conveniently muted, because the religious figure in question happens to align with one’s secular political antipathies, it does make you wonder about the true bedrock of those convictions.

Perhaps it’s merely a sign of our hyper-partisan times, where all cultural and institutional figures are inevitably sucked into the political vortex, their worth measured less by their intrinsic qualities or traditional roles, and more by where they stand on the handful of fiercely contested issues of the day. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s a reminder that for all the high-minded rhetoric, human beings — even the most ideologically committed — are wonderfully, and sometimes alarmingly, capable of finding a rationale for cheering whoever appears to be annoying their nemeses. One can only watch, with a raised eyebrow and perhaps a wry smile, and ponder what surprising alliances the next political gyration will bring forth. Progress, after all, works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?