The Pope, The President, And America
We finally have a counter-balance to the moral values of Trump. In Rome.
There is already a debate about the new Pope and where he fits into American politics. Is he right or left? Did he diss JD Vance? Will he go easier on the old Latin mass? Is he going to bash Trump on immigration? His social media has been assiduously scanned for leftism. He tweeted about George Floyd! Oh wait! He has a full-on (and hilarious) MAGA brother. Which side of our tribal war is Leo on?
This is fun. It’s also the wrong debate. What’s striking about Leo’s old X feed is its caution and banality. It’s all re-posting others. And no tweet expresses anything but very conventional Catholic positions. His posts on immigration — a major source of concern from the right — are indistinguishable from what his four pontifical predecessors would have said.
What makes Leo remarkable, of course, is not politics. It’s that he is one of us, an American. This American-ness has been diluted by his long career and life in Peru, his ease in Spanish and Italian, and his role in Rome. But then he opens his mouth. I honestly never thought I’d hear from the mouth of a Pope the classic Midwestern pronunciation of “Almighty Gad.” Once I heard it, I couldn’t stop grinning.
And it’s Leo’s American identity that distinguishes him in the global imagination, and in the history of the last two millennia. Which means, as David French has noted, that two Americans now bestride the entire globe in universal recognition and influence: this Pope and this President. And it’s the contrast between their personalities and values — not their politics — that makes the pairing so poignant at this moment in history. They represent two Americas — both genuine, but very different.
Leo is a classic American immigrant mix: Creole/French/Italian. His father was part of the Normandy invasion, Leo grew up on the South Side of Chicago, he went to Villanova when Rollie Massimino was basketball coach, and his two brothers made fun of him at home for being such a goody two-shoes. The brothers are classic: one, John, a mild-mannered, well-spoken former school principal, the other a ridiculously familiar Florida Man called Lou. How much more American can you get?
Leo himself seems so profoundly Midwestern to me, in all the best ways. Quiet in affect, careful in speech — and not that exciting. I’ve now listened to a few of his public interviews and speeches and I have to say they are terribly dull, full of words drained of freshness. I’m not saying his intellect is pedestrian; it obviously isn’t. But he is constantly avoiding the making of waves; he’d rather re-tweet than tweet; his description of selecting a bishop — a process he was in charge of — is all about a bishop’s ability to listen, to be humbly in dialogue, and to be fully engaged in the messy world as a still, small — but potent — voice of calm. He seems to know who he is, with no particular need to impress.
Trump, of course, is a near-mirror American image: from Queens, not Chicago, all inflammation all the time, a deeply insecure human with no discernible equanimity at all. Where Leo has been saturated in the tenets of Catholicism, Trump’s core moral values are entirely pagan. Power over others, for Trump, is a good to be sought at all times and costs. Great wealth is the clearest sign of an admirable person. Greed is healthy. The weak and the poor and the homeless are pathetic. It’s better to be a liar than a sucker. Revenge is the real point of life, and forgiveness dependent on the total submission and humiliation of the other.
If he were just this, of course, Trump wouldn’t be president. He also represents a gloriously American vulgarity — a brash, restless, money-grubbing carnival barker. He loves fast food, Coke Zero, and WWE. He swindles and charms. His energy is prodigious, his worldliness fathomless. And he can be terribly funny. Who wouldn’t laugh at the following brag in his Riyadh speech this week: “We renamed the Gulf of Mexico into the Gulf of America. That was very popular … other than perhaps with Mexico.” This shameless hucksterism has never ascended to the presidency in quite this way before — but it is deeply, authentically American nonetheless. I can’t help but be fond of it, even as Trump’s core character still appalls.
Leo is preternaturally American as well: his good nature, his generosity of spirit, his modesty and reserve all have a deeply Midwestern feel to me, that part of this crazy country that always seems the most sane. And these are such starkly different American personalities that they help convey the complexity of this country to a world that often misreads us. That’s a good thing for this country right now.
But there is, of course, a deeper distinction between Leo’s Americanness and Trump’s. It’s not cultural, or political. It’s simply moral. Leo is a moral American and Trump an utterly amoral one. I don’t mean by this that Leo is a liberal, globalist, or Democrat, while Trump is the opposite. I mean simply that Leo is a decent human being. And Trump manifestly isn’t.
Being decent is a nebulous thing, but we know it when we see it. Christians, for example, can fight about what to do about illegal immigration furiously. We can take diametrically opposite positions on policy. But we cannot ignore the dignity and humanity of migrants — period. We do not call human beings “illegals”. We don’t mock trans people by purposely misgendering them. We treat allies with respect, not contempt. We engage dictators in foreign policy, but we never lionize them.
This decency was once part of the American image. It’s rooted in memories of the Marshall Plan, of the sense that in wartime, if you saw an American G.I. you’d be in good hands, whoever you were. America is on the side of the underdog, the dissident, the outsider who belongs nowhere else. Americans go to foreign gulags only ever to rescue someone. But this administration actually sends its cabinet officials to foreign gulags to brag about how they have sent someone there. By mistake.
This is surely Leo’s unspoken role: to remind the world that America is not all about power, selfishness, and money, and that however much we may disagree on policy, we must not sacrifice our defense of the equal dignity of every human soul.
What does this mean in practice? Take the intense debate over Gaza. We can debate the strategy of Israel, the evil of Hamas, and the whole thorny history. But no Christian can defend the killing and near-starvation of so many defenseless children, or the despicable use of children by Hamas as human shields. We can argue over how we grapple with the immense consequences of AI. But as we do, Christians have to insist on the uniqueness of every human soul, and protect that against the aspirations of techno-utopians and bloodless capitalists. (Leo’s only real departure from his predecessors is his focus on this new technological revolution, its potential, and its danger. I suspect he’s right.)
We can debate theology about transgender or gay people without othering or demeaning them. Pope Francis remained opposed to gender ideology, but he invited trans people to dine with him at the Vatican. He didn’t change the doctrine that bars the expression of sexuality outside procreative, heterosexual intercourse, but he obviously loved many gay people, made us feel more human and more at home in a church we love. This unyielding defense of the dignity and value of every single soul — from the womb until death — is what Leo represents.
And it is what America has always represented at its best. It may feel dark right now, but we need to remember the American values that Pope Leo reflects have not disappeared, even though they are now in the shadows. I see good, quiet people all around me, modest people like Bob Prevost, who do good every day. We Americans are not just about money and power and fame, and never have been. We are also about faith and dignity, modesty and hard work, common sense and mercy. The very person of this mild-mannered Chicagoan will remind the world that this too is true. And that at some point, the current depravity will end.
(Note to readers: This is an excerpt of The Weekly Dish. If you’re already a paid subscriber, click here to read the full version. This week’s issue also includes: my convo with David Graham over Project 2025 and Trump 2.0; dissents over my latest piece on immigration and Trump; 11 notable quotes from the week in news, including an Yglesias Award over Afrikaner refugees; 21 pieces on Substack we recommend on a variety of topics; a Mental Health Break of a cinematic take on Eminem; a lovely window from Budapest; and, of course, the results of the View From Your Window contest — with a new challenge. Subscribe for the full Dish experience!)
From a new paid subscriber:
Glad to see you’re still going strong, Andrew. I will never give another penny to mainstream LGB groups, considering how totally they’ve squandered the good will that many of us worked so hard to achieve for our community. Heartbreaking.
New On The Dishcast: David Graham
David is a political journalist. He’s a long-time staff writer at The Atlantic and one of the authors of the Atlantic Daily newsletter. His new book is The Project: How Project 2025 Is Reshaping America. We go through the agenda and hash out the good and the bad.
Listen to the episode here. There you can find two clips of our convo — on whether SCOTUS will stop Trump, and what a Project 2029 for Dems might look like. That link also takes you to commentary on our recent episodes with Claire Lehmann on staying independent in the Trump era, and Byron York on the president’s first 100 days. I also have a lengthy response to a dissent over a trans-sports controversy in Maine, and much more. Check it out.
This week Truman was in the studio as usual, and another pet joined the convo:
Browse the Dishcast archive for an episode you might enjoy (the first 102 are free in their entirety — subscribe to get everything else). Coming up: Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson on the Biden years, Sam Tanenhaus on Bill Buckley, Walter Isaacson on Ben Franklin, Tara Zahra on the last revolt against globalization after WWI, NS Lyons on the Trump era, Arthur C. Brooks on the science of happiness, and Paul Elie on his book The Last Supper: Art, Faith, Sex, and Controversy in the 1980s. Please send any guest recs, dissents, and other comments to dish@andrewsullivan.com.
Dissents Of The Week
A reader responds to my latest column, “How Trump Could Re-Boot On Immigration”:
I do think a re-boot on immigration is possible, but I take issue with your column as a whole. Conservatives have had numerous opportunities to fix immigration and have generally refused to do so. In fact, during Joe Biden’s term, there was a chance to effectively write a bill as Republicans wanted — and Trump killed the bill. Since taking office, he’s shown zero interest in actually fixing the immigration system.
Republicans don’t want to fix the system: they want to exploit it for political purposes. This has been true my entire life, and will continue so long as Trump runs the Republican Party. Your arguments should reflect this fact.
Read my response here, along with a lengthier dissent. A few more, on other topics, are over on the pod page. As always, please keep the dissents coming: dish@andrewsullivan.com.
You can follow more Dish debate in my Notes feed. Here’s a note from this week:
Just had another close shave walking my pup on a crosswalk in DC. It’s been happening a lot lately — drivers’ treating pedestrians as irritants to be ignored. I was used to this when I lived in NYC, but DC was better. Not any more. None of the drivers who nearly ran me over were on their phones — they just don’t seem to think pedestrians should have the right of way if it might slow a car down.
Looked up the stats and they have indeed doubled recently. Per capita they are now five times the NYC rate which is falling! Weird.
Here’s the Dish pup:
In The ‘Stacks
This is a feature in the paid version of the Dish spotlighting about 20 of our favorite pieces from other Substackers every week. This week’s selection covers subjects such as the big new GOP bill, the state of the Dem resistance, and high-speed rail. Some examples:
Mark Oppenheimer fisks Tyler Cowen over his AI pessimism. Here’s Kate Epstein on AI “remaking us in its own image.”
The 10th anniversary of Obergefell is upon us, but WorldPride DC is silent.
Talia Barnes has great advice: “Don’t Doomscroll. Garden.” I’ll be reviving my Ptown flower garden soon.
Here’s a list of the substacks we recommend in general — call it a blogroll. If you have any suggestions for “In the ‘Stacks,” especially ones from emerging writers, please let us know: dish@andrewsullivan.com.
The View From Your Window Contest
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The results for this week’s window are coming in a separate email to paid subscribers later today. Here’s a followup from the winner of our latest contest:
What an honor! I have always admired the skill and intuition of VFYW winners. This has brought a bit of happiness in what has otherwise been a difficult time, as I await my fate as a federal employee caught in the crosshairs of the administration's DOGE efforts.
The VFYW reminds me that connection, curiosity, and a shared sense of wonder are very much alive. Indeed, this contest is one of the most thoughtful and quietly uplifting corners of the internet.
See you next Friday.