When Popes Defended Christendom: A Response to Peter West, By James Reed and Paul Walker
Peter West's blog piece today on the election of Pope Leo XIV and the criticisms of his "woke" stance on immigration and race, raises important theological and political questions. West's defence of Leo's position is measured and articulate. But it also assumes a continuity between today's papal messaging and the Church's historic role, a continuity that deserves far more scrutiny than it typically receives, including that given by Peter. Yes, as Westnotes, we are not Catholics, but that is really irrelevant to this debate.
The truth is that modern popes, beginning in earnest with John XXIII and Vatican II, have gradually distanced the Church from its historical, civilisational role: as defender of the West, bulwark against chaos, and moral guardian of nations. To call Leo XIV merely "compassionate" is to overlook a deeper break with that tradition, one that risks diluting the moral authority of the papacy in the name of fashionable globalism.
In the past, Popes were not just shepherds of souls, they were also guardians of Christendom. Pope Leo the Great faced down Attila the Hun; Urban II called for the defence of the Holy Land. Even in modernity, Pius V rallied Europe against the Ottoman fleet at Lepanto, while Pius XII, often maligned unfairly, sought to defend European civilisation against twin barbarisms: Nazism and Communism. The papacy, though spiritual in mission, never pretended that the moral life was lived in a vacuum, separate from borders, cultures, and responsibilities to one's own.
West is correct that Catholic teaching has always affirmed the dignity of migrants. But historically, this affirmation was tempered by prudence, hierarchy of duties, and a sharp awareness of what unregulated movement could mean for the social order. Until very recently, popes warned against the erosion of culture and national identity, not as a denial of others' dignity, but as a defence of order, which Catholic theology recognises as a good. Pope Pius XII, in his 1952 apostolic constitution Exsul Familia Nazarethana ("The Émigré Family of Nazareth"), which was the Church's most comprehensive teaching on migration prior to the modern era stated:
"It is not lawful to disturb the ethnic and cultural character of the nations."
— Pius XII, Exsul Familia Nazarethana, 1952
This is a rare moment of papal clarity on the moral legitimacy of national and cultural cohesion, something now often dismissed or softened by modern popes. Pius XII acknowledged the dignity of migrants, yes, but within a framework that recognised nations have the right to preserve their identity.
St Thomas Aquinas in Commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard and Summa Theologiae, discusses how newcomers should be assimilated gradually, not immediately made full members of a society. In Summa Theologiae, I-II, q. 105, a. 3 this greatest of Catholic theologians says:
"It was a prudent arrangement that newcomers were not at once admitted to citizenship. For if they were admitted without delay, many dangers might result, since foreigners who are not yet of one heart with us might attempt something hurtful to the people."
— St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I-II, Q. 105, A. 3
You will never find a statement of criticism from the modern Popes, Francis and Leo, about the murders and mass rapes committed by migrants.
The tone shift West identifies is not incidental, it is doctrinally significant. When Popes like Francis and now Leo XIV speak of "fast tracks to citizenship" or use hashtags to denounce sovereign migration policies, they do more than update the Church's messaging, they begin to speak in the idiom of global liberalism, not Catholic realism.
This is not simply compassion; it is moral idealism unmoored from political and anthropological truths. Saint Thomas Aquinas, no xenophobe, recognised that human beings are not abstract citizens of the world but deeply formed by culture, kinship, and historical inheritance. The ordo amoris invoked by J.D. Vance and St. Augustine is not a footnote, it is the backbone of moral order: love begins with what is ours. Charity without order is chaos.
West rightly notes that the Catechism (2241) instructs nations to welcome migrants "to the extent they are able." But modern popes increasingly omit this crucial caveat, replacing it with a tone that shames prudence as selfishness. This is not continuity. It is deviation and one that alienates the very laity the Church hopes to guide.
West argues that the Pope is not a president, but a pastor. This is true. But when the Pope enters political debates, condemning immigration controls, supporting fast-tracked citizenship, or opining on Western security, he leaves the pulpit and enters the fray. And once there, he must accept scrutiny not just as a moral voice, but as a political actor.
When Pope Leo condemns immigration limits as "inhospitable," he effectively rebukes Catholic laity struggling with the social consequences of those very policies: crowded hospitals, social unrest, terrifying crime and fraying cultural unity. The Leicester riots of 2022 were not isolated. They reflect a broader pattern of cultural fragmentation that no amount of moral platitude can erase. A Pope who dismisses these concerns risks becoming a symbol of abstraction, not a shepherd grounded in the lives of his flock.
West appeals to the personal experiences of Francis and Leo, their familiarity with poverty and migration. But empathy for migrants cannot replace duty to the faithful. A father who feeds the neighbour's child while his own go hungry is not noble, he is negligent. "But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever."
— 1 Timothy 5:8 (ESV). Likewise, the Church must balance universal charity with its primary duty to the communities already under its care. This is not nativism. It is moral hierarchy, the very principle that undergirds Christian ethics.
Today's faithful, especially in the West, see their traditions mocked, their moral framework criminalised, and their demographic future uncertain. When they turn to Rome and find only rebuke for their concerns, is it any wonder they feel abandoned?
West resists the label "woke," and perhaps rightly so. Popes Francis and Leo are not simply parroting the language of progressive elites, well, not exactly. But in aligning so closely with their values, open borders, racial justice rhetoric, deconstruction of national loyalty, the modern papacy has absorbed much of global liberalism's grammar and worldview. Whether this is "woke" or not, it is a profound transformation of the papal role.
The old popes stood guard at the gates. The new ones open them wide and then scold those who worry about who's entering. That shift cannot be papered over with appeals to continuity.
We believe Peter West has got it wrong!
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