The battle for optics and the power of publicity.

The Left is good at optics. The trads are not. The progressives—much more at home in the political than the spiritual—are excellent at spin and presentation.

In fact, political manipulation is a high art on the Left. So it should have come as no surprise that the most notorious of all the LGBTQ+ advocates, Fr James Martin, would set out to achieve the important and highly effective goal of obtaining from the new papacy of Pope Leo an optical imprimatur that would terrify conservative Catholic. Using his many connections inside the Vatican, where he had already secured audiences with Pope Francis, he gained an interview with Pope Leo a few days ago, on 1 September.

Fr Martin was in Rome with the Outreach Jubilee Pilgrimage, the Catholic LGBTQ+ organisation he founded three years ago in collaboration with America magazine, for which he is a columnist.

When you meet the Pope, everyone has their picture taken with him. A few days ago, a friend of mine—a Cambridge professor with growing influence in the contested political forum—wrote to tell me he had been with Pope Leo that day. “Where’s the photo?” I asked. And very sweetly, an hour later, I was gazing at a lovely photo of the two of them in warm conversation.

Now, if my friend had been on the Left instead of in the centre, he would have filled social media with the news, and the photo, and an accompanying narrative about how encouraging the Pope had been to his many and really rather splendid endeavours. Pope Leo—given the fame and, in some circles, notoriety of my friend—would then have appeared to the commentariat to have discreet but well-rooted sympathies for the conservative right. Except that, being from the right, and having both manners and humility, my friend kept the photo to himself and a few friends.

Fr James Martin, on the other hand, had a different strategy. Less humility, less discretion, more hubris, more nous—and a very different understanding of optics and the power of publicity. So, immediately afterwards, Fr James awarded himself a self-authored commentary in his magazine.

If you parse (or deconstruct, in the popular sense) what he said, it amounts to very little beyond a carefully worded politeness on the Pope’s part. In his accompanying article, Fr Martin claimed: “Pope Leo has the same openness as Pope Francis on these issues.” This, of course, is the precious goal of the spin doctor. A bold claim, but no evidence—except the euphemistic words: “He has a desire to welcome all people, including LGBT people.” What pope would not want everyone to feel welcome?

But then, a disclaimer as it looks like Pope Leo may not offer the LGBT groups arriving at the Vatican on 6 September an audience. In that case, Fr Martin will look a bit silly having made such dramatic claims over Pope Leo’s commitment to “openness and welcome” to the LGBTQ+ community. So he slips in a waiver.

We are warned—he explains to his followers—that the Pope has other priorities, such as “the peace processes in Ukraine, Gaza and Myanmar,” and that there is no need to worry if he does not intervene much on LGBTQ issues. Suffice it to know that he is well aware of them.

You don’t have to be a cynic to smell disingenuousness here. This is damage limitation. Why does there need to be damage limitation? Because Fr Martin has claimed too much, and knows he has. He also knows that the Pope won’t publicly contradict him if his commentary remains within certain limits—the limits of hyperbole.

We were told that Fr Martin gave the Pope some advice about what he thought ought to happen: “For my part, I offered him some suggestions of what dioceses and parishes might do in terms of welcoming LGBTQ Catholics, which I framed in terms of five steps, aware that in some dioceses and churches we are still at the first or second step.”

The Pope made no response to this. How do we know? Because if he had done anything more than listen in polite silence, Fr Martin would have publicised it widely. No response does not amount, in anyone’s language, to affirmation.

Then comes the sign that there was no commitment to support Fr Martin’s provocative campaign: “There is more that I wish I could share about our meeting, but these meetings are ‘off the record’ so that the two people can speak freely.” The implication is meant to be clear—warm intimacy, being on the same page. But this is likely just a smokescreen. The Pope carefully said nothing at all that could be construed as encouragement. He remained silent on everything apart from the usual small talk that emerges in every social visit. And then the photograph—a photo that, placed in the context of the spun words, suggested so much and meant nothing.

Let me show you how it is done.

In another life, I was warmly welcomed by Pope Francis to the Vatican. We shared some very personal observations. I got the strong impression that he cared deeply for my mission and found myself greatly encouraged. The warmth of his handshake told me all I needed to know of the depth of his commitment to the complex but important matters I had brought to him. It was very clear from the whole tenor of our meeting that he understood, sympathised and stood with me in the complexities of the whole range of ecumenical challenges that my ministry embodied. In our private conversation, he said some things that moved me very deeply and will stay with me forever. I wish I could tell you about them, but there are moments in such encounters where confidentialities must be kept. Not everything can be broadcast. Some exchanges must remain a matter of intimacy and trust.

If I had held a press conference after this warm welcome and spun such words—none of which were untrue—you might gain certain impressions. They would be true, in a sense. But perhaps only in a limited sense. But accompanied by the photo…

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A few days earlier, Pope Leo had another meeting. It was with Sor Lucía Caram Padilla. She is a Dominican nun from Argentina: a chef, writer, presenter and progressive political activist who denies the virginity of Our Lady and supports abortion. She was given an audience with Pope Leo a few days ago. In the photo, she is seen warmly grabbing him by the arm, changing the body language to one of immediate intimacy, familiarity and affection—at least as far as the photo goes.

And as far as a photograph goes, the photographer Richard Avedon summed it up when he said:

“A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know.”

She didn’t hold a press conference, as it happened. But the photo did the work she wanted it to do.

The culture wars are serious. They embody a battle for an entire civilisation—and in our case, the soul of the Church. Of course we are wary. But Pope Leo must act not only as a Christian, priest and bishop, but as a pope. He needs to bring the whole Church with him, as intact as possible. He has made it clear that he is going to move slowly. He has mercifully brought us out of the valley of the shadow of ambiguity.

Different people—different factions—are going to claim him for their own. He may be placed in traps and he may make mistakes. But in all his language, both of words and of gesture, he has done nothing to forfeit the truth that Catholics quite rightly owe to the legitimate successor of St Peter.

So, in the adapted words of a Second World War sign:

“Let’s keep calm, carry on and pray the rosary.”

(Photo by MARIA GRAZIA PICCIARELLA/Middle East Images/AFP via Getty Images)

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