How many divisions does the pope have?

“How many divisions does the Pope have?” asked Joseph Stalin, at the height of the Second World War, implying that, without armies, the Vatican would be irrelevant in international politics. History has shown otherwise.

The fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Soviet presence in Eastern Europe were not just the result of communism’s inability to respond to the challenges it faced. They were also the result of an erosion of legitimacy. And, in this process, the role of John Paul II was decisive.

Upon returning to his native Poland in June 1979, John Paul II did not change the regime by decree. But it changes the framework. By affirming the dignity of a people reduced to an ideological function, it introduces a fracture into the system. By saying “don’t be afraid”, he freed up the psychological space on which the regime was based.

It was in this space that the Solidarity movement, led by Lech Walesa, first president of the Republic of free Poland and Nobel Peace Prize winner, grew. When fear recedes and legitimacy is exhausted, power becomes unsustainable, even when it still has the means.

Stalin’s question was therefore wrong. The problem has never been knowing how many divisions the Pope has. The problem is understanding what kind of power is at stake.

It is in light of this distinction that it is important to read what has happened in recent days in the relationship between Washington and the Vatican. Pope Leo

By insisting on the centrality of human dignity and the obligation to welcome, the pope called into question the coherence between values ​​proclaimed by Trump and those around him, often anchored in a Christian imaginary, and concrete policies.

In recent days, Leo XIV also criticized the war in Iran and the rhetoric of fear, and the administration’s response was swift and revealing. Between the rejection of criticism, accusations of weakness, the denial of any right to moral scrutiny over American politics, and the reaffirmation of national sovereignty as an absolute criterion, the argument was clear: political legitimacy results from the internal democratic mandate, not from external assessments, whether religious or moral.

This confrontation is not episodic. It’s structural.

On the one hand, a political power that decides, imposes and controls. On the other, a moral authority that does not decide, but conditions the ability to expose inconsistencies, mobilize millions of Americans and generate reputational costs. By devaluing the pope, the American administration seeks to reduce this effect. If moral criticism is presented as irrelevant, it no longer constitutes embarrassment.

But this strategy has limits. In a fragmented international system, where perception counts as much as the ability to act, legitimacy has become a strategic asset. It may not prevent decisions. But it conditions its effectiveness.

This is where the lesson of John Paul II remains relevant. Not because the contexts are comparable, but because the mechanism is similar. The erosion of legitimacy does not immediately destroy political power. But it weakens it cumulatively.

Just like John Paul II, Leo XIV will not have divisions. You don’t even need them. If you have the ability to shape perceptions, expose contradictions, and increase the moral cost of certain choices, you will have enough influence to condition power. In the end, the relevant question is not how many divisions the pope has. That’s how much it costs to ignore it.