IN a world where symbols often overshadow substance, the idea of a black Pope appears, at face value, to be revolutionary. It promises diversity, inclusion, and historic correction. But for the discerning, the very prospect reeks of a calculated deception, one designed to pacify rather than to reform. If it comes to pass it will not the dawn of justice but a photo-op for posterity, a camoufl age for persistent inequality. A black Pope, if elected, will be a fi gurehead set up for failure in an institution that has long been structured to resist true transformation. It will be an illusion of progress. Much like the election of Barack Obama as the fi rst black president of the United States, the world is being primed to celebrate a black face in a white system.

The Global South cheered Obama’s ascent, expecting a shift in global dynamics in favour of Africa. Instead, drone strikes in Yemen, the destruction of Libya, and the reinforcement of American economic imperialism bore his signature. He served American interests, white interests, capitalist interests , not African or so-called Third World liberation. The image was progressive; the policy, regressive. So, too, would be the papacy of a black man. Celebrated as a triumph of diversity, it will be the ultimate tokenism.

The administration, the College of Cardinals, the Vatican bureaucracy, all will remain largely white, Eurocentric, and beholden to centuries-old ideologies. Pope Francis was not really about progress but the deconstruction of tradition. The groundwork has already been laid. Pope Francis, hailed as a progressive, has cracked open the door to theological compromise. He has redefi ned God not as the eternal, immutable being depicted in the Scriptures, but as one who is ‘open to new things’. In 2023, he welcomed LGBTQ individuals not just into the pews but saw no problem with gay priests so ity. The catechism was circumvented. Tradition was side-stepped. Francis did not reform; he redefi ned. This redefi nition sets a dangerous precedent. A black Pope will be expected to inherit and expand these compromises.

He will be given a script, one already drafted by Francis, to dilute doctrine in the name of love, inclusion and modernity. But love without truth is sentimentalism, and inclusion without discernment is chaos. The Church, rather than being a moral compass, is turning into a weather vane, shifting direction based on popular opinion. The LGBTQ question and black resistance remains. In Africa, resistance to the normalisation of LGBTQ ideology within the Church is strong. Churches in Nigeria, Ghana, Uganda, and Zimbabwe have all taken uncompromising stands against what they perceive as a moral assault. For many Africans, the issue is not about human rights but about divine order. To them, the Bible is unambiguous: “Male and female He created them” (Genesis 1:27), and “Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable” (Leviticus 18:22). To elect a black Pope at this juncture is to engineer a contradiction.

A black Pope, if chosen, will be caught between his theological heritage and the political expectation to endorse what his community sees as heresy. If a black Pope os chosen and he chooses to tow the current line, the Church in Africa will not see a liberator but a traitor in robes. A black Pope will be expected to deliver Rome’s gospel of compromise to a continent not yet sold on secular modernity. And when he fails to convert his people, he will be blamed. Scripture has been abandoned by the Church for politics.

The Vatican has long fl irted with power at the expense of Scripture. The Church that claims to be built on the rock of Peter has sometimes looked more like cruel masters, a verse weaponised to bless centuries of racial subjugation. The same Church that condemned Judas for betrayal found no problem blessing conquistadors who raped and pillaged in the name of the cross. Pope Nicholas V, in his 1452 papal bull Dum Diversas, authorised the enslavement of Africans. This was not a deviation; it was dogma. It was the Church aligning itself with empire. It was Rome declaring that black bodies were expendable for the economic advancement of Europe. The spiritual betrayal echoed the political. And when father Goncalo da Silveira brought that same Church to Munhumutapa’s court, it was not to serve but to subdue.

There has been an unholy marriage of Church and Empire. From the Spanish Inquisition to colonial conquest, the Church has often been more loyal to empire than to Christ. The cross and the crown have walked hand in hand, often trampling the weak in their stride. Even the naming of slave ships like Queen Elizabeth’s ‘Jesus’ betrays a deep irony: salvation weaponised for subjugation. What then is the value of a black Pope in an empire that still sees black as less? What diff erence can he make in an institution whose wealth was built on the backs of blacks but not for their benefi t? Will he change the theology? Will he change the structures? Will he be allowed to?.

A black Pope will be the Simon of Cyrene of our times, compelled to carry a cross not his own. But unlike the original Simon, he will not be allowed to put it down. He will be condemned whether he complies or not. If he resists doctrinal dilution, he will be labelled regressive. If he complies, he will be cursed by his own people. He will serve not as a bridge but as a buff er. Just as Barack Obama became the face of drone warfare, a black Pope will become the face of religious liberalism, globalist theology, and moral ambiguity. He will be praised in European media but parodied in African pulpits. And when chaos follows, when schisms erupt, when African churches threaten to break away, Rome will say, “We tried”.

The absence of apology and restitution will remain. The Church has yet to atone for its sins. Not just the abuse scandals in Europe and North America but the genocide of African identity and sovereignty. There has been no meaningful reparations for slavery, no canonisation of African martyrs who died resisting colonial Christianity, no apology for aligning with fascist regimes in Spain, Portugal, and Nazi Germany. A black Pope, unaccompanied by systemic change, becomes an insult. It is the equivalent of placing a black man at the helm of a plantation and calling it progress. Symbolism without substance. Elevation without emancipation. What is needed is truth before tokens. If the Church truly wishes to reform, it must begin with truth. It must renounce the papal bulls that blessed slavery. It must admit complicity in colonisation. It must restore land stolen in the name of the Church. It must revise doctrines that dehumanise.

It must listen to Africa not as a subject but as a partner. Until then, the idea of a black Pope remains a distraction. A hollow gesture in a hollow temple. And when he ascends the balcony in St. Peter’s Square, adorned in white robes over black skin, history will not cheer. It will sigh. Because we have seen this play before. Enter Obama. Exit Africa. Enter the black Pope. Exit hope.