Pius XII and Totalitarianism
By Roberto de Mattei
The "black legend"
By temperament and vocation, Pius
XII was a man of peace. The very name he chose, Pius, evokes
the yearning for that Christian peace which is not neutral
indifference but, according to the renowned definition of
Saint Augustine, "tranquillity of order."
The Western democracies of his time
were not strong enough to restore the true peace Pius XII
sought. In Yalta, for example, with the endorsement of Western
governments, Soviet communism became the absolute master
of Eastern Europe and started an aggressive policy of ideological
imperialism aimed at seizing the entire free world.
National Socialism and Communism,
the most violent expressions of contemporary totalitarianism,
reached their greatest historical expansion during Pius
XII's pontificate. He opposed both of them with the doctrinal
Magisterium and administrative action, which made the twentieth
century Papacy still the radiant "candle upon the candle-stick,"
the standard unfurled among nations, signum levatum in nationes,
the civitas supra montem posita, "a city set on a hill,"
against whose foot the fury of seawaves breaks down.1
The smear campaign against the memory of Pius XII started
just a few years after his death on October 9, 1958. It
was occasioned by the appearance of Rolf Hochuth's play
The Deputy (Der Stellvertreter), first staged in 1963 in
Germany.
Hochuth's thesis is that Pius XII made insufficient efforts
to save European Jews and refused to speak out about the
Holocaust despite detailed knowledge of the scale of Jewish
suffering. Hochuth's work, though devoid of any historic
value, became internationally known thanks to massive media
coverage.
In view of these accusations, which implicated not only
Pius XII but the Catholic Church as a whole, Pope Paul VI
opened the Vatican diplomatic archives to shed full light
on the Holy See's activity during the Second World War.
Three Jesuit Church historians, Pierre Blet, Angelo Martini,
and Burkhart Schneider, assumed the burden of research.
Joining them later was the American Robert A. Graham.
The labors resulted in the twelve volumes of the Actes et
Documents du Saint Siège relatifs à la Seconde
Guerre Mondiale, published by the Vatican Press between
1965 and 1981.2
These volumes contained details on every aspect of Vatican
diplomacy before and during the Second World War and revealed
that the Vatican, under Pius XII's direction, had done a
great deal to assist Jews attempting to flee Nazi persecution.
In the words of the historian Eamon Duffy, the Acts and
Documents "decisively established the falsehood of
Hochuth's specific allegations."3
But the accusations against Pius XII did not subside. They
were recently rekindled by Cornwell's book, Hitler's
Pope: The Secret History of Pius XII.
Cornwell distances himself from Hochuth, calling his book
"historical fiction based on scant documentation."
He presents himself as a historian who has had access to
"crucial" and "unseen" material in Rome,
and even claims to have changed his mind while his work
was underway, having first intended to defend Pius XII.
His slandering purpose, however, does not differ from that
motivating Hochuth's work and, in fact, is meant to be more
far-reaching and radical than all those thus far waged against
Pius XII.
The real target of Cornwell's accusations, in reality, is
not Pius XII, nor even John Paul II, who surprisingly surfaces
in the last pages of the book as a sort of "Pius XII
redivivus." The Catholic Church is severely indicted
for Her rule and Magisterium, the "centralized,"
"pyramidal" and "monolithic" "Church
model," which Cornwell summarizes in the formula "Papal
power." The pontificate of Pius XII, especially in
the postwar period, was "the apotheosis of that power."4
From an academic point of view, Cornwell's book would warrant
no answer. Thanks to the mass media, however, his basic
thesis pervades public opinion, even Catholic public opinion.
Cornwell is not a professional historian, but a journalist,
having no academic degrees in history, law, or theology.
He is known for volumes that are anything but "scientific,"
such as A Thief in the Night (1989) and the novel Strange
Gods (1993). Even less can he be called a Catholic historian.
Even though he was formerly a seminarian at the English
College in Rome, his earlier works invariably cast Catholic
morality and ecclesiastical structures in a bad light. In
face, he calls himself a "Catholic agnostic."
Before publication of Hitler's Pope, Cornwell claimed in
an article in the Sunday Times to be the only person ever
granted permission to visit the archive of the Vatican Secretariat
of State. He said he had worked there for months on end
and had discovered previously unknown documents. An official
and authoritative Vatican statement published in L'Osservatore
Romano on October 13, 1999, denounces all these claims as
false.
Pius XII - silent?
On the alleged silence of Pius XII,
the Vatican Actes et Documents summarized by Father Blet
speak definitively. His reconstruction of events suggests
that no other head of State or religious leader of the 1930s
or 1940s did as much as Pius XII to aid Jews fleeing from
Nazi persecution.
"The degree of communication between the Holy See and
the Jewish community in these years," observed Father
Graham, "can be said to have no parallel in history."5
The Holy See was constantly present in the unfolding drama.
The Secretariat of State instructed his nuncios and apostolic
delegates to intervene with governments and national episcopates
to undertake relief actions whose efficacy was acknowledged
at the time with repeated gratitude by Jewish organizations.
"Pius XII's attention," writes Father Blet, "extended
to the War in all its breadth and under all its aspects.
Countries under military occupation, countries suffering
from starvation, the civilian population, the elderly, the
women and the children who perished by the thousands during
the bombing of German cities, the Poles who were destroyed,
the Jews who were deported and murdered, the combatants
who fell on the first line of battle on both sides of the
front, prisoners separated from their spouses and children,
mothers, married couples, and children separated from these
captives - all were the objects of his concern and, insofar
as he could do something for them, of his tender care. To
all these evils Pius XII wanted to bring the remedy of peace."6
However, as Father Gumpel observes, "many Jews were
among those who counseled Pius to refrain from a public
denunciation
. Hundreds of Jews who had fled Berlin
and other German cities arrived in Rome and came to the
Vatican to persuade Pius XII to refrain from making any
protest. The same advice came from German bishops."7
The Church in Holland learned this at great cost when the
Nazis stepped up their barbaric outrages following an episcopal
statement of condemnation. When the Dutch bishops publicly
protested in July 1942 against the deportation of their
fellow Jewish citizens, deportations were accelerated and
extended to Jews who had become Catholics.8
Pius XII said, "If the Dutch bishops' protest cost
the lives of 40,000 people, what would my denunciation,
which is sharper than theirs, cost?"
Mit brennender Sorge:
the Vatican condemnation of
Nazism
During its twelve-year tenure in Germany,
National Socialism was never challenged as radically as
by Pius the XI's 1937 encyclical Mit brennender Sorge
("with burning concern").
This encyclical has fallen into near oblivion today. Yet
it was one of the most important documents ever published
against Nazism, not only by virtue of the supreme authority
from which it came, but for its profound refutation of the
doctrinal foundations of Nazism.
Cornwell devotes just three pages to the encyclical, downplays
its significance, and contrasts Pius XI's document with
the subsequent silence of Pius XII, thus contradicting his
basic thesis that Pacelli had instigated all the Vatican's
international moves that took place while he was Secretary
of State.9
History shows that Cardinal Pacelli's role in drafting and
propagating the document was pivotal. In this regard, Father
Martini says: "The encyclical certainly represents
the highlight of his diplomatic-religious activity towards
National Socialist Germany in his capacity as Secretary
of State of Pius XI."10
It was Secretary of State Pacelli who on January 16, 1937,
while Pius XI was seriously ill, summoned to Rome in utmost
secrecy five of the most distinguished German prelates:
Cardinals Faulhaber of Munich, Bertram of Breslau, and Schulte
of Cologne, and Bishops Preysing of Berlin and Galen of
Münster. Despite his illness, Pius XI wanted to receive
them in his room and encourage their work.
A first draft by Cardinal Faulhaber was revised, partially
re-written, and supplemented by the Cardinal Secretary of
State Pacelli, who changed its title from Mit grosse
Sorge to Mit brennender Sorge for more impact.
The encyclical, dated March 14, was published seven days
later, on Palm Sunday of 1937. The Secretary of State secretly
instructed that the text be simultaneously read that very
Sunday from every pulpit in Germany. The bishops had the
document printed, and it was rapidly disseminated nationwide.
In the diocese of Münster alone, 120,000 copies were
distributed. The encyclical, issued in German in a very
clear and forceful style, was "one of the most severe
condemnations of a national regime ever made by the Vatican."11
Mit brennender Sorge, for its clarity, for its invoking
of the truths of the Catholic Faith and their opposition
to Nazi neopaganism, for its condemnation of racism and
the totalitarian State, caused a violent shock to Germany
and in international public opinion. The surprised Führer
exploded in frightful anger. But the encyclical had the
effect of a threat.12
The encyclical rekindled German resistance to Nazism, which
was carried out by Catholics, and, indeed, all Christians.
One may not pretend that Mit brennender
Sorge did not exist or that Cardinal Pacelli did not
play a crucial role in its promulgation. The truth of the
matter is that this encyclical is an uncomfortable, politically
incorrect document, like Divini Redemptoris against communism,
since it proves that the Church raised its voice, with a
doctrinal strength unknown to liberal democracies, against
the double-headed monster of the twentieth century. These
two documents confirm that Catholicism's incompatibility
with Nazism and Communism is total and absolute. These documents
should suffice to overthrow Cornwell's thesis. Not only
was there no connivance between Pius XII and Hitler, between
the Catholic Church and Nazism, but in the twentieth century
there was no greater resistance to Nazi and Communist totalitarianism
than that of the Catholic Church.
Pius XII's Magisterium: family,
State, Church
A point
that should be highlighted is that Pius XII's opposition
to Nazism and totalitarianism is not premised on diplomatic
ploys or his concrete help to the downtrodden, but rather
on his Magisterium, intrinsically anti-totalitarian and
therefore intrinsically anti-Nazi and anti-Communist.
The guidelines of this vision are set forth in his encyclical
Summi Pontificatus, on the State in the modern world),
of October 20, 1939, with which he opened his pontificate.
This encyclical underscores the darkness brewing over the
earth on the eve of the Second World War. The root and ultimate
cause of the imminent war and evils, which Pius XII deplores,
in modern society "is the denial and rejection of a
universal norm of morality as well for individual and social
life as for international relations; We mean the disregard,
so common nowadays, and the forgetfulness of the natural
law itself, which has its foundation in God, Almighty Creator
and Father of all, supreme and absolute Law-giver, all-wise
and just Judge of human actions. When God is hated, every
basis of morality is undermined; the voice of conscience
is stilled or at any rate grows very faint, that voice which
teaches even to the illiterate and to uncivilized tribes
what is good and what is bad, what is lawful, what forbidden,
and makes men feel themselves responsible for their actions
to a Supreme Judge."
This excerpt
summarizes the guidelines of Pius the XII's Magisterium:
the refusal of a universal norm of morality leads to barbarity
and totalitarianism.
There can be no effective battle against totalitarianism
outside the natural and divine law, outside an absolute
order of principles. This order is reflected in what we
could call an absolute order of institutions.
What are these institutions? Pius XII saw the family and
the State as the two main pillars of human society.13
Within all States, the family is the primary and essential
cell. Like the cells making up the human body, families
in the social body are interconnected. Everything that destabilizes
the family threatens the stability of the State.
Besides the domestic society of
the family and the political society of the State, however,
there exists a third society, the ecclesiastical society
embodied in the Church.
The Church alone is able to dispel the darkness of barbarity
and totalitarianism, bringing the peace of Christ in the
Reign of Christ to the world. We can today repeat what Pius
XII said in 1945: "One can say that the entire world
must be rebuilt; the universal order must be re-established.
The material order, the intellectual order, the moral order,
the social order, the international order - all must be
remade and set back in a regular, constant motion. That
tranquil order that is peace, that is the only true peace,
cannot be reborn and endure except by building human society
upon Christ, so as to gather, recapitulate, reunite everything
in Him: Instaurare omnia in Christo" (Eph. 1:10).14
Totalitarianism
and anti-totalitarianism
Totalitarianism is much talked about
today, but what does it consist of?
When one thinks of totalitarianism,
Auschwitz or the Soviet gulags come reflexively to mind.
But what is the specific essence of totalitarianism?
The real question is whether there exists a common totalitarian
dimension in these various ideological systems, a core,
a seed of totalitarianism, so to speak, that is bound to
produce different and seemingly opposite results.
The multitude of answers to this central question can be
reduced to two basic positions.
The first thesis says that totalitarianism's essence lies
in its pretense of imposing a truth, a system of absolute
values. Communism and Nazism are said to be totalitarian
for their pretense of imposing an absolute truth in terms
of a "religion" based on class or blood.
In this light, the Catholic Church is the totalitarian society
par excellence. She is totalitarian to the extent that She
professes to impose a universal faith, through an absolute
government, using tools such as Canon Law and Her hierarchy.
This is Cornwell's thesis and that of Catholic progressivists
in general.
In this view, the only antithesis to a totalitarianism which
claims to impose a truth is a relativism which dissolves
any truth: anopen society and a religion in which truth
is demoted to opinion and all opinions are welcomed in a
polytheistic system of values, as is in a pantheon.
Complete relativism implies the
denial of natural and permanent institutions such as the
family, private property, the State. These bear a germ of
totalitarianism inasmuch as they claim to be stable and
permanent.
By the same token, relativism implies the denial of natural
law, of divine revelation, of a true religion. Ultimately,
what is not compatible with relativism is not so much the
idea of God, the Church, or religion, but the idea of a
true God, a true Church, a true religion, namely the metaphysical
idea of truth based on the principle of identity and non-contradiction,
which is the foundation of the creation of the universe.
Now, if this is true, if real anti-totalitarianism
consists of this relativism which dissolves any truth, how
then can it be explained that philosophical and moral relativism
constitutes the essence of the two major totalitarianisms
of the twentieth century, National Socialism and Communism?
If this common point indeed exists between Nazism and Communism,
as it does, how do we explain that it is precisely relativism?
Auschwitz is an evident fruit of Nazism, but Nazism was
social Darwinism, evolutionist and relativist. The Gulags
were a fruit of Communism, but Communism was historical
and dialectical materialism, evolutionist and relativist.
But why, when speaking of relativism, evoke Auschwitz and
the gulags but forget, for example, about the massacres
of unborn children in the second half of the twentieth century?
Abortion is the fruit of a democratic and liberal civilization.
Hedonism and secularism - once again, philosophical and
moral relativism - are the ideological foundations of our
democratic and liberal civilization, born of the French
Revolution, like Nazism and Communism.
Among the recent and most stringent critics of "totalitarian
democracy" is John Paul II himself, who says that its
origin lies precisely in its ethical relativism.
In truth, an absolute system of values constitutes an objective
limitation on the abuse and violence that are the core of
totalitarianism. If certain juridical and social norms,
such as the precepts not to kill and not to steal, are rooted
in a system of absolute principles, this clearly constitutes
a much greater limit to abuse than a merely conventional
foundation, as may be the case with parliamentary majority
decisions.
This is the second interpretation
of totalitarianism, our thesis, Pius XII's thesis, John
Paul II's thesis.
The essence of totalitarianism lies in relativism. The only
real antithesis to relativism is the objective order of
principles, the primacy of being, truth and good, the transcendent
vision of history.
Only an absolute order of values can curb the lust for power
of an individual, a group, a state, a class, a race, a tribe,
a lobby. Without a system of absolute principles, society
is bound to become a hotbed of conflicts and a global disorder
- like our contemporary society, which is no less totalitarian
than Nazi and Communist societies. Contemporary society
is bogged down in chaos, and chaos is the supreme expression
of totalitarianism. Chaos is a social hell.
Relativism is a philosophical and moral principle which
denies the existence of an objective truth and good and
wants all to be subordinated to the whims and will of the
power of the individual. The core of relativism is the individual's
self-determination apart from any natural and moral norms.
On the spiritual and moral level, the opposite of self-determination
is submission to a moral law, namely the spirit of sacrifice.
The spirit of sacrifice can only be drawn from meditation
on the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and most of all,
the implications of that terrible night which preceded His
Resurrection.
Pius XII invites us to do this in one of his last speeches,
his Easter message of April 21, 1957.
"The night prior to
Jesus's resurrection was a night of desolation and weeping,
a night of darkness
. Jesus is in the tomb. His body
lies on the cold stone and is still scourged; his lips
are silent."
This silence appears to
imply an immense tragedy. "A real night," Pius
XII continues, "a night of passion, anguish, and
darkness, yet a blessed night: 'vere beata nox,' because
He alone deserved to know the time when Christ resurrected
from death, but most of all because it was written about
it: the night will shine like the day: 'et nox sicut dies
illuminabitur.' A night which was preparing the dawn and
the splendor of a brightening day: an anguish, a darkness,
an ignominy, a passion which was preparing joy, light,
resurrection.
"The night of the world,"
Pius XII proclaimed, "bears the clear signs of a
dawn to be."
These are the words we repeat with
him, beholding Mary as the person who in that terrible night
of the Passion was the burning flame, the unfailing lamp,
the star which, as Pius XII recalled, enlightened darkness.
It was she who, at Fatima, enlightened the darkness of the
twentieth century, the century of totalitarianism, and announced
the dawn of the twenty-first century, the century of the
reign of Mary and, we believe, of the restoration of the
natural and Christian order.