How the Catholic Church has cut the thin thread that still tied it to Assad

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In late August 2013, a Western attack on Damascus was considered imminent. Military plans were defined, and the mission's purpose was clear: Bashar al-Assad had used chemical weapons in Ghouta, a suburb of the capital, crossing one of the many red lines set by Barack Obama and his allies during the years of civil war. This was perhaps the most difficult red line to ignore, resonating deeply with public opinion. However, the Pope intervened, dedicating an entire Angelus on September 1 to the issue: "I firmly condemn the use of chemical weapons! I tell you that I still have the terrible images of recent days fixed in my mind and heart!" But Francis added, "It is never violence that brings peace. War begets war, violence begets violence!" Practical initiatives followed, including fasting and prayer vigils, involving "non-Catholic Christian brothers, members of other religions, and all people of goodwill."

The Vatican, led by the then-secretary of the Pontifical council for justice and peace, Monsignor Mario Toso, clarified: "The solution to Syria's problems cannot be military intervention," as "violence would not diminish; in fact, there is a risk it would explode and spread to other countries. The conflict in Syria contains all the ingredients for escalating into a global war, and no one would emerge unscathed from such a conflict or experience of violence." While Washington, London, and Paris considered airstrikes on the Syrian capital, Rome argued for a different solution: "The alternative must be reason, dialogue, and negotiation." The dissuasive operation succeeded, and Bashar al-Assad remained on the secular throne of Damascus for another eleven years, ruling over a fragmented country, effectively unable to leave, and a puppet in the hands of the Russians who had ensured his survival. Month by month, Assad also lost the nearly unconditional support of the Churches (mostly Eastern Catholic and Orthodox) that he had enjoyed until then.

Explaining the "pacifist" initiative, Francis said he had heeded the cries of local Churches, which had vehemently opposed the Arab Spring uprisings—including Syria's—when they began. The Assads, father and son, after all, had provided protection and a degree of freedom for Christian denominations, including financial and political benefits, granting them a significant role in the local social landscape. The fear was that, with the tyrant's fall, Christians would also face persecution in the retaliatory chaos of the new rulers. This concern persisted even though the 2010 Synod, dedicated to the Middle East, had called for equal citizenship among Christians and other ethnic and religious groups—far more than mere "protection."

After the Western punitive mission failed in late summer 2013, local Christian hierarchies took credit for preventing "American" bombs from falling on Damascus, thanking Vladimir Putin for his supportive intervention. (The Pope had also written to Putin with blessings and sent a letter to the G20 meeting in St. Petersburg.) However, the reality of a false peace soon became evident. In 2019, Francis wrote to Assad, urging him to "do everything possible to stop this humanitarian catastrophe, to safeguard defenseless populations, especially the weakest, and to respect international humanitarian law." Cardinal Parolin, Secretary of state, commented that in his letter, the Pope used the word "reconciliation" three times, emphasizing it as the ultimate goal for the good of Syria and its defenseless population. The Pope encouraged Assad to take significant steps in this urgently needed reconciliation process. This marked a shift: local clergy's assurances were no longer sufficient, and reports from humanitarian agencies operating on the ground were reaching the Vatican with increasing frequency and detail, often relayed through Church channels, the nunciature, and local dioceses.

The Iraq precedent loomed large over the Holy See's perspective. In 2003, John Paul II had personally opposed military intervention in Baghdad, sending envoys to Washington and Saddam Hussein, and crying out from the Apostolic Palace window, "Never again war!" Rome foresaw the potential fragmentation of the Middle East and the Christian community's diaspora, which ultimately dwindled to a presence barely more than symbolic. The rais thus became an ultimate guarantor of survival against the advance of the Islamic state and its brutal forces.

Over time, Eastern bishops, especially the Orthodox, observed the progressive weakening of their great Russian protector, bogged down in the Donbas trenches and distracted as the Syrian regime fragmented. This shift led to a noticeable change in tone: former pro-Assad rhetoric gave way to silence or extreme caution. Last Sunday, Syriac Catholic Patriarch Ignace Youssif III Younan, known for his combative spirit and lack of diplomatic restraint, reflected on "this wave of revolution against the government and regime that had been ongoing for many years," which turned into a "terrifying war, whose impact on security and the economy has been devastating for everyone."

To grasp this change in tone, one only needs to recall that in 2016, Younan had told this newspaper: "Aleppo was Syria's second-largest city, rich and thriving with commerce. Today, it is unrecognizable after three years and three months of siege. Mosul had about thirty churches and monasteries, now abandoned or converted into mosques. Homs looks like Stalingrad during World War II. Airstrikes alone are not enough; these terrorists know how to hide among civilians. It is necessary to coordinate raids with national armies, as the Americans are doing in Iraq and the Russians in Syria." Today, Younan assures his prayers and calls for peace alongside the bishops of Aleppo, Homs, Damascus, and Qamishli. The Syriac Orthodox Patriarchate, in a statement issued through Fides, urged everyone "to exercise their national role in preserving public and private property, avoiding the use of weapons and violence against anyone."

The statement also called for "equality among all social groups and citizens, regardless of their ethnic, religious, or political affiliations, based on a citizenship that guarantees the dignity of every individual." The Bishop of Homs, Jacques Mourad, made it clear in an interview with Avvenire: "The regime took everything, it stole everything. We never thought Assad's regime would change: it was a surprise, and even today, it feels like a dream." A surprise, indeed, as expressed yesterday by Cardinal Parolin, Secretary of state, during a meeting with the Islamic world at the Catholic University of Milan: "I am struck by how a regime that seemed so strong, so solid, could be completely swept away in such a short time."

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• Matteo Matzuzzi

• Friulsardo, è nato nel 1986. Laureato in politica internazionale e diplomazia a Padova con tesi su turchi e americani, è stato arbitro di calcio. Al Foglio dal 2011, si occupa di Chiesa, Papi, religioni e libri. Scrittore prediletto: Joseph Roth (ma va bene qualunque cosa relativa alla finis Austriae). È caporedattore dal 2020.