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The Papacy, The Jews, and the Holocaust. By Frank J. Coppa, Pius XII, The Holocaust, and the Cold War. By Michael Phayer and The Holy See and Hitler's Germany. By Gerhard Besier

2009; Wiley; Volume: 50; Issue: 6 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1111/j.1468-2265.2009.00523_65.x

1468-2265

Charles R. Gallagher,

Italian Fascism and Post-war Society

Pp. 353 , Washington, D.C. , The Catholic University of America Press , 2006 , $59.95 . Pp. 333 , Bloomington & Indianapolis , Indiana University Press , 2008 , $29.95 . with the collaboration of Francesca Piombo . Pp. 300 , London , Palgrave Macmillan , 2007 , $38.95 . The question of Pope Pius XII and the Holocaust is one of the most prickly problems of modern historiography. When entire books emerge weighing-up multiple arguments, then readers can be assured that a problem lingers. For many historians both inside and outside the Catholic Church, the question of Pope Pius's alleged silence carries not only historical but ethical, interreligious, and moral freight. The fact that the Holy See's own archives are not open for research, except variously up to 1939, makes for difficulty in assessing the entire scope of the historical record. Consequently, historians Gerhard Besier, Frank J. Coppa, and Michael Phayer are to be commended for their clever work in triangulating sources, ferreting out new primary sources, and most especially reviewing and analyzing the new pre-war documents from the archives of the Holy See which were opened in 2006. What emerges from these three excellent treatments is a more focused picture of church-state relationship in connection to the holocaust. It is a picture calibrated to the influence of new historiographical streams. The authors have added the perspectives of culture (ecclesiastical and secular), economics, philosophy, and sweeping political movements to their study of Word War II's embattled wartime pope. Frank J. Coppa is one of the finest papal historians writing today. The author or editor of over twenty books on papal history and Italian politics, he has pressed his able pen to synthesizing one of the thorniest issues in modern papal history – the ecclesial infection of Catholic anti-Judaism, its relation to anti-Semitism, and the fact that Pope Pius XII never publicly condemned the Holocaust. Historians and philosophers should be grateful to Coppa for this scholarly analysis of Catholic-Jewish relations in the long. stretch. Along with elucidating many facets of current debates, Coppa suggests that only a long-term, tempered, and clear discussion of Catholic-Jewish relations can allay fears, identify challenges, and move dialogue forward. While the case of Pope Pius XII has elicited wide public interest – indeed generated its own historiography – Coppa argues that this matter needs to be assessed as a genuine papal response conditioned by the larger sweep of historical forces which informed papal religious and diplomatic policies toward the Jewish people over the centuries. From the philosophical angle, this contextualization goes far to show a self-perceived reasonableness on Catholic internal constructions regarding Jewish matters. Yet, Coppa's larger contextualization admittedly leaves the reader to continue to tussle with past Catholic actions and future questions. Two newly informed questions which impinge on Catholicism and the Holocaust are those of historic Catholic ‘anti-Judaism’ and the diplomatic tactic of ‘impartiality’ employed by Pope Pius XII during World War II. Unlike other treatments of Catholic-Jewish relations, such as James Carroll's Constantine's Sword and Daniel Goldhagen's A Moral Reckoning: The Role of the Catholic Church in the Holocaust and Its Unfulfilled Duty of Repair, Coppa's treatment sees Catholic anti-Judaism as separate and distinct from anti-Semitism. For Coppa, anti-Judaism is ‘opposition to the Jews because of their religious beliefs,’ while anti-Semitism is based on ‘race’ theory (p. 304). Grounded in Christian antipathy for Jewish disbelief in Christ, assignment of the deicide, and foreign rites, Coppa traces Christian anti-Judaism from its Pauline first century through the Shoah and beyond. While anti-Judaism showed persistence over the millennia, it also ebbed and flowed. Some popes were more conciliatory to Jews than others, although this largely took shape in papal calibration the Holy See's legal structures regarding Jews. Consequently, ‘the overall papal policy toward Jews and Judaism remained inconsistent’ over the centuries. The author makes clear that Catholic anti-Judaism, while segregationist, discriminatory, and morally tragic, is separate and distinct from race-based anti-Semitism. Moreover, Coppa argues that papal policy and action during the years of the Holocaust was bereft of any anti-Semitic motivation. ‘Papal anti-Judaism did not seek the systematic elimination of Jews that Nazi anti-Semitism did.’ Coppa's assertions about the disjunction between Catholic anti-Judaism and secular anti-Semitism, are at odds with many Holocaust theologians and philosophers who see real socially connective tissue between the two. In 1990, Lang Muir's Toward a Definition of Antisemitism argued from a social history perspective that Christian ‘anti-Judaism was a necessary preparation for anti-Semitism’ (p. 57). Writing in Harry James Cargas' Holocaust Scholars Write to the Vatican, Sister Susan Nowak, S.S.J., expansively argued that the Church's refusal to see the two concepts as connected also ‘stifles efforts to initiate and sustain an examination of the connections between the Shoah and the perpetuation of anti-Judaism, anti-Semitism, racism, sexism, and homophobia.’ Coppa cites the scholarly debate on this issue and adds his own take. For Coppa, it was not so much Catholic anti-Judaism that fuelled the rise of racial anti-Semitism as the ‘march to modernity’ recognised by philosopher Hannah Arendt. Arguing that Hitler and Fascist propaganda ministers failed to use the religious card in promoting their brand of secular anti-Semitism, Coppa agrees with Arendt ‘who perceived anti-Semitism as a secular nineteenth-century ideology, quite distinct from the earlier religious conflict between Catholics and Jews’ (p. 307). While Coppa does not argue this position at length, the book concludes that the notion of Catholic anti-Judaism as a propaeduetic to anti-Semitism remains a question yet to be resolved. More fixity comes in Coppa's discussion of Pope Pius XII's diplomatic practice. Drawing on the distinction first made in his excellent Encyclopaedia Britannica entry on Pope Pius XII, Coppa asserts that Pius XII's diplomatic stance during World War II and the Holocaust was based on a program of papal ‘impartiality’ rather than the popularly assumed position of state neutrality. This was a ‘nicety and distinction understood by few,’ (p. 186) but an important strategic step for Pius XII's pontificate. Surprisingly, given the voluminous attention given Pope Pius XII, this crucial nuance of Pius's diplomatic plan is only now coming under review – and Professor Coppa's treatment goes a long way to establish its consequence for historians and philosophers alike. Readers of this journal will also appreciate Coppa's review of neo-Thomist philosopher Jacques Maritain's critical review of papal Jewish policy. In collaboration with Francesca Plombo, Gerhard Besier's The Holy See and Hitler's Germany is the first book to use the recently opened Vatican archival sources to paint a newer picture of Eugenio Pacelli. On top of this, Besier's use of many previously unmined archives in multiple languages is not only impressive, but ranks by far as the most impressive research scheme of the three books under study. For Besier, the early training and diplomatic work of the future pope is instrumental in assessing his later work in the Holy See's ambassadorial ranks. Besier not only adds new insight through documentation, but also provides the setting of church culture in other parts of the world. For Besier, contemporaneous church-state relations in France, Poland, and Spain have as much impact on Eugenio Pacelli's outlook from the Munich nunciature as the narrow discussions of the Vatican hallways. This expansive view of Vatican policy is balanced and refreshing. So often, studies of the Holy See's diplomacy remain analyzed within the restrictions of single-state treatments. What evolves in this important study is a portrait not exactly of Pacelli himself – Besier leaves that for the biographers – but rather of Pacelli's importance within the various stages and struggles of twentieth century Vatican diplomacy. Primary among these new ideas proposed by Besier it to look at Pacelli as a canonist and diplomat shaped by World War I. For Besier, the diplomacy of Pope Benedict XV, and his strict adherence to absolute impartiality, was crucial for Pacelli. Also here we see Pacelli carrying out Benedict's internal yearning to place the Holy See back in the worldly realm of moral arbiter of disputes – a position it had not truly held since Pope Leo XIII hammered out the Caroline Islands treaty between Germany and Spain in 1885. It is instructive that from Munich, it was Pacelli who twice sent offerings for the Holy See to negotiate an end to The Great War. It is Besier's understanding of Pope Pius XI's theological corporatism which perhaps implies too much in connection to Pacelli's later perceived inclination toward the right. Here, Besier alights upon a comment made by Pope Pius XI: ‘If there is a totalitarian form of government – totalitarian both in fact and in law – it is the form of government of the Church’ (Besier, p. 235, n.143). From this comment Besier produces his concept of ‘Catholic totalitarianism.’ For many reasons, it is perhaps too much to consign to Pius XI a proclivity toward administrative totalitarianism on this account. Firstly, the formula is comparative, not equitable. Second, the 1917 Code of Canon Law – supremely influential for Pius XI – already indicated that the Church was a ‘perfect society,’ that is to say, a unique governmental and legal entity holding within itself the ability to sufficiently supply eternal salvation to its members. Third, Besier sees Pius XI's adoption of the idea of the ‘Kingly rule of Chirst,’ as fuelling the political imperatives of Catholic totalitarianism. Besier traces this to a similar development in Protestant theology during the 1920's. But the author overlooks the very same concept of personal surrender to the ‘Kingly rule of Christ,’ as articulated in the sixteenth century spiritual classic, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. For Ignatius, the surrender to the ‘Kingly rule of Christ,’ was based on personal choice, but choice solely connected to spiritual goods in contradistinction to choosing to be ruled by Lucifer. During his pontificate, Pius XI called St. Ignatius the patron saint of all spiritual exercises. Besier's writing on the 1933 Reich Concordat is perhaps the most up-to-date and impressive on this topic. Using new documents, Besier's writing on the comparative persecution of Jews and Catholics is compelling, if not unsettling. Here, Besier asks questions which Coppa does not. For example, what was the connective tissue between Catholic apologetic anti-Judaism and later political and racial anti-Semitism? When assessing Pacelli's and the Holy See's diplomacy, Besier sees this as a diplomacy of protest, but one exercised within the same and approved state-to-state measures of earlier years. Pacelli's training as a canonist hardly prepared him to see the rise of National Socialism as particularly distinct from normal statist governments. Strict diplomacy, then, made little accommodation for ideology. The old rules of classic diplomacy still applied. This application of papal diplomacy to state politics leads Besier to side with historian Peter Godman, who sees the 1937 encyclical Mit brennender Sorge as a diplomatic compromise and retreat, rather than the forceful blast against the Nazis credited to Pacelli by so many historians. This point alone shifts the debate. National Socialism was never mentioned in the encyclical, and Besier argues persuasively that Pacelli, as Secretary of State, toned-down the final text so as not to rupture the gains of his treasured Reich Concordat. A naive faith in concordat politics imbued the papal court, and showed the deepening influence of Pacelli on papal diplomacy. In addition to the profound historiograpical significance of this book, The Holy See and Hitler's Germany is filled with surprising historical tidbits and well-researched assertions at every turn of the page. Certainly, this is an invaluable book among the latest monographs to assess the papacy in the World War II era. What is especially excellent about this book is that it adds an important and expertly researched ‘pre-history’ to the questions which would later collide in the papacy of Pope Pius XII. Without this pre-historical contextualization, a firm understanding of the wartime choices cannot be viewed adequately. With Besier's book as a warm-up, approaching Michael Phayer's book, Pius XII, the Holocaust, and the Cold War completes the contextualization and allows for a more comprehensive historical view of the Holy See's wartime pope. What Phayer does in this work is place Pope Pius into the larger scope of Holocaust Studies. More broadly, this book will alert Holocaust scholars to the general contours of how Roman Catholic leadership was acting and reacting as the Shoah unfolded. This is a perspective, even given the vast outpouring of material on this subject, which has been missing. In connection to this outline, Eugenio Pacelli's early career is followed not so much in terms his early political motions, but in relations to how the young Pacelli might have understood ideas of genocide and religious responsibility. Early genocides in Africa, Armenia, and of Catholics in Poland are discussed and weighed in relation to Pacelli's social context and clerical awareness. In this respect Phayer has investigated a new, albeit mostly theoretical area for understanding Pope Pius's later decisions. One of these decisions was the Pope's resolution, in December of 1942, to issue a Christmas message which Phayer asserts ‘decried genocide.’ The Christmas Message of 1942 has always been a complicated issue for historians. Phayer asserts that with the mention of: Hundreds of thousands of persons, who, without any fault on their part, sometimes only because of their nationality or race, have been consigned to death or slow decline (Phayer, p. 53). With these words, Phayer claims that Pius XII ‘unmistakably denounced genocide’ (Phayer, p. 53). Readers ought to take note that this assessment is a reversal from Phayer's original line on the Christmas message in his previous book The Catholic Church and the Holocaust, 1930-1965. To support his claim, Phayer examines new Allied diplomatic correspondence. A more surprising revelation from Phayer's book is his indication that the Holy See was working closely (and furtively) with the German diplomatic corps toward the loosening of Nazi measures directed against the Jews of Rome. This is important for it shows Pius XII's proclivity to work with diplomats rather than with other players. What is unfortunate is that all of these diplomatic manoeuvres ended up being scuttled or undermined by either military planners or party hard-liners. Phayer also asserts that these long and ongoing under-the-surface talks get lost in the limelight of papal action in connection to the ultimate seizure of Roman Jews, ‘underneath his very windows.’ This episode exemplifies one of the main strengths of Phayer's book. Sizzling in the background to any discussion of Pope Pius XII is the issue of the Holy See's effort to canonize Pope Pius XII. In this book Phayer makes the apt distinction between professional ‘historians [and] writers whose sole objective is to defend Pius XII’ (Phayer, p. 79). So often in recent years, camps of defenders and critics have dredged-up one or two documents at a time and blasted their contents, usually out of full context, across media screens. A real strength of Phayer's book is that he is able to briefly assess each of the most prominent one-off assertions and contextualize it within the historiography and in light of the copious new information he has found in the archives. This larger movement makes the book at hand perhaps the single most comprehensively important book to appear on the topic of Pius XII's and church-state relations in recent years. Like Coppa, Phayer does take up the question of the Vatican attitude of anti-Judaism as distinct from racial anti-Semitism, but he calls the distinction ‘paper thin.’ Phayer's assertion that Catholic anti-Judaism ‘led to the physical elimination of Jews,’ rather than assisted in creating a climate for such activity is still open to question (Phayer, p. 114). Phayer's treatment of the Cold War pope is critical and discerning. The thrust here is to show the pope as the ‘First Cold Warrior.’ But anticommunist zeal also allowed the Vatican to get involved in the ‘Ratline’ activity of former Nazi leaders. Phayer's treatment of Ratline activity is impressive and enlightening. Readers may find some confusion, however, in the author's strong claim that the Vatican, through Bishop Alois Hudal's ratline, assisted war criminals Adolf Eichmann and Josef Mengele to escape for South America. By the wording of the text, it is difficult to tell if the author is claiming the Hudal-sponsored escapes of Eichmann and Mengele are fact, or simply probable. Citations on these claims are not to new archival evidence and later the author admits the secondary source which was cited was, in fact, ‘incomplete.’ This should not put readers off the fact that this book uses exceptional primary resourcing. Phayer is one of the first historians of the Cold War papacy to use Record Group 84, the diplomatic post files of the President's Personal Envoy to the pope. These files, rather than the so-called ‘country file’ of the Vatican, contain choice memoranda, telegraphic traffic, and intelligence insights previously undiscovered. In the larger trajectory of Phayer's book, the ratline investigations show a pope struck to the core by the insidious nature of worldwide communism. For Phayer, Pacelli's fear of communism allowed him look askance at the funnelling of atrocity perpetrators to South America where they would be expected to fight the spread of communism. For Besier, Coppa, and Phayer, the intersection of both statist and religious constructions had influence on Eugenio Pacelli and on the papacy in modern times. Although all three books advance new theses and maintain their respective tracks, they nonetheless show the importance of church-state relations in the modern era. They also point out the growing interest for historians and philosophers alike in assessing how religiously-informed decisions play out in the world.