As white smoke billowed from the Sistine Chapel on 8 May, announcing the election of Pope Francis’s successor, a global audience far beyond the world’s 1.4 billion baptised Catholics watched the Vatican closely. The new pope, the latest in a line dating back almost 2,000 years, was quickly subjected to a very modern phenomenon: no sooner had Pope Leo XIV delivered his first address than people started trawling his social media history for clues about his views. In the context of an ongoing culture war, the fact that far-right grievance entrepreneurs were quick to decry the new pope as ‘woke’ seemed reason enough for progressives to welcome him.

What role Leo chooses to play will matter deeply. The numbers alone make his appointment an event of global significance: Christianity is the world’s biggest religion, and Catholicism its largest branch. Catholics make up over 17 per cent of the planet’s population, and they live predominantly in the global south. Catholicism remains overwhelmingly the dominant religion in Latin America, while the faith continues to grow, particularly in Africa.

This gives the pope great moral influence, which he can use for good – such as by calling for climate action and mobilising compassion for migrants and refugees – or for ill, including by maintaining restrictions on women’s and LGBTQI+ rights. The pope is unquestionably a global leader. In an era dominated by right-wing populist and nationalist politicians who are attacking human rights, as exemplified by the Trump administration, the pope’s voice can offer a vital counterweight. That makes Leo’s appointment significant for civil society and the global human rights community.

Pope Francis’s progressive legacy

Pope Francis broke significant new ground. The first Latin American pope, the Argentinian continued to live modestly, refusing many of the lavish trappings of office. He didn’t shy away from controversy, speaking out to defend the rights of migrants and refugees and the world’s many people living in poverty. He criticised right-wing populism, neoliberal economics and Israel’s assault on Gaza. He urged action on climate change and made moves to enable women to play a greater role in the church and open up the possibility of blessing for people in same-sex relationships.

Under his watch, the papal office became that of an international diplomat, helping negotiate a Cuba-US rapprochement, later reversed. Critics however pointed to his apparent reluctance to call out Vladimir Putin’s aggression as he sought to help negotiate peace between Russia and Ukraine. Accusations of collaboration with Argentina’s former dictatorship persisted. He also maintained the church’s opposition to ‘gender ideology’, a term routinely used to undermine demands for women’s and LGBTQI+ rights, particularly trans rights.

Though Francis took many progressive positions, that offered no guarantee his successor would follow suit. Historically a pope seen as liberal is often followed by a more conservative one. Francis however made this less likely, appointing 163 cardinals from 76 countries. Many were from global south countries, including several that had never received such recognition, such as El Salvador, Mali and Timor-Leste. He appointed the first Indigenous Latin American cardinal, and the first from India’s excluded Dalit community.

Francis chose 79 per cent of cardinals aged under 80, who were eligible to vote to choose the new pope – including Leo, elevated in 2023. For the first time, the conclave had a non-European majority, with Europeans comprising only 52 of the 133 electors.

No one outside the Vatican walls will ever know the secrets of the conclave held over 7 and 8 May that on its fourth vote chose Leo, but Francis’s re-engineering may have foreclosed the prospect of a particularly regressive choice. The result was another piece of history, with Leo the first pope from the USA, and his dual citizenship of Peru makes him the first Peruvian one as well. Known as an ally of Francis but a less outspoken figure, he may have emerged as a compromise choice.

Speculation had focused on whether the conclave might choose the first African pope, with contenders from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), Guinea and Ghana. That might have meant good news for moral leadership on climate action, but stymied hopes of progress on LGBTQI+ rights. The DRC’s Fridolin Ambongo Besungu, for example, has called for greater adoption of renewable energies, but has also described attempts to recognise same-sex couples as ‘western imperialism’.

Many in civil society favoured Luis Antonio Tagle from the Philippines. The contender most compared to Francis, he’s called for greater acceptance of LGBTQI+ people and the recognition of migrant and refugee rights. But several hardline traditionalists were also thought to stand a chance, including Hungarian Péter Erdő, who’s closely associated with his country’s hardline ruler, Viktor Orbán, and the Russian government. With him at the helm, any hopes of the church taking a progressive line on human rights issues would have been over. Thankfully, the worst-case scenario has been avoided.

Early days: promise and controversy

Leo’s nationality had been assumed to count against him: with the USA being the dominant global power, received wisdom held that the pope should come from elsewhere to avoid any suspicion of being unduly influenced by his home government. In this Trump-dominated era, it’s hard to avoid the feeling that some who picked a US pope were trying to send a message – although time will tell whether it’s one of flattery or defiance.

US right-wingers, many of whom embrace conservative Catholicism – as Vice President JD Vance exemplifies – made clear they knew what the message was, reacting with anger. Another conservative Catholic, Trump’s former strategist Steve Bannon – who routinely vilified Pope Francis – aggressively lobbied for a conservative appointment, particularly Erdő. Trump supporters allegedly promised huge donations if the conclave selected a pope to their liking, then quickly mobilised outrage about the selection of their fellow citizen, vilifying him as a ‘Marxist pope’.

Among the pre-papacy actions they deemed controversial was Leo’s sharing on Twitter/X of a link to a comment piece that disagreed with Vance, who’d argued that Christians should prioritise their love for their immediate community over those who come from elsewhere. Leo also had shared a post criticising Trump and El Salvador’s hardline leader Nayib Bukele over the illegal deportation of migrant Kilmar Abrego Garcia.

In other past posts, he’d supported climate action and appeared to back gun control, defended undocumented migrants and shown solidarity with George Floyd, the Black man whose murder by a police officer in 2020 triggered the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement. Leo’s choice of name also appears to indicate a reformist intent. But on the other side of the ledger, a history of anti-LGBTQI+ comments quickly came to light. Leo is also accused of mishandling past sexual abuse allegations against priests under his supervision.

A moral voice in turbulent times

For civil society, what Leo does next will matter more than his past social media history. There are some encouraging early signs. Leo has signalled a more sympathetic approach to Ukraine and called for the release of jailed journalists.

The likelihood, if Leo’s career so far is anything to go by, is that he’ll be less outspoken than his predecessor, and more inclined towards negotiation and compromise. But the papacy offers a very different platform to that of a cardinal. Leo should take account of the fact that he’s taken office at a time of enormous conflict, polarisation and turmoil, where many of the established assumptions about how politics and governance should be conducted are being torn up, and when global institutions and the idea of a rules-based order are coming under unprecedented strain. There’s a moral leadership vacuum in the world right now. He should help fill it.

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