In his first public address from the Loggia of Saint Peter’s, Pope Leo XIV used the word peace, or variations of it, 10 times. This emphasis on peace connects directly to Pope Francis’s view of the current global landscape as a ‘Third World War in pieces’ – a phrase used to describe the many violent conflicts that are ongoing.

Whether he likes it or not, Pope Leo XIV emerges as a wartime pontiff. He is stepping into the role at a time of widespread violence and division, but his early statements suggest he’s prepared to be a Pope of peace.

Just days after his election, he again referred to the ongoing conflicts and emphasised peace, solidarity and youth in discussions with journalists. This suggests he sees the papacy as playing a key role in advocating for peace in a fractured world.

Pope Francis also helped the Church articulate how interconnected global issues are: climate change disproportionately affects poor people, which leads to resource scarcity, which fuels migration, which in turn triggers xenophobia. These links are grounded in Catholic teaching and were made especially clear in Francis’s encyclicals Laudato Si’, on care for our common home, and Fratelli Tutti, on human solidarity. It therefore seems reasonable to expect Pope Leo will continue in that direction, recognising how these global challenges intersect and responding with a unified moral vision.

It’s too early to tell. At first glance, he seems more reserved than Francis. But four days into Francis’s papacy, we didn’t yet know him to be the dynamic, spontaneous figure he became. As I understand it, people who knew him in his hometown of Buenos Aires were surprised by his transformation.

Becoming Pope is a drastic shift. A cardinal is a powerful figure, but still relatively unknown to the wider world. As Pope, one becomes a global religious leader, a public figure and a moral voice all at once. This change inevitably reshapes the person. So rather than speculate based on what little we know now, I think we should remain open to being surprised.

Pope Francis made complex changes, including in the way he spoke about certain issues and his pastoral approach, but also made practical changes. For example, he brought women into leadership positions and showed public gestures of including LGBTQI+ people, often without altering formal doctrine. But the most significant shift he brought was a culture of openness.

Under Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI, the Church was more closed to debate on some issues. Pope Francis changed that, making it clear the Church is a living, dynamic institution. Pope Leo XIV, simply by being the first North American Pope, already represents significant change. We don’t yet know what specific changes he’ll bring, but it seems likely this openness will continue and previously closed topics will remain open for discussion.

Stalin famously asked, ‘How many divisions has the Pope?’, implying that papal pronouncements are irrelevant without military power. That view has haunted Popes ever since – but it certainly underestimates the power of their moral authority.

The Vatican may not command armies, but it does command attention. When most political leaders frame global politics as a struggle for resources and power, usually resolved through force, the Pope stands as one of the few voices consistently advocating for peace.

Francis denounced the global arms trade during a speech to the US Congress, one of its epicentres. That was a powerful moment. It showed how important it is to have institutions that offer an alternative to the militarised view of world affairs. Pope Leo seems ready to continue in that tradition, offering a voice that says: there is another way beyond power and violence; it’s the path of peace.

What struck me when I visited Rome for Francis’s funeral and the early days of Leo’s papacy is how powerful, authentic and unifying Catholic rituals remain. Despite the Church’s many failings – particularly its handling of clerical sexual abuse – the eyes of the world still turn to it in moments of transition.

That speaks to the persuasive power of Catholic Christianity as such – but also to the enduring power of religious symbols, of large-scale rituals and of a shared desire for unity and meaning. Even in a deeply compromised institution, those things still matter. They suggest a yearning for sincerity, for good intentions and for the affirmation that we are, despite everything, connected – that we live in one world and are all brothers and sisters. This fundamental human connection has real, lasting power.