Reflections on Conclave by Robert Harris: Faith, Power, and Identity Within the Walls of the Vatican
I read Conclave just a few days after the death of the sitting Pope, which inevitably deepened my immersion in the book. I must admit I was surprised by how gripping the story was, and more than that, it prompted me to reflect deeply on faith, power, and identity within the Catholic Church. In this review, I share my impressions of the book, including some comparisons with its film adaptation, along with insights into the characters, themes, and symbols that stood out to me the most.
The sections with spoilers are clearly marked and hidden.
An Outsider’s Perspective on the Church
I am not Catholic, and I know little about the specifics of the religion. Before reading Conclave, for example, I didn’t know that the Pope is elected through a vote among cardinals, nor that, upon being elected, he adopts a new name. I had never given much thought to these rituals, as they didn’t directly affect me. However, even with limited prior knowledge, the book allowed me to learn a great deal about the traditions of the Vatican, which, despite being part of an organized religion that I have mixed feelings about, undeniably hold a certain fascination. Robert Harris aimed to portray this world with as much authenticity as possible, drawing on visits to sacred sites and conversations with cardinals who participated in real conclaves.
Plot and Main Characters
The story revolves around the process of selecting a new Pope after the death of the previous one. The protagonist, Cardinal Lomeli, is tasked with overseeing the conclave. With a more liberal perspective, Lomeli finds himself torn between his friend Bellini, the favorite for the succession, and other candidates with differing agendas, such as the conservative Tedesco and the reserved Tremblay.
As the voting progresses, secrets emerge, particularly surrounding Benitez, an enigmatic cardinal who has recently arrived at the Vatican. The narrative delves into themes such as gender identity, the role of women in the Church, and the internal struggles of faith.
>! The ending of the book is especially surprising and provocative. It raises sensitive questions about gender and identity, distancing itself significantly from the more restrained approach of the film. In real life, a man in Benitez’s position in the movie might have been able to assume the papacy without much resistance, whereas, in the book, his "condition" would certainly have sparked a deep crisis. Harris was bold to propose this scenario and deserves recognition for it.!<
>! That said, it’s somewhat implausible to imagine that Benitez in the book was completely unaware of himself until the age of 60. While acceptable within the poetic license of fiction, this detail in the film would have had a strange and perhaps anticlimactic effect, which justifies the film’s decision to soften this element.!<
Portraits of Benitez: The Book vs. the Film
In the book, Benitez is warmly received by cardinals from various regions, including the Philippines, Africa, and Latin America. His international prestige is discreet but solid, built on genuine respect rather than ambition. He is a character shaped by experience, humility, and a serene faith.
The film, on the other hand, takes a more contemplative approach, transforming Benitez into an almost ethereal figure.
His presence conveys calm, wisdom, and introspection. One particularly beautiful symbolic detail is the use of turtles, ignored, fragile, yet resilient, just like Benitez. >! After his election, a turtle appears in the room and is gently returned to the garden by Lawrence, a gesture symbolizing the protection of the new leadership. !<
I also find Benitez to be a profoundly fascinating character. Setting aside his "twist" at the end, he exudes an impressive inner strength and calm. There is a genuine curiosity in his gaze, especially evident in the scene where he looks at Lawrence and simply asks, "Why?" He is a character with a sharp mind and silent determination, not driven by arrogance, but by an unwavering firmness of principles. It's as if he carries a childlike wonder for the world, even after having witnessed its brutality firsthand. This duality between innocence and experience is what makes him so captivating, and perhaps so necessary.
This internal complexity of Benitez deeply mirrors Lomeli’s speech later, where he talks about a Pope who isn’t afraid to be vulnerable, who has doubts and questions himself. Benitez, in a sense, lives this existential doubt in his own journey. His struggle with identity, >! particularly due to his intersexuality !<, reflects a much deeper "doubt" that he carries within. As he himself describes, it was a dark and painful time, a search for acceptance and understanding of himself, intertwined with his role in the Church. Lomeli’s speech about an imperfect Pope, unafraid of being questioned, resonates with Benitez’s experience, as he undergoes a constant process of self-questioning and reconciling with his identity.
Faith, the Church, and the Modern World
Throughout the story, thought-provoking discussions arise about what it truly means to have faith. The narrative invites the reader to consider the difference between believing in God and believing in the Church as an institution, and how, often, these paths can diverge. Conclave proposes a reflection on how the Church addresses contemporary dilemmas, including issues like inclusion, transparency, and tradition.
Faith, Power, and Identity: The Dynamics Between the Church and Its Leaders
Robert Harris’s Conclave is not just a story about the selection of a Pope, but a profound examination of the power dynamics within the Catholic Church and the interaction between faith and authority. One of the most intriguing aspects of the work is how faith, in its purity, is confronted by the political complexity of the Church as an institution. Within the walls of the Vatican, faith is intertwined with power strategies, silent alliances, and a constant struggle for control, but also for renewal.
Throughout the narrative, we see how the cardinals, each with their own worldview, try to shape the Church’s identity to reflect their personal interests. This clash between faith and power is embodied in figures like Lomeli, Bellini, Tedesco, and Benitez, who represent different views on how the Church should position itself in the modern world.
While Bellini and Tedesco seek to reinforce the Church's traditional authority, with their liberal and conservative stances respectively, Benitez positions himself as someone who challenges these norms, raising issues of identity, vulnerability, and the need for a more inclusive Church, connected to the real-world problems.
Power within the Catholic Church is not only about choosing a leader but also about the deeper issues this choice represents. When Lomeli discusses the role of an imperfect Pope, one who accepts his flaws and doubts, he touches on a fundamental question: the Pope, in his highest authority, is not just a figure of faith, but also one of power, and often, that authority becomes a tool of control. The book explores how this internal power struggle often sidelines the true spiritual mission of the institution.
This dynamic between faith and power remains relevant in the contemporary landscape, especially when we consider the Church’s role in social and political issues. How does the Church address themes like inclusion, gender, and identity? To what extent can religious leaders act in the name of pure faith, or are they shaped by institutional and power-related concerns? These are questions the book provokes us to reflect upon, and they directly apply to the Church’s dilemmas today.
Mirrors and Counterpoints: The Parallels of the Conclave
The book thrives on building parallels, and here are some of the most compelling:
Tedesco and Benítez
They are ideological opposites, yet both come from humble and traumatic backgrounds. Tedesco remained within the Western world, aligned with the institutional Church, while Benítez traveled through war zones, distancing himself from centers of power. This journey reveals that, despite their differences, they share similar roots, silently uniting them.
Bellini, Lomeli, and Tedesco
This trio of Italian candidates presents intriguing nuances. Bellini represents liberalism, Lomeli positions himself as a moral balance, and Tedesco, though Italian, seems to embody a nearly Americanized, aggressive, and authoritarian Catholicism. Harris uses this trio to represent the political currents within the Church.
Benítez, Tremblay, and Adeyemi
The trio of foreigners serves as a counterpoint to the Italians. Tremblay is mysterious, with few clear stances; Adeyemi is conservative, homophobic, but politically ambiguous; Benítez emerges as a progressive and conciliatory figure. There is a mirroring here—three external figures, each with different perspectives on what the Church should be.
Tremblay and Sister Agnes
Both represent strategic neutrality. Tremblay positions himself as a middle ground, attempting to gain American support but not truly belonging to it. Sister Agnes comes from a French aristocracy destroyed by the Revolution. Both are French or Francophone, crossing paths as symbols of historical tension, though the true meaning of this parallel remains open to interpretation.
Bellini and Tedesco
Bellini sees himself as the antithesis of Tedesco, but his opposition is merely rhetorical and, therefore, superficial. The irony lies in the fact that Tedesco himself is shallow in his stance—a traditionalist who claims to defend tradition while flaunting a pricey watch, sporting modern-frame glasses, and discreetly vaping within the walls of the Vatican. These seemingly irrelevant details, in the film’s visual context, reveal how performative his relationship with the values he claims to defend is. He calls for the return of Latin but struggles with the language. This reinforces the idea that he’s not truly interested in preserving tradition but in symbolically using it to justify his prejudice and consolidate power. Like Bellini, he knows how to “speak beautifully,” but he’s unwilling to live the values he preaches—a reflection of the moral emptiness behind their public personas.
Bellini and Benitez
These parallels reveal more than just ideological differences; they also highlight internal contradictions. One of the richest contrasts lies in the relationship between Benítez and Bellini. Yes, Benítez functions as a counterpoint to all the candidates, but it is especially significant that he directly contrasts with Aldo Bellini, as it underscores the superficiality of the liberalism represented by Bellini—someone who says the right things but does little or nothing. This is evident both in the book and in the film: in response to Tedesco’s prejudiced remarks, Bellini merely says “you should be ashamed of yourself,” as though shame alone would spark change. Meanwhile, Benítez’s reprimand has a real impact because it confronts Tedesco with the concrete experiences of the Universal Church, the one that exists beyond the institution’s walls.
This difference highlights an important point: despite Bellini being a theoretical progressive, he is as committed to preserving the Church’s structure as Tedesco is. Both prioritize the Institution, albeit through different paths. The subtle yet powerful critique the book presents is that figures like Bellini, though well-intentioned, can be as harmful to the Church’s renewal as conservative figures. After all, paralysis disguised as moderation also impedes transformation.
Comparison of Benitez’s Speeches: Book vs. Film
>! In the book, Archbishop Benitez responds to Tedesco with a powerful speech grounded in his experience as a Christian leader in a region marked by war and persecution. He reminds the Patriarch of Venice that he is the Archbishop of Baghdad and mentions that, before the American invasion, there were 1.5 million Christians in Iraq, a number that plummeted to 150,000. He emotionally describes how he saw churches destroyed, Christians killed, and buried his faithful with his own hands. He concludes by stating that none of them would want violence to be met with more violence—they died in the love of Christ. !<
>! In the film, this speech is reduced to a more generic rebuke against Tedesco’s rigidity and coldness, without mentioning the historical context of Iraq, the American invasion, or the devastation of Christian communities in the Middle East. The tone remains emotional, but the concrete denunciation disappears. I found the speech quite vague, though formal and elaborate, losing the impact the original text achieves by grounding its critique in a compelling historical reality.!<
Critique of the Adaptation: Erasure of the Critique of American Imperialism
>! The exclusion of references to the Iraq war and the impact of American foreign policy in the film is not just a narrative simplification, it is an ideological decision. By avoiding mentioning the role of the United States in the destruction of Christian communities in the Middle East, the film softens the original book’s critique, which does not shy away from pointing out the contradiction between traditionalist rhetoric and the brutal reality outside the Vatican walls. !<
>! This omission weakens the contrast between Benítez and Tedesco and makes the conflict less political, less rooted in the global reality of the Church. Instead of revealing the hypocrisy of those who speak in the name of tradition while ignoring real suffering, the film opts for a more symbolic and safe confrontation, thus losing some of the impact and relevance of the original work.!<
>! This erasure of the critique of American imperialism in the film is even more relevant in the current context, especially in light of the ongoing genocide in Gaza. The omission of the devastation caused by Western powers, like in Iraq, means the film misses an opportunity to draw a crucial parallel with today’s events. In a world where the violence and suffering of marginalized populations continue to be minimized, as viewers, we need more than just a generic discourse on morality; we need an explicit recognition of the causes and implications of this violence. !<
>! This change in the film is not just a cinematic adaptation, but a deliberate choice that diminishes the historical responsibility and moral urgency of the speech. The film, as a whole, remains excellent, well-directed, well-acted, and with an engaging plot. However, this omission weakens the powerful social critique the book constructs, becoming, at this point, an exception that leaves a sense of cowardice in the face of a complex and disturbing reality. The book’s impact could have been preserved, turning the film into a true reflection of the current issues plaguing the world.!<
>! This erasure of the critique of American imperialism in the film is even more relevant in the current context, especially in light of the ongoing genocide in Gaza. The omission of the devastation caused by Western powers, like in Iraq, means the film misses an opportunity to draw a crucial parallel with today’s events. In a world where the violence and suffering of marginalized populations continue to be minimized, as viewers, we need more than just a generic discourse on morality; we need an explicit recognition of the causes and implications of this violence. !<
>! This change in the film is not just a cinematic adaptation, but a deliberate choice that diminishes the historical responsibility and moral urgency of the speech. The film, as a whole, remains excellent, well-directed, well-acted, and with an engaging plot. However, this omission weakens the powerful social critique the book constructs, becoming, at this point, an exception that leaves a sense of cowardice in the face of a complex and disturbing reality. The book’s impact could have been preserved, turning the film into a true reflection of the current issues plaguing the world.!<
The Cultural Impact of Conclave
The cultural impact of Conclave is something that cannot be overlooked, especially considering the weight of a story about the selection of a Pope. I became genuinely invested in the real-life process of the Conclave because of the film and the book. Conclave is not just a fictional story, but also a reflection of one of the most important events in the Catholic Church.
Throughout the history of the media industry, Conclave will be remembered for its cultural impact on how the media portrays the papal election and its behind-the-scenes processes. Additionally, several cardinals, and even the recently elected Pope, have mentioned watching the film. This recognition is not just a curiosity but a testament to the reach and relevance Conclave has achieved, even among members of the Church itself, who, experiencing such a unique and secretive process, find in this type of work a valid representation of their reality.
Final Considerations
Conclave is a book that blends political suspense with deep spiritual introspection. Harris manages to balance an engaging plot with a bold analysis of the power structures within the Church. It is a read that informs, provokes, and moves.
It was my first encounter with Robert Harris’s work, and it certainly won’t be the last.
His writing is meticulous, immersive, and yet fluid. Many times, I felt as if I were inside the Sistine Chapel, observing every gesture and whisper among the cardinals. A reading that stays with you even after the last page.
by Apprehensive_Land142