Pius XII. Pope of the Warfare Time and Harsh Politics

St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican is both a place of pilgrimage and a major tourist destination — the most prominent Catholic church in the world. Like many sacred buildings, it holds an extensive collection of artworks. Among them are sculptures and mosaics which, from a distance, resemble paintings but are in fact intricate compositions made of tiny glass tesserae. Each carries its own meaning. Many of the statues commemorate saints and popes — names largely unfamiliar to me.

I moved slowly through the basilica, reading inscriptions, taking photographs, trying to make sense of what I saw. But without a deeper familiarity with Catholic history, I often found myself unable to place these figures in their historical roles. One in particular, however, stood out — both in posture and significance: Pope Pius XII, whose papacy unfolded during some of the most turbulent decades of the 20th century.

Pope Pius XII, born Eugenio Maria Giuseppe Giovanni Pacelli (1876–1958), served as head of the Catholic Church from 1939 until his death in 1958. His pontificate was notable not only for its length, but for the turbulent historical period it encompassed — including the rise of Benito Mussolini, the events of World War II, and the early years of the Cold War.

Before ascending to the papacy, Pacelli had already been a major figure in Vatican diplomacy, serving as Cardinal Secretary of State. In that role, he was deeply involved in negotiating the Lateran Pacts of 1929, signed under Pope Pius XI with then Italian Prime Minister Benito Mussolini. These agreements marked a legal, financial, and religious realignment between the Catholic Church and the Italian state, following decades of estrangement.

The Lateran Pacts consisted of three components. First, a political treaty established Vatican City as a sovereign state. Second, a financial convention provided compensation from the Italian government to the Holy See for the loss of the Papal States — including both a lump sum and a perpetual annuity. Third, a Concordat regulated the relationship between Church and State. It declared Catholicism the state religion of Italy, defined the legal and civil status of clergy, and introduced religious education into the national school system.

This settlement ended the so-called Roman Question — a conflict that had remained unresolved since the unification of Italy in 1870. It was not merely a religious agreement, but also a recognition of the Church as a political actor in modern Europe.

During Pius XII’s lifetime, Italy was under Fascist rule, and the European balance of power was rapidly disintegrating. His early papacy coincided with the signing of the Nazi–Soviet Pact, the invasion of Poland, and the outbreak of the Second World War. Already serving as Cardinal Secretary of State, and now as pope, Pius XII was faced with the challenge of responding to Mussolini’s Fascist policies, many of which stood in direct contradiction to Catholic doctrine. These included Italy’s entry into the war and the introduction of racial laws, which imposed legal discrimination and aligned the regime more closely with Nazi ideology. What had begun as a career shaped by diplomacy was now overtaken by the demands of navigating a world in which religious and ethical values were being systematically dismantled.

Pius XII took an approach of deliberate silence. He did not speak out publicly or unambiguously on the persecution of Jews, the crimes of the Nazi regime, or the actions of totalitarian governments. In official documents, speeches and homilies, he refrained from naming countries, nationalities, or specific acts of genocide. When he did refer to suffering or violence, he did so in general terms, without identifying the perpetrators. He did not speak plainly. One striking example was the deportation of over a thousand Roman Jews in October 1943. Arrested by Nazi forces and taken from the very city in which the Vatican stood, they were sent to Auschwitz. The pope did not issue a public protest. No official statement was released, and no mass held in their name. The silence at that moment has become one of the most cited — and contested — aspects of his wartime record.

This stance has been interpreted by some scholars as passive complicity, and by others as a strategic decision, intended to avoid exacerbating the situation — particularly for Catholics and Jews living in Nazi-occupied territories.

Although Pius XII remained silent in public, numerous actions indicate that he was involved in discreet humanitarian efforts behind the scenes. Under his authority, Catholic institutions across Europe — including monasteries, convents, seminaries, and Church-run schools — provided shelter to Jews, political refugees, and others at risk. In Rome alone, over 4,000 Jews are estimated to have been hidden within religious buildings during the Nazi occupation. Approximately 477 sought refuge within the Vatican itself or at the papal residence in Castel Gandolfo.

In addition to providing shelter, some Church institutions issued false baptismal certificates and other forged identity documents to help individuals evade arrest and deportation. These actions were often carried out discreetly by local clergy — sometimes with tacit Vatican approval, and in certain cases, reportedly under direct papal instruction. While the documentation remains fragmentary, some testimonies and post-war investigations suggest that Pius XII was informed of these efforts and, in specific instances, either authorised them verbally or allowed them to proceed without interference. In Rome, the network of safe houses expanded significantly during the German occupation, and the fact that Vatican City itself sheltered hundreds of Jews strongly indicates at least a top-level awareness, if not formal coordination.

Pius XII’s wartime policy remains the subject of ongoing historical scrutiny and debate. Interpretations vary depending on how his actions — or inactions — are assessed in light of the complex wartime context and the archival material that has become more accessible in recent years.

Under his leadership, the Vatican was required to navigate difficult moral ground: maintaining the recently recognised sovereignty of the Holy See, while also fulfilling the spiritual responsibilities of the papacy. His approach was defined by diplomatic caution and a consistent focus on practical humanitarian assistance, rather than public denunciation.

This strategy has drawn criticism from some historians, who view it as a failure to clearly condemn atrocities committed during the war. Others argue that it reflected a deliberate, constrained choice — shaped by the risks, the political realities of the time, and a belief that quiet intervention might achieve more than public confrontation.

In the end, Pius XII’s papacy stands as a case study in the use of silence — as a diplomatic tool, a moral posture, and a legacy that continues to challenge historical understanding. In that sense, Pius XII does not simply stand for what the Church did – or failed to do – during the war. He embodies a broader human dilemma: how to act when all options carry a cost. His legacy is not only about history, but about the present – a reminder that moral clarity often arrives only in hindsight.

Pius XII. Pope of the Warfare Time and Harsh Politics

A short note on the Battle of Grunwald

In many of my recent posts, I focus on regions in North-Eastern Poland and the Baltic States, also referring to their history. In the Middle Ages they were – at least partially – controlled by the Teutonic Order, who engaged into military conflicts with the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. This conflict ended with one of the largest and most significant battles in the history of Eastern Europe – the Battle of Grunwald (Tannenberg), fought on July 15, 1410. The allied forces of the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, led by King Władysław II Jagiełło of Poland (formerely Grand Duke Jogaila of Lithuania) and Grand Duke of Lithuania Vytautas fought against the Teutonic Knights commanded by Grand Master Ulrich von Jungingen.

Jogaila and Vytautas were cousins. Their fathers Algirdas and Kęstutis respectively were brothers, sons of the Grand Duke of Lithuania. In younger years the relationship between Jogaila and Vytautas was marked by power struggles. Vytautas challenged Jogaila’s authority in Lithuania. But in 1385. Jogaila accepted Christianity, married Queen Jadwiga of Poland, and was crowned as King Władysław II Jagiełło of Poland. Vytautas was granted the title of Grand Duke of Lithuania under the suzerainty of Władysław II Jagiełło. This way their familiar conflict over throne was solved and a strong alliance was formed that strengthened their hold against the Teutonic Order.

The battle of Grunwald took place on the territory of the Monastic State of the Teutonic Knights, present-day Poland. The battle was massive in scale, involving around 50,000 to 60,000 troops in total. The Polish-Lithuanian forces, though outnumbered, were better coordinated and employed a mix of heavy cavalry and tactical infantry maneuvers. The Teutonic Knights, renowned for their heavy cavalry, were initially successful. But the Lithuanian forces had feigned a retreat and later returned to the battlefield. This move caused confusion and disarray among the Teutonic ranks. The Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights, Ulrich von Jungingen, was killed, leading to a collapse in the order’s morale and command structure. The Battle of Grunwald was a decisive victory for the Polish-Lithuanian alliance and marked the beginning of the decline of the Teutonic Order’s power in the region.

Currently, each year, on the former battlefield, a reconstruction of the Battle of Grunwald is organized, attracting reenactors not only from Poland, Lithuania, and Germany, but also from many other European countries.

Post Scriptum: there is also a link between this post and a post I wrote a few days ago on Bona Sforza. King Władysław II Jagiełło established the Jagiellonian dynasty in Poland. Bona Sforza was married to one of his descendants, and was mother to the last king of Jagiellonian dynasty.

A short note on the Battle of Grunwald

The Republican Calendar. A curious way of showing disregard

Sometimes, new political powers that come into office reject everything done by the predecessors. Sometimes it is a truly curious way of showing disregard.

Through history revolutionaries turned into vandals, destroying everything associated with the past.

This insistence took also other forms, such as making life difficult for everyone just to throw away even the most reasonable solutions intoduced by the ovethrown power. Let the people be tormented; whatever the predecessors did must be tossed into the bin. In this context, having in mind my later post, let me talk quite a folly committed by the French revolutionaries in an attempt to distance themselves from the Catholic Church. Not that I don’t appreciate what the French Revolution brought to Europe. It was a painful process, but it granted us Europeans civil rights that made our lives easier. However, in introducing the Republican Calendar, the French revolutionaries simply went overboard lossing any reason.

Pope Gregory XIII, who commissioned the Gregorian Calendar, and the National Convention that implemented the Republican Calendar in France.

The Republican Calendar, also known as the French Republican Calendar, reflects the revolutionary spirit of the French Revolution. Adopted during a time when France was undergoing a major ideological and societal transformation, this calendar aimed to break free from the traditional Gregorian calendar, which was associated with monarchy and religious traditions (>>>).

Introduced in 1793 by the National Convention, it played a significant role in the broader initiative for decimalization in France. It was not merely a means of timekeeping, but a symbol of the revolution’s desire to rid itself of religious and royalist influences. In addition to the calendar, this comprehensive effort included the introduction of decimal time, currency, and metrication, which aimed to standardize and simplify (!) various aspects of daily life.

The Republican Calendar consisted of twelve months, each with unique names inspired by nature, seasons, and agricultural activities. For the autumn season, the calendar included the months of Vendémiaire (Vintage), Brumaire (Mist), and Frimaire (Frost). These months, starting on September 22nd, 23rd, or 24th, marked the transition from summer to winter. As winter arrived, the Republican Calendar continued with the months of Nivôse (Snowy), Pluviôse (Rainy), and Ventôse (Windy). These months, starting on December 21st, 22nd, or 23rd, captured the essence of the colder months and the changing weather patterns. With the arrival of spring, the Republican Calendar embraced the months of Germinal (Germination), Floréal (Flower), and Prairial (Meadow). These months, starting on March 21st or 22nd, April 20th or 21st, and May 20th or 21st respectively, were associated with the renewal of life, blooming flowers, and the lushness of meadows. Finally, the calendar entered the summer season with the months of Messidor (Harvest), Thermidor (Summer Heat, sometimes referred to as Fervidor or Burning Hot), and Fructidor (Fruit). These months, starting on June 19th or 20th, July 19th or 20th (Thermidor/Fervidor) and August 18th or 19th, marked the peak of agricultural activities, when the harvest was gathered and fruits ripened.

One of the most notable aspects of the Republican Calendar was the shift from a 7-day week to a 10-day week. Each month consisted of three ten-day weeks, known as “decades,” totaling 30 days. Each day was divided into ten hours, each hour into 100 decimal minutes, and each decimal minute into 100 decimal seconds. Thus an hour was 144 conventional minutes.

There was also a problem with the leap year rule for the Republican Calendar, for which the Gregorian principles were proposed. The proposal faced challenges and was never adopted. Its advocate Gilbert Romme was sentenced to the guillotine and committed suicide.

While this change aimed to reflect the decimal system, it faced practical difficulties. After the fall of Maximilien Robespierre in 1794 efforts were made to revert to more traditional practices, including the use of the Gregorian calendar. Finally, in 1806, under the rule of Napoleon Bonaparte, the Gregorian calendar was officially reinstated.

Today, the Republican Calendar serves as a historical curiosity and a testament to the radical changes brought about by the French Revolution. Nonetheless, it remains an enduring symbol of France’s revolutionary past and the determination of the French people to reshape their society in a profound way.

The Republican Calendar. A curious way of showing disregard