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Popes have spoken out on politics before. But with Trump and Pope Leo it’s different
Pope Leo XIV addresses the Algerian community in the Basilica of Our Lady of Africa, in Algiers on Monday. Religious experts say President Trump’s attacks on the pope are a break from how previous popes interacted with American presidents.
Alberto Pizzoli/AFP via Getty Images
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Alberto Pizzoli/AFP via Getty Images
The ongoing war of words between President Trump and Pope Leo XIV is unparalleled in modern history. It’s not new for popes to speak out on political issues, historians of religion say, but Trump’s insults toward the pope are without precedent.
The direct nature of Pope Leo’s responses as well as him being the first American pope are also playing a role in how the exchange is being interpreted by the public.
The recent back and forth started with Leo’s calling for peace in response to the war in Iran, and continued with him warning of the “delusion of omnipotence” and writing that “God does not bless any conflict.”
It escalated this past weekend when Trump accused Leo of being “WEAK on Crime, and terrible for Foreign Policy,” a potential response to Catholic leaders’ calling for more humanity in the Trump administration’s immigration policies. Trump also claimed Leo was in favor of Iran having nuclear weapons. Trump continued his attacks Tuesday night with another social media post, saying, “Will someone please tell Pope Leo that Iran has killed at least 42,000 innocent, completely unarmed, protesters in the last two months.”
“I have no fear of neither the Trump administration nor of speaking out loudly about the message in the Gospel,” Leo told reporters on Monday at the start of an 11-day Africa tour.
Vice President Vance, who is Catholic, also weighed in on the controversy on Tuesday night, saying the pope should “be careful when he talks about matters of theology.”
“What we saw … is an unprecedented, unhinged attack by the president of the United States on the pope,” said Christopher White, associate director of the Initiative on Catholic Social Thought and Public Life at Georgetown University. “It was clearly meant to intimidate the pope,” but, he added, “the pope’s response shows he is undeterred by the president’s broadside and won’t be distracted from his efforts to push for peace.”
The charged nature of the exchange is new, but many popes have been known for their political critiques. Here’s a brief overview of times when modern popes spoke out on politics, and how Pope Leo is different.
Popes have had political opinions before, but the response was diplomatic
Pope Paul VI talking to President Lyndon Johnson during a special audience at the Vatican City, Rome, on Dec. 23, 1967. Pope Paul famously said: “No more war, war never again.”
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Keystone/Getty Images/Hulton Archive
Modern popes have never shied away from voicing political opinions, sometimes running contrary to world leaders.
“When the pope speaks, it’s not that he’s taking sides. He’s really pointing out the objective moral law,” said Michele Dillon, a professor of sociology at the University of New Hampshire whose research focuses on the Catholic Church.
But prior interactions were much more diplomatic.
In 1965, Pope Paul VI was the first pope to speak before the United Nations, urging an end to the Vietnam War and famously saying, “No more war, war never again.” Paul VI pushed President Lyndon Johnson to “increase even more your noble effort” to negotiate for peace in Vietnam in 1967. Later that year, Johnson released a cordial statement after meeting the pope, saying “I deeply appreciate the full and free manner” of the pope’s opinions.
In 1979, Pope John Paul II spoke before the United Nations, focusing on human rights and peace. He advocated an end to conflicts in the Middle East, with a “just settlement of the Palestinian question” and the “territorial integrity of Lebanon.” John Paul II visited President Jimmy Carter in the White House, where they talked about the Philippines, China, Europe, South Korea, and the Middle East, according to Carter’s notes.
John Paul II, a Polish pope, was also involved in less-public political influence. He supported Polish opposition to the Soviet Union and has been credited with helping to bring down the Berlin Wall in 1989. Later, in 2003, he spoke against the U.S. invasion of Iraq and also sent representatives to Washington and Baghdad to make appeals to avoid the war. Those appeals were ignored, but he correctly predicted decades of unrest in the Middle East, according to White.
Pope John Paul II and President Jimmy Carter in October 1979.
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John Paul II also voiced opinions on social issues with presidents — disagreeing with Bill Clinton on abortion and pushing George W. Bush to reject stem cell research — but neither president escalated the situation and both remained respectful.
More recently, in 2013, Pope Francis called an impromptu vigil to plead for peace in the civil war in Syria and wrote to Russian President Vladimir Putin to oppose military intervention there. Francis responded to a chemical attack that left some 70 people dead in Syria in 2017, saying he was “horrified,” and he appealed “to the conscience of those who have political responsibility” to end the violence.
In 2015, Francis released a document saying the church accepted the scientific consensus on climate change and urged world leaders to act.
“Many of the world’s leading climate activists have said that no one has done more to shape public opinion on [climate change] than Pope Francis,” White said.
Francis was also a tireless advocate for peace in Gaza, and would call Gaza’s Church of the Holy Family nightly during the war between Hamas and Israel.
Francis also went head to head with Trump in 2016 before Trump’s first election. When Francis visited the U.S.-Mexico border, he said a person “who thinks only about building walls, wherever they may be, and not building bridges, is not Christian.” Trump called the pope’s comments “disgraceful,” but he quickly smoothed over the situation and called Francis a “wonderful guy.”
Popes have been reluctant to name names before now
Popes have historically been hesitant to name the person their criticism is directed at outright. A hotly contested example is Pope Pius XII’s decision to not directly name and denounce Adolf Hitler during World War II.
Pope Francis also faced criticism for his ambiguous references to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.
This makes Leo’s directness all the more relevant, according to White, who is also the author of Pope Leo XIV: Inside the Conclave and the Dawn of a New Papacy. Leo referring to Trump by name, though still a rare occurrence, was a “new tact” for the papacy, he said.
“There’s just kind of a reflex on the Vatican’s behalf to want to be perceived as neutral as possible in a conflict,” he said. Leo, however, “appealed to [Trump] directly and in a sense, pointed the finger to say: ‘You started this war, you have the power to end this war.’”
The pope does not want to get involved in a political back and forth, said Dillon, the UNH professor, but his job is to preach the Catholic teachings.
“That’s the last thing any pope wants to do, because they do want to be a pope for the universal church and for all people,” Dillon said. “A pope of peace.”
The Trump administration is frequently invoking religion
Another reason for Leo’s outspokenness may be the Trump administration’s continued religious rhetoric and imagery, experts said.
On Sunday, Trump shared an AI-generated image that depicts him as a Jesus-like figure, wearing a white robe and red sash and laying his hands on a sick, bedridden man as light appeared to radiate from his hands. The post was later deleted and Trump claimed the image was of him as a doctor.
Robert Orsi, a professor of religious studies and history at Northwestern University, said he was alarmed by the post’s connotations. He called the whole exchange with Leo “unprecedented,” and “never in U.S. history has this happened.”
On Wednesday, Trump shared a post on social media with an image of him being embraced by Jesus. Trump told reporters last week that he believes God supports the U.S. military action in Iran because “God is good and God wants to see people taken care of.” Last year, the White House posted an image of Trump as the pope.
“We have an administration, not just a president, but an administration that is speaking out in more overtly religious terms than even somebody like Jimmy Carter,” said Margaret Thompson, a professor of history and political science at Syracuse University. Carter was an evangelical Christian.
Dillon, the UNH professor, said that because of this, Leo may have felt a duty to personally reference and respond to Trump’s attacks, because he recognizes that “appeasement has a moral price.”
Jesuit priest and author James Martin told Morning Edition that “pretty much every Catholic I spoke to, from progressive Catholics to traditional Catholics, were appalled,” at Trump’s words toward the pope. “The pope is, you know, the representative of the whole church. So it’s an attack on the church.”
How Pope Leo is viewed, being an American pope
Pope Leo XIV leads a mass at the basilica of St. Augustine in Annaba on the second day of an 11-day apostolic journey to Africa, on Tuesday.
Alberto Pizzoli/AFP via Getty Images
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Alberto Pizzoli/AFP via Getty Images
Pope Leo is the first American pope, but he does not think of himself as just an American. “He’s the Holy Father for everyone,” said Peter Martin, a former U.S. diplomat accredited to the Holy See.
Still, that doesn’t stop people from looking at the saga from an American angle.
Dillon said the fact that the pope is American could allow him to have greater influence. Americans may have seen popes such as Francis, who were “pointed in their criticism of a great power like America,” as just “anti-America,” she said.
“But if you have a pope who was born and raised in Chicago and really a true out-and-out American criticizing in pointed terms, I actually think that carries more weight,” Dillon said.
In early April, Leo appealed to the American people “to seek ways to communicate. Perhaps with congressmen, with authorities, saying that we don’t want war, we want peace.”
“It doesn’t get more American than that,” White said. “I mean, I don’t think there’s any precedent for a pope saying, ‘call your congressman.’”
The announcer’s voice broke the silence that had fallen over the racetrack: “Here comes Spunky!”
As a white, fluffy object, supposed to look like a hare, shot past the starting box, a line of eight greyhounds burst out, a blur of canine energy rocketing down the straightaway.
Such races were once a familiar sight across the country, as bettors flocked to tracks in 19 states, from Florida to Massachusetts to California. At its height, in the 1980s and early 1990s, dog racing drew tens of millions of spectators, routinely posting higher yearly attendance figures than hockey or tennis. Spectator bets totaled roughly $3.5 billion every year.
But today only two dog tracks remain, down from more than 60. Both are in West Virginia, the only state where commercial races still take place. Attendance has waned as pressure from animal rights groups led many states to ban dog tracks and as the legalization of sports betting nationwide gave people a bounty of new gambling options.
Now a bill is making its way through Congress that would ban dog racing altogether. Fans and critics agree that the sport is on its final lap.
“I know at some point, it’s going to end,” said Ronald Welch, who was sitting at a picnic table last month at the track in Wheeling, W.Va. “But still I’d be heartbroken if it did.”
Public sentiment about greyhound racing had already started shifting by the early 2000s, due in part to the efforts of Carey Theil and Christine Dorchak.
Through their Boston-based nonprofit, GREY2K USA Worldwide, the couple has led lobbying to end dog racing over concerns about animal welfare.
The industry has faced criticism for killing dogs that could no longer race, though many of the documented cases took place before adoption programs became common in the 2000s. Critics also draw attention to confined living spaces in the kennels where most of the dogs live, along with reports of performance enhancing drugs, and diets of low-quality meat.
The New York Times reached out to five kennels associated with the Wheeling racetrack. They did not respond or declined to comment.
The efforts by GREY2K and other organizations have yielded changes, with 44 states banning greyhound racing. When voters in Florida, once a stronghold, approved a ban in 2018, it was a gut punch to the industry.
“We’ve been in the endgame phase since,” Mr. Theil said.
But in West Virginia, a law passed nearly two decades ago has made it harder to land the final blow. In an effort to keep gamblers from taking their betting dollars to neighboring Pennsylvania, which had just legalized slot machines, West Virginia in 2007 said casinos could sweeten the pot by offering table games — so long as they also were operating a track with live racing.
It also diverts a percentage of slot machine and table game revenue to a fund that pays race purses. This provision comes out to roughly $15 million to $22 million a year, accounting for about 95 percent of payouts.
“Without the subsidy, this industry wouldn’t exist,” Mr. Theil said.
A 2017 state bill would have allowed the casinos to operate without a live track, and done away with the subsidy. In a sign that support was fading even in West Virginia, it passed in both the state House and Senate. But then-Gov. Jim Justice vetoed it, saying “eliminating support for the greyhounds is a job killer.”
Mr. Theil has focused on rebutting assertions that the industry benefits the local economy. This year, a study by Ball State University commissioned by GREY2K found that apart from providing minimal low-paying jobs, the industry was buoyed almost entirely by the subsidy and provided nearly nonexistent economic benefit.
The concerns have made their way to Capitol Hill, where a bill being considered by Congress could spell the end of greyhound racing. The Greyhound Protection Act would make it illegal to train or possess greyhounds for racing and to bet on the races in-person or via simulcast.
The legislation was incorporated into the Farm Bill, a huge legislative package, which reauthorizes major food and agriculture programs roughly once every five years. The Farm Bill, which totals $390 billion in proposed spending, passed the House in April and is awaiting a Senate vote.
The act now looks like GREY2K’s best bet.
“Greyhound racing is going to end in the United States,” Mr. Theil said. “The real question is how.”
One hour southwest of Pittsburgh, the Wheeling Island Hotel, Casino & Racetrack sits at the southern tip of the most populated isle in the Ohio River. “The Island,” as locals called it, was once the home of wealthy industrialist families. Now, it is lined with dilapidated Victorian houses and beset by flooding and opioids.
But it is still home to the racetrack, which has welcomed locals and out-of-staters from Ohio, Pennsylvania and even Canada, since 1937.
In the 1940s, when horses raced there, the track was nicknamed “Little Churchill Downs,” after the storied Kentucky venue. The track transitioned to greyhounds in the 1970s.
Nearly 40 years ago, Delaware North, a food service and hospitality company based in Buffalo, purchased the track and added a full casino. Now, the course stages around 500 races a year.
In-person attendance is down about 60 percent over the last decade, according to Delaware North. But many of those who still come are fiercely loyal.
With the third race of the day about to begin, Donna and Dennis Kennedy lounged at a table in the betting area overlooking the track.
The couple, both former teachers from Bridgeport, Ohio, often hit the track together. It wasn’t always that way; for years, she refused to join her husband because of concerns about the dogs’ welfare.
“I’m an animal person,” she said.
But when the track was raffling off a free car, Ms. Kennedy couldn’t resist. “The first thing I did was march up to the adoption center,” she said, referring to a spot at the track where people can take in retired racing dogs. She ended up volunteering for a decade and adopting four dogs of her own.
Mr. Kennedy, 84, had the likeness of one of them, Fancy, inked on his forearm two years ago. It was his first and only tattoo. “If those were my dogs, I’m not going to allow anyone to abuse it because that’s an investment — and we love them,” he said.
Chuck Galloway has been betting at the track since greyhounds started racing there in 1976. On the small screen in front of him, race lineups showed dogs with names like Gonz Megatron, Loyal Duck, Bulldozer Mozer and Venus.
The races are simulcast so patrons in other states and countries can bet remotely — about 95 percent of bets placed on Wheeling races are made this way.
But even with lots of the bets coming from elsewhere, there’s a certain camaraderie at the track, Mr. Galloway said. He likened it to his time campaigning for Barack Obama. “I got to know people that I never would have crossed paths with,” he said.
Several track patrons pointed to what they said was a double standard — horse racing, a sport with a blue-blood pedigree, can still capture a mass audience, while dog racing is on the verge of extinction.
Mr. Welch, 60, the man who was sitting at the picnic table, had a theory.
“Horse racing is like apple pie. Like baseball, the Wild West,” he said. “But the dogs, they aren’t part of that American mystique.”
Mr. Welch grew up attending races in Iowa before the state banned the sport. In need of an anchor in his life after his mother passed away, he moved to Wheeling to live near the track.
“When I see them run,” he said, “it’s a spiritual experience.”
In downtown Wheeling, many people seemed to have at least a tangential connection to the racetrack — an uncle who trained dogs, a friend who worked there one summer. But not everyone knew that greyhound racing’s days could be coming to an end. Some said they were ready to see it go.
Outside Coleman’s Fish Market, Mitchell Visnic, 40, was adamant about his distaste for any animal-related sport. “I don’t even like the zoo,” he said.
Others were disappointed but not surprised. Michael Mudrak, 42, who was sitting nearby on his lunch break, said it was emblematic.
“Take another thing away from West Virginia,” he said.
Alain Delaquérière contributed research.
Lyndsey Sickler, one of Pittsburgh Pride organizers.
Hannah Frances Johansson
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Hannah Frances Johansson
PITTSBURGH, Pa. — Pride celebrations across the country continue to lose out on large sponsorships as corporations, a key source of funding, shrink their affiliation with diversity causes and LGBTQ+ events.
Corporate sponsorships of celebrations in several cities, including New York City, Salt Lake City, Louisville, St. Louis, Orlando, and Pittsburgh are down from previous years, organizers said.
Jordan Braxton, co-president of the United States Association of Prides, which supports Pride celebrations nationwide, said that while some smaller Prides have seen a growth in sponsorships, a majority have seen a reduction.
She said the Trump administration’s dismantling of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion initiatives, has scared corporations away from sponsoring Pride celebrations. “I think that’s why some of the corporations have pulled back, because they don’t want that government scrutiny,” she said.
In his first days in office in 2025, Trump issued presidential actions targeting DEI within the federal government and encouraging the private sector to end what the administration considers “illegal DEI discrimination and preferences.”
In Pittsburgh, Pride organizers are trying to make up for lost sponsorships in time for their festival and parade in early June.
“It takes a lot of money to do this,” said Dena Stanley, director of Pittsburgh Pride. “Permittings costs, security costs, headliners costs, staging costs, cleaning crew costs, insurance costs, all of these are expenses.”
Pittsburgh Pride organizers think it will secure 30-40% of the sponsorship dollars they were able to fundraise a few years ago.
To narrow the gap, the group said they received a state grant and solicited individual donations.
Dena Stanley, director of Pittsburgh Pride.
Hannah Frances Johansson.
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Hannah Frances Johansson.
E Ciszek, who researches advertising and public relations at The University of Texas at Austin, said the downturn in corporate sponsorships is happening amid a movement against Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives and the “attack on trans rights, in particular.”
“I think this is not just a matter of budget cuts, right?” Ciszek said. “It’s important to take a step back and see this more as a moment of risk, a moment of political pressure, and looking really at the limits of corporate allyship, particularly when LGBTQ visibility has become really politically costly.”
Corporations, she said, are calculating the risk of public support for Pride, which could expose them to litigation, political retaliation or consumer boycotts.
“What once was [an] organizational asset, has now become an organizational risk,” Ciszek said.
Lyndsey Sickler, another Pittsburgh Pride organizer, described Pride celebrations as empowering for LGBTQ+ people who live in communities where they feel scrutinized for their identity.
For some people, it’s their first time being in, “a space that is actively, loudly celebrating everything that is us,” Sickler said. “Nothing else matters at that point.”
Less sponsorship money can also impact year-round events and resources for the LGBTQ+ community.
“People sometimes look at Pride festivals just as a big party, which they are, but they’re also resource fairs, job fairs, and we also use it as a fundraising event,” said Braxton of the United States Association of Prides.
In Florida, Tampa Pride announced a one-year hiatus after a slew of corporations dropped their sponsorships, said Carrie West, who ran the organization.
“All of a sudden, bingo. Here you have no money, no grant money, no supporting money, to make operations, to plan, to get any kind of anything,” he said. “Oh my gosh, it was, it’s devastating.”
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