How Pope Francis’s built bridges with the Global South

The death of Pope Francis on 21 April 2025 in Rome reverberated across the African continent. From Abidjan to Kinshasa, and from Bangui to Nairobi, messages of condolence and tribute flooded in as news of his passing broke. Over nearly twelve years at the helm of the Catholic Church, Francis forged an exceptional relationship with African communities — marked by simplicity, an unwavering defence of the poor, and a tireless commitment to peace. His influence extended far beyond Catholic circles. In the Central African Republic, he is remembered for defying conflict to sow seeds of reconciliation. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, he became a bold voice denouncing neo-colonialism, urging the international community to take its “hands off the Congo.” 

As the first pope from the Global South, Argentine Jorge Mario Bergoglio placed Africa at the heart of his mission, a neglected part of the Christian world, where the Catholic church’s following is growing fastest. He visited the continent five times, spanning ten countries. His celebrated Masses were attended by millions and made the dignity of the marginalised central to his discourse. In both word and deed, Africa emerged as a spiritual and moral priority. 

But now, as Africa’s visibility increases within the Catholic world, a new question arises: is the Catholic Church ready to elect an African pope? Although around 20% of the world’s Catholics — some 250 million people — live in Africa, the continent has never produced a pope. This absence now feels more pressing, particularly as the Church presents itself as “universal”, African priestly vocations continue to rise, and African dioceses play vital roles in education, culture, and social life. Yet decision-making power remains firmly removed from the continent. 

This imbalance prompts a deeper reflection: can the “universality” of Catholicism confront its own Western-centric foundations? Can it move from symbolic recognition of Africa to real, institutional empowerment of its voices and experiences? Representation is not merely a matter of numbers or geographical balance — it is a reflection of the structure of power and meaning within the Church. In this regard, global Catholicism still appears bound by a colonial legacy, one that often places the “other” — even when embraced — in the role of the celebrated or the grateful, not that of an equal partner shaping theology and existential choices. 

Each time an African candidate is proposed for the papacy, traditional ecclesial discourse tends to fall back on notions of “experience”, “continuity”, or “balance”, as though the continent remains on the periphery of ecclesial history — still unqualified to lead a universal theological project. This is no longer a paradox, but a pressing existential question for a Church that proclaims universality yet remains anchored in a European centre of time and space. 

For many, this absence is no longer tenable — not in the name of geographical quotas, but because a 21st-century Catholicism cannot be whole without the direct presence of African churches in its leadership. Cardinal Dieudonné Nzapalainga, Archbishop of Bangui, voiced it plainly: “Francis left behind a legacy of fraternity and humility. His succession must not merely preserve this legacy — it may well be the moment, for the first time, to embody that spirit by electing a pope from the continent he so sincerely loved.” 

A spiritual diplomacy for peace and reconciliation 

Pope Francis’s visits to Africa reflected a deliberate commitment to accompany peoples striving for peace amid internal strife and social unrest. From his first trip in 2015 to Kenya, Uganda and the Central African Republic, he raised his voice against poverty, violence and ethnic divisions. In Bangui, he opened the Holy Door for the Jubilee of Mercy ahead of schedule, transforming a religious ritual into a powerful political message for the continent. 

In 2019, he travelled to Mozambique, Madagascar and Mauritius, calling himself a “pilgrim of peace and hope.” He supported post-conflict reconciliation efforts, encouraged grassroots solidarity, and highlighted community values as the cornerstone of coexistence.  

He took a very active interest in South Sudan, inviting the warring leaders, Salva Kiir and Riek Machar, to a spiritual retreat in 2019 where he urged them to implement a peace treaty signed the previous year, which had ended years of fighting between them. In one dramatic moment, Francis even knelt down and kissed the foot of Salva Kiir.

This spiritual diplomacy reached its apex in 2023 with a historic joint visit to South Sudan alongside Anglican and Presbyterian leaders. It was a rare and clear show of unity in support of peace in a country ravaged by civil war — and a firm denunciation of corruption and illicit exploitation.  

For Francis, peace was never merely a political aim; it was a Gospel imperative and the very essence of the Christian mission. 

Furthermore, interfaith dialogue — especially with Islam — remained a cornerstone of Pope Francis’s religious diplomacy in Africa. His approach was grounded in the conviction that the world’s major religions share much in common, and that Islam, in particular, stands as Christianity’s closest counterpart in terms of doctrine and ethics.

In 2017, Francis took part in a landmark international peace conference organised by Al-Azhar University in Egypt, Sunni Islam’s highest seat of learning, alongside Grand Imam Sheikh Ahmed al-Tayeb. The visit marked a turning point in Christian-Muslim relations, particularly in the context of mounting terrorist threats. It was the first papal visit to Egypt in 17 years, following Pope John Paul II’s 2000 trip, which had aimed to strengthen ties with Egypt’s Orthodox Christians and advance interreligious dialogue. 

During his time in Cairo, the pontiff made a symbolic gesture by reciting, in Arabic, the phrase “Religion is for God and the nation is for all.” He described Egypt as “a land of encounter between heaven and earth, and of covenants among peoples and believers.” The message was clear: faith must be a bridge, not a boundary. 

In 2019, this path of dialogue continued in Morocco, where Francis met King Mohammed VI in a powerful symbolic moment. Together, they signed a joint declaration calling for the protection of Jerusalem as a shared space for peaceful coexistence. It was more than a diplomatic visit; it was a spiritual and humanitarian milestone. The warm reception in Rabat’s Hassan Mosque plaza, and the King’s speech highlighting the role of religious education in countering extremism — citing Morocco’s model of moderate Islam — set the stage for a deeply resonant encounter. Through it, Francis reaffirmed the role of religions in defending human dignity, promoting justice, and rejecting exclusionary identity politics. 

In Mauritius, interreligious dialogue took a different form, manifesting as a lived reality of harmonious coexistence among diverse religious communities and cultures. Francis praised this pluralism, not as a challenge but as a source of enrichment. He called for a shared project rooted in hospitality, democracy and mutual respect. 

A church engaged with Africa’s social and environmental struggles  

Pope Francis’s African policy went far beyond symbolic gestures and spiritual appeals. It found expression in tangible commitments to the continent’s pressing social and environmental challenges. He was unflinching in his condemnation of foreign exploitation of Africa’s resources. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, he described Africa as “a diamond that has become a source of discord” and issued a clarion call against resignation — urging unity, dignity, and African sovereignty. 

Echoing the spirit of his encyclical Laudato si’, Francis championed an “integral ecology” that links environmental stewardship with social justice. This vision took centre stage during his visit to Madagascar, where he stressed the urgent need to reconcile development with solidarity and environmental protection. 

He also spotlighted the vital role of religious leaders, charitable organisations, and local communities as drivers of social change. Under his leadership, the Church presented itself as an active force in education, healthcare, and economic development — especially for youth, the poor, and migrants. 

Francis’s visits to Africa were not mere pastoral outreach; they articulated a deeply political religious vision grounded in three pillars: peace, interfaith dialogue, and social engagement. Through these journeys, he sought to position the Church as a moral actor confronting the continent’s challenges — not as a missionary power, but as a partner rooted in listening, solidarity, and respect. Faith, for Francis, was not a vehicle for dominion, but a wellspring for a more just and humane world. 

Yet, Francis’s passing — he, a pope from the Global South — has laid bare a tension the Catholic Church has yet to overcome: how can it proclaim universality while the pinnacle of ecclesial authority remains the preserve of a white, European centre?

Africa today stands as a demographic, spiritual, and theological pillar of global Catholicism. Yet its voice remains marginalised in the Church’s symbolic hierarchy. Francis spoke to the margins, but did not shift the centre. The question of his successor is thus not merely ecclesiastical — it is geopolitical and moral. 

As long as “whiteness” remains the unspoken norm for papal legitimacy, the universality of the Church will remain an aspiration rather than a reality. For many within the African Church and beyond, the time has come not just for recognition — but for representation. Not as charity, but as a matter of justice and coherence with the Church’s own message.