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| JAMES HILL / CONTACT |
| THE ELECTORS: Cardinals watch Pope Benedict greet the world after his victory |
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| The Conquest of Rome |
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The stealth campaign for Ratzinger began 18 months ago. An inside
look at how he won |
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By JEFF ISRAELY |
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Posted Sunday, April 24, 2005
In the days before the conclave, almost every Cardinal who deigned to
speak to the press declared that he was praying to the Holy Spirit
for guidance in choosing the successor to John Paul II. The Holy
Spirit's efforts in this particular case began 18 months ago, with a
stealth campaign that in the end transfigured an unpalatable
candidate into the inevitable Pontiff, turning Joseph Cardinal
Ratzinger of Germany into Pope Benedict XVI. The momentum,
orchestrated by key Curia Cardinals, was such that a last-ditch
attempt by liberals to derail it petered out after the first round of
voting. "They didn't realize how strong Ratzinger was," says an aide
to a Cardinal who almost certainly did not vote for the German. "The
reformers have been out of touch with this growing tide around
Ratzinger."
Back in October 2003, as a litany of papabili, or potential
candidates, was intoned by the press amid one of John Paul II's
health crises, Ratzinger wasn't mentioned at all. The favorite was an
Italian, Dionigi Cardinal Tettamanzi of Milan. Even though Ratzinger was dean of the College of
Cardinals, many saw him as past his prime. Moreover, his work as John
Paul's ideological enforcer had made him a divisive figure in the
church. "He had fallen off the radar," says a Curia official. But
something was afoot that October. A Cardinal in the Curia, in
conversation with another Vatican official, suddenly said, "I like
Ratzinger's chances." Surprised at the time, the official now says,
"Getting elected Pope is more a question of how many enemies you have
than friends. And I thought Ratzinger still had too many enemies."
But John Paul, in spite of his ailments, was attending to that
problem. In October 2003 he would not only persevere to celebrate his
25th anniversary as Pope but also forge ahead with an exhausting
ceremony to install a new batch of Cardinals. By the time of his
death, he had appointed 115 of the 117 Cardinals eligible to vote,
stacking the college with men who were more likely to want to
continue his conservative policies. Just as important, in the ensuing
months most of the influential Cardinals of liberal stripe would pass
the voting age limit of 80. The only one of stature left to rally
wavering Cardinals to the liberal cause was Carlo Maria Cardinal
Martini. But his clout was limited. In 2002 the Pope had allowed the
ailing Martini to leave his power base in Milan to pursue his love of
biblical scholarship in faraway Jerusalem. The Pope, on the other
hand, refused to let Ratzinger give up his bureaucratic jobs in the
Curia.
By the end of 2003, instead of being exhausted by work, Ratzinger
appeared to have been rejuvenated. Not only did he keep on publishing
books and papers, but he also became more audible as a conservative
voice in European and global affairs. He became particularly visible
in Italy, which was expressing some nostalgia for an Italian papacy
after years of a Polish Pope. Ratzinger wrote several articles for
major Italian papers. "All of a sudden last year," said a senior
Vatican official, "he had become the darling of the [conservative]
Italian intelligentsia."
In the first week of January 2005, hints that Ratzinger was a front
runner hit the press. "The Ratzinger solution is definitely on," TIME
quoted a well-placed Vatican insider. "There was a stigma. He rises
above that now." But even then, many others found the idea
unbelievable. "I thought the window was closing because of his age,"
says a Vatican official. If John Paul had lived two more years, says
the official, Ratzinger "would have disappeared from the horizon."
In February, John Paul was admitted to the hospital. And as the
church focused once again on potential successors, something close to
a papal campaign debate took place. Ratzinger and Tettamanzi attended
a funeral in Milan for the founder of Communion and Liberation, a
powerful conservative Catholic lay movement. Without notes, Ratzinger
delivered an inspiring eulogy and received enthusiastic applause.
Tettamanzi, who presided over the service as the local Cardinal, read
his remarks and, according to a supporter of the Milanese prelate,
left the crowd cold.
For Ratzinger, it was a critical time to appear strong and
confident—and he got several opportunities to bolster such an image.
For Good Friday, with John Paul near death, Ratzinger wrote the text
for the closely watched reading of the Stations of the Cross. His
daring language on the need to cleanse the church of "filth"—an
apparent reference to the sex-abuse scandals plaguing the
priesthood—startled some but was applauded by many looking for
strength as John Paul's ebbed. Without having to claim as much,
Ratzinger appeared to be the man in charge.
When the Cardinals arrived from around the world for John Paul's
funeral, they naturally turned to the Cardinals of the Curia for
advice and intelligence on who should replace him. "It's a fact that
most Cardinals don't know most other Cardinals—not well, anyway, and
not personally," says a priest close to Ratzinger. "The way they
get to know each other is in Rome. And how do they get to know each
other? They tend to ask the Curia Cardinals." And the person everyone
wanted to meet was Ratzinger.
He made himself available to share his views. "My voice is tired
because I've been talking all week," Ratzinger said on April 16, the
Saturday before the conclave, as he stopped by his office so his
staff could celebrate his 78th birthday. (They sang Ave Maria in
rondo to mark the anniversary.) "His voice was almost gone," said
Monsignor Gerald Cadieres, a Venezuelan who worked for him. For days,
Ratzinger had been impressing visiting Cardinals by speaking in
German, French, English, Italian and Spanish. It was like nonstop
town-hall meetings in a U.S. political campaign—with this caveat: no
one is allowed to campaign. One observer describes the pro-Ratzinger
maneuvers not as politics but as attempts to change the "mood" of the
conclave.
Still, like any good campaigner, he was center stage at every
turn—at John Paul's funeral; at the first of the novemdiales Masses,
held on the nine days after the Pope's funeral; as chairman of the
Cardinals' daily congregation meetings; at the preconclave Mass. Were
they all required appearances? Apparently, the novemdiales Mass did
not necessarily have to be celebrated by Ratzinger. He was also under
no obligation to deliver such substantial homilies. "Ratzinger seems
to have grabbed the ball and run with it for two weeks," remarked an
experienced Vaticanologist. A Ratzinger supporter put it in more
pious terms: "Some inner fire was lit, like God had chosen him."
And then, on the Monday of the conclave, he delivered a homily that
effectively acknowledged his candidacy, making it plain that he would
not compromise his ideals to gain votes. It was a gauntlet thrown
down before would-be challengers and a rallying cry for supporters.
"What was he doing issuing a whole program for the future of the
church?" asked an aide to a liberal Cardinal. "That should have been
a moment for the dean of Cardinals to reflect on the spiritual
process they were about to enter, not lay out his visions."
Ratzinger's supporters saw it otherwise. "It's not that he wanted the
job. He didn't," said one. "But his brother Cardinals saw him leading
an important Mass. Watching him, there was something that had
changed, almost like he had already ascended to a new level."
If the liberals arrived in Rome not truly believing Ratzinger was a
viable candidate, they did now. Cardinal Martini had tried to
organize a countermovement, and as the electors entered the conclave
on Monday afternoon, the consensus was that two camps would be pitted
against each other: the conservatives around Ratzinger and a group
behind Martini. But Martini, who is suffering from Parkinson's
disease, was hoping only to blunt Ratzinger's momentum to give other
less conservative Cardinals a chance to gather support.
The biblical scholar managed a good showing in the first round of
balloting, but Ratzinger was already solidly ahead. The rest of the
votes were spread among several Italians and, according to one voting
Cardinal, several ballots were left blank. By evening, it was clear
that no one was going to be able to step in for Martini.
Not even Ratzinger's younger conservative rivals could put up a
fight. Tettamanzi, bested in eloquence on his home turf, reportedly
managed only two votes. And the Italians never coalesced around
another countryman. Indeed, while analysts at the time focused on the
bloc-voting potential of the 20 eligible Italian Cardinals and how it
might portend an Italian Pope, few noticed that the bloc had a
fissure and that nine of those Cardinals were members of the
Curia—well within Ratzinger's sphere of influence. A senior Vatican
official notes, "What lifted him over the threshold were the
Italians. If he got it in four ballots, it means the Italians were on
board." An Italian member of the Curia, Camillo Cardinal Ruini, the
vicar of Rome, is believed to have ridden herd on the pro-Ratzinger
Cardinals as they gathered. One Cardinal elector said many of the
20-member Latin American bloc closely aligned with the German's
traditionalist stance arrived intent on getting Ratzinger elected.
By Tuesday, Martini, who does not dislike Ratzinger personally,
withdrew his candidacy and might have even thrown his support to him.
Liberals who could not stomach that option reportedly swung over to
Buenos Aires' Jesuit Jorge Cardinal Bergoglio in an
anyone-but-Ratzinger move, though several sources said the Argentine
was himself aligned with the German. But the second balloting saw
Ratzinger reach 60 votes. By the third, he was just shy of the 77
required for the papacy. By the fourth, he had won 95 out of 115.
Liberal stalwarts left grumbling. "A good conclave is one where there
are at least two candidates deadlocked," says a liberal supporter
disappointed by the process. "A bad conclave is where there's one
dominant figure. That was the case this time."
The liberals were simply outorganized by the Curia. "The ease of
Ratzinger's victory was proof of just how compact and well prepared
the Roman nucleus was," a Cardinal elector told TIME. The
conservatives could also say it was answered prayer and proof of the
intervention of the Holy Spirit. In the Sistine Chapel, as the tally
went over the required two-thirds, "there was a gasp all around,"
Cormac Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor of Britain recalled in a press
conference. Ratzinger, he said, "had his head down. He must have been
saying a prayer." When Jorge Cardinal Arturo Medina Estevez—who
would announce the election to the world from the balcony of St.
Peter's—asked Ratzinger what name he would assume, the Pontiff-elect
did not hesitate. "In the past, there's been a wait while the new
Pope pondered the question for 10 minutes or so," says an informed
source. "Not so this time. Ratzinger replied right away, 'Benedict XVI.' He was prepared."
—With reporting by Jordan Bonfante and Giancarlo Zizola/Rome and Howard Chua-Eoan/New York
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