Many people fall into the trap of oversimplification when attempting to transpose religious concepts from one culture onto another. Perhaps the clearest example of this distortion is the common, and deeply misleading, comparison drawn by some between the Pope, as the spiritual leader of the world’s Catholics, and the position of the Supreme Leader (Wali al-Faqih) in Iran.

This comparison is not only historically and theologically inaccurate; it also clashes with the contemporary reality and practical role of each office.

The contrast is particularly evident in the positions taken by the current pontiff, Pope Leo, who has spoken out boldly against war and destruction, raising his voice without hesitation even against the leaders of major powers, including the president of his country of birth, the United States. He has criticized the policies of Donald Trump while enduring the resulting political backlash and attacks.

On the Palestinian issue, the Pope has adopted what the author describes as a purely moral stance. He has criticized Israel and called for a just and lasting peace based on a two-state solution that guarantees the legitimate rights of the Palestinian people, without turning their suffering into fuel for a political or expansionist agenda of his own.

This ethical approach invites a closer examination of what the author sees as a simplistic comparison and highlights the fundamental differences between the two institutions.

Modern history offers no example of a Pope financing an armed militia or establishing cross-border military networks aimed at destabilizing states and fragmenting their social fabric. The Vatican maintains no military force beyond the traditional Swiss Guard, whose role is limited to protecting the Pope. By contrast, the doctrine of Wilayat al-Faqih is, in the author’s view, tied to the export of revolution through armed force and the creation of sectarian militias and parallel military structures in neighboring countries, a dynamic that has contributed to prolonged conflicts and civil wars across the region.

The same contrast, the author argues, extends to the relationship between authority and society. The Pope does not govern a population through a police apparatus, imprison political opponents, or impose a way of life through coercion. In contrast, the concentration of power in the office of the Supreme Leader allows opposition to the political system to be treated as opposition to the sacred itself, with punishments ranging from imprisonment to execution.

Popes have at times played political roles in modern history. One notable example is Pope John Paul II, whom many credit with helping undermine the Soviet Union and the communist system in Eastern Europe. Yet, as the author notes, he did so without sending weapons or encouraging violence.

Instead, he returned to his native Poland and inspired what the author describes as a peaceful revolution of spiritual awakening. During his historic 1979 visit, he delivered his famous message, “Do not be afraid,” a call that helped break the barrier of fear for millions and rekindled a spirit of resistance. This moral and spiritual inspiration strengthened the anti-communist Solidarity movement and encouraged a nonviolent struggle rooted in freedom and civic awareness, contributing ultimately to the collapse of the Eastern Bloc without bloodshed.

Even during more complex periods, such as World War II and Nazi rule under Pope Pius XII, whose legacy remains the subject of intense debate, the contrast is still worth examining through the author’s lens.

Pius XII has long been criticized for what many perceived as public silence during the Holocaust. That silence continues to generate significant historical and academic controversy, with some viewing it as a moral and political failure. However, more recent scholarship has offered alternative interpretations.

Among these works is Hitler, the War, and the Pope by the American historian and legal scholar Ronald Rychlak. In the author’s view, Rychlak moved beyond emotional reactions to examine the historical record surrounding Pius XII. He not only challenged many of the accusations directed at the Pope but also argued that efforts to discredit him were rooted, at least in part, in a Soviet campaign aimed at undermining both his credibility and that of the Catholic Church more broadly.

According to Rychlak’s account, the Vatican’s policies were not driven by sympathy for Nazism but by a strict diplomatic pragmatism intended to protect innocent lives. Under secret instructions from the Pope, churches and monasteries opened their doors to shelter thousands of Jews and political opponents, hiding them from persecution and helping them escape the Nazi death camps. Rather than issuing public declarations that might have prompted Hitler to invade the Vatican and endanger those taking refuge there, the Vatican chose what the author describes as a strategy of quiet, practical intervention.

Naturally, this historical narrative does not absolve the Vatican of its grave moral and legal responsibilities, whether those associated with the Middle Ages or the more recent sexual abuse scandals and allegations of pedophilia involving clergy members and bishops over the past decades.

The key distinction, however, lies in how such wrongdoing has been addressed. Within the Vatican, these acts have come to be recognized as crimes and scandals. Successive Popes have issued formal public apologies and introduced changes to canon law to remove protections for those implicated and allow them to face civil justice. In doing so, they acknowledged that such abuses constituted serious human failings that contradicted the teachings of the Gospel. While these measures are far from sufficient to deliver full justice to victims, the author argues that no comparable process has taken place on the other side of the comparison.

According to the author, the institution of Wilayat al-Faqih has not undertaken a similar critical reassessment of many of the rulings associated with its founder, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. The author points in particular to passages in the second volume of Khomeini’s jurisprudential work Tahrir al-Wasilah, within the section on marriage, which have been the subject of significant controversy and criticism. The author also argues that there has been no formal acknowledgment of, or apology for, the violent actions carried out during the revolutionary period against leftists, secularists, and, later, reformists.

Attempts to reduce all Shiite religious authorities to the model of Wilayat al-Faqih represent, in the author’s view, a profound oversimplification. Traditional Shiism, historically represented by the religious establishment of Najaf in Iraq, and particularly by the school of Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, is the comparison the author considers more appropriate to draw with the Vatican.

This is because the Najaf school rejects direct involvement in executive political power and opposes the establishment of a theocratic state governed through claims of divine authority. Instead, it acts as a moral and social reference point, intervening at critical moments to help prevent bloodshed and preserve civil peace, without seeking to build a military or political empire.

The author then poses a rhetorical question: has anyone ever seen a Pope holding an assault rifle while leading prayers, as Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei was often depicted doing during Friday prayers? For the author, such imagery conveys a permanent state of mobilization and conflict.

From this perspective, the claim that the Vatican resembles the system of Wilayat al-Faqih is seen as an attempt to legitimize a form of religious-political authoritarianism. The author argues that there is a fundamental difference between a spiritual institution that, despite its mistakes, has increasingly aligned itself with peace, conscience, public accountability, critical engagement with religious texts, and reflection on its own historical abuses, and a political-military ideology that, in the author’s assessment, remains internally closed, suppresses dissent, and seeks to project its influence beyond its borders through armed groups used as instruments of regional power politics.

The author concludes that the two institutions differ not only in structure and function, but also in their contemporary understanding of authority, accountability, and the relationship between religion and power.

Attempts to reduce all Shiite religious authorities to the model of Wilayat al-Faqih represent, in the author’s view, a profound oversimplification. Traditional Shiism, historically represented by the religious establishment of Najaf in Iraq, and particularly by the school of Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, is the comparison the author considers more appropriate to draw with the Vatican.

This is because the Najaf school rejects direct involvement in executive political power and opposes the establishment of a theocratic state governed through claims of divine authority. Instead, it acts as a moral and social reference point, intervening at critical moments to help prevent bloodshed and preserve civil peace, without seeking to build a military or political empire.

The author then poses a rhetorical question: has anyone ever seen a Pope holding an assault rifle while leading prayers, as Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei was often depicted doing during Friday prayers? For the author, such imagery conveys a permanent state of mobilization and conflict.

From this perspective, the claim that the Vatican resembles the system of Wilayat al-Faqih is seen as an attempt to legitimize a form of religious-political authoritarianism. The author argues that there is a fundamental difference between a spiritual institution that, despite its mistakes, has increasingly aligned itself with peace, conscience, public accountability, critical engagement with religious texts, and reflection on its own historical abuses, and a political-military ideology that, in the author’s assessment, remains internally closed, suppresses dissent, and seeks to project its influence beyond its borders through armed groups used as instruments of regional power politics.

The author concludes that the two institutions differ not only in structure and function, but also in their contemporary understanding of authority, accountability, and the relationship between religion and power.