By the time you read this commentary, you will have attended the Press Club’s Newsmaker luncheon with Francis Rooney, or you’ll read David Silverberg’s account in next week’s edition of SCOOP. My deadline for this edition of SCOOP was yesterday, as our luncheon was beginning, which is why you’ll have to wait to read what Rooney said.
About a year ago, I briefly spoke with Rooney about his time serving as the United States Ambassador to the Holy See. It was clear that the experience meant a lot to him, so much so that it inspired this column.
What would democracy resemble if its leaders acted with the same moral purpose as the top of our religious leaders?
Not piety.
Not dogma.
Not sermons.
But a shared stance of humility, compassion, and courage. Think of it as a worldview rooted not in winning but in healing.
It’s a striking thought, especially during a time of division, dehumanization, and performative cruelty masquerading as public service.
Pope Francis and the “Field Hospital” Democracy Needs
The late Pope Francis liked to describe the Church as a ‘field hospital”—a place that moves toward wounds, not away from them. In his words, we must treat the most life-threatening injuries first: the isolation, fear, and humiliation that afflict so many.
Imagine if civic leaders embraced that framework.
A democracy seen as a field hospital would stop asking, “Which side benefits?” and start asking, “Who’s hurting, and how do we help them now?”
It would start by focusing on the wounded, like federal workers unpaid during political brinksmanship, immigrants treated as disposable, families caught in cycles of fear, and young people disillusioned by a system that often seems built for someone else.
A field hospital democracy wouldn’t accept symbolic cruelty. It wouldn’t dismiss suffering as “collateral damage.” It wouldn’t turn wounded families into political props.
It would run toward the pain.
Jacinda Ardern: Leadership as Radical Empathy
Former New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern demonstrated this type of leadership on the world stage. When the Christchurch Mosque shootings devastated her country, she didn’t depend on talking points or camera-ready postures.
She arrived wearing a hijab.
She mourned with families.
She listened—not as a politician but as a human being.
Ardern demonstrated that kindness isn’t a sign of weakness. She embodied a leadership style that stabilizes and guides, acting as a moral compass that soothes rather than provokes conflict. She once said, “One of the criticisms I’ve faced over the years is that I’m not aggressive enough… I refuse to believe you cannot be compassionate and strong.”
Our democracy could use a dose of that strength.
Pope Leo’s Warning: Leadership Without Humanity Degrades Democracy
Pope Leo XIII (1878-1903), often remembered for his strong critiques of economic and social injustice, would recognize today’s debates over immigration as a moral test.
Recently, Pope Leo’s namesake statements and the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops’ protests have highlighted the spiritual toll of treating immigrants not as people but as political tools. Their message is clear: a society that dehumanizes the stranger loses a part of its own soul.
These leaders are not engaging in partisanship.
They are emphasizing human kindness.
They remind us that how we treat the most vulnerable—immigrants, refugees, the poor, the marginalized—is not an issue of “left versus right,” but “right versus wrong.”
What If Our Elected Leaders Embraced Those Values?
What if our system prioritized:
- Healing over point-scoring
- Listening over lecturing
- Rescue over rhetoric
- Truth over tribalism
- Dignity over dominance
What if politicians handled governance like Pope Francis handles suffering: triage first—address the immediate human crisis before working on the next campaign email?
What if they approached leadership as Ardern does? Instead of provoking outrage, they should emphasize empathy, humility, and steadiness.
What if they embraced Pope Leo’s clarity that moral leadership involves protecting the vulnerable rather than vilifying them?
What if democracy itself viewed its role as a field hospital rather than a battlefield?
Democracy doesn’t need more warriors; it needs more healers.
The irony is that this isn’t just idealistic; it’s practical. When leaders adopt the field-hospital model, trust increases. When people feel acknowledged and understood, polarization diminishes. When humility takes the place of arrogance, institutions recover.
The great religious leaders understood this instinctively.
Their strength did not come from their fists but from their moral authority.
Isn’t this a hopeful outlook for the new year? Democracy can restore that importance. But it needs leaders willing to rediscover something risky in modern politics.
Humanity.
You might be asking: What does this have to do with journalism? From time to time, people say journalists should focus more on solutions. There ‘ya go!