There was a time when American presidents instinctively sought the moral endorsement of Rome. Ronald Reagan did; George W Bush certainly tried.
Even the most secular occupants of the White House recognised that the Vatican, though small enough to stroll across in minutes, possesses something superpowers do not: authority that is not measured in aircraft carriers. This week that relationship acquired a notable frost.
The Holy See announced it will not join Donald Trump’s proposed “Board of Peace”, the body the US president intends to chair as part of his wider plan to manage post-war governance and reconstruction in Gaza and, eventually, other international conflicts. The refusal was polite, diplomatically phrased and unmistakably firm.
Cardinal Pietro Parolin, the Vatican’s chief diplomat, explained that crisis management at an international level should “above all be” handled by the United Nations — not by a US-led committee. In the language of Vatican diplomacy, which specialises in courteous disagreement, that amounted to a clear theological and political line: peace cannot be administered as though it were a development contract.
A plan and its critics
Trump’s board emerged from his Gaza ceasefire initiative last autumn. The body is intended to supervise temporary governance in the territory and coordinate reconstruction, with its first meeting due to take place in Washington. The president has also indicated he wants to expand the group’s remit to address wider global conflicts.
Some Middle Eastern allies have agreed to participate. Western allies, more cautiously, have largely stayed away, while Italy and the European Union plan only observer roles.
The Vatican, however, is not merely another Western government. It is the world’s oldest diplomatic service and the spiritual centre for 1.4 billion Catholics. When it declines, the meaning resonates far beyond a procedural dispute.
Criticism has already followed the proposal. Rights experts argue a US-chaired body supervising a foreign territory risks resembling a “colonial structure”, particularly given the absence of Palestinian representation.
Rome evidently shares a version of that concern — though it would never use quite those words.
The Vatican’s instinctive position
The Holy See’s foreign policy rarely changes. Since the Second World War it has consistently favoured multilateral diplomacy, incremental negotiations and institutions that temper power rather than amplify it. Its permanent observer status at the United Nations reflects precisely that philosophy.
The Vatican distrusts ad-hoc coalitions created by great powers. To Rome, peace imposed by a small group of states risks becoming political management rather than reconciliation.
Pope Leo — the first American pontiff and a frequent critic of aspects of Trump’s policy — had been invited personally to join the board. The refusal therefore cannot be dismissed as bureaucratic caution. It was a conscious decision to remain outside a framework seen as political rather than universal.
The Pope has repeatedly lamented conditions in Gaza and called attention to civilian suffering. Yet the Vatican’s logic is striking: moral concern does not necessarily translate into institutional participation. Rome prefers to mediate, not administer.
A transatlantic disagreement of principle
What has emerged is not a diplomatic quarrel but a philosophical divergence. Washington increasingly sees conflict resolution in managerial terms — governance structures, reconstruction authorities, oversight committees. It is a technocratic approach typical of a 21st-century superpower accustomed to coordinating coalitions. The Vatican thinks in centuries, not electoral cycles.
To the Church, peace is not secured through supervisory boards but legitimacy. A settlement that lacks broad international recognition, particularly UN involvement, risks permanent instability. Hence Parolin’s insistence that crisis situations belong primarily within the UN framework. In short: America wants efficiency. Rome wants universality.
Why the decision matters
At first glance, the Vatican’s refusal appears symbolic. The Holy See has no army and negligible economic leverage. Yet historically its influence has been moral rather than material — and sometimes decisive.
From mediating the Beagle Channel dispute between Argentina and Chile in 1978 to facilitating dialogue between Cuba and the United States decades later, Vatican diplomacy works precisely because it is not perceived as an instrument of power.
Joining a US-chaired board would compromise that neutrality. Once seen as aligned with Washington’s geopolitical architecture, Rome’s unique role as interlocutor in conflicts from Africa to Eastern Europe would be diminished.
There is also a deeper calculation. The Gaza war remains extraordinarily sensitive. Hundreds of casualties have continued even after the ceasefire, and the territory’s entire population has been displaced amid a severe humanitarian crisis. Any body associated too closely with one side risks losing moral credibility in the eyes of the other.
The Vatican’s authority depends precisely on not being that body.
Europe’s quiet relief
European governments will not say so openly, but many will be privately relieved. The Board of Peace proposal places them in an awkward position: refusing an American initiative risks political tension; joining it risks legitimising a structure that bypasses the UN. Rome’s refusal provides a third path — respectful distance.
It also reveals something about the post-Cold War order. For three decades Western unity largely concealed differences in political philosophy. Those differences are now visible again. The United States increasingly acts through coalitions of the willing; Europe, and particularly the Vatican, prefers legal frameworks and international institutions.
Neither approach guarantees success. But they represent two competing visions of how peace should be made.
The old institution in a new century
The paradox is striking. The world’s most ancient sovereign entity has become one of the strongest defenders of multilateral modernity, while the world’s newest superpower experiments with flexible arrangements outside traditional bodies.
Rome has not condemned Washington. It has simply stepped aside, and in diplomatic terms that is often the clearest message of all. The Vatican is telling the United States: peace, if it is to endure, cannot be chaired.
Main Image: Edgar Beltrán, The Pillar
