The Chilcot Report has brought to light the absurdity of the conflict to bring down Saddam Hussein which has transformed the Country into a cesspool of terrorists. The Pope, already old and ill, tried everything to stop it. But in vain.
In January 2003, during a working meal with some Vaticanists at the Nunciature in Italy, the then Secretary of State Angelo Sodano decided to reply to some questions on the already imminent Anglo-Saxon war against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. “We say to our American friends: Is it in your interest to anger a billion Muslims and risk having the hostility of the Muslim world for decades?” Wise words, spoken by a diplomat who was capable of putting the future of that country above the ability to achieve a quick military victory. With the Holy See’s diplomacy and his personal charisma, the elderly and sick John Paul II sought to dissuade from this “adventure of no return,” which unfortunately has revealed itself to be exactly this.
Pope Wojtyla had met with many leaders and heads of government. He had sent cardinal Roger Etchegaray to speak with Saddam and cardinal Pio Laghi to speak with George Bush Jr. in an effort to prevent the conflict. The logic of a “preventive war” had prevailed against everything, even if the intelligence on the weapons of mass destruction proved to be false.
All this has now been confirmed by the Chilcot Report, written by a commission of the British government, from which it is evident that the then prime minister Tony Blair, like Bush, wanted to wage war at all costs, ignoring alternative possibilities. It was these very alternatives the pontifical diplomats had insisted on so passionately, convinced as they rightfully were that not all avenues had been explored. War, as we know, is won by propaganda in the first place. And it was indeed a matter of propaganda, with the lies about the weapons of mass destruction and the terrible chemical agents which were never found. Warnings about the potential consequences of a war - not least of which, was plunging the Country into chaos and leaving it prey to Islamic terrorism - were ignored. Hundreds of thousands of civilians were killed by not-so-smart bombs, a conflict whose consequences the whole of the Middle East and the world pay to this day.
John Paul II did not have the political power to make good sense prevail. All he could do was incite public opinion, proposing peace gestures that were within everyone’s reach, such as fasting and prayer. And when war seemed inevitable, Wojtyla announced a day of prayer and fasting for peace in the Middle East, which was to take place on 5 March. Public opinion worldwide welcomed this invitation.
Appearing at the window of the papal apartment overlooking St. Peter’s Square for the Sunday Angelus on 16 March, John Paul II had said: “In the face of the tremendous consequences that an international military operation would have for the population of Iraq and for the balance of the Middle East region, already sorely tried, and for the extremisms that could stem from it, I say to all: There is still time to negotiate; there is still room for peace, it is never too late to come to an understanding and to continue discussions.” Wojtyla had given two warnings to the concerned parties: “The political leaders of Baghdad certainly have the urgent duty to collaborate fully with the international community to eliminate every reason for armed intervention. To them I direct my urgent appeal: the fate of your fellow-citizens should always have priority.” Meanwhile, he reminded the United States, England and Spain - without expressly naming them -, “that the use of force represents the last recourse, after having exhausted every other peaceful solution, in keeping with the well-known principles of the UN Charter.”
Then the elderly Pope improvised, adding a few words spoken from the heart: “I belong to that generation that lived through World War II and, thanks be to God, survived it. I have the duty to say to all young people, to those who are younger than I, who have not had this experience: “No more war” as Paul VI said during his first visit to the United Nations. We must do everything possible. We know well that peace is not possible at any price. But we all know how great is this responsibility. Therefore prayer and penance.”
The voice of that old man, witness to the horrors of the Twentieth Century in his martyred Poland, should have been better heeded, instead of waging a war on the basis of lies, without UN backing and without thinking of the aftermath. The voice of Iraq’s Christians should have been better heeded. They were mocked and branded as “pacifists” on Saddam’s payroll even by some Catholic media outlets that were eager to put on the helmet. “When we are able to make our voice heard,” said Iraqi bishop Shlemon Warduni, “we try to make it clear that the West knows little about Iraq and its dynamics. To intervene on the basis of such flimsy knowledge, or even on the basis of erroneous convictions, can lead to a colossal disaster. The embargo has already caused enormous damage. The best young people, those who are competent and on the ball, have left, while the rest of the population is impoverished. There is so much talk about weapons and rightly so. But why are Iraqi weapons the only ones that are dangerous?” In a book-length interview titled “Dio non vuole la guerra in Iraq” (God does not want war in Iraq), Warduni recalled: “The minute we try to say that war is not the solution, they immediately speak out against us: look, they are on Saddam’s side, they are his accomplices.”
They were not “accomplices,” they were just realistic, in no way entranced by the sirens interested in “exporting democracy.” They realized what they would be up against once the whole region was destabilized and fundamentalism and terrorism were strengthened, as has indeed occurred. And we are no longer impacted by the almost-daily car bombs, which continue to mow down innocent victims who deserve a word or two in the press, thirteen years after that lightning-war which “freed” the Country of that hateful dictator, Saddam.
