The Pope and President have a lot in common

Both men are individualist children of the Sixties with strong personalities that overshadow their offices

Pope meets President tomorrow, and it’s as if Brecht wrote a sitcom. “He’s Left-wing. He’s Right-wing. One believes in God, the other thinks he is God!” Except that this odd couple isn’t quite as mismatched as you’d think. Francis and Trump share a generational ethic. Their personalities are surprisingly alike. Of course, you wouldn’t think that from what you hear about Francis in the media. Both liberal admirers and conservative critics say he’s the last socialist standing – the Pope who told Congress to act on climate change. The Pope who said of gay penitents: “Who am I to judge?” The Pope who wants a debate on giving communion to the remarried. How can he have anything in common with Donald J Trump?

Well, I think it’s instructive to note how much Trump has praised the pontiff, even if the feeling isn’t mutual. Last year, the Pope said that someone who talks only about building walls is “not Christian”. Trump called the remarks “disgraceful”, but then performed a U-turn. He said the Pope was a “wonderful guy” who was “very different” and doing “a very good job”. Why would Trump, who never backs down, do this? For fear of losing Catholic votes, sure, but also, perhaps, because organised religion is one of the few things he shows respect for (unless it’s Islam) and because millions of Americans regard the Pope as the conscience of social conservatism. The Episcopalians and Methodists have gone soft; the Catholics uphold ancient teachings on sexuality. This Pope is firmly of that tradition. For every Francis quote that makes him sound like Bernie Sanders, one makes him sound like Ann Widdecombe.

That’s what makes it so hard to define Francis: he speaks his mind and it can sound as if his mind is all over the place. That’s not entirely his fault. We live in the age of 24-hour media, and the Pope’s desire to engage us in direct, human terms is exploited by journalists. But here’s the thing: he doesn’t have to try so hard to give them good copy. The Pope’s outspoken press conferences drive the Vatican mad the same way that Trump’s tweets wind up his White House staff. Francis’ papacy is anarchic. It’s contradictory. It’s exhausting.

It represents the triumph of the personal over the institutional. Francis and Trump are children of the Sixties. They grew up in an individualist age when articulating how you feel was more important than repeating what your elders think – the kids kicked against conformity and bureaucracy. Trump later built skyscrapers that defied gravity and good taste. Francis, as a cardinal in Buenos Aires, emphasised a humble ministry to the poor. Yes, their ideas and constituencies are different, but these men both reject the notion that the aspirations of the human heart should be constrained by tradition. They want to get things done; to cut through. They are in office yet talk as if they were running against it.

Catholic traditionalists complain that Francis doesn’t behave like a Pope; liberals say Trump is unpresidential. Their critics forget that both were elected in response to crises that have been undermining these institutions for a very long time. Trump promised to “drain the swamp”. Francis’s papacy can be read as a verdict on clericalism, the worship of clerical authority. Last week I watched The Keepers, a Netflix documentary about a nun allegedly killed to cover for a paedophile priest. It sickened me. The historic actions of wicked priests were not an indictment of Catholic theology, which would condemn them straight to Hell, but the cover-ups of their crimes were undeniably an indictment of the Church’s institutional arrogance. When victims came forward, clerics should have said sorry and embraced them. Instead, too often, they called in the lawyers. This is what I think Francis is attacking when he condemns the falseness, the “rigidity” of some Catholics.

But there is a problem. If a personality is too big for the office it fills, it can break it. The presidency feels diminished by Trump; the Church under Francis disagrees disagreeably. This Catholic columnist loves his Pope, and I reject the daft suggestion that he’s a Marxist. But there’s no denying that when challenged in good faith by traditionalists, Francis reacts with an authoritarianism worthy of Trump. The college of cardinals is being filled with the like-minded. The independence of sceptical orders has been undermined. Superb clerics are demoralised by constant criticism. And after Francis is gone, what will follow? I’m worried that Francis has set an impossible standard in papal charisma. Institutions are supposed to prosper on their own eternal strengths, not the transient popularity of their incumbents.

Trump once joked that he liked the Pope because he “is a humble man, very much like me.” There is in fact a huge difference between them in terms of self-regard. Trump has covered the imperial presidency in gold leaf; Francis has modelled his papacy on the Christian poverty of St Francis. But by insisting that their respective institutions dance to their tune, both men are now accused of an arrogance straight out of the Sixties.