Pius XII & the Jews: further research, please.

For a number of years, I have argued that we must move away from simplistic condemnations or defenses of Pope Pius XII and his response to the Holocaust. Such statements do not reflect the complexity of his record, a record that still remains incomplete from the documentary point of view. I also have emphasized that using terms such as "silent" regarding Pius's record is open to serious misinterpretation. If confined to the area of public pronouncements, the use of the term may be appropriate. But if interpreted to mean that he did nothing to help rescue Jews (as I believe the term is primarily understood on the popular level), then it does not stand up to the weight of evidence.

One major research challenge before us is to integrate two lines of scholarship relative to Pius that have never been brought together. As papal nuncio and as papal secretary of state (Eugenio Pacelli), and as pope, Pius XII supported the notion of a distinctive Catholic social order, sharing in Catholicism's century-long opposition to a liberal social model. While he certainly opposed nazism in principle (as his important contribution to Pius XI's 1937 encyclical, Mit brennender sorge, denouncing the movement, bears witness), his priority for most of his time in church leadership was the defense of the Catholic church against bolshevism and liberalism. But in the early 1940s, there is a noticeable movement away from his support of traditional Catholic notions of the social order toward an embryonic embrace of a social model bearing some of the characteristics associated with the long-opposed liberal tradition. In his Christmas messages of 1940, '41, and '42, delivered by radio to the peoples of war-tom Europe, we see the beginnings of a fundamental shift in Pius's thinking. These statements show the pope calling for an entirely new social order in Europe and in the world-at-large, an order that would enhance justice and peace for all.

An interesting, and still relatively unexplored, question is how this shift in Pius's perspective on the social order affected his approach to Jewish victimization. There is in the early forties an increase in his efforts, most of them behind the scenes, to save Jews. Is there a connection? Perhaps, but solid documentary evidence for any definitive conclusion is still lacking. Some interesting materials are now appearing which seem to confirm the possibility of such a connection.

Recently I came into possession of a letter written by Rabbi Herbert A. Friedman about a meeting he had with Pius right after the end of World War II. Rabbi Friedman, along with a fellow Jewish military chaplain, Philip S. Berstein, visited the pope at Castel Gandolfo at the behest of the U.S. military to discuss the impact of the Kielce pogrom in Poland. Upon their arrival, Pius led them to a garden where he was providing sanctuary for some two hundred Jewish children. Friedman reports in his letter that in the course of their conversation, the pope brought up the issue of the Vatican's 1933 concordat with Hitler. Pius said that it was a product of its time, but that "he now saw things differently."

But before we posit too quickly that the turnabout in Pius's general perspective on the social order had direct implications for his approach to the Jewish question, we will need to deal more extensively with the work of Marquette University historian, Michael Phayer. He claims that Pius contributed to the exoneration of German Christians right after the war, despite the pleas of such prominent Catholics as philosopher Jacques Maritain. Maritain, then serving as French ambassador to the Vatican, tried to convince the pope that he must address the issue of German collective responsibility, especially that of German Catholics, even those who were not directly involved in the activities of the Gestapo and the SS. Pius remained unmoved by Maritain's argument. In fact, the pope took steps that undercut the German Catholic bishops' 1945 Fulda statement in which they argued that those who took part in the atrocities had to be brought to justice. Maritain's opposition to Pius, which led to his resignation as ambassador, needs to be examined far more closely, including Maritain's personal reflections on Pius, which he left in the French embassy's archives. These are not entirely complimentary regarding Pius's judgment in these matters.

The exchange between the two points to the need to probe far more deeply than has been the case so far into the personal impressions of his contemporaries and how people at the time reacted to his statements. The task has begun, yielding both positive and negative assessments, but I am convinced that much relevant material remains unexamined.

The memoirs of the late Cardinal Henri de Lubac, a leader in the French Catholic resistance, and the testimonies of Italian Jews and Catholics collected in Margherita Marchione's book, Yours Is a Precious Witness (Paulist, 1997), indicate a much more favorable assessment of Pius XII. They suggest that his generic statements against the Nazis were understood by some Catholics as directly referring to the attack on the Jews, which Catholics were obliged to counteract with rescue efforts. There are also the testimonies of the late Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir, the current chief rabbi in Rome, Elio Toaff, and favorable editorials in the New York Times in 1941 and 1942. What we lack is any coherent integration of these materials, favorable and unfavorable. They have been used generally in isolation either to defend or to castigate the pope. Perhaps they can never be brought together into any reasonable holistic picture. Perhaps Pius will always remain an enigmatic figure, though I, for one, am not quite prepared to give up on a more comprehensive picture.

We must also deal more thoroughly with the question of Pius's possible tacit support of efforts by Catholic groups and individuals, such as the Assisi Underground, papal nuncios, and women religious, to rescue Jews. Documentary evidence is currently in short supply supporting a direct connection between Pius and these rescue efforts. And some historians such as Susan Zuccotti argue that many of these rescue efforts were independent of the Vatican. Still, I am not satisfied that we know all we might regarding this subject. For one thing, it is difficult to imagine (even under wartime conditions) that papal nuncios such as Angelo Roncalli in Istanbul and Angelo Rotta in Budapest acted without some indication of Pius's approval. He could have stopped their work if he had wished. But he did not. While that may not be a moral jewel in his crown, it does indicate some positive attitude towards saving Jews. We may certainly question whether Pius's apparent policy of relying on subordinates to challenge the Nazis publicly on the Jewish question was sufficient. But some credit must be accorded him for these positive efforts. Many, if not most, required his tacit support.

There are defenders of Pius XII's record who note that there was little if any criticism of him from Jewish organizations during the war itself. They argue that the Jewish critique of the pope began in earnest only after the production of Rolf Hochhuth's 1963 play, The Deputy. As we now know from the wartime memoirs of Gerhart Riegner, this view is too simple. Riegner, a leading official of the World Jewish Congress in Geneva, relates that for several reasons (including Vatican isolation in a fascist state), Jewish leaders were reluctant to pressure Pius publicly. But they were far from pleased at his general posture toward the Jewish situation. Also noteworthy was the vocal criticism of Pius by Poles and by certain members of the Polish government-in-exile in London. The Polish criticism became so intense that the Vatican commissioned the Jesuits to prepare a defense of the pope.

Another remaining research task is to continue to see if there is any evidence in Pius's personal writings of overt anti-Semitism. Here is where further access to the Vatican archives is critical. The materials released to date seem free of it. But it is simply too early in the investigation to halt the search. The late Robert Graham, S.J., in releasing the available materials, said they were selective.

Finally, there is the so-called "hidden encyclical" on racism and anti-Semitism authored by John LaFarge, S.J., and others, which was presented as a provisional text to Pius XI shortly before his death and never released by Pius XII. We must get beyond the hype associated with the publication of the recent volume by George Passelecq and Bernard Suchecky (The Hidden Encyclical of Pius XI, Harcout Brace and Company, 1997). Certainly it remains an important area for further research, but the book in fact does not tell us all that much that is new. Nor, as historian Michael Marrus has argued, does it really prove any "conspiracy" on the part of Pius and his inner circle. The encyclical was probably not issued because of the pope's general policy of not publicly confronting the Nazis.

In closing, let me emphasize that I am not trying to mute a more critical assessment of what we have learned thus far about Pius XII's record. Questions such as whether he should have been more public in criticizing the Nazis, whether he should have acted earlier, whether he should have spoken out simply to maintain the church's moral integrity whatever the practical consequences - all these questions are valid and should be pursued in a nonpolemical fashion, as my own mentor in this area, the late historian Edward Gargan, always argued. They remain important not only for a full understanding of Pius XII's papacy, but for what they might tell us about the Catholic church's posture in the midst of contemporary situations of possible genocide. While we cannot change what Pius did, we can examine and, if need be, alter the church's course today. Ultimately this may prove to be the most important outcome of our research on Pius's papacy during humanity's dark night.

John Pawlikowski, O.S.M., is professor of social ethics at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago. He has been a presidential appointee to the United States Holocaust Memorial Council since 1980, and is the author of numerous books on Christian-Jewish relations.