Pope Leo XIV does not raise his voice, does not argue, does not condemn. And yet, with a few carefully placed words, he manages to silence months of rumors, suspicions, and conspiracy theories that—both inside and outside the Church—have gone so far as to question an obvious fact: that Pope Francis was truly Pope. Leo XIV responds in his own way, with the style that has marked his pontificate from the very beginning: sober, direct, theologically solid, and at the same time pastorally disarming.
In his address to the Consistory, speaking about the mission of the Church as "attraction" rather than proselytism, Leo XIV states without hesitation: "Pope Francis found himself perfectly in agreement with this approach and repeated it many times in different contexts." Immediately afterward, he speaks of "Popes Benedict XVI and Francis," placing them side by side with complete naturalness, as two links in the same chain, two distinct voices within a single ecclesial symphony. No defense, no additional explanation: the Pope does not engage the conspiracy theorists on their own ground; he simply neutralizes them by affirming the real continuity of the Magisterium. It is an elegant, firm, almost "British" way of closing a question that, theologically speaking, should never have been opened.
This is the first level of what we might call the "Code of Leo": a language that does not divide but reconciles; that does not react but orients; that does not seek confrontation but renders it unnecessary.
The second aspect concerns the method of work, surprisingly close to that of Pope Francis, yet marked by its own cultural signature. The Pope chooses working groups seated around oval tables, designed to encourage genuine exchange rather than frontal or hierarchical discussion. Even the Pontiff himself is included in this dynamic—not as a distant arbiter, but as part of a collegial process. It is a concrete image of a synodal Church, where the very form of the meeting communicates a precise ecclesiological vision.
There is no room here for a Curia conceived as a mere "apparatus," nor for a Pope acting as a "solitary monarch." Instead, we see a Church that discerns together, that works toward convergence, that values differences without turning them into oppositions. It is significant that Leo XIV entrusts the reporting role to groups coming from the local Churches rather than from the Curia: a clear sign of real decentralization, not merely rhetorical.
The third aspect—perhaps the deepest—is the Pope's personal style. Leo XIV consciously "strips himself" of power, or rather, he lives the papal office in its most essential form. He states it with unmistakable clarity: "We do not need to arrive at a text, but to carry forward a conversation that can help me in my service to the mission of the whole Church." This is not a Pope who primarily produces documents, but a Pope who listens. Not a Pope who closes processes, but one who opens them.
In Anglo-Saxon terms, we could openly describe this as an ecclesial brainstorming process—not in a superficial sense, but as a serious practice of shared discernment. Leo XIV does not want labels, does not seek slogans, does not build a "papal brand." He is a Pope shaped and formed within an authentic Anglo-Saxon culture, one that privileges process over immediate results, questions over prepackaged answers.
In certain respects, his approach recalls the Episcopal Church model more than a centralized form of Catholicism: a space where everyone can express an idea, where authority does not silence the other but makes the other's voice possible. Leo XIV does not impose, does not command in an authoritarian sense. He explicitly says so: "I am here to listen." And he connects this choice to the synodal experience of 2023 and 2024, reaffirming that synodality is not a passing trend but "the path God expects of the Church in the third millennium."
In this sense, Leo XIV does not wish to "go down in history" with a label—reformer, conservative, progressive—but with a method. A method that has a clear ecumenical resonance. His understanding of the primacy, more relational than centralizing, more spiritual than juridical, appears as an indirect yet unmistakable message to the Orthodox Church and, above all, to the Ecumenical Patriarchate, where increasingly strong centralizing tendencies are emerging—dynamics not unlike those Rome itself is striving to overcome.
Here lies the strength of the Code of Leo: not thunderous declarations, but coherent gestures; not announced reforms, but embodied practices; not ideological clashes, but a return to the evangelical essentials. Unity that attracts, charity that convinces, listening that generates communion.
Pope Leo XIV does not silence conspiracy theorists with decrees or anathemas. He simply moves beyond them—by continuing to walk forward. And by inviting the whole Church to do the same, together.
Marco Baratto
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