Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, now Pope Leo XIV, was indeed identified in the conclave chatter and by Vatican watchers as a papabile, but only as a minor one, his name far down the betting odds rankings. His election on Thursday therefore came as a surprise even to those like me who followed the proceedings with much anticipation, and I did not know what to feel immediately after the announcement from the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica.
But I warmed up to him quickly when, some minutes later, I switched to a different YouTube livestream of the event, rewinding it to the moment of announcement of his papal name, and heard a commentator suggest that it must be in relation to the last Pope Leo—the thirteenth one, who is credited with laying the foundations of Catholic social teaching. (A Vatican spokesperson would later confirm that Prevost’s choice is indeed, at least partly, to signify an affinity for Leo XIII’s papacy.) Catholic social teaching is an area of church thought that is of particular interest even to those nominal Catholics who like to say that they are not religious, but are deeply concerned with social and political affairs, perhaps because it relates easier to concrete and practical matters in our modern communities while retaining the gravitas of Catholic authority.
There are several principles underlying Catholic social teaching, but the one that has been of particular resonance to me recently is subsidiarity, which I am leaving to Wikipedia to define: “a principle of social organization that holds that social and political issues should be dealt with at the most immediate or local level that is consistent with their resolution.”
The idea is elegant. Household issues should be primarily the responsibility of the family. Municipal issues are mainly the responsibility of the local government. National issues are the domain of the state. It is only when the immediate level of organization turns out to be incapable of handling the situation should the parties resort to the assistance and authority of higher levels. Families who cannot resolve their issues on their own can seek the arbitration of the barangay or local courts. Grave issues in towns and cities might require the intervention and greater resources and authority of the national government. National governments themselves that have fallen into dysfunction have the community of nations and international law to turn to—in theory, at least, as with all of these other cases.
Subsidiarity, in my view, reminds us that the first venue of action is always the local. This is of particular relevance today, because the atmosphere of constant crisis that pervades politics these days is breeding a feeling of helplessness and desperation, and it is becoming evident that one antidote is to refocus on local communities and spheres of action.
The economist Cielito Habito writes in his column, ‘Change from the ground up’ (Philippine Daily Inquirer, 2025-02-25):
I prefer to set my sights and keep my energies focused on the immediate community around me where I live, whenever time off from my various official tasks permits. Along with countless scholars and development workers worldwide, I’ve held on to the conviction that we can bring about meaningful change from the ground up, especially if we keep on electing leaders who will not initiate positive change from the top down—and sadly, that’s what we do, election after election.
Focusing on the local does not mean abandoning and forgetting larger issues. It just means recognizing that all actions are local, and any larger effects are always indirect. Habito proposes a specific local program and imagines its ultimate effect on the nation:
So again, what can you do? I’d suggest you start talking to your neighbors, including and especially the less fortunate ones, and revive and strengthen the spirit of bayanihan that has largely been lost among us. If organizing a group is a challenge, find a poor family you can help lift out of poverty. I would reason that if one in 10 Filipino families is poor—as our poverty statistics now tell us—nine are not and can possibly help lift that one family out of poverty. Be one in the nine who would—not just by “giving a fish” but more by “teaching how to fish”—say, by helping with the children’s education. Think about it: if for every nine non-poor Filipino families, even only one would care and share enough to do that, we could well wipe out the scourge of poverty, and get ourselves out of the vicious cycle of self-destruction we seem trapped in.
It is relevant to note a similar concept in Catholic theology, the ordo amoris, or the proper “order of love,” which became a topic of controversy a few months ago after the U.S. Vice President JD Vance used it to justify America’s policy of much-reduced foreign aid under Donald Trump’s second presidency, saying that the principle means that it is only right to consider the interests of those closest to us before attending to the rest of the world. The controversy even led to a rebuking from the late Pope Francis in the form of a letter to U.S. bishops, although, being the good and Christian man that he is, the Pope still gave Vance a warm welcome at the Vatican the day before he died.
I think this discourse around ordo amoris was controversial not only because of the deep polarization of contemporary politics, and the general shift to outrage that it encourages, but also because it points to the practical difficulties of figuring out the specific implications of such abstract principles. To be fair to Vance, I do not think he meant to portray the rest of the world as Others not deserving of love, or of American resources; he merely said they should be last in line for consideration, which, at first blush, certainly sounds uncharitable. While much diminished, U.S. foreign aid programs continue under Trump’s presidency; as to whether these significant cuts are prudent and just is the true controversy.
Vance probably does not intend to support a policy of total exclusion or exception, and this is the key point that applies to both ordo amoris and subsidiarity: the higher levels of social organization matter, the world at large will always be of concern to all of us even as small individuals (or as individual nations); it is just that, as limited humans moving in a physical world, our actions and affections will always only have our immediate surroundings as their initial environment. When the troubles of the world feel overwhelming, it is not improper to focus for the meantime on our little neighborhoods, where we are more likely to feel that our words and deeds can do something for the better.