For more than 1,500 years, the papal throne, the highest seat of spiritual authority in the Catholic Church, has not been occupied by an African. The last pope of African origin,
Gelasius I, died in 496 AD. Since then, 217 popes have risen to the papacy, none of them from the African continent. That prolonged absence now stands in contrast to a compelling truth: the time for an African pope is not only desirable, it is due.
Africa today is one of the most dynamic regions of the Catholic world. In 2023, the continent was home to over 281 million Catholics, comprising roughly 20% of the global Catholic population. This figure has grown rapidly in recent decades, a testament to the vitality of African Christianity. Catholicism in sub-Saharan Africa is not merely surviving; it is thriving. The pews are full, vocations to the priesthood are rising, and communities exhibit a depth of faith that would be envied in many parts of the secularizing West. In every respect, Africa is a beating heart of global Catholicism.
Yet, paradoxically, the leadership of the Church remains tethered to old geographies of power, Rome, Europe, and the historically dominant North. As Professor Jesse Mugambi once remarked, “The Church is growing where it is not leading and leading where it is not growing.” The imbalance between demographics and decision-making is not sustainable. If the Church truly believes in its catholicity, its universality; it must embody that in its leadership. An African pope would be a powerful affirmation of that universality.
The question is often asked: Why has there not been another African pope since Gelasius I? Some explanations focus on the decline of Christianity in North Africa following the fall of the Roman Empire and the Islamic expansion in the 7th century. These were significant historical disruptions. North Africa, once the home of great theologians like Augustine of Hippo, saw its churches diminished or assimilated. But this history does not explain the absence of an African pope over the past millennium and a half, particularly when sub-Saharan Africa has become a global spiritual powerhouse.
Others point to structural and institutional biases. For centuries, the election of popes was an Italian preserve. Even as the College of Cardinals diversified, real influence was still concentrated in Europe, where wealth, seminaries, and canonical institutions remained. According to Church historian Christopher Bellitto, “The papacy became an Italian monopoly.” This was not only a matter of geography but of power, the ability to influence conclaves, shape doctrine, and steer global Church priorities.
However, the tide is turning. In today’s College of Cardinals, there are three African frontrunners seen as credible candidates to succeed Pope Francis: Cardinal Fridolin Ambongo Besungu of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Cardinal Peter Kodwo Appiah Turkson of Ghana, and Cardinal Robert Sarah of Guinea. Each brings with him a wealth of theological insight, ecclesiastical experience, and moral clarity born of Africa’s unique struggles and triumphs.
An African pope would symbolize not only recognition but reconciliation, between the Church’s leadership and its grassroots. It would affirm that the centre of spiritual gravity has shifted, and that African voices, long marginalized, deserve not only to be heard but to lead. As Ghana’s Cardinal Turkson has said, “Leadership in the Church must reflect the face of the Church.”
Moreover, an African pope would bring perspectives forged in the crucible of real-world challenges: poverty, injustice, post-colonial healing, interreligious dialogue, and communal resilience. These are beyond abstract theological problems; they are lived realities for many African communities, and they demand a pope who understands them not through reports or statistics but through experience. The Church would benefit immensely from a pontiff who embodies this lived understanding.
In a recent warning reported by The Catholic Herald, German Cardinal Gerhard Müller, a prominent voice among traditionalist Catholics, the Church risks a dangerous schism if the next pope is not firmly rooted in orthodoxy.
Müller’s clarion call is not merely about ideological camps, i.e., “liberal” versus “conservative,” but about a deeper struggle between orthodoxy and what he perceives as creeping heresy. His fears centres around the possibility of a papacy driven more by the shifting winds of secular applause than by the enduring truths of the Gospel and the Church’s sacred tradition. He worries that media popularity and political correctness might influence the conclave, rather than fidelity to revealed truth.
His concerns are not to be lightly dismissed. A pope must indeed be more than a figure of popular acclaim; he must be a guardian of the faith, a servant of truth, and a shepherd to a diverse and sometimes fractured global flock. Müller’s warning reminds us that the conclave must be a profoundly spiritual exercise, not a humanistic power play or a popularity contest shaped by mass media narratives.
Yet, even as we acknowledge Müller’s legitimate call for orthodoxy, it is equally important to recognize the vital contributions and humane legacy of Pope Francis. Despite criticisms, especially regarding his pastoral sensitivity to migrants, the environment, and marginalized communities, Francis expanded the Church’s moral imagination and witness in a world rife with indifference and division. His efforts to create a more inclusive Church, though controversial in some quarters, were rooted not in heresy but in the Gospel mandate to love, heal, and welcome.
In seeking an orthodox and a truly Holy Spirit-led successor, it must also be made clear that fidelity to the faith does not wear the face of any particular race, nationality, or continent. The Catholic Church is universal, catholic in the truest sense, and the Holy Spirit is not bound by geography or human prejudice. One hopes that the renewed emphasis on orthodoxy does not become a coded resistance to the emergence of candidates from parts of the Christendom, such as Africa, where the faith is vibrant and growing. The message of Christ proclaims the equality of all men before God. Thus, in the sacred discernment ahead, every eligible cardinal must be seen and evaluated through the lens of the Spirit, not through the narrow prisms of origin, culture, or human bias. A truly Spirit-driven conclave will be one that is open to the voice of God, wherever and through whomever He speaks.
The conclave must avoid becoming a battleground for reactionary or revolutionary impulses. It must be a sacred discernment, genuinely open to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, not the spirit of factionalism, ambition, or fear. The next Catholic Pontiff must embody both orthodoxy and compassion – defending the Church’s unchanging truths while also creatively engaging the complex realities of the modern world. African Cardinals are not allergic to this embodiment.
The Catholic Church finds itself at a pivotal moment. Secularism rises in the West, abuse scandals have shaken trust, and global inequalities threaten to fragment the unity of the faithful. A pope from Africa would offer not just a symbolic break from the past but a substantive reorientation toward the future.
He would represent a church that is young, Africa’s Catholic population is largely under 25 years old. He would represent a church that is hopeful and community-centered. He would represent a theology that is often more pastoral than institutional, more incarnational than abstract. In a world thirsting for authenticity, such leadership would resonate deeply.
Furthermore, Africa’s religious landscape demands a pope skilled in interfaith dialogue. In many African nations, Christians live alongside Muslims, traditionalists, and people of other faiths. Dialogue, negotiation, and peaceful coexistence are not optional; they are daily necessities. An African pope could serve as a global bridge-builder, fostering understanding in an increasingly polarized world.
This moment also poses a challenge to the historic centres of Catholic power. Will the conclave recognize where the Spirit is moving? Or will it remain entrenched in old patterns of influence? The choice of the next pope is not merely an internal affair; it is a signal to the world about what kind of Church the Vatican envisions for the 21st century.
Pope Francis opened many doors: his appointments diversified the College of Cardinals; his outreach extended to the peripheries; his emphasis on a “poor Church for the poor” resonated deeply in the Global South. The conclave that follows him must not close those doors. Instead, it must have the courage to walk through them.
As Nigerian theologian Father Paulinus Odozor has noted, “It’s not about tokenism. It’s about integrity, capacity, and timing. Africa has all three.” The argument for an African pope is not based on charity or equity alone; it is based on merit and momentum.
There is a profound moral dimension to this moment. In a global Church that speaks often of justice, inclusion, and the preferential option for the poor, choosing an African pope would be a concrete expression of those values. It would tell millions of African Catholics that they are not on the margins of the Church; they are at its centre.
And it would send a message to the world: that the Catholic Church is not a museum of European history but a living, breathing, global body; that its leadership is not the preserve of a few but the calling of the many; that sanctity, wisdom, and vision are not the property of one continent but gifts given to all.
In his 1967 address to newly ordained African bishops, Pope Paul VI declared in Kampala, “You Africans are now missionaries to yourselves.” Today, that prophecy could be fulfilled on a global scale. Africa has long given priests, nuns, missionaries, and martyrs to the universal Church. Perhaps now it is time to give a pope.
To elect an African pope would be to declare that the Church is truly catholic, not just in doctrine but in leadership. It would affirm the dignity of African Christianity, the vitality of its witness, and the authority of its voice.
The conclave will soon gather. As cardinals cast their votes beneath Michelangelo’s frescoes in the Sistine Chapel, they will carry with them the hopes of a billion Catholics. Among those hopes is one long deferred, but never extinguished: that the successor of Peter might one day speak with an African voice, lead with an African heart, and shepherd a global flock with the humility, resilience, and joy that Africa knows so well.
The time has come. The Catholic Church must not miss it.
.Agbedo is a professor of linguistics specialising in sociolinguistics, psycholinguistics, pragmatics, discourse analysis, and applied linguistics. He is of the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN). He is also a Senior Research Fellow at the Institute of African Studies, UNN.
