THE PRICE OF OBEDIENCE

Rome’s unequal discipline and the difference between defending the Church and protecting ecclesiastical power

Rome is right to defend the unity of the Catholic Church. The difficulty is explaining why its strongest disciplinary measures appear most readily employed against those it can afford to confront. Phillip Campbell’s comparison of Germany, China and the Society of Saint Pius X exposes a question which cannot be answered by invoking papal jurisdiction alone: whether the gravity of an ecclesiastical offence or the practical cost of confronting it has become the more decisive consideration.

There is nothing particularly courageous about exercising authority over those who cannot seriously resist it. The test comes when the defence of principle threatens something an institution would rather not lose: money, influence, diplomatic access, political security or the cooperation of powerful men.

This is the uncomfortable territory explored by Phillip Campbell in Rome Defends What It Can Afford To, published on 15 October 2026. Campbell compares the Holy See’s treatment of the German Synodal Path, the Catholic Church under Communist rule in China and the Society of Saint Pius X following its episcopal consecrations of July 2026. His contention is that Roman disciplinary severity appears to follow the distribution of institutional power more closely than the relative seriousness of the dangers confronting the Church. Where Rome can compel obedience, it acts. Where others possess the financial or political advantage, it negotiates.¹

Campbell begins with an observation by Gregory DiPippo of the New Liturgical Movement. DiPippo recognises the Holy See’s duty to defend the visible unity of the Church, while objecting to its apparent treatment of that unity as though it were the only principle worth defending. Campbell accepts the distinction. It is what makes his criticism more serious than the familiar complaint that Rome is unkind to traditionalists. He does not deny the principle upon which Roman discipline rests. He questions whether that principle is being defended in proper relation to the others which give it meaning.

Christ established a visible Church, not an association of religious individuals free to determine their own terms of communion. The episcopate is not a collection of independent jurisdictions, and the successor of Peter is no honorary chairman whose decisions may be accepted or rejected according to personal preference. The First Vatican Council defined the supreme jurisdiction of the Roman Pontiff. Yet the same Council declared that the Holy Spirit was promised to Peter’s successors for the faithful preservation and exposition of the apostolic revelation, not for the invention of new doctrine.² The authority is divine in origin; its purpose is likewise divinely determined.

The distinction upon which Campbell’s argument turns ought to be elementary. The gravity of an offence and the cost of punishing it are different things. One concerns the injury done to doctrine, sacramental order, ecclesiastical communion or the rights of the faithful. The other concerns the trouble which a superior may encounter in attempting to correct it. A prudent governor must consider both. A just governor cannot allow the second to become the measure of the first.

Germany illustrates the difficulty. The Synodal Path has entertained proposals touching the Church’s teaching on sexual morality, the blessing of same-sex relationships, the exercise of episcopal authority and the admission of women to Holy Orders. Some concern matters of ecclesiastical discipline; others collide with doctrines which no national episcopal conference possesses authority to alter. Rome has objected. Its declaration of July 2022 explicitly rejected the suggestion that the German process could oblige bishops and faithful to adopt new forms of governance or new orientations in doctrine and morals.³ Subsequent exchanges have included warnings, negotiations and attempts to establish an agreed way forward. It would be inaccurate to say that the Vatican has done nothing.

The difficulty is that repeated declarations have not settled the disputes. Controversial proposals have continued to acquire an increasingly official character, while Rome’s interventions have generally stopped short of the disciplinary measures which might force a definitive confrontation. That restraint may have legitimate explanations. Not every proposal constitutes a completed canonical offence; individual culpability must be established; and an indiscriminate campaign of censures would be neither just nor necessarily effective. But these considerations do not account for the entire problem.

Campbell points to the extraordinary resources of the German Church. Through the Kirchensteuer, the church-tax system administered by the German state, dioceses receive revenues which make them formidable institutions in their own right. They possess extensive property, employ large numbers of people and operate within established legal and financial arrangements. A confrontation between Rome and a substantial part of this ecclesiastical establishment would have consequences far beyond the issuing of a canonical decree. Even a juridically successful intervention might produce years of litigation, institutional resistance and serious disruption.

The financial strength of the German episcopate does not make its disputed proposals any more compatible with Catholic doctrine. It does, however, make them harder to confront. Campbell’s question is whether that difficulty has encouraged a tolerance which would be much less evident if the same challenges came from a poorer and less influential ecclesiastical body.

China presents a graver test of Roman freedom of action. There the difficulty is not a wealthy episcopal establishment capable of frustrating ecclesiastical policy through institutional resistance. It is a Communist state which claims extensive powers over religious life and possesses the machinery to enforce them.

The Chinese authorities supervise religious organisations, regulate their public activity and require conformity with political programmes which subordinate religious institutions to the interests of the state. Catholics who refuse cooperation with official structures have faced serious restrictions and, in some cases, detention. The Holy See’s provisional agreement concerning episcopal appointments, concluded in 2018 and subsequently renewed, must be understood against that background.⁴

Diplomacy under such conditions is not necessarily cowardice. The Holy See has negotiated with hostile governments before, sometimes accepting arrangements which would be intolerable under conditions of genuine religious liberty. Catholics living under Communist rule bear the consequences of failed diplomacy more directly than commentators elsewhere. A policy which secures the appointment of bishops in communion with Rome and preserves sacramental life may represent a genuine achievement, even if the circumstances remain profoundly unsatisfactory.

But the episcopate belongs to the apostolic constitution of the Church. Political authorities may have interests in the civil consequences of ecclesiastical appointments; they cannot acquire spiritual jurisdiction by possessing the police, the courts or the power to close churches.

Benedict XVI addressed this problem in his 2007 letter to Chinese Catholics. He distinguished the legitimate desire of Catholics to live peacefully within their country from principles of ecclesiastical independence and autonomous administration which cannot be reconciled with Catholic doctrine when they imply separation from the Roman Pontiff.⁵ This was no incidental observation. It concerned the nature of the Church herself.

Nuntiatoria has already examined the implications of that teaching for episcopal appointments associated with Chifeng and Inner Mongolia. In Chifeng, Écône and Rome’s Uneven Measure of Ecclesial Communion and Rome’s Red Line Runs Through Écône, Not Beijing, the distinction was made between the canonical authorisation of particular episcopal consecrations and the ecclesiological principles governing the institutions involved.⁶ A pontifical mandate establishes that a consecration has received the necessary Roman authorisation. It does not establish that every political arrangement surrounding the selection of the candidate is compatible with the freedom of the Church.

Justice requires another distinction. Chinese bishops and priests working within state-supervised structures may be acting under pressures which outsiders cannot adequately measure. Their personal culpability cannot be inferred merely from the institutions with which they must deal. But the difficulties of individual clergy do not alter the Church’s doctrine concerning her independence from civil power.

Campbell argues that China demonstrates what happens when Rome possesses almost none of the practical means of enforcement. The Communist Party controls the political environment. It can make ecclesiastical resistance costly for the faithful while bearing comparatively little cost itself. Rome consequently relies upon diplomacy, accommodation and whatever limited influence its agreement provides.

There may be compelling reasons for that approach. The question is whether the necessities of diplomacy are being allowed to obscure the principles which diplomacy is supposed to protect. An agreement intended to preserve the Church’s life must not leave Catholics uncertain whether the freedom of the episcopate remains a non-negotiable element of that life. Rome’s weakness before the Chinese state is a fact of political reality. It cannot become a principle of Catholic ecclesiology.

Écône presents the contrast. On 1 July 2026, the Society of Saint Pius X proceeded with episcopal consecrations without pontifical mandate, contrary to the expressed will of Pope Leo XIV. The Holy See responded through the penal provisions governing unauthorised episcopal consecration. The Society’s appeal and its invocation of necessity have subsequently become part of the canonical dispute.

The offence is serious. Bishops cannot confer the episcopate in defiance of the Roman Pontiff merely because they consider their cause important. Episcopal consecration concerns the unity of the apostolic college and the proper government of the Church. The Pope has both the authority and the obligation to defend that order. Any serious criticism of Rome’s response must begin by conceding this.

Campbell concedes it. His point is that the legitimacy of Roman intervention does not establish that the Holy See has shown comparable determination when confronted by other threats to the Church’s unity and integrity.

The Society possesses churches, seminaries, clergy and supporters across several countries. It is hardly without resources. Yet it has neither the financial position of the German ecclesiastical establishment nor the coercive powers of the Chinese state. It cannot threaten Rome with the diplomatic consequences of confronting Beijing, or compel the Holy See to accept its interpretation of ecclesiastical necessity. Its desired canonical recognition remains dependent upon the authority whose decisions it contests.

This makes the Society comparatively straightforward to discipline. Rome can impose penalties without risking a confrontation with a sovereign government or the immense legal and financial complications of a rupture with an established national ecclesiastical structure. Campbell sees in that disparity a possible explanation for the disparity in disciplinary severity.

The canonical differences are substantial. The Society’s bishops performed an identifiable act for which the law provides a specific penalty. The German controversies involve proposals, teaching, institutional arrangements and the conduct of numerous individuals whose legal responsibilities cannot be treated as identical. The Chinese question involves the relationship between ecclesiastical authority and a state which is not subject to canon law. Demanding identical penalties in all three cases would be absurd.

But the differences do not dispose of Campbell’s argument. The question is why the Holy See appears capable of decisive disciplinary action against one form of ecclesiastical disorder while tolerating prolonged uncertainty over others, including disputes touching matters of revealed doctrine and the Church’s independence from political power.

The Society’s own position must be represented accurately. It professes the Roman primacy and maintains that its extraordinary actions are necessary to preserve traditional Catholic doctrine, worship and priestly formation. It does not claim to possess an independent ordinary territorial jurisdiction or to have replaced the Roman Pontiff as the visible head of the Church. These professions do not make its consecrations lawful. They do bear upon the nature of the ecclesiastical offence and the proper assessment of its claims.

Nuntiatoria addressed this in The Bishops Who Defied Rome — and Still Appeal to It. The Society’s continued recourse to Roman authority does not establish the validity of its canonical defence, but it is inconsistent with the simplistic assertion that every act of grave disobedience necessarily expresses a complete rejection of the papacy.⁷ Canon law distinguishes the objective commission of an offence from the culpability of those responsible and provides for circumstances which may exclude or mitigate penal liability. Necessity cannot be established merely by asserting it; neither can a properly raised plea of necessity be answered by pretending that the law makes no provision for it.

The position of the faithful who attend Society chapels must also be distinguished from that of the bishops involved. They cannot be treated as a class of excommunicated persons merely because of their attendance. Individual conduct, intention and adherence to Catholic communion matter. To confuse the canonical status of bishops, clergy and laity is to abandon precisely the juridical distinctions upon which Rome’s defenders otherwise insist.

Campbell’s comparison thus presents three genuinely different problems. In Germany, Rome confronts ecclesiastical institutions with substantial financial and organisational independence. In China, it confronts a government possessing overwhelming coercive power. In the SSPX, it confronts an ecclesiastical body whose resources are modest by comparison and whose desired canonical settlement lies substantially within Rome’s own gift.

The pattern does not prove that the Holy See consciously calculates its disciplinary decisions according to the financial and political cost of enforcement. The evidence does not disclose the private calculations of Roman officials, and correlation cannot establish motive. But the disparity is sufficiently conspicuous to require an explanation. The institution which acts decisively in one case must be prepared to explain why it proceeds so cautiously in others, particularly where doctrine, sacramental life and the freedom of the Church are at stake.

Pointing to the Pope’s supreme jurisdiction does not supply that explanation. Jurisdiction establishes who possesses the authority to govern. It does not establish that every exercise of that authority is wise, proportionate or adequately directed towards its proper end.

This distinction has informed Nuntiatoria’s criticism of Roman policy towards the traditional liturgy. In The Reform Cannot Be the Rule of Faith, the argument was made that the authority by which a liturgical reform was promulgated cannot itself prove the reform’s historical necessity, theological superiority or pastoral success.⁸ A law may be validly enacted and still be open to serious criticism. The existence of jurisdiction cannot substitute for the examination of what has been done with it.

Nor is such examination contrary to Catholic obedience. St Thomas Aquinas, discussing the correction of prelates, expressly considers St Paul’s resistance to St Peter at Antioch. The apostolic dignity of Peter was not denied by the correction. Rather, the gravity of that dignity made fidelity to the truth especially important.⁹ There is a considerable difference between correction offered in defence of the Faith and contempt for the authority instituted to preserve it.

The Church’s laws are not designed to provide ecclesiastical superiors with opportunities to demonstrate their power. Their object is the good of the Church and the salvation of souls. Canon 1311 §2 identifies the restoration of justice, the reform of the offender and the repair of scandal among the purposes of penal discipline.¹⁰ These are moral and spiritual ends. They cannot be reduced to the successful enforcement of an instruction.

The same standard applies to decisions not to impose penalties. There may be excellent reasons for restraint. A premature intervention can aggravate disorder, harden opposition or expose innocent people to harm. The situation of Catholics in China makes this especially plain. But restraint becomes harder to defend when it ceases to produce correction and begins to resemble a permanent accommodation with error.

Germany and China also demonstrate why institutional power matters even where the offences differ. Money and coercion do not alter Catholic doctrine. They do alter the practical consequences of defending it. The temptation for any governing institution is to concentrate upon disputes it can resolve, postpone those which threaten its interests and eventually mistake the preservation of its freedom of manoeuvre for the fulfilment of its mission.

That temptation is familiar in civil government, universities, charitable organisations and every bureaucracy sufficiently established to develop interests of its own. What makes it especially grave in the Church is the supernatural character of the trust involved. The Roman Pontiff is not the chief executive of a religious corporation. He is the successor of Peter, charged with confirming his brethren in the Faith and guarding the communion of the Church.

Campbell’s criticism is therefore more searching than a complaint about unfair treatment of traditionalists. If the defence of ecclesiastical unity is separated from the defence of Catholic truth, the unity itself is impoverished. Christ did not pray that His disciples might constitute a durable administrative organisation. He prayed that they might be one so that the world might believe that the Father had sent Him. The Church’s visible unity is an evangelical witness because it is the unity of those who profess the same revealed Faith.

This is why the public consequences of Rome’s disciplinary choices matter. Ordinary Catholics and those outside the Church observe what is permitted to develop, what is condemned and which disputes provoke the most determined interventions. They may misunderstand the canonical details. But their perception of the Church’s priorities is not irrelevant. A hierarchy which appears reluctant to confront challenges to doctrine while acting decisively against those attached to traditional worship invites the suspicion that administrative obedience has become more important than the Faith which obedience exists to serve.

The suspicion may be unjust in particular cases. That makes a clear explanation more necessary. Rome should be able to show how its negotiations in Germany serve doctrinal correction, how its diplomacy in China safeguards the Church’s freedom, and how its disciplinary measures against the Society of Saint Pius X serve justice, ecclesiastical unity and the reconciliation of Catholics. These are obligations arising from the nature of the Petrine office itself.

The Church’s indefectibility does not guarantee the wisdom of every ecclesiastical policy. Christ promised that His Church would endure; He did not promise that every decision of her earthly governors would be prudent. That distinction should encourage neither rebellion nor complacency. It should make Catholics more serious about the responsibilities of those who govern.

Campbell has not demonstrated a deliberate policy of punishing the weak and accommodating the powerful. He has identified a pattern which suggests that the practical costs of confrontation may influence the distribution of ecclesiastical discipline more heavily than the spiritual dangers involved. The distinction matters. A hypothesis should not be presented as a proven motive. But neither should the absence of documentary proof of motive become an excuse for refusing to examine an observable disparity.

The Roman primacy is not in dispute. What is in dispute is whether its exercise consistently reflects the obligations attached to it.

The price of obedience is not simply what it costs Rome to compel it. There is also a price paid when authority is exercised without sufficient regard for the truth it exists to defend: confusion among the faithful, weakened confidence in Catholic teaching, compromised ecclesiastical independence and souls left uncertain whether the Church’s governors believe what the Church professes.

The Roman Pontiff has no need to prove that he can discipline those over whom he possesses effective leverage. His office requires him to defend the apostolic Faith even where doing so is difficult, costly or unwelcome.

The Church needs a strong papacy. It needs one whose strength is measured by fidelity to its divine commission, not by the ease with which it can enforce compliance.