The Pope Is Dead: Empire Mourns, the Poor Remember

By Prince Kapone | Weaponized Information

Pope Francis is gone. And now the empire wraps him in white robes and incense, parades him through gilded cathedrals, and tells the world to mourn. But let’s ask ourselves—what exactly are they mourning? A man who challenged the machine, or a figurehead who humanized it just enough to keep it running?

Jorge Mario Bergoglio came from Buenos Aires, from the barrios and bloodshed of Latin America’s Dirty Wars. He spoke in a different key. Not the cold steel of papal bureaucrats but with the soft cadences of a man who had seen the boot on the neck of the poor. He talked of the planet, of poverty, of peace. He called capitalism a new tyranny. He kissed the feet of the displaced. He even prayed beside the apartheid wall in Palestine.

And yet—for all that, the Church remained a fortress. Gold ceilings. Diplomatic handshakes. Centuries of plunder buried under holy hymns. Francis tried to walk a tightrope: a priest in a palace, a reformer in an empire. But the rope was barbed wire. And the Vatican is still what it’s always been: a colonial institution with divine branding.

The Contradictions of a People’s Pope

To his credit, Francis pissed off all the right people. Capitalists hated him. Right-wing Catholics seethed at him. Reactionary bishops plotted behind his back. He canonized saints of the struggle—Oscar Romero, who was shot through the heart while giving mass in El Salvador. He defended migrants, visited prisons, and begged the rich to remember the poor.

But he never named names. He never excommunicated war criminals or sanctioned the billionaires bleeding the Global South. He called for peace, but not revolution. He met with Exxon while preaching ecology. He blessed the poor, but never challenged the banks hoarding the stolen wealth of Christendom.

This is what we call spiritual counterinsurgency: when empire sends a priest to quiet the hungry instead of feeding them. When the Vatican rebrands itself as humane without giving back what it stole. When the empire learns to quote the Gospel while still holding the whip.

A Sermon for the Empire in Decline

Francis became the velvet glove on the iron fist. In an age where neoliberalism is cracking and climate collapse has set the world ablaze, he offered moral anesthesia. The voice of conscience—yes—but one carefully hemmed in by the logic of diplomacy, not liberation.

He called for action on climate change, but never demanded reparations. He spoke against war, but didn’t denounce the U.S. empire or its NATO allies. He visited the favelas, but didn’t fund their resistance. For all his words, the Church remained a pillar of the imperial order, offering spiritual comfort while capitalism continued to grind the bones of the poor into profit margins.

And Yet, the People Listened

And still—millions of the poor did love him. Not because he was a revolutionary, but because he saw them. In a world where they are invisible, he dared to look. In a world that treats them like collateral damage, he said they mattered. That alone made him dangerous to the ruling class. And that alone is worth remembering.

But the struggle for liberation doesn’t need a pope. It needs power in the hands of the people. It needs land back, debt canceled, corporations dismantled, and the spiritual imagination to build something new from the ashes of empire. Francis couldn’t deliver that. No pope can. The best they can do is step aside and let the people lead.

The Spirit Isn’t in Rome

As the cardinals in red robes gather under Michelangelo’s ceiling to pick the next priest-emperor, let us not be fooled. The Church will continue to preach humility while hoarding gold. It will bless the oppressed while protecting their oppressors. It will perform piety while laundering the moral legitimacy of empire.

But somewhere—on a dusty road in Haiti, a rice field in the Philippines, a tent in Rafah—the gospel of the oppressed lives on. Not in marble cathedrals, but in people risking everything for justice. That is where the spirit of Yeshua resides—not in the Vatican, but in the heart of the struggle. Not in robes, but in resistance. Not in sermons, but in solidarity.

Rest in peace, Francis. But may the people rise in power.

Weaponized Information | April 21, 2025