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In recent days, some critics have pointed to Pope Francis’ reduced public presence due to his health issues, as if a pontiff must constantly be on display to prove he is still capable of leading the Church. This assumption, however, reflects a modern obsession with visibility—an unhealthy fixation on presence as proof of power.
We live in an era where existence itself seems tied to constant media exposure. The idea that one can embrace fragility without putting it on display has become almost inconceivable. But does being seen truly equate to authenticity and authority?
Philosopher Byung-Chul Han, in In the Swarm, describes how digital culture has transformed communication into an endless cycle of self-exposure. Today, people communicate not so much to exchange ideas, but to ensure they remain visible. This same logic is now applied to the Pope: if he isn’t constantly seen, some assume he is weak—or even question whether he is still alive. But the Pontiff is not an influencer or an actor on a global stage. His authority does not stem from his visibility but from the teachings he continues to impart, the decisions he continues to make, and the responsibilities he continues to fulfill. At this moment, his witness is also conveyed through silence and contemplation.
This relentless demand for presence echoes the reflections of sociologist Sherry Turkle, who, in Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other, explores how technology has made us perpetually connected yet increasingly unable to be alone with ourselves. “We have traded connection for conversation,” she writes. The expectation that the Pope must be visible at all times mirrors our struggle to accept that leadership can also be exercised in discretion and reflection.
Han also introduces the concept of the digital panopticon: where power once controlled by watching from above, we now willingly expose ourselves to public judgment. In the Pope’s case, this manifests in the belief that his absence is somehow a failure. But does a spiritual leader really need to be in the spotlight at all times? The Church is not a corporation requiring a CEO to be perpetually present before cameras; its purpose is spiritual, not commercial. Yet in recent years, the Holy See's communications strategy has benefited widely from the image of Pope Francis. The Vatican Photo Service, for example, has struggled this month to sell images of him blessing crowds or shaking hands. They have had to fall back on selling photos of other events: the recitation of the holy rosary in St. Peter's Square, spiritual exercises, or ministers' visits to Secretary of State Pietro Parolin. This reveals an inconvenient truth: the Pope's visibility has been commodified.
A challenge to the dictatorship of visibility
The notion that authority depends on visibility is a product of a hyper-connected world, where, as Han writes, “everything must be seen, and nothing can remain hidden.” But forced transparency does not produce truth; it erodes depth. Illness, in particular, is a time when discretion should be respected, not mistaken for weakness. And yet, there are those who believe even suffering must be put on display, as though the Pope must publicly prove his struggle. By choosing to live his illness privately, Pope Francis offers a countercultural message: dignity is not measured by appearance. The strength of a spiritual leader lies not in media presence but in the depth of his witness—a message that, ironically, challenges the very culture of visibility that Francis himself has sometimes embraced.
Ultimately, the debate over the Pope’s reduced public presence reveals how deeply we have internalized the idea that appearance matters more than being. But fragility does not need to be exhibited to have value. On the contrary, the ability to protect one’s vulnerability without succumbing to the demand for constant exposure is a sign of wisdom and strength—both human and spiritual. Instead of asking why the Pope isn’t showing himself more, perhaps we should ask why we feel such a need to see him. And whether, in our relentless pursuit of visibility, we are losing something essential: the right to depth, silence, and truth—things that do not need to be performed.
Felipe Perfetti
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