‘Messianic Fraternity’: Anticommunism in the General Conferences of the Latin American and Caribbean Episcopate

Abstract

This paper analyzes the development and consolidation of anticommunist discourse in the General Conferences of the Latin American Episcopate (CELAM), from Rio de Janeiro to Aparecida. It adopts a critical perspective to examine the construction of the “messianic fraternity” myth—an ideological narrative contrasting Christian ideals of community and redemption with Marxist principles of class struggle and revolution, which served as a central axis for the Church’s rejection of communism in Latin America. Grounded in a critical analysis of the CELAM’s final documents, this study identifies the theological, political, and social underpinnings of this stance, situating it within the historical and geopolitical dynamics that positioned the Church as a key counterforce to Marxism in the region. It also examines how anticommunist positions shaped pastoral strategies, particularly in relation to social movements like liberation theology, and reinforced an episcopal identity centered on defending Christian values against a perceived global ideological threat. This analysis highlights the Church’s internal tensions and contradictions and the broader impact of its anticommunist stance on Latin America’s sociopolitical and religious dynamics in the twentieth century.

1. Introduction

The history of Latin America, like all histories, is best understood as a tapestry woven from the intricate interplay of political, social, and economic forces, in which religious and ecclesiastical institutions have played an active and transformative role. Far from being static observers, these institutions have continuously redefined themselves within the flux of the region’s upheavals, responding to and shaping broader historical processes. As Marc Bloch insightfully noted in his classic yet still relevant The Historian’s Craft, “a historical phenomenon can never be understood apart from its moment in time” (Bloch [1949] 1992, p. 29). The Catholic Church’s stance on communism during the Cold War exemplifies this principle, as its responses were deeply embedded in the anxieties and power dynamics of the era, reflecting both resistance and adaptation to a rapidly shifting ideological landscape. In fact, during the Cold War, the rise of communist ideologies and regimes across the continent elicited profound concern within the ecclesiastical hierarchy, fostering an atmosphere of apprehension and shaping the Church’s responses to perceived threats against its spiritual and institutional authority.

According to Rodrigo Patto Sá Motta, one of the foremost scholars on Latin American anticommunism, “the Catholic Church, perhaps uniquely among non-state institutions, was arguably more committed to combating communism throughout the 20th century than any other institution” (Patto 2002, p. 18). This early and steadfast opposition to communism within the Catholic Church unfolded across several distinct phases, each shaped by the changing theological, political, and social landscapes. Initially, prior to the Second Vatican Council, the Church’s doctrinal position was firmly entrenched in resistance to Marxism, strongly influenced by papal teachings, particularly Pope Pius XII’s Apostolic Letter Ad Ecclesiam Christi (Pius XII 1955). This document reinforced the Church’s ideological opposition to communism, framing it as a materialistic worldview in direct conflict with the Church’s spiritual authority and teachings. However, this opposition was not solely a matter of theological orthodoxy; it was also a response to the broader sociopolitical context of the time, particularly the Cold War, which heightened the ideological struggle between capitalism and socialism. The Church’s stance reflected the global tension between these competing ideologies, positioning the Church as a key actor in the ideological confrontation that defined much of the 20th century.

Simultaneously, a subtle yet significant process of secularization began to take root across Latin America, an underlying force that the Catholic Church initially resisted but eventually learned to incorporate into its broader strategies for interacting with modernity. This shift is evident in the Church’s adaptation to secularization through initiatives that emphasized social justice, religious freedom, and interfaith dialogue. As Blancarte observes, although the Church initially opposed the secularizing trend, it ultimately absorbed and even promoted secularization as part of its broader engagement with contemporary society (Blancarte 2016, p. 331). In this analysis, secularization refers to the progressive reduction of religious institutions’ authority in the public sphere, often manifested in the privatization of faith and the separation of Church and state. This evolution was decisively shaped by the Second Vatican Council, which introduced transformative changes in the Church’s theological and pastoral orientation, fostering dialogue with modernity and emphasizing the primacy of human dignity. In contrast to its earlier, more rigid rejection of Marxism, the Church gradually began to engage more critically with the social and political issues of the time. The Church’s shift was not merely a doctrinal adjustment but a pastoral reorientation that reflected a deeper understanding of its role in a world undergoing rapid and often disorienting transformation. No longer content with simply opposing Marxism, the Church began to address the economic and social dimensions of human suffering, particularly the struggles of the poor and marginalized, with a more nuanced and empathetic approach. This change was part of a broader transformation in the Church’s approach to political ideologies, one that saw a move from ideological purity toward a more balanced and context-sensitive engagement with social justice issues. As exemplified by the later contributions of figures like Gustavo Gutiérrez, this evolution signaled a departure from a blanket condemnation of Marxism and toward a critical dialogue that sought to reconcile doctrinal concerns with the Church’s pastoral mission. This shift in perspective is echoed in Gaudium et Spes, where the Council notably acknowledges that “not to be overlooked among the forms of modern atheism is that which anticipates the liberation of man especially through his economic and social emancipation” (Vatican Council II 1965, n. 20). Here, the Church explicitly recognized the importance of addressing the socioeconomic conditions of human liberation, thereby laying the theological foundation for a more comprehensive approach to Marxist ideas and the liberation theology movement that emerged in the latter half of the 20th century.

The second phase, emerging in the early post-conciliar period, saw a more complex engagement with issues of social justice, especially through the landmark Medellín and Puebla Conferences. In these gatherings, the Church acknowledged the importance of addressing poverty, inequality, and social injustice—issues that were also central to Marxist critiques of society. However, the Church consistently distanced itself from the revolutionary methods of Marxism, rejecting any form of violence, authoritarianism, or ideologies that threatened human dignity. During this period, liberation theology played a significant, albeit tempering, role, promoting a vision of social justice and equality while seeking to avoid the embrace of communist ideology.

The third phase, the mid to late post-conciliar period, was defined by a vigorous anticommunist stance under John Paul II, particularly in response to the geopolitical dynamics of the Cold War. At the same time, the Church also condemned the excesses of neoliberal capitalism, signaling its broader concern for justice and human dignity in the face of both communism and unchecked market forces.

Finally, in the contemporary phase, the ideological battle that once pitted the Church against communism has largely dissipated, as communism has lost its ideological relevance in the region. However, new forms of ideological contention have emerged, with issues like gender ideology and social justice occupying the forefront of the Church’s public discourse. In this context, the Church’s relationship with Marxist thought has become less about direct political opposition and more about broader reflections on justice, human rights, and social morality in a rapidly changing world.

Building upon this historical evolution of the Church’s stance toward communism in Latin America, anticommunism emerges as a central theme that runs through the official discourse of the Church, particularly within the framework of the General Conferences of the Latin American Episcopal Council (CELAM). From the early resistance during the pre-conciliar phase to the more complex reflections that followed Vatican II, the Church’s position became increasingly vocal and defined, culminating in the critiques found in documents such as the Final Document of Puebla. The term “messianic fraternity”, for instance, crystallizes the bishops’ opposition to Marxism, highlighting the ideological divide between a Christian vision of redemption and the materialistic, atheistic underpinnings of Marxist thought. This rejection of communism, however, cannot be seen as static. While anticommunism remained a core tenet, the Church’s evolving position, especially as shaped by the influence of John Paul II and liberation theology, sought to balance its defense of Christian values with a critical engagement with social and economic injustice. Ultimately, the discourse formed at CELAM’s conferences both mirrored and shaped the broader geopolitical tensions of the Cold War, positioning the Church as a key actor in the ideological battles of the region while underscoring its role as the guardian of Christian principles amidst the complexities of social transformation.

This analysis is structured around four main axes. First, it examines the role of the General Conferences as crucial forums for articulating the Church’s voice in a continent profoundly shaped by political, social, and economic changes. From the consolidation of authoritarian regimes in the latter half of the 20th century to the transition toward neoliberal democracies in the 21st century, each conference reflects not only the Church’s spiritual concerns but also its responses to the historical challenges shaping the region. Second, it explores the influence of the Cold War context on the first three conferences, while the last two were shaped by other phenomena, such as globalization and the advance of neoliberalism. Third, it analyzes the tensions between CELAM’s anticommunist positions and the proposals of liberation theology. Under the leadership of figures like Gustavo Gutiérrez, liberation theology promoted a theological vision that challenged structures of social and economic oppression, critically positioning itself in favor of the poor (Klaiber 1988, p. 415). Gutiérrez argued that contemporary theology could not avoid a critical and enriching confrontation with Marxism, which, in his view, had deepened reflection on social transformation and human action in history (Gutiérrez 1975, p. 32). This analysis reveals how concerns over the “communist threat” led the ecclesiastical hierarchy to marginalize and even condemn pastoral initiatives that sought to empower the poor as agents of their own liberation. Finally, it reflects on the contradictions inherent in CELAM’s anticommunist discourse, particularly in its adoption of a language of “Christian solidarity” that, while denouncing structural injustices, avoided addressing their underlying causes. This approach highlights how anticommunism not only shaped the identity of the Latin American Episcopate but also constrained its ability to articulate effective responses to the social and political challenges facing the region.

Nonetheless, for didactic purposes, this study adopts a chronological–linear structure to facilitate a clearer understanding of the historical development of CELAM’s anticommunist discourse and to contextualize the main axes of analysis at each stage. This approach also aims to offer a coherent framework for discussing the Church’s evolving responses to CEBs, Charismatic Catholicism, and the broader sectarian challenges it faced. The analysis ends with the conference in Aparecida, which marked the end of the traditional format of CELAM meetings. Since then, the Church has opted for a more synodal model that promotes broader and more equitable participation from ecclesiastical sectors and society, aligning with Pope Francis’s vision for a more inclusive, less hierarchical Church centered on dialogue and integration.

It is also relevant to acknowledge that even silence can carry meaning in the construction of ecclesiastical discourse. In certain concluding documents, communism is not explicitly mentioned; however, this omission should not be interpreted as a sign of diminished concern by the Church. Rather, silence can be understood as a deliberate strategy to manage public perception and relationships with governments, suggesting that the issue remains a source of unease for the Church.

This study seeks not only to contribute to the historical understanding of the Church’s role in Latin America but also to problematize the theological and political implications of a discourse that, under the pretext of defending the faith, reinforced narratives that perpetuated unequal power structures. This reflection aims to offer a critical analysis of the Church’s potential and limitations as an agent of social transformation in a context of deep inequality.

2. Rio de Janeiro Conference (1955): Anticommunism and the Construction of an Ecclesial Agenda

The First General Conference of the Latin American Episcopal Council, held in Rio de Janeiro in 1955, solidified an anticommunist narrative that profoundly shaped the Church’s pastoral praxis in Latin America for decades to come. This discourse not only expressed deep concern about Marxism but also reinforced an integrative vision in which anticommunism became a central pillar of ecclesial strategies. As stated in the Final Document, while the conference emphasized the need for a “broader and more intense social and charitable activity aimed at the poorest classes”, it also underscored the duty to “sound the alarm about the insidious dangers of Marxist doctrines and communist propaganda.” The bishops highlighted the imperative to “safeguard against these influences, especially in regions where such ideologies were most entrenched” (CELAM 1955, n. 83). In this way, Rio not only shaped the Church’s theological and political stance in Latin America but also set the foundation for its ongoing ideological engagement during the Cold War, framing Marxism as a major threat to both social order and religious values.

The abovementioned Apostolic Letter Ad Ecclesiam Christi by Pope Pius XII (29 June 1955) is a clear testament to the central role anticommunism played in shaping Rio’s agenda. In this document, the pontiff warns against the “perverse doctrines” that, “under the false pretext of social justice”, seek to deprive the faithful of “the treasure of religion” (Pius XII 1955). This conceptual framework positioned communism not merely as a political or economic threat but also as a spiritual enemy infiltrating the justice aspirations of the popular classes, posing an existential danger to the Catholic faith.

This narrative was echoed by Latin American cardinals and bishops on 4 August 1955, who highlighted that the scarcity of clergy had left many communities vulnerable to “enemies of the faith”, including communist propagandists. In their declaration, the prelates underscored the urgency of countering threats that endangered “the best heritage of Latin America”, namely its Catholic faith.

The conference’s concluding text articulated concrete strategies to combat Marxist doctrines. On the one hand, it emphasized the importance of clergy formation to educate the faithful on the “truth of the Holy Religion” and refute the errors of “non-Catholics and enemies of the Church” (CELAM 1955, n. 20c). On the other hand, it reaffirmed the need to develop social and charitable activities for the underprivileged to counteract the appeal of Marxist solutions among vulnerable populations (CELAM 1955, n. 83). Thus, the Church’s social action was not conceived as merely charitable but as a preventative and neutralizing instrument against the communist proposals.

A closer examination of this discourse reveals how communism functioned as the symbolic construction of an internal enemy threatening social order, “transforming into an organizer of political ideas”, a category of analysis used by Marina Franco in her study of the cultural and ideological constructs in 1970s Argentina (Franco 2012, p. 200). This framework reinforced a Manichean worldview, positioning the Church as the sole viable moral and spiritual alternative. However, this position was not without internal contradictions. On one hand, the Church portrayed itself as a social integrator, capable of “mending the social fabric” in contexts marked by inequality and conflict. On the other, its unwavering condemnation of communism imposed ideological limits that restricted its ability to engage with the nuanced social and economic aspirations of the popular classes.

The tension between condemning communism and addressing social demands is particularly noteworthy. While the conference recognized the urgency of “broader and more intense social and charitable activity” (CELAM 1955, n. 83), this response was framed within a defensive strategy that subordinated social engagement to the fight against Marxist doctrines. This approach highlights the contradictions of a pastoral strategy that, while seeking to protect the faith, also limited its ability to articulate a discourse addressing structural inequalities in a more proactive and less polarized manner.

3. Medellín Conference (1968): The Church Amid Latin America’s Transformation in Light of the Council

The Second General Assembly of the Bishops of Latin America marked a turning point in the Church’s reflection on the social, economic, and political realities of the continent. In this context, the condemnation of Marxism and communism emerged as a recurring theme, both in the interventions of Pope Paul VI and in the Final Document of the conference. However, this condemnation was not made in abstract terms; rather, it was embedded in a broader diagnosis of unjust social structures and ideological tensions permeating Latin America.

In his opening homily at the Synod of Bishops in 1968, Pope Paul VI emphatically rejected “atheistic Marxism” and its expressions of violence, describing them as contrary to the Gospel, the spirit of the Church, and the interests of the people. His statement, “We cannot choose either atheistic Marxism or systematic rebellion…” (Paul VI 1968), underscores a doctrinal continuity that perceives Marxism as not only an ideological threat but also a moral and spiritual one. However, it is crucial to nuance this condemnation within the broader context of the Pope’s teachings, particularly his earlier encyclical Populorum Progressio (1967), which was a critical reflection on the socioeconomic conditions of the world. In Populorum Progressio, Paul VI expressed deep concern over the growing disparity between rich and poor nations, warning that “unless the existing machinery is modified, the disparity between rich and poor nations will increase rather than diminish; the rich nations are progressing with rapid strides while the poor nations move forward at a slow pace” (Paul VI 1967, n. 8). This encyclical, issued just a year before his homily, highlights the Pope’s commitment to justice and peace, underscoring the need for structural change. While he condemned Marxist ideology, Paul VI simultaneously called for systemic reform to address the root causes of inequality, suggesting that the Church’s opposition to Marxism did not preclude its concern for the poor and its call for social justice. Thus, his rejection of atheistic Marxism was not absolute but rather situated within a broader call for justice that sought solutions to inequality, albeit without endorsing solutions incompatible with Christian values.

The Final Document of Medellín reflects a stance that critiques both the capitalist system and the Marxist model: “Both systems violate the dignity of the human person”, it states, emphasizing that capitalism prioritizes “the primacy of capital and profit”, while Marxism leads to a “totalitarian concentration of power in the State” (CELAM 1968, n. I, 10). This balanced critique underscores Medellín’s intent to reject the ideological polarizations that suffocate the continent and to assume a prophetic role in addressing systemic injustices. Furthermore, as Rafael Luciani observes, Medellín’s approach effectively implemented the sensus fidelium of the faithful alongside the munus docendi of the hierarchy, creating a space where those in attendance could actively participate in decision-making and embody the Church’s prophetic dimension (Luciani 2019, p. 194). This integration of the collective wisdom/intuition of the faithful and the teaching authority of the hierarchy not only enriched the Church’s critique of the dominant systems but also reinforced its commitment to discerning and articulating responses rooted in the lived realities of the people.

Medellín introduced a categorization of three social actors—traditionalists, developmentalists, and revolutionaries (CELAM 1968, n. II, 5–8)—intended to simplify the underlying complexities of Latin America’s social realities for didactic purposes. While this framework “within a dialectic of domination” (Dussel 1981, p. 240) sought to clarify the Church’s stance, the bishops were fully aware of the intricacies involved. As in other ecclesial research, “categories may help to organize a study on the dynamic of Church trends, but individual positions are not always clearly delineated” (removed for peer review). Traditionalists are critiqued for their alliance with dominant elites and their defense of the status quo, which perpetuates inequality. Developmentalists, meanwhile, are faulted for their reductionist vision of progress, equating development exclusively with Western-style industrialization. Revolutionaries, often influenced by Marxist ideologies, receive the strongest condemnation, particularly when they justify violence as a means of social transformation.

This tripartite framework reflects the Church’s inherent tensions. On one hand, Medellín denounces systemic social injustice and the “unjust exercise of power by certain dominant sectors” (CELAM 1968, n. II, 6). On the other hand, the Church deliberately avoids aligning itself with revolutionary movements that adopt Marxism as their ideological foundation. This critical distance from communism does not signify uncritical support for capitalism; rather, it reflects an attempt to navigate an intermediate position that transcends the binary opposition of these ideological systems.

In this context, Medellín’s anticommunism can be understood as part of a broader effort to construct a distinctly Christian alternative to the crises afflicting Latin America. While this narrative reaffirms the Church’s moral authority, it also exposes certain limitations. The condemnation of communism is multi-layered: it critiques Marxism for presenting itself as humanist while ultimately dehumanizing the individual by subordinating them to the collective, and for its practical manifestation as totalitarian state power. In contrast, the critique of capitalism, while highlighting the dominance of capital, its unchecked power, and its tendency to prioritize profit at the expense of human welfare, lacks the same level of analytical clarity. This asymmetry reflects the Church’s confidence in the existential and metaphysical realms, where it views itself as a consummate authority, but also signals a shift in its self-perception. While Medellín refrains from offering concrete socioeconomic prescriptions and instead advocates for principles such as a “truly human economy” (CELAM 1968, n. I,10), this restraint contrasts with the more assertive posture in Mater et Magistra. In that encyclical, John XXIII asserted that the Church was “ever powerful to offer suitable, effective remedies for the increasing needs of men, and the sorrows and anxieties of this present life” (John XXIII 1961, n. 262).

The transition from such a confident stance to a more cautious approach at Medellín reflects the impact of the Second Vatican Council, which redefined the Church’s role as a guide rather than an omnipotent authority. The bishops’ warning about the “temptation of the Marxist system” (CELAM 1968, n. I,10) thus reflects both a desire to maintain doctrinal independence amid ideological pressures and a recognition of the limits of ecclesial intervention in addressing systemic inequalities. This tension highlights the Church’s ongoing challenge in balancing moral denunciation with effective responses to socioeconomic structures.

The Church’s language in the Medellín Conference is prophetic yet constrained by its attempt to balance a sharp criticism of capitalism with a categorical rejection of Marxism. This position generates tensions within its discourse, as it denounces oppressive structures while refraining from endorsing transformative proposals that could be perceived as aligned with Marxist ideologies. Moreover, by portraying revolutionaries as potentially violent agents, the Church risks delegitimizing social struggles that, while not necessarily Marxist, advocate for urgent structural change.

At the same time, Medellin offered a novel interpretive framework (Luciani 2018, p. 53) that marked a rupture with the traditional understanding of the Church’s evangelizing action and its mission in the world. It acknowledged that “until now, pastoral action has primarily relied on a pastoral of conservation, based on sacramentalization” (CELAM 1968, n. VI, 1). This recognition reflects an emerging openness to rethinking the Church’s role in addressing the social realities of Latin America, even as it navigates the ideological complexities of the Cold War era.

Medellín’s condemnation of communism cannot be fully understood apart from the broader struggles for social justice and peace in Latin America. This anticommunism, rather than being a purely reactive stance, was part of an effort to articulate a “third way” that sought to transcend the ideological polarizations of the time. However, as Donal Dorr observes, the viability of this “third way” as a realistic political alternative diminished during the 1970s. While initially associated with the Latin American version of Christian democracy, this approach lost credibility, leading influential Christian thinkers to reject the notion of a “Catholic social doctrine” as a sufficient framework for addressing the region’s crises. Indeed, some argued that “committed Christians could no longer afford the luxury of standing on the sidelines” and instead needed to align with leftist movements while promoting Christian values from within (Dorr 2012, p. 246). This tension highlights the complexities inherent in Medellín’s attempt to define a distinctively Christian response to the continent’s inequalities and ideological conflicts—an idealistic vision that grappled with the limitations of remaining politically neutral in an era of profound social upheaval.

4. Puebla Conference (1979): Defending Christian Anthropology Against Modern Ideologies

The Puebla Conference marked a critical juncture in the Latin American Church’s engagement with ideological systems, particularly Marxism, during the volatile context of the Cold War. Influenced heavily by the pontificate of Pope John Paul II—renowned for his unyielding opposition to Marxism and his critiques of certain strands of liberation theology—Puebla deepened the anticommunist rhetoric initially articulated in Medellín. This intensification reflected not only the geopolitical climate but also a recalibration of the Church’s priorities, as it sought to address pressing social transformations while safeguarding its doctrinal integrity. However, as Jon Sobrino critically observed, this emphasis on orthodoxy risked overshadowing the praxis-oriented approach necessary for meaningful change in the lives of the marginalized, leaning “more toward orthodoxy than orthopraxis” (Sobrino 2008, p. 50).

Pope John Paul II’s inaugural address set the tone for Puebla’s theological orientation by underscoring the Church’s independence from secular ideologies: “She therefore does not need to have recourse to ideological systems in order to love, defend and collaborate in the liberation of man” (John Paul II 1979, III, 2). Building on this premise, the conference documents articulated a systematic critique of Marxism, highlighting its “utopian unrealism” and its reliance on class struggle, which, according to the bishops, invariably fostered violence (CELAM 1979, n. 48, 544). Further, Marxist collectivism was condemned for stripping individuals of their interior freedom and spiritual dimension, reducing them solely to their social existence (CELAM 1979, n. 313). In the same passage, the concept of a “messianic fraternity” is rejected, as both true fraternity and messianism in Catholic thought require a transcendent foundation, rather than being purely material.

Puebla’s anticommunism was neither simplistic nor one-dimensional. While it unequivocally condemned Marxism as atheistic and violent, it also critiqued the structural injustices perpetuated by liberal capitalism. The Final Document warned against allowing fear of Marxism to silence denunciations of capitalism’s exploitative realities, acknowledging that both systems were “equally marked by sin” (CELAM 1979, n. 92). This dual critique revealed a profound tension within the Church’s discourse, as it sought to reject materialistic ideologies while remaining faithful to its prophetic mission of confronting structural inequality. In this context, the Church faced the challenge of navigating ideological divisions without losing sight of its core commitment to social justice.

At the same time, as Boff observed, the ecclesial landscape in Latin America during the transition from the 1970s to the 1980s was undergoing profound transformations, marked by a resolute hope for ecclesial reinvention: “the emergence of a new form of the Church’s presence among humankind” (Boff 1979, p. 95). The Church increasingly commanded attention “for its numerical importance, its evolving ecclesiological experiments, and the new stances of the episcopate regarding social issues” (Boff 1982, p. 13). This period witnessed the rise of a Church deeply rooted in the popular base, aligning itself more visibly with the struggles and aspirations of the marginalized. This pastoral shift not only embraced the lived realities of the poor but also implicitly challenged traditional ecclesiastical hierarchies, signaling a reimagining of the Church’s role in society. However, this emergent vision complicated efforts to reconcile the Church’s longstanding anticommunist stance with its growing commitment to social justice. The resulting tension—between critiquing both Marxism and capitalism while advocating for the oppressed—created a delicate balancing act. In this space, the Church endeavored to assert its moral authority, navigating the intricate interplay of political ideologies while remaining faithful to its mission of solidarity and evangelization.

Adding further nuance to this complex situation was Puebla’s denunciation of the National Security Doctrine, a political ideology widely adopted by authoritarian regimes across Latin America in the name of combating communism (Campagnaro 2024, p. 40). The Church criticized this doctrine for its absolutization of the state and its suppression of individual freedoms, firmly positioning itself against the manipulation of religion by authoritarian regimes to justify oppression (CELAM 1979, n. 314). This rejection was not merely a political stance but a reaffirmation of the Church’s commitment to remaining an independent voice, free from ideological manipulation, and dedicated to advocating for human dignity and the common good. Puebla’s critique of both capitalist and Marxist systems, alongside its opposition to the National Security Doctrine, underscored the Church’s determination to uphold a moral stance that transcended political polarization and aligned with its broader prophetic mission to challenge all forms of oppression.

At the heart of Puebla’s theological and ideological framework was the reaffirmation of a “Christian vision of anthropology”, which sought to transcend the prevailing political and ideological conflicts of the time, emphasizing the intrinsic dignity of the human person (John Paul II 1979, III, 2). This vision not only rejected the reductionist approaches of both Marxist and capitalist ideologies but also highlighted the importance of forming a generation that could critically engage with these systems. In this context, the bishops underscored the need for a robust education that would empower young people to resist ideological manipulation, particularly from the “liberal capitalist and Marxist” paradigms that were seen as threats to human freedom and spiritual integrity (CELAM 1979, n. 1197).

From a theopolitical perspective, the Puebla Conference represented an evolution in the Church’s ideological positioning. While aligning with Pope John Paul II’s anticommunist vision, it also sought to address broader systemic injustices, navigating the complexities of Cold War politics. As Budde notes, “the core of the progressive movement withstood reaction” during Puebla, reflecting the resilience of liberation theology’s emphasis on the option for the poor (Budde 1992, p. 15). Rather than retreating from the incisive critique of Medellín, Puebla demonstrated the Church’s capacity to balance doctrinal fidelity with a continued commitment to justice. Ultimately, the conference reaffirmed its rejection of Marxism and other ideologies incompatible with Christian anthropology while positioning itself as a prophetic voice against structural inequalities and oppressive systems in Latin America.

5. Santo Domingo (1992): From Temporal Messianism to Ideological Void and Resistance to Materialism

The General Conference of the Latin American and Caribbean Episcopate in Santo Domingo marked a renewed reflection on modern ideologies, reaffirming a critical stance toward Marxism and collectivism. This critique, however, emerged in a significantly different context compared to the earlier Puebla Conference, shaped by the seismic global transformations following the collapse of the socialist bloc in Eastern Europe. John Paul II, in his inaugural address, explicitly referenced this historic shift, characterizing it as a demonstration of the “ephemeral value” of Marxist and collectivist ideologies. For the Pope, the crisis of Marxism was not merely an economic failure but also a profound existential issue: “the truth about man is intimately and necessarily tied to the truth about God” (John Paul II 1992, n. 11). This declaration reflected a broader theological and philosophical framework in which human identity and social order are inseparable from divine truth.

In this context, Gustavo Gutiérrez’s reflection on theology is particularly pertinent: “Theologies necessarily bear the mark of the time and ecclesial context in which they are born. They live as long as the conditions in which they originated remain valid” (Gutiérrez et al. 1996, p. 13). Gutiérrez’s insight underscores that theological responses are inseparable from their historical and sociopolitical circumstances. Just as liberation theology was shaped by the specific struggles and realities of Latin America, the Church’s response to Marxism in the 1990s had to be reevaluated within the new geopolitical landscape, responding not only to the fall of socialist states but also to a changing ecclesial context. Thus, while the critique of Marxism remained a constant in the official discourse, it was now framed within a broader context of the Church’s evolving relationship with the modern world.

The Final Document of the Santo Domingo Conference reinforces this view from multiple perspectives. It emphasizes that, in interpreting Scripture, Jesus not only corrects “purely temporal messianism” but also challenges “all ideologies that enslave man” (CELAM 1992, n. 19). In this context, Marxism is situated within a broader critique of totalizing ideologies that restrict human freedom by imposing immanent, utopian structures. Here, the Church calls for the transcendence of these ideologies, advocating for a comprehensive Christian anthropology that acknowledges the inherent dignity of the person.

Moreover, the document acknowledges the new cultural and social circumstances of the time, describing them as marked by “materialism, the culture of death, the invasion of sects, and religious proposals of various origins” (CELAM 1992, n. 26). While Marxism is not explicitly named in this list, it is implicitly included in the category of negative influences. These are now contrasted with the “new values” of “solidarity, justice”, and the “religious quest”. This shift in discourse is significant: Santo Domingo does not merely condemn these ideologies but proposes alternatives rooted in Christian solidarity, offering a response to the ideological vacuum left by the collapse of collectivism.

Practically, the document advocates for discerning participation in institutions that support victims, provided they are not “instrumentalized through ideologies incompatible with the Church’s Social Doctrine” (CELAM 1992, n. 168). This cautionary note highlights the importance of safeguarding the Church’s identity, ensuring that its involvement in social action does not lead to ideological compromise.

The central challenge in the positions articulated at Santo Domingo lies in the delicate balance between critiquing totalizing ideologies and offering concrete, viable alternatives. While the Church adopts a more optimistic tone compared to Puebla, acknowledging “new values” in contemporary society, it simultaneously maintains a firm stance against Marxism and other ideologies. This dual approach raises pertinent questions regarding the Church’s capacity to engage with an increasingly pluralistic world without resorting to doctrinal “totalization.” In this context, one must consider the ambivalence that underpins the document’s theological reflection and pastoral recommendations. As Parker observes, “there is a tension between a positive appraisal of autonomous sociocultural processes and the defense of the dogmas of the faith and of the Church” (Parker 2015, p. 67). The Santo Domingo Conference reaffirms the Church’s anti-Marxist position while adapting it to a post-Cold War context, recognizing the historical exhaustion of Marxist collectivism. Nevertheless, its insistence on the incompatibility of these ideologies with Christian truth and the Church’s social doctrine underscores a persistent effort to consolidate Christian anthropology as the cornerstone of its mission of evangelization and justice. Thus, while the Church acknowledges the pluralistic currents of modern society, it remains steadfast in its role as the custodian of divine truth, navigating the complexities of the contemporary world without compromising its doctrinal integrity.

In this context, one can detect an implicit reference to liberation theology, though the document avoids hinting at its ideological distortions or shortcomings, which had already been condemned by then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI). In his 1984 intervention as Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Ratzinger cautioned against the tendency to focus solely on liberation from earthly and temporal enslavements, which risks sidelining the more fundamental liberation from sin. He noted that “some are tempted to emphasize, unilaterally, the liberation from servitude of an earthly and temporal kind. They do so in such a way that they seem to put liberation from sin in second place, and so fail to give it the primary importance it is due” (Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith 1984). This shift in pastoral tone and substance is evident in John Paul II’s approach, which wisely avoided historical polemics by reclaiming potentially contentious terms and applying them to a pastoral model grounded in communion (Spinello 2012, p. 203). This approach was intended as a model for the churches in the Americas, reinforcing the pastoral mission of unity over ideological division (Piccone Camere 2020, p. 580).

In conclusion, the Santo Domingo Conference represents a pivotal moment in the Catholic Church’s engagement with contemporary ideologies, particularly Marxism, within the rapidly changing global context following the collapse of the socialist bloc. While maintaining its critical stance towards totalitarian ideologies, the Church also embraces the opportunity to propose new, Christian-based alternatives that emphasize values such as solidarity and justice. This approach not only critiques materialism and ideologies that reduce humanity to immanent and utopian structures, but also invites a pastoral commitment grounded in human dignity and ecclesial communion. The Church’s adaptation to the post-Cold War landscape underscores its ability to navigate the complexities of a pluralistic world without succumbing to the temptations of doctrinal totalization. Thus, Santo Domingo stands as a clarion call for the Church to remain faithful to its identity while engaging in the vital work of evangelization and social justice, all the while negotiating the tension between ideological relativism and doctrinal integrity.

6. Aparecida Conference (2007): From Silence on Marx to New Ideological Dehumanizing Threats

A closer analysis of key excerpts from Benedict XVI’s speeches and the Final Document of the Aparecida Conference reveals a notable shift in the Church’s approach to ideologies and their impact on society. In a curious departure from tradition, Marx—who had been something of a perennial attendee at previous General Conferences of Latin American bishops, where his ideas were routinely dissected and condemned—was conspicuously absent from the discussions at Aparecida. This absence is neither accidental nor insignificant. Instead, it signals a deliberate pivot in the Church’s discourse, moving beyond the narrow focus on political and economic critiques to address broader ideological forces that shape cultural, social, and spiritual dimensions of human life. Such a recalibration resonates with José Casanova’s observation of Latin America’s current reality as one of “religious pluralization with a relatively mild secularization” (Casanova 2018, p. 194). In this pluralistic context, the Church appears less preoccupied with old adversaries and more attuned to the multifaceted challenges of modernity, navigating an ever-expanding ideological landscape while engaging with diverse expressions of faith across the region.

In his inaugural address, Benedict XVI maintains a direct and explicit approach, pointing out the “great error of the dominant tendencies of the past century” (Benedict XVI 2007, n. 3), which include both Marxism and capitalism. He highlights their failure to promote a just order rooted in intrinsic morality. The Pope’s critique extends beyond the structural and economic failures of these systems to their spiritual and ethical impact, emphasizing that both, by promising self-sufficient structures, neglected the need for a prior moral and spiritual foundation. In this context, his criticism of oppression and the degradation of human dignity—observed in both communist regimes and capitalist societies—serves as a call to reconsider the centrality of morality in social structures.

However, the Aparecida Conference adopts a more nuanced approach when addressing ideologies. While acknowledging the “failure of dominant ideologies” (CELAM 2007, n. 52) to address the search for the meaning of life, it does not explicitly mention Marx or specific political ideologies. This omission is significant and may be interpreted as the Church’s attempt to move away from focusing on political ideologies as the center of its analysis, shifting instead to a broader critique of ideologies perceived as reductive and alienating to humanity. Instead of exclusively targeting Marxist materialism, Aparecida critiques a wider spectrum of ideologies, including “materialism, the culture of death”, and other “exhausted ideologies” (CELAM 2007, n. 11), highlighting their inability to provide answers to the deeper questions of human existence.

The Aparecida Conclusive Document warns of the risks of “exhausted ideologies” and the “reduction of the Church to a political subject” (CELAM 2007, n. 99b), a caution that must be understood within the context of an ecclesial experience marked by the excesses of politics in previous decades. In the Latin America of the 1970s and 1980s, the Church played a complex role in its relationship with leftist and liberation movements. Liberation theology, rooted in Marxism and focused on social justice, had profoundly influenced the Church’s pastoral and social reflection. Nevertheless, Aparecida’s response marks a turning point: the need for a “better discernment of the seductive impacts of ideologies” (CELAM 2007, n. 99b) implies a departure from the political instrumentalization of faith, advocating for a return to a mission more spiritual in nature and less tied to specific ideological proposals.

The reflection on ideology in Aparecida raises important questions about the nature of faith and its relationship to social engagement. By avoiding explicit condemnation of systems such as Marxism and focusing on a broader critique of ideologies, the conference acknowledges that threats to human dignity and well-being no longer originate exclusively from a particular political–economic model but from a set of beliefs and practices that alienate humanity and reduce it to an object of consumption or utility. In this sense, the ideology of the “culture of death” and other manifestations of an increasingly dehumanizing materialism remain central concerns for the Church’s mission in the modern world. The omission of any explicit reference to Marx in the Aparecida conclusive document can be interpreted as a deliberate response to the evolving historical and political landscape, where traditional ideological frameworks, especially those rooted in political doctrines, have diminished in influence or undergone significant transformation. Nonetheless, this shift does not signify the Church’s abandonment of its critique of materialism and secularism. Rather, Aparecida expanded its lens to encompass a more comprehensive critique of contemporary ideologies—those that transcend the confines of political–economic systems like Marxism and manifest across cultural, social, and political domains.

This nuanced redirection in Aparecida’s focus must also be understood within the context of evolving theological leadership. As Raúl Zegarra notes, the conference initially appeared unpromising, particularly given the lack of the “vigorous liberationist leadership” seen in Medellín and Puebla and the “already disappointing experience of Santo Domingo” (Zegarra 2023, p. 115). Yet, the outcomes of Aparecida were unexpectedly transformative, rooted in the enduring theological groundwork laid by figures like Gustavo Gutiérrez. Despite facing significant hostility over the years, Gutiérrez’s theology managed to influence a minority within the hierarchy, who, while few in number, maintained considerable power.

As Zegarra explains, the alignment with liberation theology emerged naturally during the conference, highlighting the lasting influence of Gustavo Gutiérrez’s vision. This shift occurred as a new generation of episcopal leaders actively diminished the influence of conservative appointees tied to Pope John Paul II, especially those aligned with Opus Dei. Among those who embraced this renewed theological direction was Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio, later Pope Francis (Zegarra 2023, p. 115). From the outset of his papacy, Bergoglio made a clear and symbolic reclamation of liberation theology, exemplified by his choice of the papal name “Francis”, evoking the saint who championed the poor and marginalized. His papacy has consistently underscored the Church’s preferential option for the poor, a central tenet of liberation theology.

This reclamation was further emphasized by Pope Francis’s visible endorsement of the English edition of On the Side of the Poor: The Theology of Liberation, co-authored by Gustavo Gutiérrez and Cardinal Gerhard Müller (Gutiérrez and Müller 2015). Originally published a decade earlier, the renewed prominence of this edition during Francis’s pontificate served as a powerful affirmation of liberation theology’s continued relevance. The collaboration between Gutiérrez and Müller not only underscored the enduring resonance of liberationist thought but also symbolized a bridge between theological and ecclesial divides, mirroring Francis’s vision of a Church unwavering in its commitment to justice and solidarity with the marginalized. Pope Francis’s critiques, such as the emphasis on the theology of the Good Samaritan and his condemnation of the “mentality of maximum gain at minimal cost” (Francis 2020, n. 71; 2023, n. 31), reflect his deepened commitment to the poor and the dispossessed. By invoking these themes, Francis positions the Church as a radical force for justice, echoing the prophetic message of liberation theology while navigating contemporary sociopolitical realities.

7. CEBs, Charismatic Catholicism, and Sectarian Challenges: The Church’s Evolving Response

In completing our exploration of the evolving anticommunist discourse across the Latin American episcopal conferences, it is crucial to turn our attention to the broader religious dynamics that also shaped the Church’s response. The topic of Protestantism—especially the rise of evangelical and Pentecostal movements—transcends the focus on communism, emerging as a key factor influencing the Church’s strategic adaptations throughout the decades. Indeed, Protestantism, alongside sectarian movements and Charismatic Catholicism, is a recurring theme in the documents of the episcopal conferences, cutting across each of the major gatherings, from Rio de Janeiro to Aparecida. By delving into these religious shifts, we gain further insight into how the Church navigated ideological and spiritual competition within the broader context of political, social, and cultural transformation. This section aims to illuminate the Church’s evolving response to Protestantism’s growing influence, which, in many ways, paralleled the concerns about communism and called for strategic adaptations that would sustain the Catholic faith as a central pillar of Latin American identity.

The dramatic expansion of evangelical Protestantism, particularly Pentecostalism, has significantly reshaped the religious landscape of Latin America, presenting profound challenges to the Catholic Church’s historically dominant influence. This growth has prompted strategic responses from the Catholic Church, which has sought to address the dual pressures of doctrinal competition and cultural transformation while reasserting its role as the spiritual and cultural foundation of Latin American identity. Evangelical Protestantism’s rapid ascent in the latter half of the 20th century—fueled by its emphasis on accessible worship, emotive spirituality, and community-based ministry—coincided with the Catholic Church’s internal struggles to balance tradition and reform. Pentecostalism, in particular, presented an unprecedented challenge by offering vibrant expressions of faith, including healing, glossolalia, and personal testimonies, which resonated deeply with marginalized populations. These practices, coupled with Protestantism’s alignment with emerging political regimes and its critique of Catholic hegemony, forced the Church to reevaluate its pastoral strategies. In this context, Thorsen’s concept of the “Pentecostalization” of religion in Latin America is relevant, as it acknowledges the influence of Pentecostal practices not only on Protestant movements but also on Catholic expressions of faith, reflecting broader shifts within the region’s religious landscape (Thorsen 2023).

Charismatic Catholicism emerged in the 1960s as a pivotal ecclesial innovation, blending elements of Pentecostal worship with Catholic orthodoxy to counter Protestantism’s appeal. This movement integrated dynamic practices such as faith healing, speaking in tongues, and expressive worship, offering a spiritually enriching alternative while reaffirming Catholic doctrine. By addressing the unmet spiritual needs of the faithful, Charismatic Catholicism not only revitalized parish life but also positioned itself as a strategic bulwark against Protestant inroads. As Cleary notes, the rise of Charismatic Catholicism paralleled the declining institutional support for liberation theology and its associated base communities (CEBs). These communities, championed at Medellín and Puebla as grassroots instruments for social justice, faced conservative resistance by the 1990s (Cleary 2007, p. 15). The Vatican, wary of CEBs’ political overtones and alignment with progressive movements, redirected its focus toward less contentious forms of renewal. Charismatic Catholicism, with its emphasis on personal conversion and devotional vibrancy, filled this institutional vacuum, marking a significant shift in the Church’s pastoral priorities.

The Church’s evolving stance on Protestant expansion is evident in the sectarian discourse of successive CELAM conferences. At Rio de Janeiro (1955), the tone was overtly defensive, depicting Protestantism as an external adversary threatening the region’s Catholic heritage. The conference invoked the language of “spiritual crusades” and emphasized the urgency of converting Protestants to Catholicism (CELAM 1955, n. 70). This defensive posture, however, softened at Medellín, where the Church adopted a more propositive approach. Here, the language of “protest” and “liberation” was appropriated to frame the Church’s mission as an agent of social transformation rather than direct confrontation with Protestant denominations (CELAM 1968, n. VII, 18b; n. X, 2).

By the time of Puebla (1979), the Catholic Church’s response to Protestantism had taken a more nuanced turn. The discourse now reflected heightened awareness of Protestantism’s dual threats: external sectarian movements and internal ecclesial fragmentation. Protestant expansion was characterized as a catalyst for “ecclesial estrangement”, necessitating a “new evangelization” that emphasized spiritual renewal and pastoral innovation (CELAM 1979, n. 366). The need for renewal was framed as a defensive yet creative adaptation to the challenges posed by Protestant sects, whose growth seemed to threaten the very cohesion of Catholicism in Latin America.

By the Santo Domingo Conference (1992), the perceived threat of sects had reached what the bishops described as “dramatic proportions” (CELAM 1992, n. 139). The emphasis on CEBs as a countermeasure was tempered by directives to anchor these communities firmly within parish structures, reflecting concerns over their ideological and ecclesiological autonomy (CELAM 1992, n. 61–62). This pastoral recalibration, while aimed at safeguarding orthodoxy, arguably stifled the spontaneous evangelizing vitality of the CEBs, contributing to their decline in subsequent years (Tombs 2002, p. 275).

In this same conference, the bishops highlighted their concern over Protestantism, describing it as a “dramatic” phenomenon undermining the Catholic Church’s cultural and religious foundations. As Protestant sects continued to gain ground, the Church sought to assert its relevance by emphasizing centralized oversight of the base ecclesial communities (CEBs), which had become a significant grassroots movement in Latin America. Simultaneously, the promotion of Charismatic Catholicism emerged as a key strategy, aimed at countering the allure of Protestant practices while revitalizing the Church’s spiritual and doctrinal appeal (CELAM 1992, n. 61–62, n. 139).

In this broader context, the rise of liberation theology and its deep integration with the CEBs became a pivotal component of the Church’s evolving response. As Rowland notes, the CEBs played a central role in shaping the ecclesial and political landscape, particularly in Brazil, where they fostered a “popular church” distinct from the more traditional hierarchies (Rowland 2007, pp. 5–6). The bishops’ growing support for these communities underscored their importance as a counterforce to Protestantism, even as tensions persisted in dioceses less sympathetic to the movement. This grassroots engagement, rooted in struggles for justice and recognition, was integral not only to the Church’s ideological defense against Protestant encroachment but also to its evolving identity in Latin America.

Finally, the Aparecida Conference (2007) acknowledged the profound demographic and cultural shifts reshaping the religious landscape of Latin America. Protestantism, now referred to predominantly through the lens of “sects and other religious groups”, was identified as the foremost challenge for the Church in the early 21st century. The bishops noted the “exodus of the faithful” to non-Catholic movements, framing this phenomenon as part of a broader matrix of ideological, cultural, and pastoral challenges, including secularization, globalization, and the persistence of social injustices (CELAM 2007, n. 185).

The Protestant challenge extended beyond ecclesial boundaries, reflecting broader ideological and cultural tensions. As Stewart-Gambino (1992) observes, Protestantism’s individualistic spirituality and alignment with right-wing regimes contrasted sharply with the collective, justice-oriented ethos of liberation theology. For Catholic progressives, this divergence underscored the need for a robust theological response to safeguard the Church’s commitment to social equity. Conversely, traditionalists viewed Protestantism as a cultural invasion that threatened the historical integration of Catholicism with Latin American identity. These tensions were further exacerbated by Protestant critiques of Catholic rituals, which they dismissed as “idolatrous”, and the socioeconomic appeal of Pentecostal networks among impoverished communities.

Amid these challenges, Charismatic Catholicism emerged as a spiritually vibrant and strategically astute response. By adopting elements of Protestant worship, it not only countered the appeal of Pentecostalism but also reenergized Catholic communities, demonstrating the Church’s adaptive resilience. This movement bridged the gap between tradition and renewal, addressing the spiritual and pastoral needs of the faithful while reaffirming the Church’s commitment to its doctrinal and cultural heritage.

Ultimately, the Catholic Church’s responses to Protestant expansion underscore its enduring capacity to navigate profound societal shifts. From the defensive rhetoric of Rio de Janeiro to the pastoral innovations of Medellín, Puebla, and Santo Domingo, the Church’s evolving strategies reflect a nuanced understanding of the complex interplay between theology, culture, and politics in Latin America’s dynamic religious landscape.

8. Conclusions

The General Conferences have historically functioned as arenas where the interplay between global political tensions and regional pastoral priorities unfolds. While the Final Documents often present a unified narrative, much of the underlying complexity emerges in unofficial, informal spaces: late-night discussions, backroom negotiations, and candid exchanges among bishops. These unofficial settings expose the diversity of episcopal perspectives, the nuances in approach, and the power struggles that ultimately shape the Church’s official stance. This dynamic reflects the intricate process of negotiation and compromise inherent in the drafting of such documents, revealing a Church that is as much a site of debate as it is of doctrinal unity.

This internal negotiation unfolds against the backdrop of the Catholic Church’s enduring yet evolving influence in Latin America. Edward Cleary’s 1992 observation encapsulates the adaptive nature of religion in the region: “Religion has not disappeared but flourishes with changing faces—many more Pentecostals are now evident and the Catholic presence is more vivid” (Cleary 1992, p. 218). However, over the ensuing three decades, the regional religious landscape has undergone both continuities and profound transformations. The latest available data from Latinobarómetro underscore the Catholic Church’s continued centrality, encompassing 53.8% of the total population, with significant extremes ranging from 80.4% in Paraguay to 26.7% in Costa Rica. Yet, despite this numerical predominance, the Church’s approval ratings have experienced a steady decline, reflecting a multifaceted erosion of trust (Latinobarómetro 2023). This decline is part of a broader trend seen across the region, notably in Brazil, where the number of Catholics has decreased by roughly 1% per year between 1991 and 2010, while Evangelical Christianity has experienced a significant rise, growing by 0.7% annually during the same period. This trend has accelerated in recent years, with a 2020 survey revealing that “Evangelicals now constitute the majority among Christians aged 16 to 44, marking a dramatic shift in a country that remains home to the world’s largest Catholic community” (Hatzikidi and Dullo 2021, p. 14). These dynamics illustrate the broader religious diversification across Latin America, as the once-dominant Catholic Church faces increasing competition from Pentecostal and Evangelical movements, reshaping the religious and social fabric of the region.

Among the factors contributing to the Catholic Church’s decline in Latin America are the diversification of religious affiliations, particularly the rapid rise of Pentecostalism, and the Church’s perceived failure to effectively engage with pressing sociopolitical challenges. This decline is further compounded by the far-reaching impact of sexual abuse scandals and the subsequent institutional cover-ups, which have severely undermined the Church’s moral authority, exacerbating public disillusionment and alienation (Lecaros and Suárez 2024, pp. 1–10). This stark contrast—between Cleary’s depiction of a once vibrant Catholic presence and contemporary data highlighting the Church’s multifaceted decline—underscores the urgent need for ecclesial reinvention. As the Church navigates a rapidly changing and increasingly pluralistic sociopolitical landscape, it faces competing priorities and ideological tensions, making its capacity to adapt and reimagine its pastoral strategies all the more critical for maintaining relevance in the region.

This dynamic shift resonates with broader historical patterns of religious practice, as Taylor suggests in his exploration of European religious history: “the apogee of Catholic practice in France comes around 1870, after the crisis of the Revolution with its ‘dechristianization’ campaigns, constitutional church, and other such traumas” (Taylor 2007, p. 424). Taylor’s point is not one of straightforward cause and effect, but rather an acknowledgment that religious history often unfolds in unpredictable ways, marked by contradictions and surprises. Just as the French Catholic Church, following the upheaval of the Revolution, faced ideological and societal trauma yet experienced a resurgence in religious practice, so too does the Latin American Church find itself at a critical juncture. The struggle for the Church in both contexts is not only to recover moral authority but to adapt and reinvent itself in the face of modern challenges. In Latin America, this reinvention is not merely a theoretical concern—it is a matter of the survival of the Church, at least in its current structural form, as it grapples with the forces of secularization, competition from other religious movements, and a broader sociopolitical landscape that continues to shift.

Since its establishment in 1955, CELAM has been a key platform for pastoral reflection and action in Latin America, showcasing an evolution in its theological and political priorities. The Medellín Conference (1968) marked a watershed moment by applying the reforms of the Second Vatican Council to the Latin American context, significantly reshaping the Church’s pastoral and social approach in the region. Subsequently, the Puebla and Santo Domingo Conferences highlighted a shift towards the inculturation of the Gospel and a more explicitly anticommunist stance, reflecting the influence of changing historical and political contexts, including the height of the Cold War and the rise of leftist ideologies in the region.

While Marxism was consistently condemned, its symbolic prominence peaked at Santo Domingo, where Pope John Paul II’s anticommunist agenda became particularly evident. However, as the decades progressed, the Church’s focus began to shift to other issues. At the Aparecida Conference, anticommunist concerns waned, and attention turned to more contemporary issues, such as gender ideologies and the pastoral challenges faced by the Church in a rapidly changing world. The absence of explicit mentions of Marxism in more recent documents, such as those from the Synod on Synodality, reflects a shift in priorities and a recognition that the Church needed to address new global challenges. However, this analysis of the Synod extends beyond the chronological scope of this study and remains a potential area for future research.

The history of liberation theology, particularly through the figure of Gustavo Gutiérrez, powerfully illustrates the evolution of the Catholic Church’s anticommunist discourse. While Gutiérrez is widely recognized as a foundational figure, he was not the sole architect of the movement. Liberation theology was shaped by a collective of theologians, including notable figures such as Leonardo and Clodovis Boff, Jon Sobrino, and others, whose diverse yet complementary contributions enriched its intellectual, theological, and pastoral framework, making it a multifaceted and dynamic response to the sociopolitical challenges in Latin America.

Initially, the Church’s condemnation of liberation theology stemmed from its perceived alignment with Marxist critiques of the sociopolitical order, leading the ecclesiastical hierarchy to distance itself from the movement. This early opposition was grounded in the fear that its emphasis on class struggle and radical social change threatened the stability of the Church’s social teachings. However, over time, the partial rehabilitation of liberation theology and key figures like Gutiérrez reflects a nuanced balancing act within the Church, where a critique of Marxism is juxtaposed with a renewed pastoral commitment to social justice, the dignity of the poor, and the liberation of the oppressed. This evolution underscores a persistent tension within the Church: while it upholds the ideal of social justice, it remains cautious of doctrinal conflicts that could arise from political ideologies.

Dillon’s insight into Catholicism as a “living tradition” underscores the Church’s ability to adapt while remaining anchored in its doctrinal commitments. He argues that Catholicism is “committed to tradition but open to change”, capturing the dynamic interplay between faith and reason that allows the Church to stay relevant in an increasingly secularized world (Dillon 2018, p. 1). This adaptability has enabled the Church to reassess and integrate aspects of liberation theology, balancing its traditional teachings with evolving social realities. By navigating the complexities of modern political ideologies while remaining committed to its core principles, the Church demonstrates its capacity to remain vital and engaged in the ongoing pursuit of social justice.

As demonstrated by the evolving discourse across the General Conferences of the Latin American Episcopate, the Catholic Church’s response to Protestantism reveals the intricate interplay between religious adaptation and ideological challenges. This interaction, initially shaped by the specter of communism, ultimately transcended to address other dehumanizing ideologies. The Church’s approach—from Rio de Janeiro’s defensive posture to Medellín and Puebla’s embrace of liberation theology and ecclesial base communities—highlights a complex negotiation of tradition, renewal, and geopolitical pressures. In response to the rise of Protestant movements, especially Pentecostalism, the Church found itself navigating a broader ideological landscape, integrating Charismatic Catholicism as a strategic adaptation to both the internal and external challenges it faced. The Charismatic movement, blending emotive worship with Catholic orthodoxy, underscores the Church’s resilience, addressing not only Protestant growth but also internal tensions caused by broader ideological and cultural shifts. This multifaceted response reveals the Church’s capacity to maintain its theological and cultural influence amidst rapid transformations in the region.

The notion of “messianic fraternity”, coined at the Puebla Conference (1979), represents a profound critique of Marxism. The bishops viewed Marxism, in its utopian version, as promoting myths and illusions of a redemptive future, contrasting with the reality of a present devoid of fraternity and authentic redemption. This “messianism without a Messiah” was seen as a dangerous idealism that diverted the Church from its true evangelizing mission and its call to build genuine and tangible fraternity. Thus, the Church positioned itself as an advocate for social commitment grounded in genuine solidarity rather than utopian dreams that risked leading to frustration and division.

The shift towards a pastoral approach emphasizing “messianic fraternity” and reconciliation with cultural and social realities has ushered the Church into a new phase where synodality and active listening have become central pillars. This transformation suggests a preference for a less ideological and more inclusive model, uniting CELAM’s and the universal Church’s priorities in a quest for unity and understanding. This approach paves the way for a paradigm that recognizes Latin America’s cultural and social diversity, inviting the Church to act in a manner more attuned to contemporary challenges and less constrained by past ideological divides.

Thus, throughout its history, CELAM and the Church at large have faced numerous challenges that have shaped them into a “besieged fortress” (Borghesi 2021, p. 44), where internal and external tensions have tested their capacity for adaptation and resilience. From confronting political ideologies like Marxism to navigating questions about their role in social struggles and transforming into a space for synodality and dialogue in contemporary times, the Church has had to redefine its priorities and strategies. Nonetheless, it cannot be ignored that this fortress has also revealed its vulnerabilities, such as resistance to internal change and struggles to maintain unity amidst a broad and often polarized ideological spectrum. Past missteps, such as ambiguities in responding to liberation theology or its eagerness to act as a political agent without always doing so effectively, remain critical points of reflection that question its ability to serve as a prophetic voice and an agent of reconciliation.

This fortress, though besieged by diverse voices and internal critiques, has managed to emerge with a renewed sense of mission, adapting to the changing realities of Latin America and reinforcing its call for unity and fraternity. The Church has not only survived the trials of time but has also learned to transform itself, seeking a path of reconciliation and building a more inclusive and understanding community. However, to consolidate this role, it is essential for the Church to maintain an attitude of self-criticism and openness to self-transformation, recognized as crucial to addressing the new realities and expectations of its faithful and society at large.