The death of Pope Francis last year has triggered grave mourning in cathedrals—and theoretical whispers in edges of the web where past, anxiety, and memes meet. A design, they say, is emerging: Pope Pius X died in 1914, only as World War I began. Pope Pius XI died in 1939, on the eve of World War II. Then, as the earth cools with problems from Ukraine to Gaza, and with conflicts rising in the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea, Pope Francis has passed. The scheduling, to some, feels… menacing.
But these ’s the point: timing is not causation. The idea that apostolic deaths apparently signal or reveal world wars is powerful as a narrative—especially in a cultural media age where traditional trivia morphs simply into eschatological prophecy. But it falls into a typical natural trap: post mortem ergo propter hoc—after this, so because of this.
It’s the exact mistake that leads people to think carrying a rabbit’s base prevents poor luck, or that a stock market crash is expected every time a meteor appears. In truth, correlation does not imply causation. Popes do not cause wars, nor do their deaths catalyse international conflict. History is messy, multicausal, and rarely as narratively tidy as a meme might suggest.
The Pius X – World War I Theory
On social media platforms like Reddit and X ( formerly Twitter ), a particularly viral claim draws a dotted line between the death of Pope Pius X and the start of World War I. Pius X died on 20 August 1914, barely three weeks after Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia. Online historians note that he had been gravely ill but reportedly heartbroken by the news of war engulfing Europe—a narrative that adds a touch of spiritual gravitas to a bloody, imperialist brawl. But the implication that his death somehow unlocked the gates of global war is a leap of logic, not fact. The war was already underway; the Pope died with it—not before it.
The Pius XI – World War II Theory
Similarly, Pope Pius XI’s death in February 1939—mere months before Hitler invaded Poland—is often held up as another prophetic papal exit. His successor, Pius XII, would become the wartime Pope, navigating the Vatican through neutrality, moral ambiguity, and post-war reckoning. But again, this connection is exaggerated. The world was already on the brink. Hitler had annexed Austria, occupied the Sudetenland, and torn up treaties like confetti at a fascist wedding. The Pope’s death did n’t cause the war; it merely coincided with a crescendo of fascist momentum that had been building for years.
Why the Pattern Feels Real
Still, we’re not entirely irrational to search for patterns. Humans are pattern-seeking creatures, especially in moments of uncertainty. The deaths of Pius X and Pius XI did coincide with inflection points in world history—not because the papacy drives global violence, but because the papacy, like everything else, exists within history’s tides.
And now, in 2025, the world is once again on edge. But this is not because Pope Francis died. Rather, his death occurred amid an already unstable international order—one defined by decentralised conflict, climate-driven migration, economic disruption, and an ongoing epistemic crisis where truth is contested and institutions are under siege.
The Danger of Drawing Lines Too Neatly
The allure of connecting papal deaths with world crises also reflects a deeper psychological need: the desire for meaning. In a world that feels chaotic, the illusion of pattern offers comfort. If history follows cycles, perhaps we can predict—and avoid—disaster. But this thinking can lead us astray.
Assigning too much significance to such correlations distracts us from real drivers of conflict: ethno-nationalism, unchecked militarism, authoritarian revival, resource scarcity, and digital disinformation. These are the forces shaping the world today—not Vatican funerals or papal conclaves.
A Reminder of Continuity, Not Crisis
What the death of a Pope does signify is a moment of reflection for a major global institution—one that still carries moral and symbolic weight for over a billion people. The transition of papal power often marks the end of an era, a shift in tone, sometimes in theology or diplomacy. But it is not a doomsday clock. It is a bell tolling in a world already noisy with real alarms.
So, as the College of Cardinals convenes in Rome to elect the next spiritual leader of the Catholic Church, it is not history’s hidden codes we should decipher, but the open wounds of our time. The threats we face—geopolitical, environmental, ideological—are not prophetic mysteries. They are human-made. And they require human solutions.
Still, if you see someone quietly lighting candles and looking nervously at a world map after a papal death, don’t scoff. Just gently remind them: history does n’t repeat—it only rhymes. And not all rhymes are omens. Some are just echoes.
