In a display of cosmic irony that would make even the most seasoned nihilist weep with exhaustion, three high-ranking members of the American Catholic hierarchy have emerged from their incense-scented boardrooms to inform us that the world might be in trouble. It is truly a banner day for the obvious when Archbishops Blase Cupich, Robert McElroy, and Joseph Tobin—men whose titles suggest a medieval LARP but whose salaries suggest a hedge fund—decide that the current administration’s foreign policy is a bit too 'caustic' for their tastes. The trio has issued a joint statement warning that the United States is currently careening toward a cliff of 'incalculable suffering.' One might argue that the Church has a bit of a monopoly on that particular market, but apparently, they don’t like the competition.

The specific grievances cited by our holy trilogy of Newark, Chicago, and D.C. involve the administration’s bizarre fixation on acquiring Greenland, its heavy-handed military posturing in Venezuela, and the slashing of humanitarian aid. It is a delicious spectacle: the representatives of a multi-billion-dollar tax-exempt entity that sits on a mountain of gold and secrets are lecturing the king of golden toilets about the 'right to life and human dignity.' It’s like watching two different flavors of ancient, crumbling empires argue over who gets to exploit the peasants more efficiently.

Let’s start with the Greenland absurdity. The President, viewing the world through the lens of a failing Atlantic City casino developer, decided he wanted to buy a literal tectonic plate. The Cardinals, in their infinite wisdom, claim this undermines international relations. Of course it does. It treats the sovereign territory of an ally like a fixer-upper with good bones and a moisture problem. But the Cardinals’ appeal to 'human dignity' in this context is particularly rich. Greenland’s indigenous population is likely thrilled to be the latest pawn in a geopolitical pissing contest between a man who thinks the Arctic is a future site for a golf course and a trio of men who represent an institution that hasn't seen a new idea since the Council of Trent.

Then we have Venezuela. The administration’s 'military action'—a phrase that usually serves as a polite euphemism for 'turning a sovereign nation into a pile of rubble to satisfy a domestic voter base'—is another point of contention. The Cardinals are suddenly very concerned about the stability of the region. This is the same Church that spent centuries in Latin America playing footsie with every dictator who promised to keep the tithes flowing and the communists out. Now, suddenly, they’ve discovered the sanctity of international law? It’s enough to make one gag on the sheer audacity of the pivot. They aren't worried about the Venezuelan people; they’re worried that the US is being too clumsy with the scalpel. They prefer the slow, grinding misery of institutional influence to the loud, messy bangs of a drone strike.

And then there’s the aid. The administration is cutting humanitarian aid because, in the world of 'America First,' helping poor people in other countries doesn't provide an immediate ROI in the form of a skyscraper with a name on it. The Cardinals argue that this undermines the country’s 'moral role.' This is the most laughable part of the entire charade. The idea that the United States has ever had a 'moral role' that wasn't just a PR campaign for resource extraction is the Great American Myth. And the Church is the perfect partner for this myth, having spent two millennia perfecting the art of selling 'morality' while collecting the spoils of conquest.

What we are witnessing is not a moral awakening, but a turf war. Cupich, McElroy, and Tobin represent the 'progressive' wing of the US Church—which is like being the most 'athletic' person at a chess tournament—and they are terrified that the current administration is making the 'West' look exactly like what it is: a greedy, senile monster that has stopped pretending it cares about the rules. The Cardinals want to keep the mask on. They want the 'human dignity' rhetoric because it keeps the masses quiet. They want the aid to flow because it gives them leverage. They want the veneer of 'international relations' because it maintains the status quo that keeps their cathedrals heated and their wine cellars stocked.

On the other side, you have an administration that is too stupid or too arrogant to keep the mask on. It wants to buy Greenland because it looks big on a map. It wants to starve the global south because it plays well in Ohio. It is a collision of two different types of decay: the old, calculated hypocrisy of the Church and the new, chaotic idiocy of the nationalist right. Both sides claim to care about 'life,' yet both are perfectly happy to watch the world burn as long as they get to hold the matches. In the end, the Cardinals’ statement isn't a plea for humanity; it’s a customer service complaint from one branch of the global elite to another, filed while the rest of us are left to wonder which of them will finish us off first.