African Cardinals Emerge as Key Contenders to Succeed Pope Francis

On a quiet morning in Vatican City, the white and gold flags hung still above St. Peter’s Basilica. Tourists walked the square in hushed tones, aware that the man who had led the Catholic Church for over a decade now lay in repose. Pope Francis was gone, and the bells that tolled above the rooftops carried a weight that moved beyond ritual. Inside the walls, conversations had already begun to shift. Attention turned not only to mourning but to choosing the next man who would wear the white cassock.

Among the cardinals now facing the gravity of succession were names that, in another century, might never have appeared in such lists. But the Church today does not look as it once did. In Africa, where Catholicism continues to grow, leaders have risen with voices shaped not by European seminaries alone but by civil wars, poverty, and the stubborn effort to shepherd faith through turmoil.

Cardinal Peter Turkson

Cardinal Peter Turkson of Ghana, once tasked with guiding Vatican policy on climate and human development, is one of the most widely respected. His calm presence and fluent command of social justice teaching have made him a familiar face in global conversations.

Cardinal Robert Sarah

Cardinal Robert Sarah of Guinea stands in contrast. His tenure was marked by firm theological stances and a return to liturgical tradition. He speaks often of silence, of humility, and the dangers of compromise. To some he offers clarity, to others a sharp break from the reforms of recent years. Where he walks, debate follows. Yet even his critics note his deep devotion and disciplined life.

Cardinal Dieudonné Nzapalainga

Cardinal Dieudonné Nzapalainga of the Central African Republic became the youngest member of the College of Cardinals in 2016. His work during the country’s civil conflict, traveling between Christian and Muslim communities, earned him trust far beyond the Church. In places where institutions crumbled, he stayed. So did his words. He continues to preach unity to a people more familiar with loss than with peace.

The conclave has not yet begun. Its electors, mostly appointed by Pope Francis, carry with them a complex mix of memory, loyalty, and hope. The decision they face is not just about doctrine or policy but about what kind of witness the Church will offer to a world where belief is tested daily. In this moment, the eyes of millions stretch not toward Rome as a symbol, but as a question. For the first time in centuries, that answer may come from a continent long overlooked but never silent.