Another season of Easter, signifying love and comradeship, is upon us, giving us a renewed opportunity to explore possibilities of active cooperation between two seemingly opposed groups—Christians and Marxists. Briefly and simply put, Liberation Theology is a school of thought which proclaims that methods of direct action are at times necessary for the material and spiritual liberation of the poor and powerless; that prayer and persuasion have to be occasionally accompanied by frontal assaults to produce necessary results. The conservative Vatican hierarchy, headed by the Pope and his counsellors, is known to look upon this school of theology as the handiwork of godless Marxists who have made their way into, primarily, the Jesuit order, one of the more powerful bodies in the Roman Catholic Church.
Two well-known films, both in English and made in the 1980s, are worthy of discussion in the light of the schism within the Jesuit order and the Catholic Church, and its repercussions on ordinary lives in entirely or predominantly Catholic countries. The first is The Mission, directed by Roland Joffé, and the other is Romero.
The Mission is about two Jesuit priests who come to a tragic end while trying to save a mission they had helped raise in the Amazon jungles. The mission is so successful in its objective of giving direction to the lives of hundreds of converted Guarani Indians that it comes to be seen as a threat and an affront to the state power of the Spanish and Portuguese, who were then the masters of the region. The superiors of the two Jesuits, too, are not exactly happy with them, because conditions then (as often even now) were such that the interests of the Church were hard to distinguish from those of the State.
The Mission is an extravagant production, rich in sound and scenery. The film’s action takes place amidst swirling waters, steep falls, and lush tropical jungles. There are quiet moments, such as those when the two priests are shown talking to each other, but much of the film unfolds on a grand dramatic scale. However, for the purpose of this essay, the important thing to note is what the film says, especially in the context of present-day developments in and around those same jungles. The conquistadores from Spain and Portugal are long gone, but their places have effectively been taken in many parts of Latin America by foreign interests operating through chosen local tyrants.
Having refused to disband the mission and thereby incurring the wrath of both temporal and spiritual authorities, the two priests try to save the church, the colony around it, and the fields rich with crops grown by the collective labour of the Indians in two different ways. One is a traditional shepherd of his flock (played by Jeremy Irons), who refuses to abandon his faith in the efficacy of prayer and in what he considers divine justice. The other places greater faith in direct action (Robert De Niro), without deserting the philosophy of love. Indeed, it is precisely his love for his fellows that leads him to ask them to defend themselves and their right to remain, using whatever means are available, including their bows and arrows, which they had given up after their conversion.
In the end, both priests are killed in an impossibly unequal struggle; the Indian population, including women and children, is massacred; and the mission is burnt down. The cardinal sent by Rome to persuade the priests to relent—himself a Jesuit—is sympathetic to the mission but is unable to prevent the carnage.
Of the two priestly martyrs, the one who fought because he saw no other option may be said to have anticipated figures such as Archbishop Romero or even Cardinal Sin of Manila. True, the cardinal did not ask Filipinos to rise in armed revolt against the excesses of the Marcos regime, but he did exhort them to offer determined passive resistance. Thus, the military could do nothing when it found Catholic nuns, among others, kneeling in prayer in front of armoured tanks on Manila’s boulevards. In truth, the brutality of the US-aided Marcos dictatorship was defeated by a form of Liberation Theology milder than the Nicaraguan or Salvadoran model, but nonetheless strikingly effective.
Anyone familiar with contemporary political realities knows that the most militant expression of Liberation Theology emerged in Nicaragua, where many churchmen fought shoulder to shoulder with Marxist Sandinistas to defeat neo-imperialism represented by Anastasio Somoza, his family, and a small privileged class. Once in power, the Sandinistas began dismantling the anti-people system engineered by the previous regime, which had ruled for decades with the active support of the CIA, the Pentagon, and the White House. In this difficult programme of reconstruction, Daniel Ortega’s government relied heavily on advisers from the “church of the poor,” some of whom had fought in the mountains and later returned to more traditional priestly duties.
Romero, directed by the Australian filmmaker John Duigan, movingly recalls the life, teachings, and martyrdom of Archbishop Óscar Arnulfo Romero. The film achieves three things: it portrays a man of religion, unassuming and shy, forced into courage and sacrifice by the suffering of his people; it celebrates Liberation Theology as a union of prayer and protest; and it reflects mass misery exacerbated by state violence.
The producer of Romero stated that he had deliberately chosen not to use a Catholic scriptwriter. He cited A Man for All Seasons by Robert Bolt and The Gospel According to Saint Matthew by Pier Paolo Pasolini as examples of powerful religious films created by non-believers or Marxists. These films, though sceptical in tone, possess strong cinematic and religious force.
To prepare for Romero, the producer and scriptwriter visited El Salvador during its civil war. They encountered stark evidence of brutality, including sites where victims of right-wing death squads had been discarded. Filming could not take place in El Salvador due to government opposition, so it was relocated to Mexico, where even the military later withdrew support.
Despite challenges, the film was completed under deeply committed conditions. Cast and crew experienced the project intensely, culminating in a collective celebration after filming.
The film received a standing ovation at the International Film Festival of India in Calcutta in 1990. In the United States, it reportedly stirred moral reflection regarding American foreign policy in Central America. Critics such as Henry Herx of the US Bishops’ Conference recognised its importance in raising ethical and political questions.
Closer to home, Bishop Paulose Mar Paulose of the Chaldean Syrian Church of the East was a significant Indian advocate of Liberation Theology. Though not widely known, his work in Kerala and beyond reflected a deep commitment to the poor and oppressed. He believed in a “spirituality of combat” and supported ideologies that served the underprivileged, even without Church endorsement.
As chairman of the World Christian Students Federation, Bishop Paulose spread his ideas globally, focusing especially on exploited societies. In a time lacking strong role models, his life stands as a reminder of courage, compassion, and creative thought. Like Archbishop Romero and the priests in The Mission, he belongs to history as an example of moral conviction in action.
