To briefly summarize where we stand now, the situation can be outlined as follows. On the one hand, relations between Rome and the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople remain active — and indeed, one could say that in recent years they have even intensified. This is connected both with the fact that Constantinople has shown, over the past decades, perhaps the greatest ecumenical interest among all the local Churches and is ready to take concrete steps toward restoring Christian unity. In my view, it is also related to internal Orthodox dynamics. The period following the Council of Crete, which exposed the main crisis of the Orthodox world — its internal divisions and the loss of even visible unity of the Orthodox Church “in the singular” — prompted Phanar to exercise more active leadership. This was manifested, among other things, in its attempt to resolve the long-standing schism in Ukraine. Effective and comprehensible remedies were proposed — how the various parties to the Ukrainian schism made use of them is another matter. But the very fact of this initiative had consequences not only for Ukrainian Orthodoxy but also for the field of ecumenism.

The situation today with the Moscow Patriarchate is entirely different. The dialogue that was once one of the key directions of the Vatican’s ecumenical engagement has now been reduced, in essence, to a minimum. After all, it is hardly possible to describe the current contacts as authentic ecumenism in the sense of seeking unity — rather, they are sporadic encounters devoid of theological or ecclesial substance. And tellingly, the Dicastery for Promoting Christian Unity, which should serve as the central coordinator of such processes, now plays no noticeable role in communication with Moscow. This indicates that the remaining contacts operate primarily through diplomatic rather than ecclesial channels.

The official Joint International Commission for Theological Dialogue between the Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church, though formally continuing its work, is in fact experiencing an evident crisis. Several local Orthodox Churches have declined to participate in the dialogue altogether, while the Moscow Patriarchate systematically avoids those meetings where the Ecumenical Patriarchate presides. In this case, the issue lies not so much — or not only — in the establishment of the Orthodox Church of Ukraine or the ongoing war, but rather in Moscow’s evident dissatisfaction with the very agenda and direction of the Commission’s work.

Furthermore, the establishment of the Orthodox Church of Ukraine (OCU) has introduced a new factor that has fundamentally reshaped the balance of ecclesiastical landscape in Eastern Europe. In a region where the Moscow Patriarchate had previously served as the Vatican’s principal interlocutor, a new actor has now emerged — the OCU.

At present, the Orthodox Church of Ukraine does not participate in the official international dialogues between the Catholic and Orthodox Churches and lacks direct formal channels of communication with the Holy See. Nevertheless, a growing mutual interest is observable — both on the part of the OCU and the Vatican — manifested in rather some visits and meetings.

Whether this reflects the OCU's genuine ecumenical commitment, its strategic pursuit of international legitimacy, or—most likely—both simultaneously, remains an open question.

This situation also exposes the Vatican’s strategic bind: recognizing the OCU risks further alienating Moscow — a staunch opponent of Orthodox autocephaly in Ukraine — yet ignoring it would mean disregarding both the ecclesial choice of millions of Ukrainian faithful and the canonical decision of the Ecumenical Patriarchate. In any case, this development constitutes a new ecclesial and geopolitical reality with which the Vatican must now reckon.

It is evident that, when addressing the crisis in ecumenical relations within the context of Russian aggression against Ukraine, the central focus becomes the dialogue between Rome and the Moscow Patriarchate. Historically, this engagement has commanded the lion’s share of the Vatican’s ecumenical efforts. This is understandable: Moscow represents one of the largest Orthodox churches in the world, its influence extends beyond its so-called “canonical boundaries,” and some may have genuinely believed that the keys to Orthodox dialogue lay in Moscow’s hands.

As a Ukrainian Catholic, I have naturally maintained a degree of skepticism toward these efforts. This skepticism was particularly pronounced during the Cold War, when the Ukrainian community felt profoundly betrayed, as the Vatican’s dialogue with Moscow largely overlooked the suffering of Ukrainians and failed to account for the real conditions of the underground Church in Ukraine.

Even after the collapse of the Soviet Union, it remained somewhat unclear why bilateral relations with Moscow—which the Vatican undoubtedly had every right to pursue—also encompassed Ukrainian concerns. Why were these issues not disentangled? Why did Ukrainian matters remain bundled within a Moscow-centric framework, as if ecclesiastical reality on the ground had not fundamentally changed?

Doubt regarding the very nature of this dialogue is further reinforced by recent historical research. For instance, Roman Skakun’s study of the Russian Orthodox episcopate in Ukraine after the Second World War reveals a striking reality: virtually the entire episcopate were agents of the KGB, not merely compromised individuals acting under duress, but active collaborators in constructing an intelligence apparatus within the Church itself.

It has long been researched that the Russian Orthodox Church functioned as an instrument of Soviet foreign policy. Even against this well-established backdrop, recent archival evidence reveals institutional compromise exceeding previous assumptions. The sheer weight of this evidence underscores the extent to which this dialogue was shaped by hidden motives within the Russian Orthodox hierarchy, calling into question its sincerity or authenticity.

However, if we try to step back from the subjective Ukrainian perspective—as much as possible—and attempt to understand the rationale of the Vatican, two key questions emerge that are directly relevant to our situation.

First: could ecumenical dialogue with the Moscow Patriarchate have helped prevent the war? And second, how to conduct a dialogue with the Church that blessed the war? The latter question concerns the future, and I will leave it for now. I will focus on the former, since this is the root of the crisis.

The Vatican has traditionally positioned itself as a diplomat and peacemaker, striving to maintain channels of communication even with difficult partners. From this perspective, dialogue with Moscow could have been intended to preserve the possibility of influencing a highly complex regional situation, one that has always been exceptionally challenging for the Holy See. East-Central Europe lies at the crossroads of two major Christian traditions—Eastern Orthodoxy and Catholicism—and carries deep historical wounds, unresolved conflicts, and collective traumas. These factors make the region not only politically sensitive but also religiously and culturally intricate, where any ecclesiastical initiative is inevitably intertwined with local identities, historical memory, and geopolitical considerations. In addition, this complexity is further compounded by the imperial nature of both the Russian state and the Russian Orthodox Church, the latter having explicitly embraced ideas such as Holy Rus, which sacralize territorial expansion. In this context, the Vatican's interaction with Moscow can be seen as an attempt to mitigate the situation in the region, whose stability directly affects European stability as a whole, without legitimizing Moscow's claims.

I would argue that this was also a realistic objective of ecumenical contacts with the Moscow Patriarchate. Beyond all the aspirational rhetoric about desired unity and reconciliation, it appears that the Vatican sought a gradual transformation of the Moscow Patriarchate, aiming to integrate it more fully into various forms of interaction—scholarly exchanges, cultural initiatives, and multilateral theological commissions. In essence, this approach mirrors the strategies pursued by Western states toward Russia after the Cold War—attempting to moderate aggressive tendencies through integration into networks of economic, political, and cultural engagement, based on the assumption that interdependence breeds moderation. Similarly, the Vatican's engagement can be seen as an effort to channel the influence of the Russian Orthodox Church toward constructive participation in broader international and ecclesiastical networks, thereby potentially reducing the church's isolationist or expansionist impulses. Like its secular counterpart, this strategy rested on assumptions about institutional incentives and the transformative power of engagement that would ultimately prove unfounded. Let us add that some in the Vatican may indeed have believed that Moscow was open to discussing the issue of restoring unity. I will leave this question open, since the highest representatives, such as Hilarion Alfeev, have repeatedly stated that this area does not interest them.

The fundamental flaw in this approach was a profound misreading of the Moscow Patriarchate's institutional identity and its relationship to Russian state power. The Vatican's strategy assumed that the Russian Orthodox Church would act according to a logic similar to that of other Christian institutions—that it could be integrated into a European framework of inter-Christian collaboration aimed at peaceful coexistence, and that sustained engagement would strengthen voices within the Moscow Patriarchate committed to common Christian values over nationalist and chauvinistic tendencies. This assumption proved catastrophically wrong.

First, the Moscow Patriarchate was never an independent ecclesiastical actor capable of being "transformed" through dialogue. The historical evidence—particularly the archival research on KGB infiltration—demonstrates that the church has functioned as an extension of Russian state power since the Soviet period, and this relationship did not fundamentally change after 1991. The church's leadership was not seeking integration into international Christian networks as a path toward theological renewal or institutional reform; rather, it instrumentalized these contacts to enhance Russia's soft power and legitimacy. Ecumenical dialogue, from Moscow's perspective, was never about genuine theological exchange but about securing recognition, prestige, and leverage for Russian geopolitical objectives.

Secondly, the Vatican somewhat underestimated how central opposition to the West is to Russian Orthodoxy’s self-identity. Concepts such as Holy Rus are not merely nationalist sentiments that could be moderated through exposure to alternative perspectives; they constitute a totalizing theological-political framework that casts Moscow as the guardian of authentic Christianity against a decadent, apostate West. Within this worldview, Rome itself represents spiritual corruption, and any engagement with it is tactical rather than transformative. The Moscow Patriarchate’s participation in dialogue was therefore not a sign of openness to change, but rather an expression of confidence that it could use these platforms to advance its own agenda while remaining ideologically impervious to external influence.

Third, the strategy of gradual transformation through institutional integration suffers from a temporal mismatch. Even if such an approach could theoretically work, it would require decades of sustained engagement to show results—far longer than the political and military timelines within which aggressive states operate. By the time any moderating influence might have taken effect, Russia had already launched its war. Moreover, this approach provided Moscow with something valuable in the interim: international legitimacy and the appearance of being a responsible interlocutor, which arguably made Western actors—both ecclesiastical and political—slower to recognize the threat.

Fourth, the Vatican’s engagement inadvertently legitimized the Moscow Patriarchate’s claims to ecclesiastical jurisdiction over Ukraine. By treating Moscow as the primary Orthodox interlocutor for the entire region, the Vatican reinforced the very imperial ecclesiology it sought to moderate. This became painfully evident when the Ukrainian Orthodox schism required resolution: the Vatican found itself constrained by years of having implicitly accepted Moscow’s framework for understanding Eastern European church relations. The eventual recognition of the Orthodox Church of Ukraine by Constantinople—and the Vatican’s reluctance to respond in a fraternal way when millions of Orthodox Ukrainians were finally freed from canonical isolation and the stigma of being treated as non-Christians—revealed how deeply the Holy See had boxed itself in through its Moscow-centric approach.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, this strategy rested on a categorical error regarding what ecumenical dialogue can actually achieve. Dialogue is effective only when the parties share a basic commitment to truthfulness, good-faith engagement, and the possibility of mutual transformation. But when one party regards dialogue primarily as a tactical instrument for advancing geopolitical objectives, the entire framework collapses. The Vatican, at least officially, treated the Moscow Patriarchate as if it were a church genuinely striving for Christian unity; Moscow, by contrast, treated the Vatican as a geopolitical actor with its own interests—an interlocutor to be bargained with, not a partner in the pursuit of truth and justice. These fundamentally incompatible understandings meant that “dialogue” never truly took place; it consisted instead of parallel monologues serving divergent strategic ends.

The crisis I outlined at the title the crisis of "unity above truth" — is precisely what the failure of Rome-Moscow dialogue has exposed. For decades, the preservation of dialogue itself became the objective, with theological clarity and moral witness subordinated to maintaining the appearance of ecumenical progress. The Vatican's engagement with Moscow rested on the assumption that dialogue could proceed even in the absence of shared basic commitments to truthfulness, good faith, and mutual transformation. The war has revealed this as an illusion.

Speech at the seminar ‘The Crisis of International Ecumenical Institutions in the Context of the War in Ukraine’ organised by the Ukrainian Christian Academic Society, Lviv, 8 October 2025