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The white smoke that heralded his election also signaled a new and unpredictable phase in religious geopolitics, for Wojtyla is the first Pope to come from a nation under Communist rule. The Cardinals insisted with one voice that they had selected their new leader without intending to set any political line, indeed without even taking time to weigh the ramifications. To be sure, the election came quickly, on the second day and eighth ballot of voting. Still, because of the implications for relations not only with Moscow but also with the powerful Italian Communist Party, few observers had thought that the normally cautious Cardinals would turn to a Communist country if they wanted to go outside Italy for a Pope.
John Paul II realized that with all these forces unleashed, his first public appearance as Pope demanded more than the traditional first Urbi et orbi (to the city and the world) blessing. He broke precedent by delivering a brief speech. As the crowd roared, he strode forward and gripped the balustrade pugnaciously, arms outstretched. His rugged 5 ft. 10½ in. frame, craggy high-cheekboned Slavic features and athletic posture all bespoke self-confidence and authority. "Blessed be Jesus Christ," he began in his firm, resonant baritone voice. It was a traditional Italian priestly salutation, rarely heard in recent years. "May he always be blessed," the crowd replied. "Even if I am not sure that I can express myself well in your —our—Italian language [applause], you will correct me if I make a mistake." In fact, his slightly accented Italian was so polished that this remark was more a gesture than an apology. The new Pope twice paid homage to the Virgin Mary (a figure of extraordinary veneration in Poland) and referred to his new role as Bishop of Rome,* another bid for the favor of his newly adopted flock. At one point during the speech, a Vatican bureaucrat, caught off guard by the new Pope's departure from tradition, hissed "Basta!" (Enough!) at him; John Paul II ignored him and kept talking.
The impromptu speech went over well. "He may be a foreigner but he speaks our language," said a woman in the square. "Why shouldn't we have a foreign Pope?" asked a Rome cabbie. "After all, St. Peter was one." Lounging in his cafe on a day off, Waiter Lucio Ruspoli said, "It's a breath of fresh air after 4½ centuries. And now the Pope won't be so involved in Italy's politics."
But the surprising choice was not universally hailed. Many Italians, particularly in the hierarchy, saw the loss of the papacy after 4½ centuries as a defeat and a reprimand. Noting that Wojtyla's predecessor was not a Vatican bureaucrat but a pastor (Archbishop and Primate of Venice), one Curia prelate said, "If the last conclave gave a flunking grade to the Curia, this one extended it to the whole Italian hierarchy." Onlookers thought that some Italian prelates looked downcast, even grim, when Wojtyla made his first appearance on the balcony of the basilica. And when Genoa's Giuseppe Cardinal Siri, the front runner at the start of the conclave, was asked what he thought of John Paul II's inaugural message, delivered only half an hour earlier, he snapped peevishly: "I can't remember what he said."