Council of Chalcedon – Rome’s Primacy Affirmed, or Was it?

Introduction

The Council of Chalcedon (451) is often remembered as the stage upon which Pope Leo I ascended to doctrinal centrality. His Tome was acclaimed as a pillar of orthodoxy; his voice, hailed as Peter’s. But behind Leo’s moment in the sun stood the shadow of a far greater power: Empress Pulcheria. This article exposes the political mechanics behind Chalcedon, revealing how Leo’s primacy was asserted by Rome but only because it was allowed by Constantinople—specifically, by Pulcheria, who used Leo as her instrument to reshape the Church on her terms. Leo, in turn, hoped to use Pulcheria to assert his narrative of Petrine primacy, seeing in her imperial favor a chance to elevate his see above the rest. But as he would soon discover, his glory would be at the cost of his forced obedience. His legacy would be at the cost of imperial manipulation over the Church.

I. A Convenient Partnership: Pulcheria Needed a Bishop, Leo Needed a Throne

Pulcheria had just regained imperial power after her brother Theodosius II’s sudden and suspicious death in 450. With her marriage to Marcian, she became co-ruler and sought to undo the Miaphysite policies of the prior regime. To do that, she needed a council. And to give that council ecclesial legitimacy, she needed a bishop to preside.

Enter Leo of Rome, a bishop who had long been ignored by the East, whose theological writings had gone unanswered, and whose primacy claims had been politely shrugged off by emperors and councils alike. But now, for the first time, he had something the Empress needed: papal weight. And she had something he had never possessed: imperial force.

Thus began a partnership of convenience. She empowered him not because she recognized his authority, but because she needed his name to drape her agenda in ecclesial robes. Leo, for his part, finally had a stage—but only if he let her pull the strings (as he would soon find out).

Historically, Alexandria—not Rome—had presided or played dominant roles in the earlier ecumenical councils. At Nicaea (325) and Ephesus I (431), it was the bishop of Alexandria who took the lead, not Rome. This was Rome’s golden opportunity to rise to the forefront—and Leo seized it with both hands. But to do so, Alexandria first had to be removed from the picture—hence the predefined agenda to depose Dioscorus, eliminating the one see that had historically overshadowed Rome in conciliar leadership.

II. Leo’s First Slap in the Face: His Tome Was Not Enough

Leo entered the council expecting his Tome to be the sole defining document of the faith. He had argued that it was sufficient, scriptural, and in line with the Fathers. But Pulcheria—through imperial decree—ordered the creation of a new Definition of Faith. This was the first major affront to Leo’s expectations—a move that publicly contradicted Leo, seemed to diminish his theological monopoly, and was arguably perceived by Leo as a slap in the face.

Leo protested. In a letter to Pulcheria and Marcian (Ep. 97), he insisted that the Nicene Creed was enough and that no new formula should follow it. His subtle implication: my Tome should suffice. Yet Pulcheria moved forward, in spite of not only Leo’s objections but also those of the majority of bishops present at Chalcedon. Many opposed the formulation of any new creeds, citing Canon 7 of the First Council of Ephesus (431), which explicitly forbade the composition or adoption of any new creed beyond that of Nicaea.

In short, and for the very first time, Rome presided over an ecumenical council. But Pulcheria seized the strings of the council Leo thought he controlled, and choreographed the entire performance herself, when her goals differed from his.

III. Canon 28: Peter’s Voice Was Silenced (Again)

If Leo was surprised by the Definition, he was outraged by Canon 28. This canon granted Constantinople—Pulcheria’s own city—”equal privileges” to Old Rome, calling it the “New Rome” and giving it second rank in the Church hierarchy, effectively challenging the singular primacy Leo claimed for himself.

Leo immediately rejected the canon (Ep. 104, 105), declaring it uncanonical and invalid. He argued that only Rome had been granted primacy by Christ through Peter. But Pulcheria and Marcian ignored him. The canon was approved regardless, and Constantinople’s rank was elevated—not by ecclesial consensus, but by imperial fiat. Thus, the initiative for Canon 28 came from the imperial authorities, not the bishops. It was clearly intended to elevate the prestige of the imperial city

This exposed the façade of Leo’s authority. His voice, supposedly apostolic, was little more than a stage prop, animated when Pulcheria allowed and silenced when she tugged the strings tight. He was only obeyed when his performance matched her script.

IV. Leo: Puppet or Willing Partner?

Was Leo a victim of manipulation? Perhaps. But he was also a willing participant. He may have protested the Definition. He may have rejected Canon 28. But he never withdrew his support. He never condemned the council. And in the end, he got everything he never had under Theodosius II:

• His Tome was formally affirmed.
• His name was placed at the center of the proceedings.
• His primacy rhetoric was read aloud and applauded.
• He was soon celebrated as Chalcedon’s champion of Orthodoxy

Even if she yanked the strings hard enough to sting, Leo had no choice but to keep dancing—but he was finally center stage. In other words, the bishops were not engaged in genuine conciliar debate. They were seated actors in a production with a pre-approved script. As Price puts it: “All significant decisions were taken in advance or behind the scenes, while the role of the formal sessions was largely to approve those decisions by unanimous consensus.” (Richard Price, Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, PDF p. 58; printed vol. 1, p. 245).

Conclusion: Primacy, Permission, and Power

Chalcedon was not a triumph of Roman authority. It was the triumph of imperial orchestration, with Pulcheria as conductor. Leo was her mouthpiece—a willing one—elevated to prominence because she needed him and discarded where she didn’t. His Petrine claims were tolerated so long as they served imperial theology. When they did not, they were ignored. His primacy was never intrinsic. It was conditional.

For the first time Rome was the head of an ecumenical council, with Leo presiding, but only because he was the Empress’s bishop. He was arguably her first “Melkite”—dangling on her strings, center stage in a show she directed from behind the curtain. This imperial subordination is precisely why the Oriental Orthodox rejected Chalcedon. They labeled the Chalcedonians Melkites—”king’s men”—a name that underscored their belief that the Council’s outcome was not the voice of the Church, but the will of the imperial throne.