Betting on the Pope was the original prediction market

500 years before Polymarket, the Vatican fought to stop gambling on papal affairs. Should we worry that it’s back?

Mar 04, 2025

Pope Gregory XIV, who tried to ban gambling on the papacy

Like many people, I’ve been sad to hear about Pope Francis' illness and wish him a speedy recovery. As I read the latest updates, I had an intrusive thought: is there already a prediction market on his health? I’m sorry to report that yes there is.

The phenomenon of a “New Pope in 2025?” market isn’t new; until 1918, gambling on papal deaths and elections was punishable by excommunication. The 500-year-old story behind it is an illustration of how prediction markets influence narratives, behavior, and the perception of institutions — and why it might not be healthy that there’s already real money riding on the Pope’s recovery.

Renaissance Rome was a different place

It’s strange to think about in 2025, but in the 1500s the Pope ruled one of the most powerful countries in Italy. Covering much of the central Italian peninsula, the Papal States were a theocracy with the Pope as absolute ruler. Italian politics in this era were famously conniving (think Machiavelli), factional, and contentious. The leadership of the country was decided then — as the papacy is today — through an opaque election among Church leadership.

Here’s how it’s broadly worked since 1059: when a pope dies or resigns, the College of Cardinals (leaders in the church, chosen by the Pope) picks a new leader in an election called a conclave. The Cardinal Electors — a group of up to 120 cardinals under age 80 — proceed to the Sistine Chapel1, where they take an oath of absolute secrecy before the doors are sealed. The electors vote by secret ballot, up to four rounds a day, until a candidate gets a two-thirds majority. At the end of each round of voting, the ballot papers are burned with chemicals to produce either black smoke (no pope) or white smoke (we have a pope!).

But think about what that meant in the 1500s. The Pope ruled a major country! It was a big deal who got the job. It’s not totally crazy to hedge against a change in government; Philip II of Spain famously declared bankruptcy four times between 1557 and 1596. If any leader — even the Pope — died after taking a loan, it wasn’t always certain you’d get your money back.

Now combine this with the deep gambling culture that existed in Renaissance Rome. Sensali — essentially bookies — took bets on everything from the outcome of pregnancies to the identities of new cardinals. Like a Renaissance version of the Polymarket comments section, newsletters sprang up promising insider information on the Vatican’s current thinking. These bets straddled the line between savvy financial hedging and complete degeneracy:

“Throughout the entire first half of 1584, Rome remained stirred by the possibility that Gregory XIII would make an important trip to his hometown of Bologna. Brokers took bets on whether he would go or not, when he would go, and for how long he would go. The wagering centered on part of a larger discussion. Gregory XIII was very sick throughout that year, and many clergy and papal officials — even Philip II of Spain — worried he might die in Bologna and what repercussions that event could have for the city of Rome.”
— J. Hunt, Betting on the Papal Election in Sixteenth-Century Rome

Information flowed freely in the conclave

With so much money floating around, maybe it shouldn't shock us that there was insider trading amongst cardinals. The Venetian ambassador Matteo Dandolo reported that

“It is more than clear that the merchants are very well informed about the state of the poll, and that the cardinals’ attendants in Conclave go partners with them in wagers, which thus causes many tens of thousands of scudi (crowns) to change hands.”

In a closed-door market like a conclave, there’s a huge information gap between insiders and outsiders. Vote totals by round — which is much higher fidelity than black or white smoke — had real value for bettors, and it’s no surprise that some cardinals succumbed to temptation.

Even when cardinals and their attendants didn’t personally profit, information leaked constantly — particularly in the time between the beginning of voting and the ceremonial burning of the ballots. In theory, the cardinals were locked in; in reality, brokers were constantly informed on the results of voting, and newsletters circulated with the latest updates from the conclave. Attempts to stop this, including reinforcing the walls of the conclave and arresting brokers, only slowed the process.

The spread of information impacted the process of choosing a new pope. Rumor-mongers would provide false tallies of conclave results, or even claim that a particular cardinal had actually been elected. One of the most egregious cases occurred in 1555, when Cardinal Gian Pietro Carafa was a top contender for pope. Brokers intentionally spread a rumor that he had died after he missed a morning mass; this lowered his chances in the wagering, presumably making some unscrupulous sensali a nice profit.

The ban and the bull

Unsurprisingly, these practices undermined the spiritual authority of the process — and the Church wanted it stopped. In response to poor Cardinal Carafa (the guy falsely accused of being dead), the cardinals ordered the rumor-spreaders to the gallows, and their possessions seized. Meanwhile, popes started issuing bulls2 trying to shut down the betting markets as early as 1562.

Still, gambling continued mostly unimpeded until the late 1500s, when a string of popes began to take more serious action. Starting in 1590, there are records of papal police raiding shops, arresting and torturing brokers, and issuing fines to participants. Newsletters lamented the loss of cardinals’ freedom to discuss the conclave and share the latest gossip.

In 1591, the hammer came down. Pope Gregory XIV issued Cogit Nos, a bull punishing a bet on papal duration or conclave outcomes with excommunication. The consequences of this are hard to overstate; being excommunicated in 1591 was not only a religious punishment, but an earthly one. Excommunication could mean ostracization, forfeiture of property, arrest, and execution. You generally did not want papal or secular police showing up to your house after being excommunicated.

Cogit Nos was posted publicly in local languages, secular authorities were brought in for enforcement, and gambling was pushed underground. While I can’t find specific examples of anyone actually being excommunicated under this law, it seems to have mostly worked — at least for a while. Betting fell off dramatically, with what remained largely living underground. Insiders responded as well, whether due to threat of punishment or decreased opportunities for profit. Venetian ambassador Giovanni Moro noted increased discretion among cardinals in the 1592 election (Gregory XIV didn’t make it long as pope).

It wasn’t the end though. After the Papal States lost most of their territory in 1870, their ability to enforce anti-gambling measures went with it. As we see today, moral scolding has less power than a police force; in 1878 the New York Times reported

“The deaths and advents of the Popes has [sic] always given rise to an excessive amount of gambling in the lottery, and today the people of Italy are in a state of excitement that is indescribable.”

The era of prohibition officially closed in 1918, when Cogit Nos was abrogated (overturned) as part of broader canon law reforms.

The modern era and the return of gambling

Reports of gambling increased throughout the early 20th century. The practice spread from Italy in 1978, when the first UK bookmakers offered odds on the conclave (despite the Archbishop of Westminster forbidding participation by Catholics). UK bettors apparently struck out; Cardinal Wojtyła, known today as John Paul II, was not even listed in the initial odds reported by the Associated Press.

In 2005 Joseph Ratzinger — Pope Benedict XVI — started as 12-1 odds before closing out at 3-1. The current pope, Jorge Bergoglio (Pope Francis) started at 55 to 1, and never had better than 32 to 1 odds. Whatever you think of the ethics of gambling, it seems like the cardinals have gotten better at preventing leaks.

The 2013 prediction market was the most liquid one yet, with Paddy Power getting a lot of press as a novelty. 12 years later, betting on political events — including the papacy — has gone from fringe to mainstream. I expect the next markets to be the biggest in history, and certainly the most culturally relevant since the pre-Cogit Nos days. The modern version of the rumor-mongering newsletters — the Polymarket comment section — has already become a cesspit of rumors and bad taste.

This is, unfortunately, not the worst comment I found on Polymarket

These were the original prediction markets

There’s a throughline between the Vatican’s fight against papal gambling and today’s prediction markets. Like the old conclaves, money brings in renewed outside interest and speculation. It also creates the potential for rumors, misinformation, and insider trading.

I’m not one to moralize — I mostly write about questionably ethical business ideas — but there’s clearly some moral concerns that come with this environment. When events are financialized, they become abstract; the financial reward of the bet creates impact separate from the actual decision. I don’t know if it’s healthy for outsiders to engage with an electoral, policy, or spiritual outcome for purely financial reasons. The alternative — prediction market bets as a statement that you support the outcome you’re buying — might be worse.

As Pope Francis’ health and succession become a bigger topic, we will likely see anonymous speculators, public figures3, and even political leaders offer a running commentary on the conclave and their preferred outcome. Much like foreign kings used to park armies near Rome to sway papal elections, culture warriors on both sides will try to create public pressure — and make some money doing it. The line between cynics trying to pump their wager and true believers won’t always be obvious.

The Pope can’t send papal police to enforce a bull anymore, and the Supreme Court isn’t going to make these markets illegal anytime soon. Even if they did, cryptocurrency-powered prediction markets make our ability to enforce restrictions more limited than ever. But maybe there should be more discussion on whether these markets are good for society, and whether we want apps like Robinhood seamlessly integrating them into your pocket. As more money rides on closed-door decisions, the pressure for undue influence in those rooms will grow.

The next conclave will likely be the greatest spectacle the Vatican has seen since the pre-Cogit Nos era. Money will flow, rumors will spread, and the outcome will shape lives — spiritually and financially. The consequences will be ours to live with.

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