It’s not every day the ancient rituals of the Vatican get upstaged by a bit of modern slang, but live television does have a way of testing boundaries—sometimes with spectacular, if inadvertent, results. Case in point: during CBS’s coverage of the papal conclave, as The Independent captures, “rawdogging” found its way into the sacred vocabulary of the moment. For a ceremony steeped in centuries-old tradition, this may be the most contemporary twist the conclave has seen—unless someone’s secretly live-tweeting from the Sistine Chapel, which, given the device ban, seems unlikely.
Old Rites, New Words
As CBS’s papal contributor John Allen outlined, the cardinals deprived of their phones during conclave typically occupy themselves with reading their breviary—a compendium of prayers—or reciting the rosary. There’s no chance of scrolling Instagram, Allen explained, as all electronic devices are kept firmly out of reach for the duration. That’s the expected script. What viewers didn’t expect was co-host Tony Dokoupil’s digression: “I believe the kids call it ‘raw-dogging it’ if you’re gonna go through a long period of time with no electronic device,” he offered, in what may go down as one of the more memorable (and squirm-inducing) attempts at generational translation on breakfast TV.
Her.ie details the immediate aftermath, noting that laughter erupted from Dokoupil’s colleagues. The term, after all, has an established meaning elsewhere—usually referencing unprotected sex—which made its application to cardinally enforced digital abstinence feel as incongruous as a Mario Kart tournament on Vatican grounds. Yet, as highlighted in Her.ie’s report, “rawdogging” has recently broadened its territory. Last year, a corner of travel discourse began to use “rawdogging” to describe forgoing all inflight distractions—no movies, no music, just the pure experience of sitting with one’s own thoughts (and, presumably, the slow creep of cabin ennui) for hours. Whether that makes it a more appropriate descriptor for conclave life remains debatable.
Attribution: From Twitter to the Pew
Viewers, perhaps predictably, met the moment with immediate commentary. The Independent compiles social media responses ranging from the reproachful (“Kinda gross that CBS is using rawdogging like that”) to the wryly resigned (“I did not have CBS using ‘rawdogging’ in their papal conclave coverage on my Pope Bingo card”). Others, cited in both outlets, remarked on the “severe” lack of class, while some speculated that the newsroom was simply unaware of the word’s original implication. The mood, oscillating between amusement and mild appall, suggests that if nothing else, live TV remains a fertile ground for linguistic mishaps.
Her.ie also observes that Dokoupil seemed intent on reaching younger viewers by framing device-free duration in current slang, as though popularizing aviation ennui metaphors might somehow demystify conclave traditions. Ironically, the attempt to sound current ended up highlighting the sometimes mismatched gears of generational language.
Cardinal Sins of Broadcasting?
At this point, television anchors fumbling with colloquial authenticity is less a surprise than a fixture of morning news. The Independent features another recent Dokoupil episode: a high-profile interview with Bill Belichick where questions about the former coach’s relationship were cut short by an interjected “he won’t be answering that.” Whether navigating the personal or the papal, Dokoupil seems adept at finding the unscripted intersection of earnestness and awkwardness.
But is this truly a broadcasting faux pas, or simply a sign of the times—where every attempt at relatability risks venturing into the realm of unintentional comedy? When rituals as meticulously constructed as the conclave become vectors for the quirks of modern jargon, viewers are left to wonder: what comes next? Are stoles and incense on the verge of a TikTok rebrand?
Leaving the Last Word to the Language
Maybe the greatest irony here is that, in seeking to bridge the generational gap, CBS gave us a moment that needs no translation: the universal language of a room full of adults dissolving into laughter mid-broadcast. As the two outlets document, reactions were divided but mostly united by surprise—an old tradition encountering the elastic nature of contemporary slang.
With the white smoke rising over St. Peter’s and the Twitter feeds still abuzz, one question lingers gently in the incense: In a world where cardinals can be said to “rawdog” the conclave, just how far can modern language stretch before it snaps? Or does it simply find new places to roost, even in the most hallowed of halls?
