The Challenge and the Hope of Magnifica Humanitas

When Pope Leo XIV was elected in 2025, he made clear that a chief focus of his pontificate would be the rise of artificial intelligence. My ears immediately perked up, for the topic is uniquely relevant to me. I am a writer, one of the professions often thought to be most at risk from large language models. My husband, on the other hand, is an electrical engineer who currently works with LLMs for a living. 

Oh, the conversations we have had in our home! There have been points of strong disagreement where we looked at each other oddly and wondered how the other could possibly hold such erroneous underlying assumptions. There have also been points of compromise and even, dare I say it, agreement. 

When it was announced that the pope’s new encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, would be dealing heavily with the issue at the center of our household discussions, we were both highly interested. This was notable, for our choices of reading material tend to differ significantly. But now I was eager to read something about AI and my husband was at least willing to read a summary of something theological. As it turned out, he watched the pope’s speech and read through multiple summaries long before I could wade through all 42,300 words of the text. 

“At least he didn’t ask ChatGPT to summarize it for him,” I reasoned, but the frustration of doing things the old fashioned way—with a printed copy that I marked up with pens in between shuttling my son to his various activities, preparing dinner, and all manner of other household tasks—was acute. Within a few hours of the encyclical’s release, the internet had read and digested it. Quotes were popping up all over social media. Long-form analyses had been posted to YouTube. Still stuck on page twenty, I had a serious case of F.O.M.O., but I told myself it was alright: sometimes family responsibilities are more important and slow ways are better. Yes, I told myself that, but it was hard to believe. When I finally read the whole encyclical, I reflected upon its contents and saw reason for both concern and hope.

The opening paragraph of Magnifica Humanitas reveals the themes that will dominate the encyclical. “Humanity, created by God in all its grandeur, is today facing a pivotal choice: either to construct a new Tower of Babel or to build the city in which God and humanity dwell together,” the pope writes, setting up a contrast between the biblical examples of Babel and Jerusalem. Whereas Babel “reveals the limits of any effort that, however grandiose, arises from self-affirmation, sacrifices human dignity for efficiency and aspires to reach heaven without God’s blessing,” in Nehemiah’s Jerusalem we find “a common language—not one of uniformity, but one of communion, namely the harmony that arises when all persons assume their own role and recognize that their strength comes from the Lord.”

Having established this dichotomy, the pope continues, “Each generation inherits the task of shaping its own era, of guiding history to become a place where the dignity of every person is safeguarded, justice is promoted and fraternity is made possible.” His choice of the terms dignity, justice, and fraternity reveal the three foundational principles which he will seek to uphold:

1. human dignity derived from the imago Dei and in need of preservation through humanization,
2. a renewed evaluation of the demands of justice in light of the new things of history,
3. the common good as chiefly seen when we encounter one another in community.

The purpose of Magnifica Humanitas is neither to fully condone nor fully condemn artificial intelligence, robotics, and other developing technologies. For,

the primary choice is not between a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to technology, but rather between constructing Babel or rebuilding Jerusalem; between a power that claims to dominate the heavens and a people who work together in the presence of God to rebuild the walls of fraternal coexistence.

Dignity and Humanness

The term dignity occurs often in modern parlance, but its meaning can shift with circumstances. Nowhere is it more prevalent than in the debate over medically assisted suicide, another matter that strikes at the purpose of human life. The Catholic Church has previously spoken to that issue, and now Pope Leo XIV invites us to consider how we uphold the same principles in light of new things. “In the era of artificial intelligence, when human dignity is threatened by new forms of dehumanization, ours is the pressing duty to remain profoundly human.” This was my own conclusion recently upon re-reading T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Hollow Men”: that I will be human if it is the last thing I do. This is a great rallying cry for our time.

The pope identifies four understandings of the word dignity. Moral dignity is “the way in which a person directs his or her choices and actions.” This is what we mean when we say someone acts in a dignified manner. Social dignity indicates “a person’s living conditions and the concrete respect received from society.” This is part of what is meant when people speak of dying with dignity. Existential dignity is “the way in which a person perceives his or her own worth and the value of life” and is therefore a matter of subjective self-analysis. Ontological dignity, on the other hand, is “the dignity that belongs to every human being simply by virtue of existing, of having been willed, created and loved by God.” It is therefore supremely objective.

This distinction is important, as when he uses the word dignity throughout the encyclical, the pope is referring to ontological dignity: the significance that a human being has as the result of bearing the imago Dei. It is an inextricable part of human nature such that to speak of “dehumanization” is to speak of the denial of the imago Dei and an offense against humanity’s Creator. The pope writes that the gospel “provides the criteria for recognizing what humanizes or dehumanizes and what liberates or oppresses in ever-changing situations,” precisely because it is in God’s Word and his actions in history that the true dignity and telos of humanity is revealed. (Some may object to the way he uses the term gospel here, but the general point holds.)

Pope Leo sees many ways in which emerging technologies are dehumanizing us, from algorithms viewing individuals as a data set rather than a person, to our relentless efforts to remove any limitations upon our nature, to the quest for endless knowledge without growth in wisdom. But of chief concern to the pope is the ideology “that suggests that every person must earn or justify his or her own worth, to the point of attributing greater value to those who are more efficient or effective.” According to this perspective, human beings are “reduced to a means of achieving results, a resource to be used and exploited, and are no longer recognized as a proper end in themselves who should never be instrumentalized.”

It is the Church’s job to remind the world “that true fulfilment is not achieved by eliminating weakness but through harmonious growth,” as opposed to the technocratic or post-humanist mentality which asserts that the human person is “an object to be manipulated or a resource to be optimized, removing all safeguards against the unchecked pursuit of profit.”

Here the chief fear of many regarding artificial intelligence—that it will put them out of a job—is not merely an economic concern but one of human nature itself, for “work is not simply an instrument; it expresses and enhances the dignity of our lives. It is a requirement of the human condition, a normal path toward maturity, development and personal fulfilment.”

Given these potential threats to human dignity, the pope uses what has proved to be a headline friendly turn of phrase, stating that artificial intelligence must be “disarmed.” But many who see that word out of context will not understand his intent, for he clarifies, “To disarm does not mean rejecting technology, but preventing it from dominating humanity. It means freeing technology from monopolistic control and opening it to discussions and debate, therefore making it human-friendly and restoring it to the plurality of human cultures and ways of life.” 

This is one of many occasions on which the pope’s themes overlap and converge, for disarming artificial intelligence is not just a matter of preventing dehumanization and upholding dignity. As his clarifying comments show with their emphasis on open access and pluralized control, disarming artificial intelligence is equally a matter of justice.

Justice

When Robert Prevost was selected as the latest bishop of Rome, there was considerable speculation over whether he would be as “woke” as Pope Francis. As it turns out, Pope Leo XIV holds to a similar understanding of justice as Francis, but one that is equally similar to the tradition of every pope going back to his namesake Leo XIII. Simply to proclaim the traditional social doctrine of the Catholic Church is, for some, a step into wokeness. But in Magnifica Humanitas, the present pope argues that the Church’s understanding of justice is as old as Scripture itself.

“Technology has the power to heal, connect, educate, and protect our common home; but it can also divide, exclude and generate new forms of injustice,” he warns, appealing to the Church’s understanding of the ultimate destination of goods to argue for equal access to the benefits of artificial intelligence. So far, so basic. But he goes on to use a term often shunned in conservative theological circles: social justice.

“The idea of ‘social justice’ helps us recognize that injustices do not arise solely from the wrong choices of individuals, but also from structures, mechanisms and economic and cultural systems that produce inequality almost automatically,” the pope writes. Anticipating potential objections to the language of systems, he further insists, “To think that new technologies will automatically benefit everyone is to ignore the evidence. Unless transformations at the design stage prioritize the prevention of new and further disparities, technological progress will inevitably produce structural inequalities.” Perhaps we can put him down as a skeptic about trickle-down economics.

The pope would have us look to the example of our Lord to find the rationale for pursuing social justice. “For the Christian community, social justice is a concrete way of following Jesus and remaining faithful to the Gospel,” he says, adding that Christ “teaches us that justice is born from, and fulfilled in, fraternity, because the way we approach and relate to the least among us becomes, in concrete terms, the measure of our relationship with God and with our brothers and sisters.”

This discussion about the just use of technology makes me think of President Trump’s second inauguration in the Capitol rotunda, which was perhaps most memorable for the lineup of tech titans standing behind him. There in a row stood Elon Musk (owner of X and founder of Tesla and Space X), Sundar Pichai (CEO of Google), Jeff Bezos (founder of Amazon and founder and owner of Blue Origin), and Mark Zuckerberg (founder and owner of Facebook/Meta). Tim Cook (CEO of Apple) stood further away. I could not help wondering if the man being sworn in as president would have as much power over American lives as the men standing behind him. 

The pope evidently shares my thoughts and views the situation as one of potentially great injustice. “When such power is concentrated in the hands of a few, it tends to become opaque and evade public oversight, increasing the risk of distorted forms of development that give rise to new dependencies, exclusions, manipulations and inequalities.” Perhaps worse still are decisions made not by humans at all, but algorithms. Choices involving “employment, credit, access to public services or even a person’s reputation” are now handled by “automated systems that do not know ‘compassion, mercy, forgiveness, and above all, the hope that people are able to change,’ and can therefore give rise to new forms of exclusion.”

In one of the passages that has drawn significant attention on social media, the pope expresses concern about the way justice is currently perceived in relation to warfare. “Today, more than ever, without prejudice to the right to self-defense in the strictest sense, it is important to reaffirm that the ‘just war’ theory, which has all too often been used to justify any kind of war, is now outdated.” 

The phrase “Pope Leo calls Just War Theory outdated!” has been making the rounds, but it is misleading. For the pope is not arguing here for more warfare, but less. “Humanity possesses far more effective and capable tools for promoting human life and resolving conflicts, such as dialogue, diplomacy, and forgiveness. The use of force, violence, and weapons reflects a relational poverty that always has disastrous consequences for civilian populations.” This is an acknowledgment that the realities of modern warfare could not have been anticipated by St. Augustine of Hippo, and therefore we need to find ways of extending the same principles to new things.

When tech companies consider only their profit margin while deciding who to hire and fire or when countries pour public money into expensive weapons systems rather than social welfare programs, it amounts to a grave injustice. But fears of losing out on the battlefield or in the marketplace are leading to the rapid expansion of many AI programs without taking time to properly evaluate safeguards. 

This is what the pope calls a “globalized technocratic paradigm,” and it is used to justify all manner of injustices. But injustice could also occur if we fail to make appropriate use of technology to reduce human suffering. He tells us that “the true alternative is not between enthusiasm and fear, but between two paths of development: a progress that serves individuals and peoples, or a progress that subjects them to the mentality of power.”

It is this relationship between the individual and the communal that constitutes the pope’s final major theme.

Community and the Common Good

Pope Leo writes in his encyclical that “when the economy turns against the person or science oversteps the limits of its competence, the Church—together with other Christian denominations and believers of other religions—must make her voice heard, not in order to dominate, but to promote communion.” This word communion holds an important place both in Scripture and in the mind of the pope. He urges us to be “builders of communion, rather than architects of Babel. We are to be servants of the coming Kingdom, instead of lords of towers destined for ruin.”

Communion is linked to two of the key principles of Catholic social doctrine: subsidiarity and solidarity. According to the pope, subsidiarity means that “whatever can be carried out by individuals, families, intermediary organizations and local communities should not be carried out by higher-level authorities,” whereas solidarity is “the concrete recognition that the future of each individual is connected to the future of all.” 

Here we see a two-part recognition of the role of community and the fact that humans are communal beings. Government has its place in providing social care, but this does not remove the primary duty of the local community, e.g. family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, and co-religionists. Neither should any person think themselves totally independent, without duties to their neighbors or reliance upon the products of their neighbors’ labor.

“The digital culture multiplies connections and offers new opportunities for interaction; yet, the human heart retains an irrevocable need for genuine closeness,” the pope stresses, speaking perhaps to what is often termed the loneliness epidemic. He argues that “what saves humanity is not enhanced self-sufficiency, but a relationship that liberates, a communion that transforms.” This is true not only in terms of human relations, but also to our ultimate redemption through the Son of God who came to dwell with us. In the light of the Incarnation, we see the true telos of humanity as communion with our neighbors and with God himself.

Large language models, on the other hand, “do not build genuine relationships, but only their appearance.” This is not to say that they have no positive role to play, but the telos of artificial intelligence must be the betterment of humanity, not its domination. We must not lose sight of what makes humans human. “We can embrace the technological progress that alleviates suffering and unlocks new possibilities, provided we do not abandon the very essence of our humanity, namely the capacity for relationship and love.”

The rise of globalization in the past century means that “the common good is taking on an increasingly universal dimension, with rights and duties concerning the entire human family.” We must therefore avoid insular thinking that shrinks community down to those who are exactly like us, expanding our notion of community to include all who are made in God’s image. “This is the guiding principle for technological processes: it is not enough for artificial intelligence to make us more efficient or connected; it must also serve to build a universal human family, with shared rights and duties, where digital proximity becomes a real opportunity for encounter and mutual care.”

This leads into the pope’s consideration of our present geopolitical moment, in which great powers are increasingly abandoning diplomacy in favor of military action. The pope laments that “rather than automatically generating unity and peace, globalization has provoked fundamentalist, identity-based and nationalistic reactions.” This results in a world where international relations are characterized by distrust. 

Multilateralism has led not to greater balance and harmony, but a more fractured communion. He urges us to welcome the possibility of encounter with those unlike ourselves: to hear them and know them as precious creations of God. “For if we experience authentic encounters with others, with those who are different, strangers and migrants, it becomes much more difficult even to imagine war.”

These days, it is far easier to imagine a world with unending war than one where it never begins. Building what the pope envisions will therefore require something else: genuine hope.

Hope

In the traditional Christian understanding, hope is one of the three theological virtues, relying on its sister virtues of faith and love. It also supports and draws from the cardinal virtues of justice, prudence, temperance, and fortitude. Disconnected from these other virtues, hope becomes unworthy of the name, but when they are all brought together, it is strengthened into something that can bear the weight of our anxieties. The pope assures us, “In fact, peace is neither a naïve hope nor merely the absence of war; instead, it is always possible as the fruit of justice and charity.”

The hope of a Christian is based on the Incarnation of Christ, in which he redeemed us and through which he will bring us to life everlasting. The pope writes, “We view history in the light of the crucified and risen Lord, to whom the Father has given ‘all authority in heaven and on earth’ (Mt 28:18). We do not consider the present as a predetermined fate, but an opportunity for personal and collective conversion.” The power of Christ’s kingdom is like a mustard seed that grows to become a great tree. “While the tumult of confusion is all around us, goodness grows silently from the earth.”

This means that it is not up to us to save the whole world by ourselves. “The civilization of love will not arise from a single or spectacular gesture, but from the sum total of small and steadfast acts of fidelity that serve as a bulwark against dehumanization.” In our limited areas of personal influence, “we must choose whether to fuel the mentality of force (even if only through indifference, cynicism, lies or hatred), or to preserve the mindset of peace (with truth, moderation, closeness and care).”

As a believer in the doctrine of total depravity and a long observer of the evils of this world, it is easy for me to fall into the trap of thinking that things will always get worse, people will always choose evil over good, and we will not have peace before Christ’s return. But the pope rightly reminds us that, “History does not appear solely as a record of human violence, but also as evidence that humanity is capable of creating institutions that protect our shared life.” I must remember this, or I will be tempted to deny the goodness of God and the possibility of redemption for myself and my fellow humans. 

In one of the most beautiful passages in Magnifica Humanitas, the pope touches upon our resurrection hope in a rapidly changing world.

No computational system, however sophisticated, can create a heart that gives itself, or a conscience that discerns good from evil. Even when machines excel in efficiency, a human face that asks to be gazed upon remains the center of our history. This human face is the fullness toward which history is moving. It is the mystery of ‘recapitulation’: the certainty that the Father has decreed to bring all things, those in heaven and those on earth, back to Christ, the one Head (cf. Eph 1:10) In this plan, nothing will be lost that is authentically human. Indeed, everything will be purified and reunited in the One, who gathers every fragment of life, every tear and every authentically human achievement, rescuing them from nothingness and delivering them, redeemed, to the Father.

The call for Christians is therefore to be like Nehemiah and his fellow countrymen rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem. We must not be “passive spectators of social and cultural fractures, nor mere commentators on what is crumbling.” Rather, we must “enter the construction sites of history—research laboratories, technology companies, schools, the media, institutions and local communities—in order to rebuild what has collapsed and protect what is threatened.” Because Christ has already triumphed and we know he will one day restore all things, we can do this with confidence, not fearing the changing times.

Encounter

In emphasizing the need for genuine human encounter, Magnifica Humanitas echoes something else I have recently been reading: the works of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of the chief theologians of Christian community. In works such as Life Together, Bonhoeffer stressed the importance of genuine encounter between human beings and with God himself. Without such an encounter, he argued, community cannot exist.

Therefore, when I finished reading the encyclical, it was time for an encounter: a real moment of human connection. I found it in discussing the work with my husband. I thought perhaps he would accuse the pope of overstatement in his warnings about artificial intelligence. But no, my husband agreed with the pope’s assessments, especially a paragraph that highlighted the way workers can be locked into an endless cycle of repetitive tasks, unable to keep pace with the development of AI, feeling their dignity has been eroded.

My husband confessed that much of the stress he experiences at work is because he is expected to know all there is to know about AI, but it is literally changing every day. This, he explains, is why he spends hours at night watching YouTube videos, attempting to understand the latest twists and turns of the machine. This is what raises his blood pressure when he questions what his company’s future, or indeed his own future, will be like. For just a moment, I saw the immense stress he was under as I had not before, even as I recognized his continued passion for the subject. 

I also could not help but think that in choosing the path of slow contemplation rather than rapid summary, I had honored the very intent of the pope’s encyclical. For I uphold the dignity and humanity of my disabled son when I put my work aside to care for him. I act justly when I divide my time equitably between my vocations in proportion with God’s calling. I cultivate community when I take time to talk to a friend or simply keep our house running. And when I get out of bed in the morning to serve another day, I declare my hope in the restoration of all things.

That is the challenge and the hope of Magnifica Humanitas. It is a message we would all do well to heed. Times change and technology changes, but Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.