Pope Leo XIV and AI

The publication of the encyclical Magnifica Humanitas (“The Greatness of Humanity”) during the pontificate of Pope Leo XIV is already being viewed as an event that extends far beyond the boundaries of an internal Church document. In essence, the Pope has issued the first encyclical in history dedicated entirely to artificial intelligence. More importantly, it represents the first systematic attempt by an institution such as the Vatican to describe AI not merely as a technology, but as a civilizational turning point comparable simultaneously to the Industrial Revolution of the 19th century and the digital transformation of the 21st century.

The publication date – May 15, 2026 – was chosen deliberately. It marks the 135th anniversary of the encyclical Rerum Novarum by Leo XIII, which at the end of the 19th century became the Church’s response to industrialization, factory labor, and the emergence of a new working class. At that time, the Church publicly addressed labor rights, social justice, and the limits of capitalist expansion for the first time. In today’s reality, according to the Vatican’s logic, the comparable challenge no longer comes from factories and machines, but from algorithms, data, and autonomous decision-making systems.

The symbolic parallel between the two documents is central to understanding the entire structure of Magnifica Humanitas. If the era of steam engines and factory chimneys revolved around human labor under mechanization, today the focus shifts toward the very definition of human participation in processes where decisions are increasingly made without direct human involvement. In effect, the Church is identifying a transition from an economy of labor to an economy of prediction and automated choice.

The encyclical is structured as a philosophical and theological reflection rather than a technical manifesto. At the core of the document lies the argument that artificial intelligence cannot be a neutral tool. Any system, even one that appears mathematically “objective,” inevitably carries the imprint of those who design and train it. This includes not only engineers, but also infrastructure owners, investment structures, and the political and economic interests shaping technological development.

Particular attention is devoted to the moral asymmetry of algorithmic decisions. Traditional institutions could rely on human judgment that incorporates compassion, doubt, and contextual interpretation, while automated systems operate through probabilities and correlations. According to the document, this is where the fundamental risk emerges: decisions affecting human lives begin to be made without the categories of mercy, forgiveness, or personal responsibility.

From this follows the central ethical thesis of the encyclical – delegating critical decisions to AI in areas such as lending, employment, healthcare, or access to social services creates new forms of hidden discrimination. These may be statistically justified, yet morally opaque. The Church views this as a transition from explicit social injustice to “mathematically legitimized” injustice, where responsibility dissolves into code.

The philosophical framework of the document is reinforced through biblical imagery. The Tower of Babel is used as a metaphor for technological pride, where the pursuit of absolute control and self-sufficiency ultimately leads to the breakdown of communication and meaning. In contrast, the rebuilding of Jerusalem under Nehemiah is presented as a model of collective responsibility, where construction becomes possible only through recognition of human limitations and the need for a shared moral foundation. Within this “Babylon versus Jerusalem” dichotomy lies the defining question of the era: will technological development deepen fragmentation or create new forms of solidarity?

A substantial section of the encyclical addresses the concentration of power in the digital age. Leo XIV points to a structural shift in which the primary actors of global influence are no longer states, but technology corporations controlling data, platforms, and computing resources. In many cases, their economic and infrastructural power rivals or even exceeds that of national governments. This creates a situation in which traditional mechanisms of democratic oversight become partially eroded.

Within this context, the document introduces a significant principle: data cannot be treated solely as private property. Instead, it is framed as a form of common good because it is generated through the collective behavior of society. Therefore, monopolization of data contradicts the principle of the universal destination of resources, a foundational concept in Catholic social teaching. In practice, this places the encyclical in direct dialogue with modern digital capitalism, where data has become the primary asset and source of profit.

The encyclical also addresses the ideologies of transhumanism and posthumanism. It draws a subtle distinction between using technology to alleviate human suffering and attempting to radically redefine human nature itself. In the first case, technology is viewed as a tool of assistance; in the second, as a project for reconstructing human essence. According to the document, the latter scenario carries the risk of creating a new hierarchy of human value, in which “enhanced” humans may eventually be considered more important than vulnerable ones.

The military dimension of AI occupies a particularly strict section of the text. The use of autonomous systems in decisions involving lethal force is described as morally unacceptable. Even if such systems achieve high levels of precision, the document argues that they lack the essential element of accountability – the capacity for moral judgment. In this sense, the encyclical questions not only autonomous weapons, but the broader logic of technologically rationalized warfare itself.

Interestingly, the text also contains a cautious critique of the traditional concept of “just war.” Leo XIV argues that under conditions of modern destructive technologies and automated conflict, the very possibility of a “just” war becomes morally and theoretically problematic. As an alternative, the document promotes diplomacy, negotiation, and even the ethics of forgiveness as political instruments – an unusual expansion of theological reasoning into the sphere of international relations.

The socio-economic section of the encyclical focuses on the transformation of labor. Here, the document effectively continues the tradition of Rerum Novarum under new conditions. Automation and AI are portrayed as forces accelerating the redistribution of economic value, where increased efficiency does not necessarily lead to broader prosperity. On the contrary, there is a risk that the benefits will become concentrated among a narrow circle of technology owners and capital holders.

Special attention is given to the invisible layers of the digital economy – people involved in data labeling, content moderation, infrastructure maintenance, and extraction of raw materials for technological production. Despite their essential role in sustaining AI systems, these groups remain largely absent from public discourse. The text describes this as a form of “hidden labor” without which the digital economy could not function in its current form.

Alongside the publication of the encyclical, the Vatican announced the creation of an interdepartmental commission on artificial intelligence within the Roman Curia. This decision elevates the topic of AI from the level of moral commentary to institutional governance. The commission will coordinate approaches across Vatican departments regarding the use of technology in academic, theological, and administrative fields.

Historically, the document is being interpreted as an accelerated response from an institution that traditionally reacted slowly to technological change. While decades passed between the Industrial Revolution and Rerum Novarum, only a few years separate the mass emergence of generative AI from Magnifica Humanitas. This shift itself becomes part of the analysis: the speed of technological change is beginning to outpace the formation of social and ethical consensus.

Yet a deeper philosophical paradox also emerges. A document calling for caution toward technology is itself being produced in a world where those same technologies are already integrated into the processes of analysis, writing, and information distribution. As a result, the boundary between human and machine participation in shaping meaning is becoming blurred even before the debate over its legitimacy has concluded.

Ultimately, the encyclical’s central question extends far beyond technology itself. It concerns not what artificial intelligence can do, but how humanity will define responsibility, justice, and dignity in a world where some decisions are no longer exclusively human. And it is here that the metaphor of Babylon and Jerusalem acquires not only a religious meaning, but a civilizational one: the issue is not the choice of a tool, but the choice of the architecture of the future world – a structure that is already beginning to take shape, even if those living within it have not yet fully realized it.