Magnifica Humanitas

On the anniversary of Poe Leo XIII's 1891 groundbreaking social encyclical Rerum Novarum, Pope Leo XIV signed his first papal encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas (“On the Protection of Human Dignity in the Age of Artificial Intelligence”). The encyclical was publicly presented at the Vatican ten days later, on May 25, during an event which included presentations by Pope Leo himself and, surprisingly, a co-founder of an AI company, Anthropic. Through this encyclical, Pope Leo is following the path of of his predecessor Leo XIII by attempting to respond to today’s technological revolution, as the earlier Leo had to the industrial revolution.

Leo XIII's intervention began a whole series of such encyclicals, which together have come to be called the "encyclical tradition" of "Catholic Social Teaching." Some of those encyclicals, notably Pius XI's Quadragesimo Anno, apparently had actual political and economic effects in influencing the U.S. New Deal. Whether this Pope Leo's intervention - in a very different kind of world - will have a comparable practical effect remains to be seen.

The Pope begins with the irresistibly anti-technological biblical image of the Tower of Babel. One possible moral to take from the Babel story is that such aggressive  technological efforts are intrinsically misguided, if not inherently evil. Leo, however, is no Luddite. He obviously recognizes that AI technology is here to stay, but he tries to envision a world in which AI technologies may be morally tamed by regulation. Hence, his contrary image of Nehemiah, another biblical builder, whose approach Leo invokes as a positive model. Technology for Leo, "is not inherently evil," but neither is it neutral, "because it takes on the characteristics of those who devise, finance, regulate and use it" [9].

Seeking to situate himself in the tradition of which he seeks to represent a continuation, Leo reviews in some detail the 135-year history of the modern Church's Social Doctrine. Certainly for many secular readers (and perhaps for many Catholics as well), this review, which is really a mini-compendium of the Church's Social Doctrine, will be necessary, for it forms an essential preliminary for what follows. Highlighted are the tradition's emphasis on "the dignity of the person, the value of work, the universal destination of goods, solidarity and subsidiarity, care for creation and the centrality of peace and fraternity" [45]. Leo describes the principle of the common good "as the social expression of the dignity recognized in every person" [59]. This all-important principle of the common good cannot be reduced to the "total of individual benefits, nor the intersection of their particular interests; it is a greater good that belongs to everyone, and it can only be achieved nurtured and protected by our collective efforts" [60]. "Politics should promote this common good, not "short-term calculations or sterile polarizations" [63]. The injunction is welcome, but probably needs to be complemented by a realistic reflection on the problem of democracy, which inevitably seems to prioritize the short-term over the long-term and private interests over the common good.

Another essential social doctrine principle is "the universal destination of goods." Private property the encyclical reminds us "is always subordinate to the universal destination fo goods." The "social function" of private property, the Pope insists, "must not be considered a mere theological opinion, but a doctrine of the Church" [66]. This doctrinal development must certainly be taken as a challenge to certain strains especially in American Catholicism.

Subsidiarity (which, one may suggest, is often, especially in the U.S., the most commonly misapplied principle of the Church's social vocabulary) sets certain limits on the State. But in the new digital context, "the highest level is not the State, but rather major economic and technological actors that exercise de facto power over the conditions of everyday life." Here the encyclical calls for "transparency, accountability, and meaningful forms of participation" [71]. The necessary complement to subsidiarity is solidarity. "When subsidiarity is not linked to solidarity, it ends up becoming merely the protection of particular interests; when solidarity is not supported by subsidiarity it degenerates in to a form of welfare that does not promote responsibility" [73].

Social justice is "characterized by the capacity of a social, economic and political order to allow everyone - particularly the weakest - to live a truly dignified life, without leaving anyone behind. ... A litmus test for social justice today is the treatment of migrants, refugees and those forced to move due to poverty, violence, climate change and environmental disasters" [77, 81].

Chapter three takes on the technological paradigm and digital power and memorably quotes Romano Guardini, "contemporary man has not been trained to use power well" [[93]. Here, he finally draws the necessary distinction between human and artificial intelligence. AI's "power remains entirely tied to data processing. So-called artificial intelligences do not undergo experiences, do not possess a body, do not feel joy or pain, do not mature through relationships and do not know from within what love, work, friendship or responsibility mean. Nor do they have a moral conscience, since they do not judge good and evil, grasp the ultimate meaning of situations, or bear responsibility for consequences. ... they do not understand what they produce, for they lack the affective, relational and spiritual perspective through whcih human beings grow in wisdom" [99].

Accordingly, "AI can be a valuable tool," but requires "a measured and vigilant approach," for "every technical tool embodies choices and priorities through what it measures, ignores and optimizes, and how it classifies people and situations" [100, 104]. Unfortunately, there is an "imbalance between the speed of technological growth and the slower development of awareness, norms, safeguards and institutions capable of governing its effects" [106] "What is needed is a more active political involvement that is capable of slowing things down when everything is accelerating, and of protecting the opportunities for communities still to be able to participate and ask questions" [107].

Hence, his most memorable phrase from the entire encyclical: Disarming AI. This "means discrediting the assumption that technical power automatically confers the right to govern. ... merely regulating it is insufficient; it. must be disarmed" [110]. Whether societies and governments will in fact act to "disarm" AI or even moderately regulate it is, it must be said, a matter for political action and will depend upon the mobilization of political will. Hopefully, the encyclical's rather radical rhetoric will energize some of that elusive political will!

The "central question" the Pope poses is "what does it mean to safeguard our humanity?" He warns of a "pervasive technocratic paradigm" which "threatens to normalize an anti-human vision," in which "the fullness of life is equated with having more, reducing weakness, eliminating uncertainty and exerting total control" [112] "If the. human being is treated as something to be perfected or surpassed, it becomes easier to accept that some lives are less useful, les desirable or less worthy" [117]. Thus, "the true alternative" is "between two paths of development: a progress that serves individuals and peoples, or a progress that subjects them to the mentality of power" [129]. throughout the encyclical, the Pope keeps his focus not on the technology but on the human person who is impacted by technology - and, it is hoped, may in turn impact it. (Hence, the encyclical's title is not Artificial Intelligence, but “On the Protection of Human Dignity in the Age of Artificial Intelligence.”)

Chapter Four addresses this issue of safeguarding humanity in this time of transition. "In light of the principles of the Church's Social Doctrine, the digital transformation invites us to rediscover truth as a common good, to protect the dignity of work and to safeguard freedom against all forms of dependence and commercialization" [131]. In an observation that cannot but help seeming especially timely today, the encyclical warns that "When questions about what is true lose their appeal, and a pragmatism takes hold that is content with what appears useful or effective, then democratic life is weakened" [134]. Whether democracy is actually up to the challenge of responding to the technological transformation that is taking place is obviously an open question, the answer to which is as yet far from certain.

While concerned not to "demonize" technology, the encyclical also highlights harms associated with digital media that have already commanded attention in today's society and the challenge facing contemporary education: "a culture of immediacy and hyper-stimulation, which gives rise to fatigue, boredom and apathy concerning the effort required for seeking the truth" [139]. 

Following in the tradition of Rerum Novarum, Leo emphasizes the intrinsic importance of work. As is already well known (and was mentioned by the Anthropic executive at the Vatican event), one of the great fears popularly associated with AI technologies is the loss of many jobs. Hence, the significance of Pope Leo's citing Pope Saint John Paul II's 1981 assertion in Laborem Exercens, "unemployment is a grave evil" [151]. The Church "insists that access to work for all must be a high priority for public policies and economic processes, serving as a criterion for evaluating the human quality of any development model" [155]. Interestingly, the encyclical  cites the U.S. Bishops on the importance of work for identity, friendships, relationships, practical responsibilities, and vocation discernment [167].

This leads to a discussion of the dangerous manipulation of persons as objects and warns against currents that "envision 'second-class' human beings, subordinate to the interests of elites who consider themselves superior" [172]. This is the context for the. encyclical's reexamination of slavery, "a wound in Christian memory, one from which we cannot consider ourselves detached" [176]. One reason for this facing up to the sins of past history is to serve as "a call to vigilance," in which what has been learned from the past "must be translated into discernment and responsibility in the present" [177].

Chapter Five addresses the issue of war, which in this context acquires a special salience, "the risk that technology, detached from ethics and responsibility, will render decisions about life and death more rapid and impersonal" [182]. From this understandable concern with the impact of new technologies upon warfare, the encyclical then meanders somewhat into a wider discussion of all contemporary conflict and an apparent perception on the Pope's part "that humanity is slipping onto a violent culture of power, where peace no longer appears as a responsibility to be taken on, but as a fragile interval between conflicts." This leads to a statement which will surely be controversial (and also seems somewhat self-contradictory), that "without prejudice to the right of self-defense in the strictest sense, it is important to reaffirm the 'just war' theory, which has all too often been used to. justify any kind of war, is now outdated" [192]. If the first part of that controversial sentence is taken seriously, then unconditional surrender and pacifism are not a universal moral mandate, in which case how can just war (intended as one moral alternative to unconditional surrender) be "outdated"? Likewise, the encyclical calls "erroneous" the "belief that nuclear deterrence is an indispensable prerequisite for security" [194]. Obviously, it is not "indispensable," in that there may well be other avenues to achieving security. How, however, apart from the successful consequence of nuclear deterrence, does one explain the empirical historical fact that the Cold War remained cold and did not end in another actual world war on the scale of the 1940s? And then there is also the exemplary sad case of Ukraine, which gave up its nuclear deterrent and has since been invaded, something which would almost certainly not have occurred had it retained its nuclear deterrent. Hopefully, concerns about these controversial expressions will not detract from the encyclical's larger arguments that speak with such directness and relevance. .

Thus, the encyclical's concern for the larger question of violence versus peace-making laments a contemporary climate in which "nihilism and pragmatism become intertwined and end up normalizing grave errors. Religious extremism and identity-based fanaticism ally themselves with irrational economic policies, while politics often turns to misinformation and ridiculing opponents, and systematically cultivating fears and resentments" [206]. Commendably, the encyclical challenges individuals themselves and emphasizes our responsibility to "examine our conscience regarding the words we use, the prejudices we have and the explicit or implicit aggression that lies within them" [214]. 

Having systematically addressed this multitude of theoretical and practical concerns, Pope Leo returns at the encyclical's end to the fundamental context of Christian faith. "At the heart of everything is the mystery of the Incarnation, the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us" [231]. "In Christ, we are called to cooperate in the work of creation, rather than be disinterested observers of technological processes that limit our freedom and responsibility. The dignity inscribed in each of us by the Holy Spirit can also be seen in our capacity to reflect critically, choose and love freely, and form authentic relationships" [233].

In conclusion, Leo recalls again the image of Nehemiah, in whom the Pope sees "a striking parable of our own vocation, which is not to be passive spectators of social and cultural fractures, nor mere commentators on what is crumbling, but men and women prepared to enter the construction sites of history ... in order to build what has collapsed and protect what is threatened" [241].

Like Leo XIII before him, Pope Leo XIV has recognized in this encyclical the challenge of "new things" in our time and has presented the Church and the wider world with an agenda for reform, renewal, and revitalization. Had the earlier Leo's response to the social crisis of the 19th-century been taken more seriously by secular society, the history of the 20th century might well have been very different. Magnifica Humanitas represents a serious religious response to some of the latest "new things" that appear as clouds darkening the horizon of this 21st century. The Tower of Babel image which Pope Leo has invoked ought to frighten us, for the Tower of Babel was one of primeval humanity's great mistakes, as AI technologies might well prove to be one of humanity's serious mistakes. The Tower of Babel's construction was halted, although not without irreversible damage to the unity of the human race. Unlike the Tower of Babel, it is hard to image AI actually being stopped. The best that probably can be aspired to is a reassertion of human initiative - much as God restored divine initiative at Babel. Magnifica Humanitas has ably highlighted both this challenge and the dire consequences that lurk in the event of human failure to respond socially and politically with the required reassertion of human initiative.

Memorial Day

 

Today is Memorial Day, originally a post-Civil War holiday created to commemorate those who died in our country's wars. It was originally known as Decoration Day, a day when Americans decorated the graves of fallen soldiers. To some extent, it has evolved into a day when many recall all their beloved dead. Thus, for example, when I was a pastor, I started the practice of an annual Mass at the parish-owned cemetery, a custom commonly observed as well in other Catholic cemeteries of which I am aware 

Cemeteries are special places for us – special not just because they are blessed and consecrated by the Church and marked by beautiful and noble monuments. They are special places for us, first and foremost, because it is where we remember one another, where we remember those who have died, who have gone before us in life, our cherished past to whom we owe our present. Remembering is one of the things that makes us human. To remember those who have died, as our nation does today, is to acknowledge the importance of their lives - and the common humanity which we share with them in life and in death. Remembering is also one of the things that makes us Christian. To remember those who have gone before us in faith, as we do especially here today but every day at every Mass, is to celebrate the multitude of ways in which the grace of God touched and transformed each one of them in life - and the hope we still share with them in death. Memorial Day is one of the few occasions commonly remaining to remind us of our links with those who have gone before us and of our continuing connection with them.

By coincidence of calendar this year, today is also the feast of Mary, Mother of the Church. We are a global Church, united in faith with people living on every continent. As Saint Augustine famously said on one of his Pentecost sermons, the original Church of 120 has become a great Church that speaks the languages of all nations [Sermon 267 (c. 412)]. We are also united - as the liturgy regularly reminds us - with those who have gone before us. So it is, as the author of the book of Maccabees has reminded us, a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from sins (2 Maccabees 12:46). and welcomed among the saints, as we too hope someday to be welcomed with them forever.

Homily, Memorial Day, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, May 25, 2026.

Photo: Mourning Virgin, South German 1510-1520, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY.

Follow Me

 

We are in the final days of the Easter season, and the Church today reads from the concluding chapter of John’s Gospel, the familiar story of the Risen Lord’s appearance to his disciples, where he revealed himself through the miraculous catch of 153 fish and then served them a breakfast of bread and fish. There’s a little church on the shore that marks the supposed site of this event. The story highlights the role of peter. So, the church is called “The Church of the Primacy of Peter.” Here, in this church today, as surely as on that distant lakeshore, The Risen Christ feeds us with food we would never have gotten on our own. Here too he challenges us, as he challenged Peter, with the question: do you love me?

Peter was asked this critical question three times – obviously corresponding to the three times Peter had earlier denied Jesus, his triple profession of love replacing his triple denial.

Listening in on this conversation between Jesus and Peter, we learn that what started out as a fishing story has now turned into a shepherding story. In relation to the world, Peter (and his fellow disciples) have been commissioned by Jesus to keep casting their nets, drawing people in – into the Church, which will continue the mission of the risen Lord in the world. But once inside, within the Church the dominant image is that of Jesus the Good Shepherd, who here shares that shepherding role in a special way with Peter. Others will share in shepherding the flock, of course, but Peter is particularly and specially called to follow Jesus in the role of the Church’s shepherd.

That special role continues in the Church in the ministry of the Pope. This mission of Peter and of his successor, the Pope, has been very much in the news lately, thanks in part to criticisms of the Pope by some American politicians but also because of his first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas (“On the Protection of Human Dignity in the Age of Artificial Intelligence”), which will be released on Monday. After his election last year, Pope Leo indicated that he intended to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor Leo XIII by responding to today’s technological revolution, as the earlier, 19th-century Leo had to the industrial revolution, guiding the Church in faithfully following Jesus’ command, “Follow me.”

Homily for Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, May 22, 2026.

Living "the Politics of Disharmony"

When Harvard's Samuel Huntington authored American Politics: The Politics of Disharmony in 1981, the Soviet Union still stood (seemingly) strong, and American politics still predictably performed more or less according to Americans' Cold War era norms and expectations. As I acknowledged in my belated review of Huntington's book on this site (December 20, 2024), in 1981 I was at the end of my political science career and so managed to miss reading the book - until the transformed political world of 2024 finally inspired me to read it and apply its analysis to today. It is, as I wrote in 2024, "An Old Book for a New Day." 

Huntington highlighted the traditionally "creedal" character of American identity. He highlighted the high degree of consensus among Americans about the "American Creed," especially among those more active in the system and who benefit the most from it." On the other hand, those "who have less income and less education and who do not occupy leadership roles are more likely to be hypocritical or moralistic and lower status people cynical or complacent."

Huntington's emphasis was mainly on the periodic eras of moralistic reforms, what he called "creedal passion periods," which occur periodically through American history, approximately every 60 years. He identified four such periods in particular: the American Revolution, the Jacksonian era, the Progressive era, and the 1960s-1970s. The general direction of these efforts was "to make political institutions more responsive, more liberal, more democratic." Reforms have not, however, been unambiguously successful. "The reforms of one generation often produce the vested interests of the next."

By Huntington's calculation, "a major sustained creedal passion period will occur in the second and third decades of the twenty-first century" - i.e., right about now. There can be little doubt that the decade of Donald Trump has already initiated precisely such a crisis, in which not only elements of the "American Creed" but its very viability as the primary vehicle for the expression of American identity has come into question.  Unlike earlier periods, when the conflict was not so much between rival ideas as between the ruling ideas and the facts found in existing American institutions, a conflict has evidently emerged between conflicting ideas themselves, as the very character of American identity as "creedal" has come. under sustained intellectual and political attack.

Huntington already in 1981 recognized the possibility that in the future (which is now the present) other forces could "change, dilute, or eliminate the central ideals of the American Creed."

Bringing his analysis forward, Huntington foresaw several possibilities. First, the core creedal values, which derive from the 17th and 18th centuries, could "come to be seen as increasingly irrelevant in a complex modern economy and a threatening international environment," an irrelevance potentially exacerbated by rising secularism. "As religious passion weakens, how likely is the United States to sustain a firm commitment to its traditional values? Would an America without its Protestant core still be America?" 

Second, the transition to post-industrial society could be accompanied by an increasingly "communitarian" ideology, in place of Lockean individualism. Third, the increasing influence of recent immigrants could similarly also dilute that Lockean tradition. Early 20th-century immigrants "introduced a different 'ethic' into American cities." Likewise, "the more recent immigrants could well introduce into American society values markedly in contrast with Lockean liberalism." Obviously, immigration is a contentious issue at present. Even when occasionally masked as a concern about the introduction of alternative ideas which might or might not be compatible with the traditional "American Creed" (as was the case with the 19th-century "Know-Nothing" opposition to Catholic immigrants), the intense animus against immigrants currently dominant in our politics is obviously racially structured. That said, it it obviously also true that, like the earlier Catholic and Jewish immigrants, more recent immigrants may also bring with them ideas and values that may challenge (as well as in many case affirm) elements of the traditional "American Creed."

Finally, having been in existence as a nation for over 200 years (now almost 250), Huntington suggested that the U.S. may experience less need fo its founding ideals as a primary definition of its national identity. "History, tradition, custom culture and a sense of shared experience such as other major nations have developed over the centuries could also come to define American identity, and the role of abstract ideals and values might be reduced." (This is roughly the position JD Vance famously articulated in his 2024 Convention acceptance speech.) What Huntington calls "the ideational basis of national identity" might "be replaced by an organic one, and 'American exceptionalism' would wither." Instead of "a nation with the soul of a church," the U.S. could "become a nation with the soul of a nation." In other words, we may be becoming "like all other nations" (cf. 1 Samuel 8:5).

Obviously other nations are not bad, and being more like them is not necessarily all that bad either. What is (at least possibly) problematic is the loss of the previously unifying character of the "American Creed," which (among other things) made immigration work so successfully for the U.S. in ways it may not work for other more organic countries.

Given the dramatic and unprecedented political and cultural changes that have characterized the Trump decade, the possibilities Huntington foresaw appear somewhat prophetic.

Huntington nonetheless recognized the "tremendous persistence and resiliency" of classical American values and ideals. Likewise, increasingly cultural pluralism could also play a supportive role in sustaining those values and ideals. The more pluralistic the nation, "the more essential the values of the Creed become in defining what it is that Americans have in common." That is, of course largely what happened after the previous periods of mass immigration. It is probably one of the processes at work among immigrant communities even now and would likely be the predominant process, were it not for the forceful opposition of the current racialized, radical anti-immigrant alternative constituency.

Given these diverse possibilities, Huntington envisioned different possible futures. The one he considered most dangerous, however, may perhaps prove to be the one most relevant for our present predicament. Huntington notes "the continued presence of deeply felt moralistic sentiments among major groups in American society could continue to ensure weak and divided government, devoid of authority and unable to deal satisfactorily with the economic, social, and foreign challenges confronting the nation. Intensification of this conflict between history and progress could give rise to increasing frustration and increasingly violent oscillations between moralism and cynicism. ... The weakening of government in an effort to reform it could lead eventually to strong demands for the replacement of the weakened and ineffective institutions by more authoritarian structures more effectively designed to meet historical needs."

Is this the direction in which we are going? It does seem to be the direction in which we have been going and from which we find it harder and harder to extricate ourselves. American history (and the wider history of the Western world) offer multiple resources for us to draw upon - as well as abundant examples of opportunities missed roads that failed to be taken when the possibility was sitll open. Meanwhile the scenario Huntington feared most - an increasing embrace of anti-creedal authoritarian structures - seems increasingly realistic. As i wrote in 2024, Huntington may have predicted better than he knew.

"With One Accord"

 

Some of us here may be old enough (obviously, I am) to remember when the Easter Candle was ritually extinguished after the reading of the Gospel on Ascension Day. Even more dramatically, in certain places in earlier centuries, either the candle itself or a statue of the Risen Christ would be hoisted up to the church’s ceiling until it disappeared though an opening of the roof, often to be replaced by a shower of roses as a sign of Christ’s parting promise to give the Holy Spirit to the Church. Yet, the point of such rituals was less about Christ’s departure, as if he were now permanently absent, than about his new mode of presence in our life together as his Church. As the Church prays in the Preface of today’s Mass: he ascended, not to distance himself from our lowly state but that we, his members might be confident of following where he, our Head and Founder, has gone before.

Some 20 or so years ago, the famous British biblical scholar and retired Church of England Bishop N.T. Wright, authored a book, The Last Word, in which he suggested we think of history as a play in five acts. The first act is creation; the second the fall and sin’s consequences for the human family; the third the story of God’s Chosen People from Abraham to Jesus; the fourth the fulfillment of God’s revelation to Israel in the story of Jesus (after whom, as Vatican II reminded us, we neither need, nor expect any further revelation). The final fifth act, the present, is the time of the Church. It presupposes all that preceded it, as we tell and retell the world the story of creation, sin, and salvation in Christ, while moving forward toward our final destiny.

Historically speaking, this fifth act – the time of the Church, our time – began when the disciples were all filled with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Before his ascension, the Risen Lord had told them to remain in Jerusalem to await the promised gift of the Holy Spirit. The Acts of the Apostles tells us that they devoted themselves with one accord to prayer, assembled in Jerusalem, under the leadership of the apostles, praying together with Mary, the Mother of Jesus and Mother of the Church, during that interval, that in-between transitional time, which the Church’s calendar recalls during this novena of nine days between Ascension Thursday and Pentecost Sunday.

Thus, Easter, Ascension, and Pentecost all go together. The first highlights Christ's actual resurrection; the second his glorification at the Father's right hand; the third his continued presence in his Church through the gift of the Holy Spirit. When "we clearly see and understand the divine action of the Holy Spirit in the successive steps of the history of the Church," wrote this first pastor of this parish, Isaac Hecker, in his great book The Church and the Age, "we should fully comprehend the law of all true progress."

Homily for the Seventh Sunday of Easter, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, May 17, 2026.