In Pope Leo XIV’s first public words on the day of his election, he wished all those listening “A peace that is unarmed and disarming, humble and persevering.” In his first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas: Safeguarding the Human Person in the Time of Artificial Intelligence he is revealing more about his vision of disarmament, a vision deeply influenced by his Augustinian roots and which differs greatly from the world as we see it today.
The final chapter of the encyclical contrasts the Culture of Power and the Civilization of Love, the former being “characterized by polarization and violence” (185). He specifically addresses the situation of modern warfare, but returns to the question of domination that affects more than the extreme situations of military violence. This bears more than a trace of Augustine’s emphasis on the libido dominandi, the lust for dominance, control, and power which is characteristic of humanity.
It is in a culture of unbridled lust for dominance that many technological advances have taken place in recent years, which Leo alludes to when he explicitly describes “Disarming AI”.
I would like to employ the expression “to disarm,” which is close to my heart. Disarming AI means freeing it from the mentality of “armed” competition, which today is not limited simply to the military context, but is also an economic and cognitive phenomenon. This entails a race for ever more powerful algorithms and larger datasets, driven by the desire to secure geopolitical or commercial dominance. To disarm means discrediting the assumption that technical power automatically confers the right to govern. To disarm does not mean rejecting technology, but preventing it from dominating humanity. It means freeing technology from monopolistic control and opening it to discussion and debate, therefore making it human-friendly and restoring it to the plurality of human cultures and ways of life. Our task today is not only ethical or technical. It is ecological in the deepest sense, for it concerns a new dimension of our common home. AI is already an environment in which we are immersed, as well as a force with which we must engage. For this reason, merely regulating it is insufficient; it must be disarmed, welcoming and accessible. (110)
The shift from considering the technological arms race to keeping technology from dominating us is not a non-sequitur. What we obsess over, what we long for, what we hold in esteem has power over us, steering our behaviors and our values. If part of our current culture around tech is, as Leo claims, a desire to reject our humanness through the illusion of limitlessness, we can easily be dominated by the pursuit of this vision which is both unattainable and unsatisfying.
Pope Leo’s vision is instead one of technological advancement within a civilization of love. He echoes Augustine’s notion of the two cities by anchoring his explanation of the alternatives in two Biblical locales: “On the one hand, there is the Tower of Babel, where collective effort follows a plan that dominates and ultimately dehumanizes (cf. Gen 11:1-9). On the other hand, there are the ruins of Jerusalem, which under Nehemiah’s direction are rebuilt piece by piece as a project of shared responsibility (cf. Neh 2–6).”
Encouraging shared responsibility is part of this disarmament. Leo XIV calls for listening to the voiceless many whose dangerous and poorly paid labor makes technological advancement possible. He calls for communal efforts to regulate and design artificial intelligence. His calls for shared knowledge are as granular as demanding transparent supply chains, and it is clear that many of these exhortations are directed toward those in power.
Yet in this vision of a more egalitarian future, of an integrated human development, he also names the responsibilities that teachers, families, leaders and all people have. Ever person can do their part to bring about such transformations as reclaiming the notion of truth, revitalizing education, uplifting the dignity of work, and protecting against the colonization of communities and of human interiority by new technologies. And his repeated appeals to relationship places this all in the communal context: though each person has a role to play we never do this alone.
The conclusion of Magnifica Humanitas offers a “sober yet demanding program of Christian life with which we can navigate this epochal change in the light of the Gospel.’ (229). We should contemplate Jesus’s Incarnation, recognizing that by it God further sanctified and ennobled humanity and came into every facet of human existence. He appeals to a “Eucharistic spirituality, that is, a spirituality of ecclesial unity in love” (234). The Eucharist, as the apex of our nearness to God and the visible sign of community, is also a sign of “a different paradigm, one that preserves human connections, gives a voice to the invisible and ensures that processes are aimed at respecting people’s dignity” (235). Despite the intense and at times frightening changes of our era, he advocates being active in building a new world by staying faithful to the truth, investing in education, cultivating relationships, and loving justice and peace (237-240).
And all of this is rooted in prayer. Leo concludes by referencing Mary’s Magnificat, her outburst of joy and praise at what God can and already has done. Her vision transcends the immanent. She gives voice to faith, hope, and love. She demonstrates the power of language, of naming what we know to be true and perhaps even bringing it nearer through our utterances. It’s a fitting image with which to end an exploration of a technology which increasingly speaks to us and for us, but which can never replace the divinely inspired expression of magnificent humanity.
