Rome vs. Silicon Valley: Why Leo XIV’s “Magnifica Humanitas” Encyclical on Artificial Intelligence Matters

Magnifica Humanitas is the first papal encyclical in history dedicated to artificial intelligence. It is more than a theological document – it is a manifesto of resistance to digital feudalism, written in the language of Tolkien and the Gospel.

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What Is an Encyclical?

First, it is worth explaining what an encyclical is and why it remains relevant to contemporary society.

An encyclical is an official letter or message issued by the Pope to the bishops and faithful of the Catholic Church, outlining the Church’s position on important matters of faith, morality, society, or politics.

The term itself derives from the Greek word enkýklios, meaning “general” or “intended for broad circulation.”

Encyclicals are not merely private letters. They represent one of the highest forms of papal teaching authority. Throughout history, pontiffs have used them to respond to the defining challenges of their eras, including war, social inequality, scientific progress, totalitarianism, environmental concerns, and broader crises of morality.

Notable examples include:

Pope Leo XIII – Rerum Novarum (1891), addressing workers’ rights and social justice;
Pope John Paul II – Evangelium Vitae, focused on the sanctity and value of human life;
Pope Francis – Laudato si’, dedicated to ecology and humanity’s responsibility toward the planet;
Pope Leo XIV – Magnifica Humanitas, посвящена artificial intelligence.

In a broader sense, the term “encyclical” is sometimes used metaphorically to describe a foundational or programmatic text that exerts significant influence on a society or community.

No One Expected It

When the conclave elected a new Pope in April 2025, few anticipated that the new pontiff’s first major document would focus neither on peace in the Middle East nor on the global refugee crisis. Instead, Pope Leo XIV directed attention toward what many increasingly see as one of the defining issues of the modern era: artificial intelligence, the growing power of technology giants, and the emergence of a form of 21st-century digital feudalism.

On May 15, 2025 – exactly 134 years after Pope Leo XIII signed Rerum Novarum – the new pontiff, Pope Leo XIV, issued Magnifica Humanitas. The timing was unlikely to be accidental. It served as a deliberate signal that the Church views the rise of artificial intelligence as a transformation comparable in scale to the Industrial Revolution – and one that demands a clear moral response.

“Magnificent humanity, created by God, today stands before a decisive choice: to build a new Tower of Babel or a city where God and humanity dwell together.” – Pope Leo XIV, Magnifica Humanitas (2025).

A Reflection of 1891: Why the Date Matters

To understand the significance of Magnifica Humanitas, it is necessary to look back to 1891. Rerum Novarum, issued by Pope Leo XIII, emerged during a period when the Industrial Revolution was reshaping society and reducing millions of workers to interchangeable parts within rapidly expanding factory systems. The Pope spoke about human dignity, the right to fair wages, and the right of workers to organize in unions. The document resonated globally and went on to influence Catholic social thought, social democracy, and broader debates about social justice. Its legacy remains one of the most developed bodies of thought concerning a just social order.

Today’s technological transformation is different in form, yet comparable in scale – and in some respects more opaque. There are no factory smokestacks or visible child labor. Instead, algorithms increasingly displace workers from the labor market, often gradually and without public scrutiny. Vast training datasets rely on the uncompensated use of material created by writers, artists, journalists, and translators. At the same time, many professionals face growing uncertainty about whether their occupations will continue to exist in the coming years. In this context, Pope Leo XIV appears to identify a familiar underlying pattern: exploitation concealed behind the ostensibly neutral language of technological progress.

Technology Is Not Neutral – The Central Thesis

At the core of the encyclical lies a direct challenge to one of Silicon Valley’s most enduring narratives. For decades, technology companies have presented their products as neutral tools: “we only provide the platform,” “the algorithm is unbiased,” or “AI is simply mathematics.” Pope Leo XIV rejects this premise, arguing that technologies inevitably reflect the intentions and values of those who create them.

If a recommendation algorithm is optimized for engagement rather than user well-being, that is a deliberate choice. If a language model is trained on the work of writers, artists, journalists, and translators without compensation, that is also a choice. If data originating from poorer regions of the world is used to enrich corporations elsewhere without meaningful reciprocity, that too represents a choice. In the Pope’s framing, these are not merely technical decisions but moral ones.

The encyclical contrasts two possible trajectories: a new Tower of Babel shaped by technocratic hubris, or a New Jerusalem grounded in community and solidarity. In this interpretation, there is no genuinely “neutral” path between them.

Digital Feudalism: A New Name for an Old Problem

One of the most striking concepts introduced in Magnifica Humanitas is that of “digital feudalism.” Pope Leo XIV describes a system in which large technology corporations concentrate control over data, algorithms, and digital infrastructure, effectively becoming a new class of feudal powers. The difference is that their domains are measured not in acres of land, but in petabytes of personal data.

The argument is not presented merely as rhetorical criticism. A relatively small number of companies now control much of the world’s cloud infrastructure, search ecosystems, social media platforms, and an increasing share of advanced artificial intelligence development. As a result, much of the world becomes structurally dependent on decisions made by these firms – including which languages are supported, which cultures are represented in training datasets, and which values shape systems of content moderation and algorithmic governance. The encyclical characterizes this dynamic as a form of digital colonialism, suggesting that technological dependence increasingly carries cultural, economic, and political consequences alongside technical ones.

The solution outlined in Magnifica Humanitas appears radical in the contemporary context: data and algorithms should be treated as shared goods. The principle of the common good, long applied in Catholic social teaching to natural resources such as land, water, and air, is extended by Pope Leo XIV to the digital domain. Within this framework, data about individuals is not viewed as the property of corporations that collect it, but as belonging fundamentally to the people from whom it originates.

Gandalf in the Vatican: Tolkien as Moral Arsenal

Among the many surprises of Magnifica Humanitas, one of the most unexpected is the presence of The Lord of the Rings. The text draws on imagery associated with Gandalf and incorporates references to Tolkien’s world, where the fate of Middle-earth is not decided by armies or magic alone, but by the perseverance of “small people” – hobbits resisting the temptation of the One Ring.

This is not treated as a decorative literary reference. Tolkien himself was a Catholic, and his epic is often interpreted as being infused with Catholic theological themes. The Ring, which promises absolute power while corrupting those who wield it, is presented as an archetype of technological power that exceeds the moral and intellectual capacity of its creators.

Gandalf’s refusal to take the Ring is not framed as weakness, but as wisdom – a recognition that certain forms of power cannot be controlled without ultimately consuming or destroying the one who attempts to wield them.

“But it is not for us to master all the tides of this world; our task is to do what lies within our power in the age we live in – to root out the weeds from the field we know, so that we may leave to those who come after us a field made ready for cultivation.” – Gandalf, as quoted in Magnifica Humanitas

Pope Leo XIV deliberately chooses this kind of language – and it is unlikely to be accidental. It resonates precisely in spaces where traditional ecclesiastical rhetoric no longer always reaches. Readers of Tolkien are not limited to literary enthusiasts; they also include developers, product managers, and venture capitalists. In that sense, the reference functions as a calculated cultural gesture, aimed at audiences embedded directly within the technological ecosystems the encyclical seeks to address.

Anthropic in the Room: The Symbolism of Presence

A detail noted by relatively few commentators is the presence of the CEO of Anthropic at the presentation of the encyclical. The company, known for developing Claude, has previously declined to provide its algorithms to the U.S. government for uses related to lethal operations. This was not a routine protocol visit; it is interpreted as a signal.

The Vatican appears to be deliberately selecting its interlocutors. The presence of Anthropic alongside a document on artificial intelligence suggests a differentiation among technological actors. Not all are perceived as equal in their willingness to establish ethical constraints. In this framing, a company that refuses contracts involving lethal applications is positioned differently from actors primarily optimizing for engagement metrics or participating in the arms industry.

War and AI: The Sharpest Critique

Magnifica Humanitas takes a clear position on the military use of artificial intelligence: it should be excluded from any arms race dynamics. Pope Leo XIV extends an argument previously developed by Pope John Paul II in relation to nuclear weapons – namely, that the concept of a “just war” becomes increasingly difficult to sustain in the context of weapons capable of mass destruction. The encyclical applies this reasoning to autonomous weapons systems and algorithmic targeting technologies.

In this framing, the document offers a notably strong ethical critique of the militarization of AI, including its deployment in contemporary military operations by several states. For a text of this diplomatic and theological status, the tone is unusually direct. The Church, often characterized by caution in geopolitical matters, is presented here as leaving limited room for ambiguous interpretation regarding the ethical risks of integrating AI into warfare.

Why is this a “voice crying in the wilderness”

There is still a critical caveat. When Leo XIII signed Rerum Novarum in 1891, the Church was a genuinely mass institution in Europe and Latin America. Bishops, parish priests, and Catholic trade unions together formed an extensive network capable of translating papal ideas into concrete social change. Today, that network carries significantly less weight.

Half of the people who see news about Magnifica Humanitas do not know what an encyclical is. The other half may know, but do not feel compelled to read it. The attention market is harsh: a papal encyclical competes for clicks with the latest congressional scandal, the war in Ukraine, and a new iPhone release. Those who do read it are, for the most part, already aligned with its underlying values. Those to whom it is actually addressed – technology founders, regulators, venture capital investors – are unlikely to engage with it at all.

This reflects a structural problem of contemporary discourse: the most significant voices operate on frequencies where there is almost no longer an audience. Magnifica Humanitas is a strong text, with sharp ideas and an unusual degree of intellectual ambition. But whether it leads to any real-world impact is, unfortunately, not determined by the quality of the document itself.

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What remains after reading

Magnifica Humanitas is not a technical document or a regulatory proposal. It is a moral framework. It does not specify how to open datasets or how to compel Big Tech to compensate authors. Instead, it raises a more fundamental question: why these actions are undertaken in the first place, and for whom.

In a context where leading AI labs publish papers on “alignment” and “safety,” where parliaments adopt instruments such as the AI Act and executive orders, and where philosophers and social scientists repeatedly revise “responsible AI” frameworks, the Vatican’s voice operates on a different register. It does not rely on metrics or KPIs. It argues that a human being cannot be reduced to an algorithm because a person possesses dignity, desires, and the capacity for love. Everything else is derivative of that premise.

It may be precisely for this reason that the document is significant – even if it remains largely unheard by many of those it addresses. At times, what matters is not immediate impact, but the articulation, in public terms, of ideas that are often left implicit.