On a spring day in 2026, Pope Leo XIV stood before a gathered assembly of theologians, technologists, and policymakers in the Vatican’s grand audience hall, his voice steady as he unveiled an encyclical that would echo through both religious and digital corridors. “Magnifica Humanitas” was not merely a spiritual manifesto but a clarion call for a new social contract—one that sought to temper the unchecked rise of artificial intelligence with the same moral urgency that Pope Leo XIII once applied to the industrial age. The comparison was deliberate, even provocative: just as the 1891 encyclical Rerum Novarum redefined labor rights in an era of steam and steel, this new document positioned AI as the defining challenge of our time, demanding a reimagining of power, ownership, and human purpose.
The stakes, as the Pope framed them, were existential. AI’s rapid advancement, he argued, risked repeating the very inequalities that Rerum Novarum sought to dismantle. “The Tower of Babel,” he warned, “is not a relic of ancient myth but a metaphor for an industry where a handful of corporations hoard the tools of creation, dictating access to a technology that could either liberate or enslave.” This stark warning came as alternative models of AI development began to take root—cooperatives, open-source projects, and public-interest initiatives that directly challenged the dominance of tech giants. The question was no longer whether AI would reshape society, but who would shape it.
Historical parallels are never perfect, but the Pope’s invocation of Leo XIII’s legacy carries weight. Rerum Novarum emerged during a period of industrial upheaval, when workers faced brutal conditions and employers wielded unchecked power. The encyclical’s emphasis on “the pressing duty to remain profoundly human” resonated in a world where machines were replacing human labor. Today, as AI threatens to automate not just factories but entire professions, the Pope’s message feels strikingly prescient. “We are not merely witnesses to this transformation,” he wrote. “We are its architects.”
Yet the encyclical’s true radicalism lies in its call for decentralized, cooperative alternatives. Just as Leo XIII inspired movements like distributism and worker cooperatives, Leo XIV envisions a future where AI is not a tool of corporate monopolies but a shared resource. This vision is already taking shape in unexpected places. In Switzerland, the Apertus project has developed an open-source AI model with transparent data practices, challenging the opacity of models like GPT or Claude. In the U.S., Land O’Lakes—a cooperative of 14,000 farmers—uses AI to analyze agricultural data, ensuring that insights benefit members rather than external shareholders. “These are not utopian experiments,” says Dr. Maria Lopez, an AI ethicist at Stanford University. “They’re practical responses to a system that has long prioritized profit over people.”
The Pope’s critique of AI’s “godlike powers” also taps into a growing unease about autonomy and control. As military applications of AI advance, concerns about lethal autonomous weapons systems (LAWS) have intensified. The Vatican’s stance aligns with international efforts to regulate such technologies, though progress remains slow. “The encyclical reminds us that technology is not neutral,” says Dr. Neil Thompson, a researcher at the University of Cambridge’s Centre for AI Ethics. “It reflects the values of those who design it. If we don’t democratize AI, we risk entrenching the very hierarchies it could help dismantle.”
The challenges are immense. Large AI firms, backed by billions in venture capital, have entrenched themselves as gatekeepers of innovation. Their business models rely on data monopolies and algorithmic opacity, making it hard for smaller players to compete. But the encyclical’s emphasis on “the construction sites of history” suggests that resistance is not only possible but necessary. In Nairobi, tech workers have organized to demand fair wages and ethical AI practices. In Spain, the Mondragon Corporation, a legacy of Leo XIII’s vision, has begun exploring AI applications that prioritize worker well-being over shareholder returns. These efforts, while still nascent, illustrate the potential for a different path.
For policymakers, the Pope’s message is a challenge and an invitation. How can governments incentivize cooperative ownership of AI? What legal frameworks could ensure data is treated as a “common good,” as the encyclical suggests? Some jurisdictions are already experimenting. The European Union’s AI Act, set to take effect in 2027, includes provisions for “high-risk” systems to undergo rigorous scrutiny—a step toward the kind of oversight the Pope advocates. Yet, as economist Joseph Stiglitz notes, “Regulation alone is not enough. We need to rethink the very architecture of our digital economy.”
The Pope’s encyclical is not a blueprint, but a provocation. It asks believers and nonbelievers alike to consider: What does it mean to be human in an age of machines? How can we ensure that technology serves the common good rather than the interests of a few? These questions are as urgent as they are complex, but they are not new. They echo the same struggles that defined the industrial age—and the same possibilities that emerged from it. As the encyclical itself reminds us, “The future is not a destination but a choice.” The question is, who will make it?
