You wouldn't think a guy born in 1810 would have much to say about Large Language Models or neural networks. Honestly, the idea sounds a bit ridiculous. Pope Leo XIII lived in a world of steam engines and early telegraphs, yet his name is suddenly popping up in ethics boardrooms from San Francisco to Rome. It isn't because he predicted the microchip. It’s because he watched the Industrial Revolution tear the social fabric apart and decided to write a "manual" on how to survive rapid technological upheaval without losing our humanity.
People are freaking out about AI. Rightfully so, I guess. We’re looking at massive job displacement, the death of "truth" in media, and a weirdly concentrated amount of power in the hands of about four tech CEOs. This feels new. It feels unprecedented. But if you look back at Pope Leo XIII and AI through the lens of his most famous work, Rerum Novarum, you realize we’ve seen this movie before. The actors are just wearing different costumes.
The 19th Century "Algorithm"
In 1891, the world was a mess. Workers were being treated like literal cogs in a machine. Capitalists were getting filthy rich while the "proletariat" lived in squalor. Sounds familiar? Pope Leo XIII looked at this and didn't just offer "thoughts and prayers." He wrote a revolutionary document that basically invented modern Catholic Social Teaching. He argued that technology and capital exist for the person, not the other way around.
When we talk about Pope Leo XIII and AI today, we’re really talking about the dignity of work. Leo was obsessed with the idea that a job isn't just a way to get a paycheck; it’s a way for a human being to express their agency. If an AI replaces a copywriter or a coder, the economic loss is huge, sure. But Leo would argue the spiritual and social loss is even bigger. He’d probably look at a generative AI model and ask: "Does this help the worker master their craft, or does it make the worker an appendage to the machine?"
Why the "Rome Call for AI Ethics" is basically Leo 2.0
Fast forward to 2020. The Vatican, under the guidance of the Pontifical Academy for Life, released the "Rome Call for AI Ethics." Microsoft and IBM signed it. It was a massive deal. While Leo XIII wasn't there to sign it—on account of being dead for over a century—his fingerprints are all over it. The document pushes for something they call "algorethics."
It's a clunky word. Sorta catchy, though.
The core idea is that algorithms need to be "human-centric." This is straight out of the Leo playbook. He championed the "just wage" and the right to organize. In an AI context, this translates to the right to know when you’re talking to a bot and the right to not have an algorithm decide your medical insurance premium without a human in the loop. The Vatican is pushing for AI that respects human dignity, specifically for the "frail" and the marginalized. Leo was doing the exact same thing for the factory workers of the 1890s who were being crushed by the unbridled capitalism of the era.
The Problem of "Digital Latifundia"
Leo XIII hated the idea of a few people owning all the land while everyone else slaved away. He called for a broader distribution of property. If he were around today, he’d likely be horrified by the data monopolies. Think about it. A handful of companies own the data "land" that every AI model is trained on. We are the digital sharecroppers, tilling the fields of social media and search engines, providing the raw material (our data) for free while the "landowners" reap all the profit.
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This isn't just a tech problem. It's a justice problem.
The connection between Pope Leo XIII and AI becomes crystal clear when you look at the centralization of power. Leo argued that the state has a duty to intervene when the "common good" is threatened by the greed of the few. Today, that means antitrust laws for AI and strict data privacy regulations. He wouldn't want a "Luddite" total ban—he actually loved science—but he would demand that the benefits of AI be shared, not hoarded in a Silicon Valley bunker.
What He Got Right (and What We’re Missing)
Most tech ethics today are based on "utilitarianism." Basically: what does the most good for the most people? Leo took a different path. He was a "Natural Law" guy. He believed there are certain objective truths about what humans need to flourish—family, rest, creative labor, and community.
- The Sunday Rest: Leo fought for workers to have time off. In the AI era, where the "grind" is 24/7 and Slack notifications never stop, his insistence on boundaries feels like a lifeline.
- Human Agency: An AI can produce a "perfect" result, but it lacks the struggle of creation. Leo valued the struggle.
- Subsidiarity: This is a big Catholic word that basically means "keep decisions as local as possible." AI tends to centralize everything. Leo would want the tools in the hands of the community, not a distant server farm.
It’s easy to get lost in the "coolness" of AI. It writes poems! It generates art! It can diagnose cancer! But the "Leo Perspective" forces us to ask: at what cost? If we get a more efficient world but a more lonely and purposeless one, have we actually progressed? Honestly, probably not.
The Looming Crisis of Meaning
There’s a real fear that AI will lead to a "useless class." That’s a term historian Yuval Noah Harari uses a lot. It describes people who aren't just exploited, but irrelevant to the economy. Leo XIII would find that concept abhorrent. To him, no human being can ever be "useless."
If AI takes over the "doing," what happens to the "being"?
We are moving toward a world where the "Pope Leo XIII and AI" conversation moves from the factory floor to the soul. If an algorithm can simulate empathy, do we stop being empathetic to each other? If a machine can provide all the answers, do we stop asking the big questions? Leo’s whole life was dedicated to the idea that the material world matters because it reflects a higher reality. If we let AI become our new god, we’re just trading one form of industrial slavery for a digital one.
Practical Steps for a "Leonean" AI Future
We can't go back to 1891. We shouldn't want to. But we can take the principles of Rerum Novarum and apply them to our keyboards and prompts. It starts with demanding transparency. If a company uses your data to train a model that eventually replaces you, that’s a violation of the distributive justice Leo talked about. We need "data unions"—collective groups that bargain for the value of our digital footprints.
Next, we have to protect the human element in high-stakes decisions. Whether it's sentencing in a courtroom or a diagnosis in a hospital, a "human-in-the-loop" shouldn't just be a suggestion; it should be a right. Leo believed that the person must always be the master of the tool. When the tool starts "mastering" the person, the society is in trouble.
Finally, we need to lean into what AI can't do. AI is great at syntax but terrible at semantics. It knows how to arrange words, but it doesn't know what they mean. It has no "skin in the game." It doesn't suffer, it doesn't hope, and it doesn't love. Leo XIII’s legacy reminds us that these "inefficient" human qualities are actually our greatest assets.
Actionable Insights for the AI Age:
- Audit Your Tools: Don't just adopt an AI because it's fast. Ask if it enhances your ability to think or if it's just a shortcut that makes your brain lazy.
- Support Ethical Tech: Look for companies that have signed the Rome Call for AI Ethics or similar frameworks that prioritize human rights over pure profit.
- Demand Data Sovereignty: Support legislation like the EU's AI Act or similar state-level privacy laws that treat your data as your property, not a free resource for tech giants.
- Value the "Handmade": In a world flooded with AI content, the value of human-to-human interaction, hand-crafted goods, and original thought will skyrocket. Double down on those.
The intersection of Pope Leo XIII and AI isn't about some weird religious prophecy. It's about a timeless warning: technology is a fantastic servant but a terrible master. If we want the 21st century to be better than the 19th, we’d better start listening to the old guy in the white robes. He saw the machines coming long before we did.