Not another Tower of Babel!

Magnifica Humanitas is an encyclical letter written by Pope Leo XIV on the protection of the human person in the age of Artificial Intelligence (AI). In plain language, it is a major Catholic Church document that asks a very modern question: As technology becomes more powerful, how do we make sure that human beings do not become less important?

Its concern is not technology itself. It does not say that AI is evil, nor does it ask society to turn its back on progress. Its warning is more subtle and more serious. Technology can heal, teach, connect and protect. But it can also divide, exploit, deceive and concentrate power in the hands of a few. The document frames this choice through two biblical images: The Tower of Babel, where human ambition becomes domination, and the rebuilding of Jerusalem, where people work together to restore a broken city.

That image is useful even for those outside the church. One does not need to be Catholic, or even religious, to understand the danger of a society that becomes smarter as it grows colder. We are already living with some of the early signs. Children are growing up inside systems designed to capture their attention. Workers are being measured by tools they cannot see or challenge. Public debate is being polluted by fake images, false information and manufactured outrage. Elderly people are being offered digital substitutes for companionship. Citizens may soon find that decisions about jobs, loans, welfare, healthcare or education are shaped by systems they do not understand and cannot question.

So the real test of Magnifica Humanitas is not whether it is admired, quoted or discussed at conferences. The real test is whether it can be translated into daily life.

Educating beyond technology

The first place to start is education. Every school should teach digital literacy as a civic skill, not as an optional extra. Young people need to understand how algorithms shape what they see, how deepfakes work, how online platforms encourage addiction, how personal data is collected, and how artificial content can manipulate emotions. But this education cannot only be technical. A child also needs to learn patience, judgement, attention and empathy. These are not old-fashioned virtues. They are survival skills in a digital age.

A school that takes Magnifica Humanitas seriously would not simply buy more devices and call that innovation. It would ask harder questions. Are pupils learning to think, or merely to search? Are they becoming more curious, or more dependent? Are they able to sit with a difficult text, listen to another person and form their own judgement? The encyclical stresses the role of schools, families and communities in offering what the digital world cannot easily provide—shared time, trustworthy relationships and the formation of conscience. That is where a real programme must begin.

Accountability with a name
The second step is accountability. No person should be seriously affected by an automated decision without the right to human review. If a person is denied a job, a benefit, a school place, a medical service, a bank account or public support, they should be able to know why. They should also be able to appeal to a responsible human being. This should become a basic principle in law and in company policy. This is not hostility to technology. It is common sense. Machines may help process information, but they cannot carry moral responsibility. A society that hides behind software weakens justice. When something goes wrong, people should not be sent in circles between customer service desks, automated replies and unreadable technical explanations. They should have a name, a process and a remedy.

Dignity of work
The third step is protecting workers. For many people, artificial intelligence is not an abstract debate. It is a fear that their job may disappear, that their skills may be devalued, or that they will be watched more closely by systems designed to squeeze more output from every minute. The encyclical speaks strongly about the dignity of work and warns against a model of innovation that sacrifices people for profit. This principle needs to become policy. Employers should be required to publish an AI transition plan before introducing systems that replace, rank or monitor workers. Staff should be consulted before such tools are introduced. Training should be funded. Productivity gains should be shared through better wages, shorter working hours, safer workplaces or new opportunities. There should also be firm limits on surveillance. A workplace where every keystroke, route, pause or facial expression is tracked is not simply efficient. It is dehumanising.

Democratic oversight
The fourth step is democratic oversight. At present, many of the most powerful digital systems are built and controlled by private companies. These companies may be innovative, but they are not elected. Their first duty is often to investors, not citizens. The encyclical warns about the concentration of technological power and calls for responsibility, transparency and governance. From a layman’s point of view, that means governments must stop treating technology as too complicated to regulate.

Public authorities should require human dignity impact assessments for AI systems used in healthcare, education, policing, migration, welfare, employment and finance. These assessments should be public and readable, not buried in technical language. Citizens should know when AI is being used, what data it relies on, who may be harmed, who profits, and how errors can be corrected. If a system is too complex to explain, it may be too dangerous to use in decisions that affect people’s lives.

Supporting those harmed by technology
The fifth step is practical support for those harmed by technology. This could take the form of local AI justice clinics, run by universities, legal aid groups, unions, consumer organisations and local councils. These clinics could help people challenge unfair automated decisions, report digital fraud, respond to deepfake abuse, or understand how their data has been used. A student wrongly accused of cheating by software, a worker rejected by an algorithm, an elderly person tricked by an AI-generated voice scam, or a migrant misclassified by a database should not be left alone.

The truth
The sixth step is the defence of truth. This is not nostalgia for a gentler past. It is a democratic necessity. If citizens no longer know what is real, public life becomes easy to manipulate. Deepfakes, synthetic audio, fake news farms and personalised propaganda can destroy reputations, distort elections and make people doubt everything. When trust collapses, the loudest voice wins, not the truest one. Media houses, schools, political parties and technology companies should agree on stronger standards for labelling artificial content and correcting falsehoods. Public broadcasters and independent media should be supported in providing verification services that ordinary people can trust. Truth is not just a private preference. It is part of the infrastructure of a free society.

The decision to kill
The seventh step is peace. The use of artificial intelligence in weapons, targeting and surveillance is one of the most dangerous areas of all. No machine should be allowed to make a final decision to kill. That principle is simple enough for every democracy to understand and strong enough to become international law. Small states, including Malta, can play a role here by supporting treaties, safeguards, and strict human oversight of military AI. Waiting until autonomous weapons become normal would be a grave failure of imagination.

Community spirit
The eighth step is community. This may sound modest compared with laws, treaties and regulations, but it may be the most important step of all. People are lonely. Families are under pressure. Children are anxious. Public debate is bitter. Neighbours often live beside one another without really knowing one another. No technology policy can repair that on its own. Local councils, schools, sports clubs, libraries, voluntary organisations, parishes and community groups should create spaces where people meet without being sold something, profiled or pushed towards outrage.

Shared meals, youth clubs, reading groups, repair cafés, visits to the elderly, mentoring for children and support for parents are not soft extras. They are human infrastructure. Without them, technology will fill the empty spaces, often badly.

A civic agenda
That is how Magnifica Humanitas can become real from outside the church—not as a sermon imposed on society, but as a civic agenda open to everyone. Its message can be translated into simple principles. Children are not users. Workers are not costs. Citizens are not data points. The elderly are not burdens. The poor are not afterthoughts. And progress is not progress if it leaves people more isolated, powerless and afraid.

The encyclical will matter only if it leaves the page. It must enter classrooms, employment contracts, procurement rules, public law, media standards, family conversations and local communities. It must become a way of asking, again and again, whether a tool serves the person or the person serves the tool. That is the choice before us.

We can build another Tower of Babel—impressive, profitable, fast and ultimately inhuman. Or we can rebuild Jerusalem—slower, humbler, more difficult, but more worthy of the human person. Ultimately, it’s our civic responsibility to ensure that the technologies we build make society more just, more human and more worthy of the people who must live in it.