Online Reporter
Dr Evans Sagomba
Everything AI
ARTIFICIAL intelligence has become the defining symbol of our age, a technology that promises efficiency, productivity, and even a reimagining of what it means to be human.
Yet, as Pope Leo XIV reminds us in Magnifica Humanitas, the grandeur of humanity must never be overshadowed by the allure of machines. His warning against the “technocratic paradigm”, a mindset that reduces every choice to profit and efficiency, rings with urgency. It is not enough to marvel at AI’s capabilities; we must ask whether those capabilities serve humanity or diminish it.
The temptation to equate technical power with moral authority is strong. AI can simulate human reasoning, mimic empathy, and even generate art or conversation. But it cannot feel, it cannot love, and it cannot carry the moral weight of conscience. To forget this distinction is to risk surrendering our humanity to a system that knows nothing of compassion or justice. The Pope’s insistence that “a more moral AI is not enough if that morality is determined by a few” is a reminder that ethics must be shared, rooted in social justice, and accountable to all, not dictated by corporate boardrooms or technocratic elites.
The call to “disarm” AI is, not a rejection of technology, but a rejection of its misuse. To disarm means stripping away the assumption that technical power confers the right to govern. It is a plea to prevent technology from becoming a weapon, whether military, economic, or cognitive, that dominates rather than serves. In this sense, disarmament is liberation: freeing humanity from the tyranny of competition and the illusion that progress lies in overcoming human limits.
Transhumanism and posthumanism, with their dreams of erasing fragility, miss the truth that limitation is not a defect but a gift. It is in our vulnerability that we discover relationship, solidarity, and openness to God. As the Pope beautifully puts it, “humanity flourishes not despite limitations, but often through them.” To pursue AI as a means of eliminating human boundaries is to risk an anthropological regression, a denial of the very essence of humanity.
The real choice before us is not between enthusiasm and fear of AI, but between two paths of progress: one that serves individuals and peoples, and one that subjects them to the mentality of power. Technology can alleviate suffering, open new possibilities, and expand knowledge. But it must never replace humanity’s capacity for relationship and love. If innovation comes at the cost of compassion, then it is not progress but regression. This is why vigilance is essential. AI must be guided by policies that protect accountability, legal frameworks that safeguard dignity, and education that equips users to think critically. Without these, we risk a future where machines dictate the rhythm of life and human beings are reduced to data points.
The Pope’s vision of an “ecology of communication” is particularly striking. In an age of algorithms and digital platforms, truth is often sacrificed to visibility. What trends, what captures attention, becomes what is amplified, regardless of its accuracy. This architecture of visibility shapes opinions, exploits vulnerabilities, and risks turning freedom into a façade. Against this, the Pope calls for transparency, serious journalism, and critical use of digital tools. He insists that schools must remain places where the desire to ask questions is nurtured, not extinguished by machines that make human thought seem redundant. Education is not about producing efficient workers for an AI-driven economy; it is about cultivating seekers of truth, lovers of wisdom, and citizens capable of resisting manipulation.
The digital transition, often hailed as the “fourth industrial revolution,” brings both promise and peril. AI can free workers from repetitive tasks, but it can also force them to adapt to the speed of machines, stripping work of dignity. The Pope’s warning that “new ways of working are not necessarily better” challenges the assumption that productivity alone is progress. Work must remain centred on the person, not on performance metrics. Technology should support workers, not replace them in the name of profit. The renewal of labour organisations, as the Pope hopes, is essential to ensure that workers are not sacrificed to the demands of efficiency.
The grandeur of humanity cannot be measured by GDP. True development lies in dignity, shared prosperity, and environmental protection. AI, with its vast appetite for energy and rare earth elements, must be scrutinised for its ecological impact. Progress that destroys creation is not progress at all. The Pope’s insistence on international cooperation, especially for vulnerable countries, is a reminder that prosperity contributes to peace only if it is inclusive and sustainable. Finance must serve creation, not commodify it.
AI also raises profound questions about freedom. Profiling, predicting, and directing behaviour is a new form of power that risks discriminating against the weakest. The Pope’s critique of digital colonialism, where personal lives are turned into exploitable information, exposes the darker side of the digital economy. Moreover, the extraction of rare earth elements for technology creates new forms of slavery, scarred bodies sacrificed to the demands of innovation. To tolerate such violations is to become complicit. The Church’s renewed condemnation of slavery is a call to conscience: ethical discernment in the digital age must confront exploitation wherever it appears.
Perhaps the most chilling warning is against the use of AI in warfare. “There is no algorithm that can make war morally acceptable,” the Pope writes. AI does not remove the inhumanity of conflict; it accelerates it, rendering it impersonal and lowering the threshold for violence. Defence becomes prediction, and victims are reduced to data. This is the culture of power: a world where war is normalised, peace is dismissed as utopia, and Realpolitik justifies violence as inevitable. Against this, the Pope calls for dialogue, diplomacy, and forgiveness. The theory of “just war” must be overcome, replaced by a civilisation of love.
The grandeur of humanity lies not in domination but in love. Christians are called to resist the culture of power by building peace in justice, disarming words with truth, and adopting the perspective of victims. Neutrality in the face of injustice is itself unjust. Interreligious dialogue, too, is vital. To fight in the name of religion is to betray religion itself. The diplomacy of mercy, rooted in the Gospel, offers a concrete criterion for political action.
In the end, the grandeur of humanity is not found in machines but in the human heart. AI may simulate thought, but it cannot simulate love. It may predict behaviour, but it cannot inspire forgiveness. It may optimise processes, but it cannot bear witness to the divine dwelling within humanity. Pope Leo XIV’s encyclical is not a rejection of technology but a reminder of proportion. Technology must serve humanity, not dominate it. Progress must be measured not by efficiency but by compassion. And in the age of AI, we must bear witness to the grandeur of humanity, fragile yet magnificent, finite yet open to God. This is the vigilance we need: a sober recognition that while AI may promise much, it is humanity, our conscience, our relationships, our love, that remains the true measure of progress.
About the author: Dr Evans Sagomba is a Doctor of Philosophy and Chartered Marketer (CMktr, FCIM) with an MPhil and PhD in Philosophy. He specialises in AI, Ethics, and Policy Research, and is an AI Governance and Policy Consultant. Master’s and PhD supervisor. AI Ethics and Governance Lecturer. [email protected]; Social media handles; LinkedIn; @ Dr. Evans Sagomba (MSc Marketing) (FCIM)(MPhil) (PhD); X: @esagomba
