In his address to lawmakers on the occasion of the Jubilee of Governors, Pope Leo XIV tackled two deeply intertwined issues: religious freedom and interreligious dialogue on one side, and the ethical challenges posed by artificial intelligence on the other. These two fronts not only reveal the limits and potential of our times, but they directly call into question the political, social, and cultural responsibilities of those in power.
The Pope's call for genuine religious freedom is more urgent than ever in a world where, paradoxically, Christianity is being increasingly weaponized by certain political leaders—both in Italy and abroad. His reflection on the contrast between "amor sui" and "amor Dei," drawn from St. Augustine, is ethically striking: Augustine is invoked not merely as a theological reference but as a moral measuring stick for public action. "Amor sui"—self-centered, defensive, identity-driven love—is the force behind much of today's political rhetoric, especially when religion is involved.
In Italy, we're witnessing a disturbing trend: Christianity is being distorted into a tool of fear and division. The Gospel becomes a cover, not a message. Some politicians champion crucifixes in classrooms and Nativity scenes in public buildings, yet simultaneously promote language that dehumanizes immigrants, marginalizes religious minorities, and effectively blocks any meaningful interfaith dialogue. They speak of Christianity, but live without charity. They use "tradition" not as a bridge to others, but as a weapon against them.
This instrumentalization of faith undermines the very foundation of Augustine's civitas Dei—the City of God—which Pope Leo XIV references. A society built on love cannot tolerate the hypocrisy of those who brandish religious symbols to justify exclusion, bigotry, or intolerance. True Christianity—the one rooted in "amor Dei"—demands openness, dialogue, listening, compassion, and above all, the full recognition of every person's freedom to believe—or not to believe.
In reality, that freedom is often only theoretical in Italy. Many politicians only defend religious liberty when it aligns with their idea of dominant religion. Other faiths—particularly Islam—are treated as threats. Laws, ordinances, and public statements increasingly make it harder for non-Christian communities to build places of worship. A quiet racism lingers against those who wear a veil or a yarmulke. Religious identities outside the Christian norm are often labeled "non-integratable," forgetting that real integration grows from mutual respect, not forced conformity.
With sober but piercing language, the Pope exposes this hypocrisy and urges lawmakers to align their principles with real-world policies. His warning extends to MAGA circles in the United States, where "Christian identity" has often been twisted into a nationalist, supremacist, even vengeful ideology. There too, religion is invoked not to build bridges but to draw lines in the sand, not to heal but to dominate. There too, "amor sui" reigns over "amor Dei." In both cases, the heart of faith—openness to the other—is replaced by a banner of exclusion. God is reduced to a partisan mascot.
In the second part of his speech, Pope Leo XIV turns with prophetic clarity to the question of artificial intelligence. His words lay bare the structural limits of machines when compared to the depth of human complexity. Artificial intelligence—no matter how advanced in data processing—remains soulless, incapable of true memory in the human sense: that creative, dynamic, and generative force that weaves together past, present, and future in a living, meaningful pursuit.
This is a powerful warning in an era where technological efficiency is often valued more than moral reflection, and political decisions are increasingly guided by algorithms, polls, and automated logic. The Pope warns us not to delegate what is most human to machines: the pursuit of the common good, the protection of dignity, the depth of relationship. Beneath this, we can glimpse a broader message: humanity must not be reduced to calculation, and politics must be more than number management.
What is needed is not only an ethics of technology—but an anthropology that re-centers human beings as conscious, free, and responsible agents. It's now evident that this speech is laying the groundwork for a forthcoming papal document, almost certainly an encyclical, focused on artificial intelligence. The words already spoken by Pope Francis at the G7, and now echoed by Leo XIV, seem like a systematic prelude: the Church's magisterium is preparing a profound reflection that will engage theology, philosophy, science, and politics.
And rightly so—AI is not merely a technical issue, it is a spiritual and ethical one. It forces us to ask: What does it mean to be human? What is justice, truth, freedom? And perhaps most radically: Who controls AI? Whose interests shape it? Who holds it accountable? A papal encyclical on these questions would be a major cultural event, offering a much-needed moral compass in a world chasing blind progress.
In the end, Pope Leo XIV's address is not just a message to lawmakers—it is a wake-up call to every conscience. He challenges us to choose between "amor sui" and "amor Dei," between self-serving power and politics as service, between closed identities and faith as gift. He urges us to place human beings—not algorithms—at the center of history. But above all, he demands coherence: you cannot speak of God and simultaneously deny another's freedom. You cannot preach Christian civilization while rejecting your neighbor.
The City of God is built with self-giving love, not with fear and slogans. Those who today in Italy—and elsewhere—use religion to divide, exclude, or harvest votes are betraying the very core of what they claim to defend. And those who do it in the name of Christ are lying twice—once to humanity, and once to God
Marco Baratto
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