For most of my life, technological advancements were a given. As a member of Generation Z, I grew up hearing that every new platform would make us more connected, every new device make us more efficient, and every new innovation make us more liberated. The future was always presented as something frictionless: Faster is better, easier is better, more connected is better.
Yet when it comes to AI, many younger individuals seem unpersuaded. Gloria Caulfield’s ill-received commencement address demonstrates this skepticism, as does a CBS Sunday Morning segment which found recent college graduates asking, “If AI is so great, why is the job market so bad?” These students don’t doubt AI’s capabilities – they doubt the ethics of what’s happening.
Perhaps that’s why Pope Leo XIV opening encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, resonates with so many.
Spending most of our days online has set much of Generation Z apart from previous generations. Social platforms claimed they would bring people together, yet loneliness grew anyway. Culture shrinks when everything becomes just another post. Easy clicks come at a cost: fewer real bonds, less faith in shared spaces.
So now, some younger folks are wondering about humanity’s relationship with tradition.
Pope Leo's encyclical addresses the moment of doubt without delay. What’s clear in Magnifica Humanitas is that people are more than figures on a screen or tasks completed. Though artificial intelligence mimics some thinking patterns, it feels no grief and knows no loyalty. It cannot grow through shared moments nor answers for its choices. Life flows through experience – something machines do not, and cannot, live. They sort facts swiftly, yet remain outside the world, where meaning takes root.
What worries Pope Leo isn’t machines – it’s the mindset equating progress with size and power. We can sense this unease when massive AI data centers land in towns where residents question, “Why didn’t anyone ask us if we think this will improve our lives?” Decisions arrive ready-made; consent comes after construction begins.
What each era of technology whispers is that possibility implies necessity. Yet human flourishing has always resisted mere efficiency. Inefficiency shapes some core parts of human existence on purpose. Time forms the backbone of friendship. Openness lies at the heart of love. Sacrifice holds family together. Thoughtful pause gives faith its depth. Speed alters such things beyond recognition. Their value rests precisely in what cannot be rushed.
Reality itself might be the draw behind recent revivals. Even though tech surrounds us, those in my age cohort often lean into things that seem oddly old-fashioned. For example, books made of paper still sell well. Cameras using film have reappeared in pockets and bags. Furthermore, young people are quietly choosing neighborhoods with face-to-face ties, rituals with fixed words, and objects made by hand. What links these choices isn’t nostalgia alone. It’s a shared pull toward what feels undeniably real.
Here, Magnifica Humanitas goes beyond being just a letter on artificial intelligence. Instead, it stands as a shield for human dignity amid pressures to simplify or diminish it. What may seem like flaws – our boundaries, our finitude – are framed not as problems to fix but as essential threads in the fabric of who we are. One might overlook how vital that idea feels today – especially for those who grew up surrounded by code-driven choices.
Artificial intelligence isn’t going away anytime soon. Power often feels like control, yet it rarely brings insight. Information floods every screen; still, clarity slips away. Simulations mimic reality, but they breathe none of its air. Remembering these gaps matters more than closing them fast.
Cooper Moore is a 2026 Chesterton Media Fellow at New Guard Press and also works in government affairs. Outside of the office, Cooper enjoys hiking, going to Mass, and pondering life’s greatest questions. Follow Cooper on X at @cwmoore00.
