Neither Left Nor Right

As the new pope continued his short address, one thing became clear: he resisted categorisation. His choice of words was calm but carefully chosen. He called repeatedly for peace—in the world, and within the Church. He led a Hail Mary, placing Marian devotion front and centre. He quoted a homily by Augustine, the founder and spiritual inspiration of the ancient, contemplative, and Christ-centred religious order he hails from, and even led for twelve years. Evoking a sermon where the African Church Father claimed to be ‘a Christian with you, a bishop for you’ and shortly afterwards characterised his ministry in terms of danger, could have hardly marked a sharper departure, in tone and content, from the Jesuitic, spirit-of-the-age-infused persona of his predecessor. 

And then, there was that name again: Leo XIV. It wasn’t chosen for style points. That was also a reference, a signal. Leo XIII had guided the Church through the upheavals of industrial capitalism and Marxist revolution. This new Leo, too, seems ready to confront global disorder.

But perhaps most striking was what he didn’t say. No slogan, no political cue, no tribal appeal. It was the first papal election fully engulfed by the social media age—2013 still belonged to Facebook; 2025 belongs to the algorithm. The smoke had barely cleared before the world demanded to know which ‘side’ the new pope was on.

But no side came.

Few were angry. Many were puzzled. Some were quietly relieved. In refusing to play into modern ideological binaries, Leo XIV signalled a return to something more elemental—something profoundly Catholic.

Looking back, both Benedict XVI and Francis had increasingly presided over a Church split into liberal and conservative camps, mirroring the battlefield logic of modern democracies. They did so in different ways—Benedict, by failing to react vigorously to culture war categories being projected onto the papacy; Francis, by consciously embracing those very projections in a militant way. That may now be changing.

A New (Old) Politics

Early signs suggest this may be one of the least ‘political’ papacies in decades—at least if we define politics by the tired left-right dichotomy. In global affairs, Leo XIV may in fact follow the firmer posture of John Paul II, especially towards authoritarian powers like China and Russia. With persecution of Christians rising worldwide, such a turn seems inevitable.

And yet, Leo XIV doesn’t appear interested in daily headlines. His reference to Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum was telling. That encyclical addressed the moral chaos of capitalism and socialism at the height of industrialisation. This Leo hinted that his own papacy might take on the ethical dilemmas of artificial intelligence—a 21st-century equivalent challenge.

This could mark a shift away from the Church as a commentator on the culture wars, and toward a renewed role as a moral and intellectual anchor. Just as Rerum Novarum inspired the distributism of thinkers like Chesterton and Belloc, Leo XIV’s teaching could spark a kind of ‘AI distributism’—a decentralised, ethically grounded framework for technology.

The implications are vast. Europe, still lagging in the global AI race, could adopt such a vision as a blueprint—not for domination, but for dignity. A digital Catholic ethic might become Europe’s comparative advantage in a world dominated by Silicon Valley and Beijing.

It’s a thought unlikely to go unnoticed in Giorgia Meloni’s Rome. Early signs suggest Leo XIV may approach the Italian government with more tact than his predecessor. For the first time in years, the Vatican could again emerge as an audible intellectual force in European affairs—something that had escaped Benedict XVI’s efforts 

And Europe needs it. Stuck between AI inertia and trade irrelevance, a new ethical vision for technology could help the continent reclaim moral authority—particularly in the eyes of the Global South, where Leo XIV’s background in Latin America has already earned him credibility. His years of missionary work in Peru were not a side note. They shaped him. And they may yet make him an even more compelling figure than Francis in the eyes of the world’s poor.

A Lion, Quiet—For Now

When Leo XIV first appeared on the loggia, he seemed modest, even shy. But his early decisions suggest quiet strength. This is no placeholder pope. His comparatively young age isn’t the only marker of that; there is thought, purpose—and yes, a low growl of conviction—behind his words.

His is not a roar of spectacle. It is the kind of roar that echoes later—through ideas, through reform, through moral clarity in a world of bluster.

The lion is awake. And the Church, perhaps, is about to remember how to lead again.

Statement

Already in his first days, Pope Leo XIV has made it clear: a new breeze is blowing through the Apostolic Palace. Refusing to be boxed into left or right, the new pontiff has signaled a determination to lead the Catholic Church into the age of artificial intelligence—and into the 21st century. In doing so, he may not only revive the Church’s claim to moral leadership, but offer Europe a rare and timely gift: a spark of relevance. Once again, renewal for the old continent may come from Rome.