I'll admit that I have not read Magnifica Humanitas yet. It is a massive work (that's a very Catholic thing) that seems to be generating hot takes from every subculture in every corner of the Internet (which is a very Internet thing). I have, however, seen a lot of pull quotes from Pope Leo XIV's first major work, as well a lot of mostly good commentary on it. It's given me a lot to think about, and a lot to reflect on.

Namely, that I need to suck it up and make some real life friends.

I realize that statement may give you a false impression of my patheticness, so let me back up and explain.

I do, in fact, have friends. Some are family friends — people who have been in my life for so long that they've always been there, acting as extended family. Some are peers from my high school and college years or former jobs, those "in the trenches" friends you make when transitioning into your adult life or slogging away in stifling, dead-end employment. But I've always had trouble finding people in my part of the world who have the same combination of varied interests and general oddball tendencies as I do. I dreaded moving home after college because of this; I'd managed to find my tribe over the course of those four years, and now circumstance compelled me to move back to a suburb so bland and conformist that I referred to it as Stepford. The Internet was a lifeline for me in those days. It allowed me to keep up with my college friends via LiveJournal, and over time I met more people there through journals and communities. (I would later meet aseanchai  via Internet forums, but that's another story.) However, these were still in the days of the earlier Internet, when parents, professors, and pundits alike warned against providing personal details to anyone you didn't already know. I was careful in that regard, so I never met these LJ friends in person. But that didn't matter — I was desperate for connection, and I'd managed to find it.

This is a trend that has continued through today. I still live in the same area, and I've watched it go from stultifying to...well, changing slowly. A tabletop gaming store and an independent bookstore opened in one nearby town; a gaming cafe opened in another. All of these establishments have brought with them a clientele whose interests align with mine in theory, but buying products doesn't build a community. Don't get me wrong — I love all of these establishments, as well as the other small businesses I see popping up all over the place. I love hearing about their successes, and I'd hate to see them go belly up. But buying products alongside other people doesn't help you make friends; striking up conversation with people is a possibility, but there's no guarantee that you'll ever see that person again, even if you're a frequent patron. 

Meanwhile, I've found myself being less excited and invigorated by online gatherings and discourse. Blogging gave way to social media, a form of communication that rewarded quips and rage. (Vlogging arguably made this trend even worse.) I value the friendships I've made online over the years, but I've come to realize that a lack of personal contact can add friction and a strange sort of barrier to the interpersonal relationship. Tone can be hard to read via text, and context is easily lost in a world of endless scrolling and short attention spans. It could be that I'm just getting old, but I don't think so. It feels more like a shift that's long overdue, at least for me.

What does all of this have to do with the papal encyclical that is taking the world by storm? While the initial chatter was about Leo XIV quoting Gandalf (BREAKING NEWS: The Pope is a big nerd), it seems that people are now examining the meat of the work itself and finding that provides answers to a lot of the anxieties that are plaguing many of us at this time in history. People seem eager to take its arguments seriously, even if the memes have all been pretty absurd (in a good way).

Pope Leo stresses again and again that technology is not a substitute for genuine human connection, and that humans cannot and should not be replaced or even temporarily sidelined in favor of machines, especially when it's at the service of efficiency without discernment or conscience. This is likely to piss off tech bros, but I've been struck by the fact that most of the reaction to Magnifica Humanitas has been positive. It's not every day that you have Protestants, much less people of other faiths or no faith, agreeing with the bishop of Rome. Why? Each person has their reasons, but I think it mostly comes down to the same thing  — a desire for genuine connection, and a realization that the Internet has not only not lived up to that promise, but may actively be driving individuals apart. I'm not worried that people won't heed the arguments presented in this encyclical. My worry is that people will want to find ways to put the encyclical's pronouncements into practice, then realize that they have no idea how to start. There are some great articles out there from left-leaning Catholic publications — this one from the National Catholic Reporter is very good — but the issues raised in Magnifica Humanitas are not confined to a specific denomination or religion. Ultimately, we will all need to confront the issues of AI, digital manipulation, modern warfare and human suffering on our own terms and within our own moral frameworks.

This brings me back to my original thesis. I was raised Catholic and am not currently practicing, but Magnifica Humanitas has given me a renewed desire to break away from the digital world and redouble my efforts to make friends where I am and as I am. This doesn't mean abandoning the digital friends I've made along the way, but it does mean I'll probably have to put my phone down more often. I'll need to be okay with being the weird one again, with all of the awkwardness that may ensue. I may even need to learn how to bake a pie or two, or three, or ten. (Maybe bread works? I'm better with bread.) I harbor no illusions that this is going to make any great strike against our tech overlords, but it will get me out of the house a bit more. And I will learn some new skills and polish old ones, which can only be a good thing. Better to follow a leader who encourages you to meet your neighbors, rather than one who encourages you to invest in obvious AI crypto scams. And besides, our tabletop game collection isn't going to play itself.

Long live the fighters*, I suppose. Though I must say that I'm glad that my biggest battle will be getting away from screens.

*Yes, I'm fully aware that one of the themes of Dune is that one shouldn't blindly follow messianic leaders. It's still a cool scene. Let me have this one.