If John J. Mearsheimer’s anthropology is right, the global diplomacy, encyclicals, and overarching mission of Pope Leo XIV (b. 1955) represent a noble but structurally impossible crusade to substitute tribal logic with universal moral rules.
Elected as the first American pope, Leo XIV has consistently positioned himself as a global mediator, issuing his landmark encyclical Magnifica humanitas to advocate for worker protection against the disruption of artificial intelligence, while constantly opposing nationalism and defending the rights of trans-border immigrants. He treats the Catholic Church as a universal platform capable of binding humanity into a singular moral community—reflected in his personal papal motto, In illo Uno unum (“In the One, [we are] one”). Mearsheimer’s framework in The Great Delusion strips away this theological universalism, reframing the papacy as a struggle against the gravity of human nature.
Pope Leo XIV operates on the baseline assumption that human solidarity can be scaled globally to transcend state boundaries, asserting that the protection of migrants and the poor is a borderless human duty.
Mearsheimer’s anthropology counters that humans are fundamentally social beings who can only survive by organizing into distinct, localized groups. Because of the long human childhood, individuals are intensely socialized into specific cultures, nations, and tribes long before they possess critical reason. This deep value infusion creates an unavoidable distinction between the in-group and the outsider.
When the Pope demands that states yield their borders or prioritize abstract global human rights over their own citizens, he asks the state to violate its primary purpose: securing the survival and relative advantage of its own collective in an anarchic world. If Mearsheimer is right, nations will always resist these universalist appeals because security and tribal loyalty override abstract moral dictates.
A standard religious analysis views the Vatican as a neutral, transcendent moral authority standing above the geopolitical fray. Under Mearsheimer’s lens, the Catholic Church itself operates according to the raw logic of an institutional tribe.
The College of Cardinals and the vast bureaucratic machinery of the Holy See form an elite, highly socialized subculture. During the conclave that elected Leo XIV, geopolitical considerations—such as unease over whether choosing an American pontiff would inadvertently signal an extension of American geopolitical power—dominated the calculations.
Even the Pope’s efforts to regulate the ethics of technology by convening Silicon Valley leaders at the Vatican are not exercises in pure, detached reason. They represent an institutional coalition attempting to assert its own cultural authority and regulatory framework over a changing landscape. The Church is a distinct group trying to maintain its territorial relevance and moral leverage in a highly competitive global arena.
In Magnifica humanitas, Leo XIV attempts to construct a global moral consensus around technology, seeking to protect the universal working class from displacement. Mearsheimer’s realism notes that moral codes are not floating abstractions that can be engineered into global policy by technocrats or religious leaders. They are contingent on security. A nation-state engaged in intense security competition—such as the United States or China—will never freeze its technological deployment or compromise its relative power to satisfy a papal encyclical. In an uncertain world where no higher authority can guarantee a tribe’s safety, the drive for technological and economic dominance will always override universal ethical blueprints.If Mearsheimer is right, Pope Leo XIV’s vision of a borderless, harmonious world bound by a singular moral code is the ultimate manifestation of the great delusion. The Pope accurately diagnoses the cold frictions of nationalism and economic competition, but his prescription requires human beings to shed their primal tribal nature. Man remains anchored to his immediate group, and the moral perimeter of human solidarity stops long before it reaches a borderless global family.
If David Pinsof is right, the papacy of Pope Leo XIV is not a mission of universal moral leadership or a spiritual guide through a rapidly changing world. Instead, it serves as a highly calculated, elite strategic apparatus designed to secure the institutional survival and moral authority of the Catholic Church in a modern, highly competitive ideological marketplace.
Elected in 2025 as the first American pontiff, Leo XIV has centered his early papacy on pressing global issues, most notably through his 2026 encyclical Magnifica humanitas. In this document, he outlines ethical frameworks for the use of artificial intelligence and robotics, mirroring his namesake Leo XIII’s focus on the Industrial Revolution. To his supporters and the global media, the pope is a necessary, progressive moral voice, stepping in to correct a dangerous societal misunderstanding regarding technology, labor, and the treatment of marginalized groups.
A Pinsofian analysis strips away this high-prestige, pastoral framework. The rapid advancement of artificial intelligence and the restructuring of global labor are not intellectual mistakes or ethical misunderstandings by corporate executives. Tech companies and state actors deploy these tools as rational instruments to maximize profits, streamline operations, and secure dominance over market rivals. They understand their incentives perfectly.
By framing these technological and economic disruptions as moral crises that require Vatican oversight, Leo XIV creates an ideal mission statement for the modern Church. It positions the papacy as the ultimate moral choice architect, standing above secular governments and corporate interests. Issuing an encyclical on AI and hosting figures from elite tech firms allows the Vatican to signal absolute moral and intellectual superiority over the unguided forces of capital. It ensures that an ancient, traditional hierarchy remains a high-status participant in contemporary elite discourse.
His forceful condemnations of armed conflict, including the war with Iran, operate on the same strategic logic.
From a Pinsofian view, the nations engaged in these conflicts are not suffering from a cognitive breakdown or a communication failure; they are locked in a zero-sum, Hobbesian struggle over geopolitical leverage and resources. The pope’s appeals to a “disarmed peace” do not alter these deep Darwinian incentives. They serve as an exceptionally effective tool within the attention economy to maintain the papacy’s prestige, proving that defining the raw conflicts of the world as moral misunderstandings is the ultimate method for securing global authority.
