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The Pope's speech at UNESCO

Pope Leo XIV's speech at UNESCO in Paris was not a protocol address, but rather a conversation about humanity at a time when technology and artificial intelligence are advancing at a pace that sometimes exceeds our ability to comprehend their impacts.

The question His Holiness placed at the core of his speech seems simple, yet it is profoundly deep: What does it mean to be human?

From this question, the speech arrives at one of the paradoxes of our era: machines are growing increasingly capable of processing information, and humans are increasingly surrounded by it, but an abundance of information does not necessarily mean a broadening of understanding.

At a time when we bestow the name "intelligence" upon computer systems, humans remain vulnerable to having their worth measured by efficiency and productivity. What happens when a person's value becomes tied to what they produce, rather than the dignity, experience, and meaning they represent?

Pope Leo XIV invoked two biblical images: the Tower of Babel and the square of Pentecost. Babel represents unity imposed by force and control, while Pentecost represents a unity that does not abolish differences, but rather makes differences capable of communication.

Between these two images, today's question of digital connectivity can be read: Does increased connectivity lead to greater understanding, or are we building a massive network of communication that does not guarantee human beings will actually hear one another?

We now possess means of communication faster than ever before, but speed is not a standard for truth, and a multitude of messages is not proof of quality communication.

At the heart of the speech emerges an issue that goes beyond the abundance of information to the ability to produce meaning; for information, as His Holiness points out, "is abundant, but it is not synonymous with wisdom." And the easier access to information becomes, the greater the importance of the ability to understand it, discern its value, and place it in its context.

His phrase "meaning is the oxygen of the mind" seems to be more than just a striking sentence; it encapsulates the crisis of the new communicative environment. Information that arrives quickly, without context or verification, may increase noise rather than knowledge.

Herein lies the importance of media and information literacy, not as an additional skill for dealing with news, but as an essential capacity for living within the digital environment.

The user is no longer a receiver outside the media system; they are part of producing, circulating, and reinterpreting information. Therefore, the question is no longer just: Can we access information? But rather: Can we understand it, verify it, know its source, and distinguish truth from disinformation?

Media and information literacy does not mean possessing information, but rather the ability to deal with it: accessing it, understanding it, evaluating it, verifying it, and then using it consciously and responsibly.

From this perspective, artificial intelligence becomes a new test for this capacity. Smart systems can process and connect vast amounts of data, but they cannot answer the ultimate human question: What makes life valuable?

Computational intelligence can produce an answer, but it does not bestow upon it its human meaning; data processing alone does not transform into wisdom.

The speech did not overlook children and youth; a child enters an environment that impacts their upbringing, relationships, and development, which is why protecting them is not limited to restrictions, but includes building their capacity for understanding and discernment.

The speech reveals its rejection of reducing technology to a binary of good and evil. Science can serve humanity, but it can also be placed at the service of an inhuman will for destruction and killing. Communication can bring people closer together, just as it can turn into a tool for disinformation and deepening division.

As for artificial intelligence, it does not eliminate these questions; rather, it makes them more urgent because it elevates our ability to produce information without guaranteeing our ability to produce meaning.

The true test of any scientific or technical progress is not the amount of what a machine can do, but whether this progress leaves humans with their freedom and capacity for judgment and choice.

In a world where the speed of information is increasing, the most important question is no longer: How much do we know? But rather: What do we do with what we know?

If ancient "Babel" was associated with an attempt to impose a unity based on control, the challenge facing the "digital Babylon" today is: How do we transform the abundance of connectivity into understanding, the abundance of information into knowledge, and artificial intelligence into a tool serving humanity rather than replacing it in the production of meaning?

"Meaning is the oxygen of the mind."

In an era where machines can produce more information, humanity's task becomes harder: to seek the truth, distinguish between information and knowledge, and preserve its humanity.

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