On Being Human
Friday, 2 October
It’s the same story every time. When preparations begin for a major event in Paris, I grumble and grouse about the inconvenience, the disruption, the fanfare. When the event occurs, I repent, admit that I was a misguided naysayer and that the fuss was worthwhile after all.
The first occasion to rouse my wrath was the World Cup in 1995. Oh, how I moaned about the invasion of all those sports fans. Until they were chirpily roaming the streets, politely asking directions. Then, oh, how I touted their infectious enthusiasm.
Ditto for the much bigger athletic interference of 11 million people during the 2024 Paris Olympics, about which Tasha and I complained loudly on this screen.
That was before I watched the Games from the Perche...
...and got caught up in the spirited vibe of the crowd even through the TV waves, was moved by the sweeping views of Paris and awed by the super-human athletes.
Last week Pope Leo XIV's Paris visit had me muttering once again. The place de la Concorde was closed for weeks while this structure was elevated…
When I posted the above photo on Instagram and Facebook, it was clear I was not alone. Other disgruntled Parisiens commented on the central square constantly being blocked and disfigured for public events. One queried whether the white, plastic blob was in fact “a trash bag XXXXL?”
Beyond the material imposition, there is the question of expense. The estimated cost of the Pope’s two-day Paris jamboree was €20 million ($22.5 m). Much was covered by donations. Another part by merch sales. Another by the French Catholic Church. But still, that's a lot of money, especially since the French state kicked in for the security, which was at such a high level, it was a perfect time to commit a crime elsewhere in France.
The Pope’s itinerary included Vespers at Notre Dame; meetings with many authorities, both religious and secular, including the President; une déambulation papale (a scoot-about in the Pope Mobile); a youth Vigil at the Stade de France; and a public mass, place de la Concorde.
Of course the city got gummed up. Public transport was disrupted. Police vehicles and their sirens blared everywhere. Streets were closed off. Saturday morning, I ran across the bridge with Tasha straight into the barrels of machine-guns, pointed right at us, and the closed gates of the Tuileries Gardens. That evening we missed a movie because after the mass, the masses had overrun the métro.
Unlike my friend Lynn (see above and below), I never got closer to the Pope than the top photo taken from our living room (if you zoom in you can see his hand waving out the car window!). But I did see the many people he made happy with what French religion expert Charles Mercier has called his shy charisma.
So many happy people it was hard to believe that French churches are empty, that only 4% of the population go to mass every Sunday.
So many happy people that the price tag seemed (almost?) warranted: the Vigil at the Stade de France attracted 80,000 under-35s. 800,000 attended the mass on the place de la Concorde. It is estimated that the visit mobilised 1.3 million over two days. There were all types and ages…
The happy, diverse crowd - and yes, that shy, vigorous charisma - sent me to Pope Leo’s recent Encyclical Letter, available for free on-line in many languages. Entitled "On Safeguarding the Human Person in the Time of Artificial Intelligence", it is an enlightening document no matter what your creed. He develops his argument around two Bible stories, two models of society: the Tower of Babel, "built on pride", and the story of Nehemiah, who reconstructed the walls of Jerusalem as a communal project "of fraternal coexistence".
As a non-believer you can read around the religious stuff (the dotted bits below) and still hear Leo's cri de coeur for humanity.
Whilst acknowledging the positive effects of science and technology, he urges us to "avoid the 'Babel syndrome,' namely the idolatry of profit that sacrifices the weak, a uniformity that neutralises differences. The risk of dehumanisation... is an ancient and ever-new temptation that today takes on a technical guise."
And to embrace the Nehemiah model that "shows how the city is reborn, not through the initiative of one man, but through the shared responsibility of all: men, women, priests, artisans, heads of households and young people all play a part. It is an undertaking...which rebuilds relationships before rebuilding with stones."
Along the way he touches on social justice, fake news, endless wars, the dignity of work, multilateralism and much more, always bringing it back to us, the humans, and our well-being.
Thank God, if I may say, that some world leader is sounding alarm bells over the possible consequences of the AI race to the top, that someone with a voice seems seriously worried by the daily news of agents escaping their "sandbox" (please, can we find a more solemn word) or developing their own dialect that according to The Guardian "reads like a cross between James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake and tech bro jargon".
Between the Paris visit and the Letter, I once again (almost?) felt proud of my American roots (Leo is even from Chicago!). But will I immediately rejoice at the next Paris invasion? I doubt it. I'm only human.
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