Catholic social teaching provides a compelling and coherent account of the dignity of the human person. More than a collection of moral teachings pertaining to political, economic, and social life, Catholic social teaching provides a robust framework by which the defense of individual human lives—the unborn, the sick and disabled, the elderly, etc.—can be thoroughly integrated with broader social concerns, ranging from ecological questions, to questions about how we are shaped by our use of modern technology, to a defense of family, the rights of workers, and the dignity of human labor. In short, when properly understood, Catholic social teaching provides a framework for understanding the interconnectedness and proper ordering of the whole of human society. This makes it useful for better understanding and articulating the gamut of prolife issues, even for those across the range of Christian churches, adherents of other religious traditions, and those not identifying with any religious faith.

Catholic social teaching is usually reckoned to begin with Pope Leo XIII’s 1891 encyclical Rerum novarum.¹ In that encyclical, Pope Leo XIII took up a careful examination of the economic, political, and social revolutions of his day. He was particularly interested in what he called “the worker question,” identifying the nature of that crisis, expounding on its causes, and evaluating the various remedies on offer.²

In one sense, there was nothing new about the Catholic Church instructing her members regarding conduct within political or economic life. The first Christian teachings on these matters are readily found in the New Testament. Nor was there any shortage of theological reflection on such matters over the subsequent centuries. What was new was Leo’s attempt to directly engage the teaching office of the Church in the particulars of a rapidly changing modern world, to bring the philosophical and theological riches of the Church’s nearly two millennia to bear on the concrete and often novel challenges of contemporary life (while leaving prudential social political means of addressing these challenges to the lay citizens whose role it is to do so).

Thus, in the words of Pope John Paul II, writing on the 100th anniversary of the publication of Rerum novarum, “The Pope’s approach in publishing Rerum novarum gave the Church ‘citizenship status’ as it were, amid the changing realities of public life, and this standing would be more fully confirmed later on.”³ It was several decades after Leo XIII’s death when Pope Pius XI began referring to Leo’s teaching (and subsequent teaching from popes taking up similar themes through similar methods) as a unified and distinct body of social teachings.

In the 134 years since Rerum novarum, various popes have made contributions to Catholic social teaching on topics as widely varied as international relations and peace (Pacem in terris, John XXIII, 1963), the collapse of European Communism (Centesimus annus, John Paul II, 1991), the global financial crisis (Caritas in veritate, Benedict XVI, 2009), and care for the natural world (Laudato si’, Francis, 2015). Now, with the recent election of Leo XIV, it is widely assumed that the new pope will follow in the path of his 19thcentury namesake, making his own contribution to the social doctrine of the Church with a forthcoming encyclical on the meaning and use of technology and, in particular, artificial intelligence. As he himself observed:

There are different reasons [I chose to take the name Leo XIV], but mainly because Pope Leo XIII in his historic Encyclical Rerum Novarum addressed the social question in the context of the first great industrial revolution. In our own day, the Church offers to everyone the treasury of her social teaching in response to another industrial revolution and to developments in the field of artificial intelligence that pose new challenges for the defence of human dignity, justice and labour.⁴

Given the wide variety of issues which come under the purview of Catholic social teaching, it can be tempting to view them as a sort of official Catholic “policy platform,” a more or less coherent bundle of moral prohibitions and exhortations which have accrued over time. And debates about the proper application and understanding of Catholic social teaching often treat it in this way. The Church supports the rights of workers to be paid a just wage; she insists on a legitimate right to private property; she exercises a preferential option for the poor⁵; she opposes abortion and euthanasia; and so on. While it is true that the Catholic Church teaches all of these things—and does so with particular emphasis throughout her social teaching—to understand that social teaching as an amalgamation of “positions” on various “issues” is to risk missing the underlying coherence of the doctrine.

The Coherence of Catholic Social Teaching

The Church’s understanding of the human person, and therefore her understanding of and defense of human life, neither begins nor ends with the person as a mere individual. Catholic social teaching, before it is prescriptive, is descriptive of what it means for human beings to be social creatures, that is, creatures who come into being in the midst of, flourish in, and find their highest end in social relationships.

The dignity of the human person derives from both the origin of the human person and his or her final end: Human beings are made in the image of God and are also made for communion—with other human beings and ultimately with our Creator. For Catholics, the full dignity of the human person is ultimately revealed in the mystery of the Incarnation.⁶

The highest good of the human person, then, consists precisely in belonging to a communion of persons, that is, in sharing in the common good. In the sense of Christian theology, communion with the divine persons—the Holy Trinity—constitutes the highest good of human beings. But even in a natural sense, the greatest good of the human person cannot be conceived of properly except in reference to certain common goods (family, church, polity, etc.) by which the person is made whole and brought to perfection.

Understood in this way, the common good is not a collectivist principle in which the individual dissolves into the whole and the dignity of each person is thereby lost. Nor is the common good a utilitarian principle by which the maximum good for the maximum number of individuals is made paramount. Rather, the common good is precisely that principle by which individual persons are able to enjoy certain shared goods which cannot be attained except insofar as they are shared.

Family is one such good. So is the Church. So too, the political community. Each of these goods is fundamentally indivisible. Each strives for a particular common end or ends. Each provides some shared good or goods which could not be attained or enjoyed except insofar as they are shared. And each of these common goods—each of these societies—has corresponding rights and responsibilities according to the kind of thing it is.

This understanding of the common good not only makes sense of the excellence for which human persons are made, it provides a double defense of the dignity of human life—insisting on both the inestimable worth of every individual person while entwining the good of each person within the shared good of the entire community. A robust conception of the common good in no way diminishes the importance of the dignity of every human person; it is that dignity’s surest foundation.

These two principles—the dignity of the human person and the common good—are augmented and complemented by two other principles: solidarity and subsidiarity.

Solidarity refers to both the shared sense of responsibility we feel for our fellow human beings and to the virtue by which that sense of responsibility is put into practice. An individualistic view of the person or a view of society as a mere aggregate of autonomous individuals is incompatible with this principle. At the most basic level, solidarity recognizes and reinforces the reality that we are all more or less dependent upon others (we all begin life as utterly dependent) and so have a corresponding responsibility for others. Subsidiarity is somewhat more difficult to understand. Sometimes treated as a principle of decentralization stipulating that things ought to be done at the lowest level of society, it is much more than that. Subsidiarity presupposes that different parts of society—such as the family, the Church, and the state, to stick with our earlier examples—differ not just in size, efficiency, or power but in purpose and ends. Accordingly, each social entity ought to recognize and respect the proper ends of each other part of society. They ought to mutually support one another when necessary, but always while respecting the proper role and autonomy of each other part. For example, following a natural disaster, the state might take extraordinary measures to provide assistance and security in affected communities. But the interventions—police presence, curfew, road closures, public aid stations, etc.—ought to be limited so as not to disrupt (or usurp) the ordinary social function of local institutions or families any longer than necessary.

These four principles make up what we might call the “fundamental principles” or “permanent principles” of Catholic social teaching.⁷ They provide a framework for thinking about the human person in all the complexity and richness of our social life. Importantly, compared to a more individualistic, negative conception of human rights and freedoms—the right to be left alone, the right not to be harmed, the right not to be killed—these principles allow for a positive vision of what it means to be human and to live in society. They allow for a vision of what is best for the human person rather than merely a defense (as necessary as such a defense may be) against what is worst.

Human Ecology

In his 1991 encyclical Centesimus annus, Pope John Paul II observed that, just as various animal species require certain material, environmental conditions to survive, and just as these species each contribute in some way to the overall balance of the natural world, so too do human beings require particular social and moral conditions if they are to flourish. The pope worried that “too little effort is made to safeguard the moral conditions for an authentic ‘human ecology.’” He continued, “Not only has God given the earth to man, who must use it with respect for the original good purpose for which it was given to him, but man too is God’s gift to man. He must therefore respect the natural and moral structure with which he has been endowed.”⁸

Moreover, the natural and moral structure with which man is endowed is not extraneous to the rest of the created order, but integral to it, as Pope Benedict XVI pointed out in his 2009 encyclical, Caritas in veritate: “The book of nature is one and indivisible: it takes in not only the environment but also life, sexuality, marriage, the family, social relations: in a word, integral human development.”⁹ Here, one can begin to see just how expansive the scope of Catholic social teaching can be, extending even to humanity’s exercise of dominion and stewardship over the created order.¹⁰

We ought to make one final point on human ecology. The social implications of humanity’s interaction with creation (itself a kind of common good) extend to humanity’s capacity for the manipulation and use of the material world through technology. Our use of technology not only has the potential to generate harmful effects (think of the destructive power of nuclear weapons or the problem of industrial pollution) but also shapes the way we understand ourselves and the order of creation to which we belong. In short, the way we use technology can cause us to lose sight of the dignity of the human person.

Pope Francis took direct aim at these problems in his 2015 encyclical Laudato si’, praising the advances which modern technology has made possible but also offering a warning: “Never has humanity had such power over itself, yet nothing ensures that it will be used wisely, particularly when we consider how it is currently being used.”¹¹

Pope Francis went on,

When we fail to acknowledge as part of reality the worth of a poor person, a human embryo, a person with disabilities—to offer just a few examples—it becomes difficult to hear the cry of nature itself; everything is connected. Once the human being declares independence from reality and behaves with absolute dominion, the very foundations of our life begin to crumble, for “instead of carrying out his role as a cooperator with God in the work of creation, man sets himself up in place of God and thus ends up provoking a rebellion on the part of nature.”¹² (Emphasis added.)

This can be read as a straightforward warning about the consequences which attend a neglect of human dignity as we find it in the poor, the unborn, and the disabled. But the argument works both ways. Our indifference to nature—and especially to “the message contained within the structures of nature itself”—erodes our ability to recognize the dignity of our fellow human beings.

The point is not that, say, littering and abortion are morally equivalent. Rather, our indifference to and misuse of the material gifts of this world (through environmental degradation, misallocation of material goods, or abuse of technology) invariably turns us back upon ourselves. Afterall, we too are bodily beings. At some point, in treating the material world as so much meaningless raw material for our manipulation and mastery, we learn (and teach) the same lesson about human beings, too. In our temptation to use people for our own purposes without regard for their own good or human dignity, we risk becoming mere materialists, in practice if not in principle. And this practical materialism is profoundly corrosive of human dignity.

“It can be said,” Pope Francis writes, “that many problems of today’s world stem from the tendency, at times unconscious, to make the method and aims of science and technology an epistemological paradigm which shapes the lives of individuals and the workings of society.”¹³ This “technocratic paradigm,” as Pope Francis called it, distorts our view of both the world around us and ourselves, teaching us to see one another and ourselves as so much material stuff, subject to manipulation by our technological mastery.

What This Means for the Prolife Movement

What does all of this mean for the prolife movement? What does this mean for the defense of vulnerable human life in the womb, or at the end of life?

Like any other movement, the prolife movement must make strategic choices about what issues to prioritize and tactical choices about the most prudent way to achieve those objectives. But these choices ought to be informed by an understanding of how various issues are related and integrated. Catholic social teaching can provide a framework broad enough to do this while also affording the flexibility to adapt seamlessly to new challenges as they arise.

Rooted as it is in a comprehensive view of the human person and the common good, Catholic social teaching can provide a framework for critically assessing a whole host of pressing issues—from the development and use of new biotechnologies, to ecological questions, to the rise of artificial intelligence—integrating these concerns with a rock-solid defense of human life and opposition to abortion and euthanasia.

All of which brings us to something very like the approach described variously as a “consistent ethic of life,” the “whole life ethic,” or the “seamless garment” approach to life issues, many of which are derived directly from Catholic social teaching or even simply describe that teaching. Direct attacks on innocent human life—such as abortion, infanticide, or euthanasia—deserve priority attention, especially when these evils are conducted at industrial scale. This defense of life against direct threats is made stronger, not weaker, by a consistent defense of the human person in every circumstance.

For example, Pope John Paul II insisted in his 1995 encyclical in defense of human life, Evangelium vitae: “Where life is involved, the service of charity must be profoundly consistent. It cannot tolerate bias and discrimination, for human life is sacred and inviolable at every stage and in every situation; it is an indivisible good.”¹⁴

A complete assessment of these various ethical approaches, the nuances and differences between them, is for another time and place. For our purposes it must be said that the great strength of these approaches is precisely in their moral consistency. Their greatest weakness in application is a tendency (or, at least a vulnerability) to imagine that since all offenses against the human person are morally related, they are thereby morally equivalent. Prudence, to say nothing of common sense, ought to be sufficient to show such moral equivalence is unsustainable—as though we cannot morally distinguish a slap to the face from a stab to the heart. We ought to value and emulate the consistency of these approaches even while rejecting false moral equivalence.

In fact, the kind of moral equivalence which fails to properly prioritize direct attacks on human life not only leaves the most vulnerable at risk, but also undermines the very consistency of witness it purports to promote. As the Catholic bishops of the United States pointed out in 1998:

Any politics of human dignity must seriously address issues of racism, poverty, hunger, employment, education, housing, and health care . . . But being “right” in such matters can never excuse a wrong choice regarding direct attacks on innocent human life. Indeed, the failure to protect and defend life in its most vulnerable stages renders suspect any claims to the “rightness” of positions in other matters affecting the poorest and least powerful of the human community.¹⁵ (Emphasis in original.)

Catholic social teaching, indeed moral theology generally, does not function with the precision of an algorithm, producing precise moral outputs for any given ethical inputs. Even among Catholic bishops, there have been historical disagreements about the application of Catholic social teaching to various circumstances. Prudence and sound judgment are always necessary in common life, and Catholic social teaching provides no exemption from this iron law.

Insofar as Catholic social teaching provides a realistic account of the human person in all its social dimensions, it can be a valuable resource for anyone, Catholic or otherwise, interested in mounting the most robust defense of the human person in every aspect of life.

Particularly in a post-Dobbs world, with new challenges to human dignity growing under various guises—from advancing euthanasia to the rise of artificial intelligence—the prolife movement can look to Catholic social teaching for a way to frame these challenges that is comprehensive, durable, flexible, and consistent. The defense of human life and human dignity is only

made stronger when understood within the whole authentic ecology of the human person and society. Catholic social teaching provides nothing less.

NOTES

1. An encyclical is a letter circulated by a pope, usually (though not always) addressed to bishops, containing instruction in some aspect of the faith. By convention, encyclicals are usually known by the opening words of the official Latin text.

2. In brief, the cause of the crisis was a series of revolutions in politics (especially the French Revolution and the liberal revolutions of 1848), in economics (the rise of capital and the prevalence of wage labor displacing land-based wealth and agrarian economies), and the corresponding social upheaval, all made possible by new ideas and, especially, the new technologies of the industrial age. Among the inadequate remedies Pope Leo critiqued were: a doubling down on a laissez-faire approach to economics which had helped cause the inhumane conditions of workers in the first place, and socialism, which Leo foresaw would be worse than the problems it proposed to correct.

3. John Paul II, Centesimus annus, “On the Hundredth Anniversary of Rerum novarum” (1991), 5.

4. Address of His Holiness Pope Leo XIV to College of Cardinals, 10 May 2025. https://www. vatican.va/content/leoxiv/en/speeches/2025/may/documents/20250510collegiocardinalizio.html

5. In its simplest form, the preferential option for the poor reflects both a basic solicitude for the poor, as well as a sense of justice by which those most in material need are given priority when

it comes to the distribution of material goods, just as a sick child would receive preference in the distribution of medicine.

6. Vatican Council II, Gaudium et spes, “Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World” (1965), 22.

7. For a most excellent treatment of these principles and their coherence, see: Hittinger, Russell, “The Coherence of the Four Basic Principles of Catholic Social Doctrine: An Interpretation,” in Pursuing the Common Good: How Solidarity and Subsidiarity Can Work Together, Pontifical Academy of Social Sciences, Acta 14, Vatican City 2008. Available at: www.pass.va/content/dam/ scienzesociali/pdf/acta14/acta14hittinger.pdf

8. Centesimus annus, 38.

9. Benedict XVI, Caritas in veritate, “On Integral Human Development in Charity and Truth,” (2009), 51.

10. See Genesis 1:28.

11. Francis, Laudato si’, “On Care for Our Common Home,” (2015), 104.

12. Laudato si’, 117. Pope Francis here cites Centesimus annus, 37.

13. Laudato si’, 107.

14. John Paul II, Evangelium vitae, “On the Value and Inviolability of Human Life” (1995), 87.

15. “Living the Gospel of Life: A Challenge to American Catholics,” A Statement by the Catholic Bishops of the United States, 1998. https://www.usccb.org/issuesandaction/humanlifeanddignity/ abortion/livingthegospeloflife

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Original Bio:

Stephen P. White is a fellow in Catholic Studies at the Ethics and Public Policy Center in Washington, DC. He is also executive director of The Catholic Project at The Catholic University of America.