Leo XIV addressed the members of the Cortes Generales in the Congress
of Deputies this Monday, in the first speech of his apostolic visit to
Spain. Among those listening were the Prime Minister, the President of
the Congress, the President of the Senate, the President of the
Constitutional Court, and the President of the Supreme Court and of the
General Council of the Judiciary, along with deputies and senators. The
Pontiff presented himself as Bishop of Rome and framed his intervention
within the mutual cooperation between the Holy See and the State,
recalling that the Church respects the autonomy of temporal realities
and the distinction between the ecclesial community and the political
community.
The core of the speech was a question the Pope placed at the center
of all legislative work: what conception of the human person inspires
the laws and what kind of society they build. On that axis, Leo XIV
reaffirmed the foundation that Catholic doctrine has been offering to
public life: the inviolable dignity of the person, which - he
said - precedes any concession by the State and cannot be subordinated to
shifting social consensuses or to the will of the majorities of each
moment. He did so by expressly citing Benedict XVI’s address to the
German Federal Parliament, in a continuity of magisterium that ran
throughout the entire intervention.
From that principle he derived the defense of life. The Pope warned
against the culture of discard and maintained that human life can never
be treated as a commodity. He added a criterion regarding the moral
quality of the law: a norm does not attain its greatness merely by
having been formally approved, but when it can stand before the dignity
of the person and emerge from that examination without shame. The
formula recognizes the formal validity of positive law, but subordinates
it to a measure that precedes it.
The second axis was freedom of education. Leo XIV claimed the primary
and inalienable right of parents to choose the type of education and
formation their children receive, in accordance with their moral,
cultural, and religious convictions, drawing on his encyclical Magnifica humanitas
and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. Within
that framework he placed the family as the sphere where new generations
learn to recognize the dignity of each person and to pass on what he
called the elementary grammar of coexistence: receiving life, caring,
forgiving, serving, and belonging.
The common good articulated the third thread. The Pope presented it
as a horizon that cannot be reduced to the sum of partial interests and
that obliges special care for those going through situations of
fragility. To that same register belongs the defense of religious
freedom, which the Pontiff claimed as a fundamental right that protects
the most intimate sphere of the person, and included a specific mention
of the legal protection of the seal of confession, also safeguarded—he
recalled—by international norms.
The framework of the speech was distinctly Spanish. Leo XIV reviewed the Quixote—and
freedom as one of the most precious gifts that the heavens gave to
men—, Saint Teresa, and Unamuno, pausing at the School of Salamanca and
Francisco de Vitoria. From that reflection born on the banks of the
Tormes, he said, emerged the intuition of the totus orbis and
the recognition of the equal dignity of every human being as the measure
of social, national, and international relations. That heritage, he
affirmed, remains alive in the Cortes whenever the legislator asks how
to make what is legal truly human and how no majority may violate what
belongs to all.
The Pontiff extended the same criterion to contemporary challenges.
He recalled that technology is not neutral, because it takes on the face
of those who conceive and use it, and called for discernment about the
place of the person in decisions concerning artificial intelligence. On
the international level he urged diplomatic courage and respect for
international law, expressed his concern over the return of rearmament
also in Europe, and warned that decisions about life and death must
never be left to machines. Regarding public discourse, he invoked the
duty to safeguard the word in order to “disarm” speech and prevent
disagreement from turning into the disqualification of the opponent.
He also addressed migration, which he described as a drama, framing
it as a moral and juridical question rooted in the equal dignity of all
human beings. He formulated a twofold demand: reception and integration
on the one hand, and attention to the causes that force people to leave
on the other, together with the right of persons to remain in their own
land.
Leo XIV concluded by asking that Spain continue to be a land of
encounter, culture, and solidarity, and he united the firmness of
convictions with the nobility of dialogue. He ended by invoking the
maternal presence of the Virgin of the Pillar over the Kingdom of Spain.
Full Speech of Pope Leo XIV before the Congress of Deputies:
Madrid, 8 June 2026. Joint plenary session of the Congress and the Senate in the Palace of the Congress of Deputies.
Prime Minister,
President of the Congress of Deputies,
President of the Senate,
President of the Constitutional Court,
President of the Supreme Court and of the General Council of the Judiciary,
Members of the Congress of Deputies and of the Senate,
Ladies and Gentlemen:
I thank the Madam President for her kind words, as well as for the
invitation that the Apostolic See has received on the occasion of my
visit to this country, and for the courtesy of welcoming me in this
historic Palace of the Congress of Deputies, an eminent setting of the
institutional, legal, and democratic life of the Kingdom of Spain. I
come before you as Bishop of Rome and Pastor of the Catholic Church,
aware that the mission entrusted to the Successor of the Apostle Peter
as the principle and foundation of the unity of the Bishops and of the
faithful (cf. Lumen gentium, 23) places the Holy See, in a particular way, in dialogue with peoples and with States.
My presence among you is intended as a gesture of closeness to Spain,
within the framework of mutual cooperation, and as a word offered in
service to the human person. The Church “walks with humanity,” shares
its hopes and its wounds, listens to the questions of every age, and
allows itself to be challenged “by everything that concerns the
existence of the men and women of today.” Therefore, when it addresses
public life, it does so while respecting the proper mission of
institutions and the legitimate responsibility of those who have
received the mandate to legislate. It recognizes “the autonomy of
earthly realities” and “the distinction between the ecclesial community
and the political community”; and, precisely from that awareness, it
offers a reflection born of the desire to serve the common good and to
recall what truly makes human coexistence human (cf. Magnifica humanitas, 18-19).
In this chamber, social coexistence takes legal form. Here
differences are heard, ordered, and, when possible, turned into shared
decisions. That is why, beyond the legitimate diversity of positions,
every legislative task ultimately encounters a decisive question: what
conception of the human person inspires the laws and what kind of
society those laws build.
Faced with this question, Spain possesses a particularly rich memory.
Its geographic and political identity has been interwoven with a
history in which faith and reason, art and law, tradition and thought
have been able to meet fruitfully. In its cathedrals and universities,
in its immortal literature, in its legal institutions, and in the very
spirit of its people, a heritage remains alive that has shaped a way of
living freedom, practicing justice, and ordering common life.
From the universal pages of the Quixote, where Cervantes proclaimed
that “freedom […] is one of the most precious gifts that the heavens
gave to men” (Don Quixote de la Mancha, II, 58), to the
spiritual depth of Saint Teresa of Ávila, and from the great Spanish
legal tradition to the metaphysical inquietude of Unamuno, who recalled
that man “does not resign himself to dying completely” (The Tragic Sense of Life,
I), Spain has known how to look upon the human being as something more
than a piece of the social, economic, or political order: it has
recognized the human being as a creature open to truth, endowed with
freedom, and moved by a thirst for eternity that no temporal reality can
extinguish; in a word, as someone whose dignity precedes all utility
and to whose service legislative action is subject.
Therefore, when speaking today of the human person, this memory
naturally leads to Salamanca and to the thought that matured there. The
symbolic presence in this hall of the Catholic Monarchs Isabel and
Ferdinand points to that moment when Spain was placed before historical
responsibilities of universal scope; a few years later, Salamanca would
assume, with singular lucidity, the moral and legal reflection that that
scenario demanded. In that university seat, five hundred years ago,
when new worlds and immense possibilities were opening in relations
among peoples, some masters understood that reason could not be invoked
to cloak with legitimacy whatever force or interest presented as
convenient. They thus introduced into historical discernment the
question of the irreducible value of every human being and the moral
limits of power. It must be acknowledged that society and the Church
itself were not always equal to the intuitions that resonated with their
own Christian tradition.
Nevertheless, that question opened an intellectual and moral horizon
that overflowed its own historical moment. The intuition of the totus orbis,
of a human community broader than any particular power, made it
possible to affirm the existence of legal and moral bonds among peoples.
From Spain, the reflection of the School of Salamanca—and in particular
that of Friar Francisco de Vitoria, together with other Dominicans and
Jesuits—helped to form a legal and moral consciousness capable of
recalling that authority always carries responsibility and that every
human being must be recognized as a subject of rights and duties. That
aspiration continues to speak today: that dignity, justice, and the
common good be the measure of social relations, both at the national and
the international level.
This is one of Spain’s great legacies: having united historical
action with the lucidity of moral reason. That contribution, born on the
banks of the Tormes, transcended lecture halls and libraries and came
to form part of a broader consciousness, shared by the international
community that continues to ask how to build peace on the recognition of
the person and not on the imposition of force. That legacy also lives
in these Cortes, whenever the legislator asks how to make what is
possible just, how to make what is legal truly human, and how the will
of the majority may safeguard those goods that belong to all and respect
what no majority may legitimately violate.
The Salamancan question continues to accompany the task of those who
serve public life. Today, the new worlds opening before us are no longer
drawn on maps: they unfold in technology, in the economy, in
biomedicine, and in the digital universe, where human power reaches ever
more delicate spheres of personal and social life.
Progress offers admirable possibilities, and today we see this
especially in the development of artificial intelligence and new
technologies. As I recalled in my recent Encyclical, technology in
itself is not neutral because it takes on the face of those who
conceive, finance, regulate, and use it (cf. Magnifica humanitas,
9); therefore, in the face of the transformations of our time, our
discernment must focus on what place the human person occupies in our
decisions, and how the dignity of work, solidarity, social policy, and
the common good are posed today in a new way.
This discernment begins with a first affirmation: every authentically
just society is built upon the recognition of the inviolable dignity of
the human person. Such dignity precedes every concession of the State
and cannot be subordinated to shifting social consensuses or to the ebb
and flow of the majorities of each moment (cf. Benedict XVI, Address to the German Federal Parliament,
22 September 2011). It belongs to every human being by the very fact of
existing, and therefore must guide every positive legal order.
Christian faith proclaims it from Revelation; human reason can recognize
it as a requirement inscribed in the truth of man (cf. ibid.). When
this conviction remains alive, law becomes a protection for all and a
guarantee against the imposition of particular interests and agendas.
On this foundation, it falls to me today to speak a serene and firm
word before those who bear the grave responsibility of legally ordering
social coexistence. This coexistence can be threatened by the culture of
discard, as Pope Francis so often warned (cf. Address to the Plenary Assembly of the Pontifical Academy for Life,
27 September 2021). In this sense, if life ceases to be recognized as a
fundamental value, what future can our societies have? Can a community
that leaves in the shadows the unborn child, the elderly, the sick,
those who suffer in silence, or those who depend entirely on the care of
others be called fully just? The defense of human life is not a partial
issue nor a confessional interest: it is a goal of civilization. Every
human life must be recognized and safeguarded from conception to its
natural end, in every circumstance of its existence. When this certainty
is obscured, the most vulnerable are the first victims and the law
loses its deepest meaning: to serve and protect every person. Therefore,
the moral greatness of a nation is manifested above all in its capacity
to accompany, protect, and love those lives that pass through greater
fragility.
The common good is, in a certain sense, “the social form of human dignity” (cf. Magnifica humanitas,
59). It does not consist in the mere sum of particular interests, but
in “the sum of the conditions of social life which allow social groups
and their individual members relatively thorough and ready access to
their own perfection” (Gaudium et spes, 26). When the common
good ceases to be a shared horizon, public action runs the risk of
fragmenting into partial interests, incapable of safeguarding what
belongs to all.
In this context, the family holds particular importance, as the first
human reality and the natural foundation of the community. In the home
generations are interwoven and a living memory is transmitted that gives
inner continuity to society. Where the family is supported, the
spiritual and social stability of nations is also strengthened. The
family will always be the first school of humanity in which one learns,
before anywhere else, the elementary grammar of coexistence: receiving
life, caring for the other, forgiving, serving, and belonging.
Educational institutions also occupy a decisive place in this task.
In them, new generations can learn to seek and love the truth, to
question the meaning of life and the dignity of each person. That is why
many parents, eager for their children to learn to relate, to think
critically, and to acquire solid values, place great hopes in them, as
valuable allies in their education. This collaboration must always
respect the “primary and inalienable right” of parents to “choose the
type of education and formation their children receive, in accordance
with their own moral, cultural, and religious convictions” (cf. Magnifica humanitas, 143; cf. International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, art. 18.4).
The affirmation of human dignity cannot remain abstract when so many
people are forced to leave everything behind in search of peace,
security, and a future. The tragic drama of migration also challenges
the conscience of nations and the ethical foundation of the
international order. Numerous men, women, and children are compelled, by
circumstances often dramatic, to leave their communities and leave
behind loved ones, histories, and bonds. This reality goes beyond any
purely demographic or economic reading: it constitutes an eminently
moral and juridical question. Wherever a person is discriminated against
because of national, ethnic, religious, or linguistic origin, or
because of economic or social condition, the universal principle of the
equal dignity of all human beings is gravely violated.
The situation of migrants and refugees requires a response that looks
to persons, addresses the causes that force them to leave, and goes
beyond the mere management of flows. From this arises a twofold demand
of social justice: to offer safe and legal pathways, respectful
reception, and real possibilities of integration; and at the same time
to promote the right to remain in one’s own land, working so that no one
has to abandon their home for lack of peace, security, or dignified
living conditions, including economic inequalities and the effects of
the climate crisis (cf. Magnifica humanitas, 81).
In recent years, increasingly dangerous routes have highlighted the
extremely high cost of this reality, so often hidden or ignored. Many
people continue to fall prey to traffickers and smugglers who exploit
their desperation. It is necessary to strengthen prevention, rescue, and
assistance to victims, especially within the framework of regional and
multilateral cooperation.
No nation can face a challenge of this magnitude alone. Therefore, a
coordinated, solidary, and effective response is indispensable, capable
of guaranteeing protection, reception, and real opportunities for
integration to those who migrate. When the institutional response
becomes close, just, and coordinated, borders cease to be places of
abandonment and can become spaces of responsible protection of human
dignity.
Your Excellencies:
The world is going through a profound spiritual and cultural crisis,
manifested in multiple forms of violence, polarization, and mutual
distrust. In this context, peace presents itself as a political
aspiration and, even more, as a true moral demand. It calls for a public
word that respects those who think differently, institutions placed at
the service of encounter, a historical memory that seeks truth and
reconciliation, and a social life capable of sustaining civic friendship
and mutual respect amid disagreement.
On the international level, peace requires diplomatic courage,
ethical responsibility, and a vision of the future founded on respect
for the identity of each people and on the obligation of States to
resolve their disputes by the peaceful means offered by international
law. Every war constitutes, ultimately, a painful defeat of the capacity
to negotiate and also of that common consciousness of humanity that
recognizes bonds of justice among nations. Weapons can impose a
temporary silence; but they can never build an authentic and lasting
peace.
That is why it is troubling that, in various parts of the world, and
also in Europe, rearmament is once again being presented as an almost
inevitable response to the fragility of the international scene. True
security, on the other hand, is born of justice, patient dialogue,
respect for international law, and a politics capable of placing the
life of peoples above the interests that benefit from war. The
development of new technologies and artificial intelligence in the
military sphere also requires rigorous ethical vigilance, so that
decisions about life and death are never left to automatisms or removed
from the moral responsibility of the human person (cf. Address at “La Sapienza” University, 14 May 2026).
The international community is called to rediscover the indispensable
value of dialogue as a patient path toward just and lasting agreements,
founded on respect for treaties, on the transparency of diplomatic
action, and on the sincere will to place peace above the recourse to
force. From this are born trust and hope.
As the motto of the European Union reminds us, In varietate concordia,
true unity does not uniform, but unites in diversity, making cultures,
sensibilities, and traditions an occasion for mutual enrichment.
Likewise, within societies themselves it is urgent to build a culture
of reciprocity. Political plurality should not degenerate into
permanent disqualification of the adversary. In a mature coexistence,
even conflict can become a path to peace, when differences are allowed
to be tempered by listening and ordered toward the recognition of the
needs, aspirations, and capacities of all.
But peace is not only a political or institutional reality. It is
also born in the conscience, where resentment, indifference, and hatred
give way to reconciliation. That is why it is also established and
protected through language. Words can open paths or close them; they can
illuminate reality or distort it to the point of making encounter
impossible. Those who exercise public responsibility therefore have a
special obligation to safeguard the word in order to “disarm language” (Message for Lent 2026, 13 February 2026). Firmness does not require contempt; disagreement does not entail humiliation.
From this respect for the other also arises the duty to safeguard the
space where convictions, conscience, and the relationship with God
mature. Attention to that inner sphere allows a better understanding of a
decisive question for every truly democratic society: freedom of
thought, conscience, and religion, a fundamental right that protects the
most intimate sphere of persons. The freedom on which the contemporary
State is built, if authentic, recognizes the religious dimension of the
human being, respects it, and safeguards it legally; and prevents anyone
from having to renounce contributing to the society in which they live
because of their faith.
Without confusing the legal plane with the moral, it is also worth
recalling that freedom needs a full understanding of itself. To be free
does not mean only to be free from coercion or to have many
possibilities of choice; it means being able to recognize the good and
adhere to it responsibly. Therefore, every truly free society also
requires a just delimitation of public power, so that the freedom of
persons, communities, and associations is not unduly restricted (cf. Dignitatis humanae,
1). From this perspective, the legitimate autonomy of the temporal
order must never be interpreted as hostility toward the religious
phenomenon. Faith does not seek to impose itself through privileges or
coercions; however, neither can it be relegated to silence as if it were
irrelevant to public life.
In this context, the sacramental seal of confession holds special
importance for the Catholic Church. It falls within the broader sphere
of religious freedom, which guarantees believing communities their own
space of life, organization, and internal discipline (cf. Conference on
Security and Cooperation in Europe, Helsinki Final Act, 1 August 1975,
Principle VII). Safeguarding it legally, as happens analogously in
certain professions, means preserving a sacred space of inner freedom,
where the believer can open their soul before God without fear of
external pressures, as international norms also recognize (cf.
International Criminal Court, Rules of Procedure and Evidence, Rule
73.3).
Ladies and Gentlemen:
Allow me to pause for a moment on some images that adorn this
Chamber. In this Hall of Sessions, natural light enters through the
skylight that crowns the room. That light coming from above can remind
us that politics too needs to recognize a measure that precedes and
surpasses it.
The paintings that evoke, on the upper part of the main wall, the
reception of the Gospel and the Decalogue also recall something
essential. Without confusing the political order with the religious,
those signs invite us to recognize that modern freedom has also been
prepared by a long education of conscience, deeply marked by the
Christian tradition. In that inner school, peoples learned that law must
serve the good, that justice sets limits to force, that power needs
legitimacy, that the poor belong fully to the community, that the
stranger must be welcomed according to their dignity, and that human
life can never be treated as a commodity.
A law does not attain its true greatness merely by having been
formally approved; it attains it when, in addition to being valid in its
form, it can stand before the dignity of the person and emerge from
that examination without shame.
I invite you, therefore, to raise your gaze: not to distance
yourselves from reality, but to remember that every decision of public
authorities touches persons of flesh and blood, especially those who
have less strength to make themselves heard. For the height of vision
consists precisely in looking more deeply at what is at stake in every
public decision. That is why, alongside technical responses and legal
reforms, a moral renewal is also needed.
Spain can offer much on this path. It possesses a language that
unites continents; a cultural, legal, and spiritual tradition that has
known how to place faith and reason, law and conscience, unity and
plurality in dialogue. This historical experience also recalls the value
of concord and the patient effort to build a peaceful and just
coexistence.
May this noble nation never lose the memory of its roots nor the
audacity to look to the future. May Spain continue to be a land of
encounter, of culture, of solidarity, and of hope. And may its public
life always know how to unite the firmness of convictions with the
nobility of dialogue and the greatness of service.
May God grant peace to all the nations of the earth, concord to
families, and serenity to consciences. And may days of prosperity,
justice, and lasting peace descend upon the Kingdom of Spain, marked by
the apostolic footprint of Saint James and by the maternal presence of
the Virgin of the Pillar. Thank you very much.
