The Cry for Human Dignity in the Age of Exclusion
In 1941, amidst the suffocating socio-political landscape of colonial Vietnam, author Nam Cao published Chí Phèo, a masterpiece of 20th-century realist literature. Through the tragic figure of a man stripped of his identity, Nam Cao raised a haunting question about human dignity and the fundamental right to belong. Decades later, from an entirely different context, Pope Leo XIV issued the encyclical Magnifica Humanitas (“The Greatness of Humanity”). This document serves as a global warning against the reduction of the human person to a mere data point, a resource, or an object of systemic control in our technological age.
At first glance, a mid-century Vietnamese short story and a contemporary global encyclical seem worlds apart. Yet, they converge at the exact same human crossroads: a desperate plea to safeguard the sacred dignity of the human person when threatened by community prejudice and systemic exclusion.
The Architecture of Marginalization: The Story of Chí Phèo
To fully grasp this dynamic, one must understand the anatomy of Chí Phèo’s ruin. The story takes place in Làng Vũ Đại (Vu Dai Village), a microscopic reflection of an oppressive, feudal society. Chí Phèo begins his life as an innocent, hardworking peasant who harbors modest dreams: to till the land, marry, and live a quiet life of honest labor.
His life is shattered by Bá Kiến, the tyrannical local landlord, who throws Chí Phèo into prison out of a baseless accusation. Years of brutal incarceration completely destroy the young man. He returns to the village unrecognizable, scarred, heavily tattooed, and trapped in severe alcoholism. He becomes the village brute, a weapon for hire used by the very system that ruined him. The villagers, blinded by fear and disgust, completely isolate him, refusing to see him as a human being.
The most terrifying thing happens when a person is pushed so far to the margins that they internalize the hatred and forget their own humanity. Chí Phèo stops believing he is worthy of a normal life.
A 21st-Century Reality: From Feudal Gossip to Modern “Cancel Culture”
While Chí Phèo’s tragedy unfolded in a bygone rural village, the mechanics of exclusion remain painfully active today. In our hyper-connected society, the physical village square has been replaced by the digital arena. Here, algorithms and ideological echo chambers judge, label, and “cancel” individuals with terrifying speed, even within faith communities.
Consider the modern story of a young, dedicated catechist. He maintained a completely healthy, supportive friendship with several individuals from the LGBTQ+ community. However, after a few harmless photos of them enjoying a social gathering were posted on Facebook, the digital space instantly transformed into a tribunal. Overnight, his years of service and moral character were completely erased. Branded with labels of compromise, the prejudice bled from the screen into real life. His parish community turned their backs on him, boycotting his classes and isolating him. He was stripped of his right to serve, reduced to a digital label by the very community meant to mirror Christ’s love.
Even more heartbreaking is the experience of an 18-year-old young woman who had just entered college. She was bright, sensitive, and had been an active youth leader in her hometown parish. Seeking to connect with her faith in a new environment, she joined a Catholic campus ministry. During an annual retreat, encouraged by the group leader to share her deepest, most vulnerable struggles, she opened her heart. In tears, she sincerely shared her internal wrestling with same-sex attraction, asking her peers for prayers and spiritual accompaniment.
The response she received was not the embrace of Christ. Instead, many in the group looked down on her with condescending pity, while others quietly distanced themselves as if her vulnerability were a contagion. The few who felt genuine compassion were too paralyzed by peer pressure to speak up against the majority. This cold alienation, carried out in the name of holiness, drove her into despair. She left the ministry, and eventually, walked away from the Church entirely.
Whether through 20th-century rural gossip or 21st-century digital algorithms, humanity is still being reduced to a category, a profile, or a political stance. When a community uses righteousness to push a vulnerable soul into outer darkness, they are repeating the sins of Chí Phèo’s village: denying a human being the right to be seen, heard, and loved.
A Bowl of Onion Soup and the Miracle of Compassion
In Nam Cao’s masterpiece, the turning point comes not through a grand political revolution, but through a simple bowl of green onion soup. A marginalized, eccentric woman named Thị Nở, the only person who doesn’t fear Chí Phèo, shows him a moment of raw kindness by bringing him a bowl of soup when he is sick.
That single bowl of soup achieved what the entire village could not: it reminded Chí Phèo that he was human. For the first time in years, he experienced tenderness. Someone looked at him and saw a person, not a monster. He wept and desperately craved to return to his honest roots.
However, when Chí Phèo tried to use this connection as a bridge back into human society, the rigid prejudice of the village slammed the door in his face. Recognizing that society would never allow him to wash away his past, he fell into utter despair. In the tragic climax, realizing he could never regain his humanity under the village’s judging eyes, he confronted his oppressor, killed him, and took his own life.
Nam Cao reminds us that humanity is not restored by power or strict judgment, but by unconditional love. A person begins to return to themselves when they are accepted as a valuable human being. The ostracized catechist and the wounded 18-year-old student did not need complex theological treatises; they simply needed the “onion soup” of human empathy, a look free of judgment from their brothers and sisters in Christ.
The Warning of Magnifica Humanitas
This is precisely why Pope Leo XIV’s Magnifica Humanitas is so vital today. The encyclical warns against the danger of reducing the human person to a mere function of technology, economics, or ideological checklists. It emphasizes that while progress is commendable, it must never obscure human dignity.
A parish can be perfectly organized, and a community can be strictly observant of outward rules. But if it evaluates people based on rigid categorization, maintaining a “spotless” external image while discarding anyone who carries a different struggle, that community is losing its soul. A human being is always infinitely greater than any data point, label, or moral category we try to confine them to.
Beneath the scars of a village outcast, or beneath the confusion of a young person navigating their identity, we are demanded to see a human being created in the image and likeness of God. In the Christian tradition, human dignity does not depend on our perfection or social utility. It is an inherent status given by God, one that no crowd can grant and no social boycott can strip away.
The Cry of Yesterday, The Question of Tomorrow
Every generation has its own “Chí Phèo“, those pushed to the margins, evaluated by external metrics, and treated as problems to be managed rather than persons to be loved.
Chí Phèo’s ultimate, agonizing cry before his death still echoes through time: “I want to be an honorable man!” It is the same muted cry of the 18-year-old student walking out of that retreat room, and the silent grief of the catechist banned from his ministry.
Before we ask how efficient our systems can be, or how strictly we can enforce our communal boundaries, Magnifica Humanitas forces us to confront a more fundamental question: How do we ensure that every person, regardless of their brokenness, their doubts, or their differences, is still looked upon and treated as a human being?
Questions for Reflection
- Have I ever used digital platforms, gossip, or ideological standards to subtly “cancel” or isolate someone in my community?
- In our parishes and local neighborhoods today, who are the “Chí Phèo” figures weeping in silence because they are excluded or unheard?
- When was the last time I offered a “bowl of onion soup”, a listening ear full of empathy and empty of judgment—to someone standing on the periphery?
Paul Pham Xuan Khoi