Catholic during the Great Apostasy

Are today’s people governed by thoughtlessness? This question arises when we analyze our behavior. Have we lost not only the ability to think critically but ceased to think altogether? We are driven by impulses transmitted by the media—these are not even our own feelings or desires, but rather “pins jabbed into our brains,” eliciting fleeting, seconds-long reactions. Modern technology—social media, algorithms, the relentless stream of information—seems deliberately designed to reinforce this state. We are engineered to react instantly, without a moment for reflection, to emotions, headlines, or images. As Blaise Pascal wrote: “Man is so inevitably mad that not to be mad would be another form of madness” (Pensées, 412). Thoughtlessness becomes not just an individual weakness but a systemic tool that demands conscious resistance from us.

Thoughtlessness itself is not formally a moral category in the classical sense—neither in Aristotle’s philosophy, nor in St. Thomas Aquinas, nor in other ethical systems does it appear as a distinct, defined concept like justice, virtue, or sin. Yet it is not a neutral state, like mere inattention—it leads to tangible, often negative consequences: flirtation, infidelity, abortion, political chaos, or persecution. “We often act literally thoughtlessly, and later call the effects chance,” I once wrote, and now I would add that “thoughtlessness is a sin of neglect.” This lends it a moral weight: it is not a category in itself but an attitude bearing ethical consequences. Pascal seems to affirm this: “Man is neither angel nor beast, and the misfortune is that he who would act the angel becomes a beast” (Pensées, 358). Thoughtlessness is a bridge between will and consequence—something that burdens humanity with responsibility.
Why isn’t it a moral category?

In classical ethics, thoughtlessness is not an independent concept like intention, virtue, or duty. In St. Thomas, actions, intentions, and their outcomes are judged, not the mental state of lacking reflection. He speaks of “affected ignorance” (ignorantia affectata), but that’s not the same—ignorance is a deliberate choice of unknowing, whereas thoughtlessness feels more spontaneous, less intentional. Aristotle distinguishes between voluntary and involuntary actions, but thoughtlessness doesn’t fit neatly here—it’s more a lack of the virtue of prudence (phronesis) than a standalone category. Thus, in classical philosophy, thoughtlessness is more a symptom than the essence of a moral problem. It’s not an independent sin or vice—it’s a tool through which vice, like recklessness or sloth, manifests.
Can it be made a category? I believe thoughtlessness is more than a random error—it’s an attitude that leads to a lie of chance and the evasion of responsibility. I propose defining it as “conscious neglect of reflection on the consequences of actions, despite possessing the capacity to foresee them.” This would distinguish it from Thomas’s ignorance, as it doesn’t require an active rejection of knowledge, only a passive lack of effort. Pascal would support this: “Truth is so obscured in these times, and falsehood so established, that unless we love the truth, we cannot know it” (Pensées, 863). For him, thoughtlessness would be a sin against the love of truth—an active destruction of moral order. Why? Because a human endowed with reason turns away from it when they stop seeking meaning. “People, unable to cure death, wretchedness, ignorance, decided, in order to be happy, not to think about it” (Pensées, 168)—this lack of reflection is precisely thoughtlessness, leading to moral chaos. Moreover, it opens the door to the workings of evil. Scripture calls Satan “the father of lies” (John 8:44), and lies thrive best where truth and thought are absent. Thoughtlessness makes us susceptible to deception, like a reed in the wind (Matthew 11:7).
Scripture confirms that neglecting the gift of reason is a sin: “The intelligent will shine like the brightness of the firmament” (Daniel 12:3), while those who turn away from wisdom bear guilt: “Folly is joy to the senseless” (Proverbs 15:21). Thoughtlessness, then, is not an innocent oversight—it’s a rejection of the duty to use the reason God gave us to pursue truth. St. Paul urges: “Do not conform to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Romans 12:2)—thoughtlessness is the opposite of renewal, an active persistence in chaos. It should be a moral category because it’s a sin against truth, reason, and free will, and its consequences—from personal failings to societal catastrophes—prove it’s not neutral but morally burdensome.
God gave humanity, among other things, reason, truth, and free will. These three elements are tightly intertwined. Reason, by knowing truth, allows us to discern lies—as Scripture says: “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). Free will grants us the ability to choose—to reject lies or embrace truth, as the Book of Sirach emphasizes: “The Lord created man and left him to his own power of decision” (Sirach 15:14). In an ideal world, the choice would be clear: reject lies. But it doesn’t happen that way because thoughtlessness blurs the lines and introduces grayness—nothing remains distinctly black or white. Pascal captures this well: “All man’s misery stems from his inability to sit quietly in a room alone” (Pensées, 139)—thoughtlessness is the lack of reflection that distances us from truth and reason. It’s like a disease: when the eyes are clouded, it’s hard to find the right path.
Should we listen to others, even popes, who preach a gospel different from that given by our Lord Jesus Christ? No! St. Paul warns: “But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed!” (Galatians 1:8). Does failing to use reason, and thus not thinking, excuse us in the slightest for sinful acts? No! Scripture says: “Whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin” (James 4:17)—lack of reflection doesn’t absolve us of responsibility.
Do thoughtless, impulsive actions, even theoretically good ones, have any value before God? No! God knows our intentions: “The Lord searches all hearts and understands every plan” (1 Chronicles 28:9). Even if the outcome is positive, a lack of intention strips the act of full moral worth. This echoes St. Paul: “All things work together for good for those who love God” (Romans 8:28)—but isn’t it better to cooperate consciously than to be a mere pawn in a larger plan? Thoughtlessness is, above all, mental and moral chaos. Our behavior becomes not a path in a set direction but a circular arena where we lurch wherever impulses push us—sometimes good, sometimes evil. They spur us momentarily to act, but we don’t even realize the value of our actions: good or bad. Someone else decides for us—perhaps the one sending the impulses, maybe the media, or a false preacher, for today there’s no shortage of false prophets.
Moral categories like justice or virtue carry a positive resonance, while sin is wholly negative. Thoughtlessness stands out because it’s hard to define unequivocally, as its actions don’t always yield bad results. It may happen that, unthinkingly, we heed someone wise—rarely, but the possibility exists. Yet this doesn’t change the fact that God sees our intentions. How do we combat thoughtlessness? Since it’s a sin against reason and truth, the antidote must be the conscious cultivation of these gifts. Scripture calls us: “Test everything; hold fast to what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21). This is an invitation to active thought, filtering impulses, and seeking meaning—in silence, prayer, or meditation on God’s Word. Fighting thoughtlessness is not just a moral duty but a path to freedom.
The moral weight of thoughtlessness is not only an ethical issue but a psychological burden that traps humanity in chaos—both mental and emotional. Modern psychology suggests that the epidemic of depression may be linked to a culture of thoughtlessness. An overload of stimuli, lack of time for introspection, and the pressure for instant reactions weaken mental resilience. Studies (e.g., in media psychology) show that technology overuse increases depression risk by promoting superficiality and distraction—i.e., thoughtlessness. This amplifies chaos and distances us from living consciously.

Arkadiusz Niewolski