Artificial Intelligence and Conscience: The Vatican Introduces the Criterion of Silence
On January 28, 2025, the Holy See released Antiqua et Nova. It is not a technical statement, nor a routine ethical opinion. It is a 117-paragraph document that addresses the core of today’s debate: artificial intelligence is not neutral. It is already inside politics, economics, warfare, healthcare, education.
The Vatican does not limit itself to vague recommendations. It introduces a sharp principle: technology must be guided by meaning, not profit. “Intelligence” means seeking meaning, not accumulating data. It is a radical shift in tone. Until recently, ecclesiastical language was cautious, almost marginal compared to the agendas of governments and multinationals. Now it is frontal. No machine should decide life or death. No system should obscure inner freedom. No algorithm should become an oracle.
The warning comes at a time of acceleration. The United States pushes for global standards but remains torn between security and economic competition. China invests without apparent limits. Europe tries to regulate, but tech lobbies filter every norm. In the middle, the Vatican’s voice proposes an alternative axis: dignity as the primary metric. The most critical point concerns autonomous weapons. The document is clear: letting software decide who lives and who dies is a threshold that must not be crossed. A sharp red line.
It is not just about drones. Artificial intelligence is entering daily life, work, school. Here the message is subtler. Productivity is not enough. We must measure the quality of attention. The clarity of intentions. The transparency of decisions. The Vatican does not use the word “silence,” but the logic is there. Without silence, the human recedes. In the constant noise of notifications, data, algorithms, the risk is not only to make mistakes. It is to stop thinking.
The implications are concrete. In companies: one minute of silence before strategic meetings. No screens in the early morning hours for those leading complex teams. A review of information flows: not tsunamis of data, but essential signals. Traceable responsibility: every decision must have a recognizable human face. In schools: ethical literacy. Teaching students that an honest “I don’t know” is more valuable than an instant but opaque answer. Showing that delegating conscience to software is the real danger, not technical error.
Silence thus becomes a criterion. Not absence. Not emptiness. But a space for choice. In silence, fear can be distinguished from care. In silence, one senses whether an act arises from conscience or from a conditioned reflex. Here is the paradox: codes will not save us from an excess of codes. The ability to pause will.
The next competitive advantage will not be the newest AI model. It will be the protocol of silence. One minute. Before deciding. Whoever can hold it is ready to govern intelligent machines. Whoever cannot is already governed by them.
3) Artificial Sweeteners: The Sweetness That Erodes Memory
At first they seemed the perfect solution. No calories. No sugar. A sachet, a can, and the conscience was clear. But artificial sweeteners return to the center of debate with a new shadow: they may compromise the mind.
A study published in Neurology in September 2025 makes it clear. Twelve thousand adults tracked for eight years. Those who consumed sweeteners daily showed cognitive decline equivalent to an additional 1.6 years of aging compared to non-consumers. The effect is sharper under sixty, when no one expects slowdowns.
The news unsettles because it touches a widespread certainty: that sweeteners are harmless, a small trick to stay light without sacrifice. The industry insists: these are only correlations, not definitive proof. But the fact remains: a constant signal, on a large scale, linking “light” products to decline.
This is not about obesity, nor diabetes. This is about the mind. Memory, focus, sharpness. The most fragile and irreplaceable good. We do not notice losing it day by day—until it is too late. Here lies the knot: the brain does not recognize sweeteners as sugar. Metabolic pathways remain active, the body is confused. Some studies link these substances to micro-inflammations and changes in the gut microbiota. And the gut-brain axis is no detail: it is a highway.
This is not about demonizing. It is about choosing. A balanced diet with fruit, fiber, good fats. Sweetening in moderation: honey, dates, natural syrups. Or rediscovering authentic taste, less dependent on sweetness. Because often it is not the coffee that demands sugar. It is the mind asking for an anesthetic.
The issue goes beyond chemistry. It concerns our relationship with pleasure. Society wants sweetness without consequences. Gratification without cost. But life does not work that way. Every true pleasure carries a price: time, care, responsibility. Sweeteners create the illusion that the price does not exist. And so they take away something invisible: the ability to fully inhabit taste. Perhaps, in the long run, also the ability to fully inhabit thought.
The true sweetener of the mind is not in a sachet. It is in the empty space between one thought and the next. There the conscience regenerates, without sugars and without substitutes. Discovering this void is the rarest pleasure. And the only one that never leaves waste behind.
The Vatican does not limit itself to vague recommendations. It introduces a sharp principle: technology must be guided by meaning, not profit. “Intelligence” means seeking meaning, not accumulating data. It is a radical shift in tone. Until recently, ecclesiastical language was cautious, almost marginal compared to the agendas of governments and multinationals. Now it is frontal. No machine should decide life or death. No system should obscure inner freedom. No algorithm should become an oracle.
The warning comes at a time of acceleration. The United States pushes for global standards but remains torn between security and economic competition. China invests without apparent limits. Europe tries to regulate, but tech lobbies filter every norm. In the middle, the Vatican’s voice proposes an alternative axis: dignity as the primary metric. The most critical point concerns autonomous weapons. The document is clear: letting software decide who lives and who dies is a threshold that must not be crossed. A sharp red line.
It is not just about drones. Artificial intelligence is entering daily life, work, school. Here the message is subtler. Productivity is not enough. We must measure the quality of attention. The clarity of intentions. The transparency of decisions. The Vatican does not use the word “silence,” but the logic is there. Without silence, the human recedes. In the constant noise of notifications, data, algorithms, the risk is not only to make mistakes. It is to stop thinking.
The implications are concrete. In companies: one minute of silence before strategic meetings. No screens in the early morning hours for those leading complex teams. A review of information flows: not tsunamis of data, but essential signals. Traceable responsibility: every decision must have a recognizable human face. In schools: ethical literacy. Teaching students that an honest “I don’t know” is more valuable than an instant but opaque answer. Showing that delegating conscience to software is the real danger, not technical error.
Silence thus becomes a criterion. Not absence. Not emptiness. But a space for choice. In silence, fear can be distinguished from care. In silence, one senses whether an act arises from conscience or from a conditioned reflex. Here is the paradox: codes will not save us from an excess of codes. The ability to pause will.
The next competitive advantage will not be the newest AI model. It will be the protocol of silence. One minute. Before deciding. Whoever can hold it is ready to govern intelligent machines. Whoever cannot is already governed by them.
3) Artificial Sweeteners: The Sweetness That Erodes Memory
At first they seemed the perfect solution. No calories. No sugar. A sachet, a can, and the conscience was clear. But artificial sweeteners return to the center of debate with a new shadow: they may compromise the mind.
A study published in Neurology in September 2025 makes it clear. Twelve thousand adults tracked for eight years. Those who consumed sweeteners daily showed cognitive decline equivalent to an additional 1.6 years of aging compared to non-consumers. The effect is sharper under sixty, when no one expects slowdowns.
The news unsettles because it touches a widespread certainty: that sweeteners are harmless, a small trick to stay light without sacrifice. The industry insists: these are only correlations, not definitive proof. But the fact remains: a constant signal, on a large scale, linking “light” products to decline.
This is not about obesity, nor diabetes. This is about the mind. Memory, focus, sharpness. The most fragile and irreplaceable good. We do not notice losing it day by day—until it is too late. Here lies the knot: the brain does not recognize sweeteners as sugar. Metabolic pathways remain active, the body is confused. Some studies link these substances to micro-inflammations and changes in the gut microbiota. And the gut-brain axis is no detail: it is a highway.
This is not about demonizing. It is about choosing. A balanced diet with fruit, fiber, good fats. Sweetening in moderation: honey, dates, natural syrups. Or rediscovering authentic taste, less dependent on sweetness. Because often it is not the coffee that demands sugar. It is the mind asking for an anesthetic.
The issue goes beyond chemistry. It concerns our relationship with pleasure. Society wants sweetness without consequences. Gratification without cost. But life does not work that way. Every true pleasure carries a price: time, care, responsibility. Sweeteners create the illusion that the price does not exist. And so they take away something invisible: the ability to fully inhabit taste. Perhaps, in the long run, also the ability to fully inhabit thought.
The true sweetener of the mind is not in a sachet. It is in the empty space between one thought and the next. There the conscience regenerates, without sugars and without substitutes. Discovering this void is the rarest pleasure. And the only one that never leaves waste behind.