The twilight of critical thinking: why power thrives on the stupidity

We often hear about the importance of critical thinking, the ability to analyze evidence, question assumptions, explore perspectives, and foresee implications. Charts and frameworks, like the one that lays out the “cycle of critical thinking,” make it seem so simple: just follow the steps, and you’ll be better equipped to navigate the world. But there’s a reason this cycle feels more like an ideal than a reality. It is not just that people are lazy or distracted; it is that systems of power are actively invested in preventing critical thinking from flourishing.

Today, being a genuine critical thinker is not only rare but also dangerous. It makes you harder to control, less predictable as a consumer, and less pliable as a citizen. Which is why, despite all the lip service given to “thinking skills”, schools, corporations, and governments quietly cultivate the opposite: passivity, insecurity, and dependence.

What critical thinking really means

At its core, critical thinking is not a single act but a process, a cycle that continually refines itself. It begins with gathering evidence, moves through challenging assumptions, explores multiple perspectives, generates alternatives, and ends with mapping implications. Then the cycle repeats. It is dynamic, not static; a way of engaging with reality that prevents us from being passive recipients of information.

This distinction matters because critical thinking is often misrepresented. In popular culture, it is reduced to skepticism, doubting official stories, distrusting authority, or fact-checking details. While these are valuable, they represent only a fraction of what critical thinking requires. Real critical thinking is about building context and foresight. It is about understanding not just what is being said, but also why, by whom, and to what end.

Take the first stage: gathering evidence. In a world of information overload, this is harder than it sounds. Evidence must be separated from noise, truth from spin, fact from deliberate misinformation. Yet, most people are encouraged to stop here. The assumption is: if you can quote a source or cite a statistic, you are thinking critically. In reality, evidence is only the raw material. Without the next steps, it becomes a tool for manipulation. After all, even lies can be supported with selective facts.

The next stages, challenging assumptions and exploring perspectives, are where the real work begins. And this is precisely where society applies the brakes. Schools, media, workplaces, and governments tend to push individuals toward accepting authority, repeating narratives, and avoiding discomfort. To genuinely challenge assumptions is to ask questions that are often taboo: Why do we measure progress only by GDP? Why do we accept debt as normal? Why do we assume perpetual economic growth is sustainable? These are not encouraged questions because they destabilize the frameworks on which institutions rest.

Even when individuals do push forward, reaching the stages of generating alternatives and mapping implications, they face cultural resistance. People who propose different ways of organizing society, alternative economic systems, new approaches to energy, radical shifts in governance, are quickly branded as naïve, unrealistic, or dangerous. Likewise, those who warn about long-term implications (climate collapse, social atomization, technological dependency) are dismissed as alarmists. The cycle of critical thinking is not broken by accident; it is intentionally interrupted to keep populations from seeing beyond the immediate.

The tragedy is that this cycle is humanity’s best defense against manipulation. Without it, we are left with slogans instead of understanding, choices that are no choices at all, and futures that are decided for us rather than by us. The cycle is dangerous not because it destabilizes individuals, but because it destabilizes the systems of power that thrive on uncritical compliance. A society that truly embraced it would be harder to govern through fear, harder to control through consumption, and harder to divide through propaganda.

In that sense, critical thinking is the closest thing we have to intellectual freedom. And that is why, despite the posters in classrooms and the lip service in corporate mission statements, every incentive in the modern world is aligned against it.

The war on assumptions

One of the most radical acts of critical thinking is to challenge assumptions, to uncover the invisible frameworks that shape our understanding and ask whether they hold up under scrutiny. Assumptions are powerful because they are rarely acknowledged. They operate in the background, shaping thought and behavior without ever being explicitly stated. To challenge them is to disturb the foundations of how society functions.

This is precisely why modern institutions discourage this step. Questioning assumptions is framed not as a strength, but as defiance. The moment you ask, “Why must things be this way?” you are labeled a troublemaker. Schools, media, politics, and workplaces are structured to ensure that most people never progress to this level of reflection.

Consider education, where the narrative of “critical thinking skills” is often a marketing slogan rather than a reality. From a young age, students are trained to memorize, standardize, and comply. Exams reward recall, not reasoning. A child who asks why certain historical narratives are presented while others are ignored is branded as disruptive. A student who challenges the value of grading systems risks punishment. Instead of cultivating intellectual independence, the system rewards obedience to frameworks. The assumption, that authority defines what knowledge matters, is never itself questioned.

The media ecosystem operates on the same logic. Headlines and soundbites are crafted to be consumed quickly, without time for deeper reflection. Every story carries with it a hidden set of assumptions: that economic growth is always desirable, that national security justifies surveillance, that certain voices are credible while others are marginal. Rarely are these assumptions unpacked. To challenge them would be to disrupt the flow of consumption, and disruption is bad for advertisers and engagement metrics. It is easier, and more profitable, to keep audiences passive.

In politics, assumptions are the lifeblood of control. Policies are often built on ideas that go unexamined: that markets are inherently efficient, that military force ensures peace, that inequality is a natural byproduct of ambition. Citizens are invited to debate within these assumptions, left or right, higher taxes or lower taxes, more regulation or less, but the deeper questions remain forbidden. Few politicians can openly ask whether the structure itself is broken without being marginalized as extremists. By limiting debate to surface-level disagreements, politics protects the assumptions that keep power in place.

Even the corporate workplace reinforces this pattern. Employees are often told to “think outside the box,” but the box itself, the assumption that profit maximization is the ultimate goal, is nonnegotiable. Workers who question whether their labor actually benefits society, whether endless growth is sustainable, or whether the company’s values align with reality risk being branded as insubordinate. The corporate mantra of “innovation” rarely extends to challenging the assumptions that underpin capitalism itself.

The end result is that assumptions harden into untouchable dogma. We are encouraged to argue about superficial details, the color of the walls, but forbidden from questioning the foundation. Citizens, students, and workers alike are trained to live within invisible boundaries of thought, never realizing they are in a cage. By cutting off people at step two of the critical thinking cycle, society ensures that questioning authority feels not just risky, but unthinkable. And in this way, power maintains itself without having to lift a finger.

Perspectives denied: the bubble effect

Critical thinking demands that we explore perspectives. This is the stage where we step outside of our own comfort zones, ask others how they see the issue, and confront the possibility that our worldview is partial, limited, or even deeply flawed. In theory, the modern world—with its global communication tools and instant access to information—should make this step easier than ever. In practice, however, we live in a time where perspectives are deliberately narrowed, filtered, and manipulated.

The most obvious culprit is the algorithm-driven internet. Social media platforms are not designed to broaden horizons but to keep users engaged. The easiest way to do that is to show people more of what they already like, what confirms their preconceptions, and what triggers emotional reactions. The result is the infamous filter bubble: we scroll endlessly through curated feeds that reinforce our political leanings, consumer habits, and cultural tastes. We are told that we are “connected to the world,” but in truth, our vision of the world is tunneled.

This narrowing of perspective is not just digital. It is also cultural and institutional. Political systems thrive on polarization. Instead of encouraging citizens to explore the spectrum of views, parties frame issues in stark binaries: left vs. right, progress vs. tradition, security vs. freedom. Citizens are forced to choose sides, and once they do, the possibility of exploring perspectives outside their camp feels like betrayal. The machinery of politics depends on division, not dialogue.

Workplaces, too, limit perspectives. In corporate environments, hierarchies discourage the free flow of ideas from bottom to top. Employees may see flaws in strategy or opportunities in overlooked areas, but raising them can be risky. The culture of “alignment” and “team spirit” often means ignoring alternative perspectives that might challenge the assumptions of leadership. Over time, organizations calcify, unable to see the wider picture because every perspective outside the executive bubble is muted.

Even in education and media, where we might expect exposure to diverse perspectives, there is an overwhelming tendency to filter out the uncomfortable. Textbooks present sanitized histories that erase conflicting narratives. News channels prefer guests who echo their editorial line. In the name of clarity and simplicity, nuance is sacrificed, and entire perspectives vanish from public debate.

The consequence is profound: if people rarely encounter genuine alternative viewpoints, then step three of the critical thinking cycle collapses. We remain locked in echo chambers, unable to empathize with different experiences or test our own beliefs against reality. By keeping perspectives narrow, systems of power ensure that dissent remains isolated and solidarity across divides never forms. After all, if people saw how much they had in common across supposed divisions, the structures that profit from polarization would crumble.

The illusion of alternatives

At first glance, modern societies seem to offer endless alternatives. Supermarkets stock dozens of brands of cereal. Streaming platforms boast thousands of shows. Political systems provide parties to choose from. But when we peel back the surface, many of these supposed alternatives are manufactured illusions, designed to keep people satisfied with variety while ensuring that the fundamentals remain untouched.

Take consumer culture as the clearest example. We are presented with endless versions of the same product, phones with minor upgrades, clothing with seasonal trends, food items wrapped in slightly different packaging. This abundance of choice gives the impression of freedom, yet the actual structure remains the same: consumption as identity. Rarely do we stop to ask whether we need these products at all, because the illusion of alternatives keeps us busy comparing brands rather than questioning the premise.

In politics, the illusion is even more striking. Citizens are offered different parties, often with different rhetoric, but both (or all) are typically funded by the same corporate interests, bound by the same global economic rules, and committed to maintaining the status quo. Voting, then, becomes less about shaping the future and more about choosing which mask of power we prefer. Real alternatives, voices that question capitalism, militarism, or centralized authority, are sidelined, delegitimized, or outright silenced. The cycle pretends to empower, but it confines.

The same dynamic plays out in work and careers. Employees are told they can choose between “paths”, moving into management, specializing, or switching companies. But the deeper assumption remains intact: work consumes most of your life, corporations dictate the rules, and your worth is tied to productivity. The alternatives are structured around different flavors of the same cage. By making us debate which ladder to climb, the system distracts from the fact that the ladder itself is the trap.

Even in media and culture, alternatives are carefully curated. News platforms offer the illusion of different perspectives, left-leaning, right-leaning, centrist, but all operate within the same economic model of attention capture. Films and music may differ in genre, but global entertainment conglomerates control distribution and messaging. We are rarely exposed to voices outside the framework of what is profitable and safe for advertisers.

This stage of the cycle, generating alternatives, is where true creativity and independence should flourish. But instead, society funnels us into false choices that keep us endlessly occupied while preventing real innovation. We are free to debate which cereal to buy, which streaming service to subscribe to, or which politician to elect, but not to ask why the very structure of our consumption, our work, and our governance is taken for granted.

By manipulating this stage, power ensures that we remain consumers of options, not creators of them. And in doing so, the promise of critical thinking, the chance to reimagine the world, is neutralized before it can even begin.

Implications ignored: why foresight is dangerous

The final step in the cycle of critical thinking is to map implications, to ask what follows if an action is taken, a belief is accepted, or a policy is implemented. This stage is where genuine foresight emerges, and it is perhaps the most threatening to those in power. Why? Because foresight reveals the true costs of decisions that are usually sold as progress, safety, or prosperity.

In politics, ignoring implications is almost a prerequisite for survival. Leaders frame policies in terms of immediate benefits, jobs created, money saved, security increased. Rarely do they invite citizens to ask, what are the long-term consequences? For instance, when governments subsidize fossil fuels or expand surveillance powers, the near-term narratives are always compelling. But the long-term implications, climate collapse, erosion of privacy, normalization of authoritarianism, are deliberately left out of public discourse. To raise them would expose the fragility and hypocrisy of the promises being made.

The same is true in consumer culture. Companies push new gadgets, diets, and lifestyles with an emphasis on instant gratification. You can have faster downloads, slimmer bodies, shinier cars. But few marketing campaigns encourage consumers to consider what comes next: e-waste piling up in landfills, health issues from unsustainable diets, financial ruin from endless debt. The implications are inconvenient because they reveal that consumption is not a path to freedom, but a cycle of dependency.

Even in personal decision-making, society discourages foresight. We are taught to pursue short-term validation, likes, followers, promotions, while neglecting long-term fulfillment. Social media thrives on this short-sightedness, trapping people in feedback loops of instant approval. The last thing platforms want is users pausing to consider the implications of endless scrolling on their mental health, relationships, or civic engagement.

Workplaces follow the same logic. Managers push employees toward meeting quarterly goals, hitting immediate metrics, and achieving visible wins. Rarely are staff invited to consider the broader implications of their work: how a product shapes society, how a business model affects communities, or how relentless growth impacts the planet. When employees do raise such concerns, they are often dismissed as naïve or unrealistic. The culture of short-termism is not accidental; it is a feature of a system that prioritizes appearances over sustainability.

This deliberate avoidance of foresight creates a society where people are trapped in the present, unable to see beyond the next purchase, the next election, or the next news cycle. By keeping implications invisible, power ensures compliance. Citizens remain too focused on the immediate carrot or stick to ask what tomorrow will look like if they continue on the same path. And without foresight, there can be no accountability. Decisions can always be repackaged as isolated mistakes rather than parts of a larger trajectory toward collapse.

Critical thinking, at its highest level, is dangerous because it does not just question facts or assumptions, it forces us to confront the future we are building. And for those who profit from keeping us distracted, insecure, and divided, nothing is more dangerous than a population that can see the implications of today’s choices written clearly on tomorrow’s walls.

Why stupidity is profitable

The full cycle of critical thinking, gathering evidence, challenging assumptions, exploring perspectives, generating alternatives, and mapping implications, should be the foundation of any healthy society. And yet, we see the opposite. At every stage, structures are in place to discourage, distort, or suppress the process. Schools reward memorization over inquiry. Media simplifies instead of contextualizing. Corporations offer false choices dressed up as freedom. Governments emphasize the short term while burying the long-term consequences.

This is not accidental. Stupidity is profitable. Insecurity is profitable. Blind conformity is profitable. A population that cannot think critically is easier to sell to, easier to govern, and easier to manipulate. People who never question assumptions will buy the next gadget without complaint. People who never explore perspectives will cling to political tribes and fight amongst themselves instead of challenging power. People who never consider implications will accept policies that quietly erode their freedoms while believing they are safer.

To practice true critical thinking today is, in many ways, a radical act. It means resisting the currents of distraction, tribalism, and consumerism that dominate modern life. It means asking uncomfortable questions, tolerating uncertainty, and refusing the easy answers that are constantly offered. Most of all, it means realizing that the stupidity around us is not natural, but cultivated, because it serves the interests of those who thrive on control.

The danger of critical thinking is not in the act itself, it is in what it reveals. Once people see clearly, they cannot be easily herded back into obedience. They become unpredictable, harder to manipulate, and capable of imagining futures outside the narrow alternatives offered. That is why society celebrates “thinking” in theory but quietly suffocates it in practice.

The cycle of critical thinking shows us the path. The challenge is whether we have the courage to walk it, even knowing that the world we live in was built to keep us from ever completing the journey.