Evolution (Burning Man time lapses) from Delrious on Vimeo.
Time lapses at Burning Man 2009.Music by Roy Two Thousand.
Evolution (Burning Man time lapses) from Delrious on Vimeo.
Time lapses at Burning Man 2009.Music by Roy Two Thousand.
“If a single child is trapped under rubble, the world stops. If thousands suffer, we call it a crisis—but we move on. Why?”
We don’t like to admit it, but our empathy has limits. We care deeply about our families, our friends, our communities. But beyond that? Beyond our immediate circles, our borders, our cultures?
Something shifts.
A war breaks out in a distant country. A factory collapse kills hundreds. Refugees flee devastation.
And we scroll past.
Not because we’re bad people. Not because we don’t care. But because something inside us—something ancient, something wired into our survival—tells us: That’s not your problem.
This isn’t just about apathy. It’s about how human nature, technology, and politics work together to turn real people into statistics. And if we don’t challenge it, the consequences are dire.
Science has a name for this: psychic numbing—the way our emotions shut down when faced with large-scale suffering.
Paul Slovic, a researcher on human behavior, calls this the collapse of compassion. The larger the tragedy, the harder it is for our brains to compute.
And it’s not just numbers. It’s distance—physical, cultural, emotional.
The further someone is from our world, the harder it is to see them as fully human.
This isn’t an excuse. It’s a warning. Because history shows us what happens when we let this instinct go unchallenged.
We like to believe that atrocities belong to the past. That genocide, war crimes, exploitation—those were the failures of another time.
But here’s the truth: Every mass injustice started with dehumanization.
The moment we stop seeing people as individuals with hopes, fears, and dreams—that’s when anything becomes possible.
And make no mistake: Dehumanization isn’t just something that happens “over there.” It’s happening now. In the way we talk about migrants. Protesters. The poor. The enemy.
This isn’t just about the past. This is about us. Right now.
Have you ever noticed how some tragedies make headlines for weeks—while others disappear in hours?
It’s not random.
Why? Because we prioritize the suffering of people who look like us, live like us, think like us.
The media doesn’t create bias. It reflects it. It feeds us the stories we’re most likely to engage with—the ones that feel closest to home.
And what happens to the rest? The wars, the famines, the crises that don’t fit a convenient narrative? They fade into the background.
The world keeps turning. And people keep suffering, unseen.
If human nature, history, and media all push us toward selective empathy—what do we do about it?
Statistics don’t move people. Stories do.
If you want to care more, seek out the human stories. Don’t let crises become headlines without faces.
Next time you’re scrolling, ask yourself:
Challenge the instinct to only empathize with people who remind you of yourself.
The moment we call people “migrants” instead of families fleeing for their lives, we detach.
The moment we call people “rioters” instead of citizens demanding justice, we lose the story.
Words matter. They shape how we see the world—and who we decide is worth saving.
We can’t control global suffering. But we can control what we engage with.
Empathy is a muscle. Use it.
Every injustice—every war, every genocide, every mass suffering—began with the same excuse:
“That’s not our problem.”
And if we let that thinking take over, if we let ourselves become numb—then we will watch the next crisis unfold in real time, feel bad for a moment, and move on.
But we don’t have to.
We can fight to see people as they are. To challenge the forces that divide us. To break the cycle before it’s too late.
Because the greatest threat to humanity has never been war, or disease, or disaster.
It’s indifference.
And the choice before us everyday is simple: Will we care, or will we look away?
“Empathy is not a nice-to-have. It’s not a soft skill. It’s the one thing separating a society that thrives from one that tears itself apart.”
Think about the last time you truly felt heard. Not just acknowledged. Not just nodded at. But heard—on a level where someone didn’t just understand your words but understood you.
Now ask yourself—how often does that happen?
We live in a world that celebrates logic, efficiency, and data. Numbers drive decisions. Spreadsheets justify actions. Policies are built on economic forecasts, not lived experiences. But here’s the problem: when we ignore empathy, when we forget that real people are at the heart of every decision, we create systems that may function well on paper but fail spectacularly in practice.
Empathy isn’t a weakness. It’s not some feel-good concept that belongs in TED Talks and therapy rooms. It’s the secret ingredient of leadership, the cornerstone of good policy, the difference between a brand people tolerate and a brand people love. And yet, we continue to undervalue it.
Why?
The world rewards decisiveness, strength, and results. It tells leaders: “Make the hard choices. Stick to the data. Don’t let emotions cloud your judgment.” And sure, numbers matter. Efficiency matters. But when they come at the expense of human connection, we create a world where:
This isn’t about being soft. It’s about being smart. Because a world without empathy is a world where people feel disconnected—from their leaders, from their jobs, from each other. And when that happens, trust erodes. Loyalty disappears. Progress stalls.
Let’s be real: we’re seeing the effects of empathy’s decline everywhere.
When empathy disappears, society doesn’t collapse overnight. It just starts to fray—slowly, quietly—until one day, we look around and wonder how we got here.
Now, let’s flip the script.
What do the most respected leaders have in common? What makes certain politicians, CEOs, and cultural icons stand out?
They connect. They listen. They understand not just what people say—but what they mean.
Take @barackobama, for example. Whether you agreed with his politics or not, his ability to connect with people was undeniable. He made people feel seen. He understood that facts alone don’t move people—stories do. Connection does.
Or think about the brands that people love—not just tolerate. The ones that don’t just sell products, but make you feel something Nike. Patagonia. They don’t just talk at you. They get you.
That’s not an accident. That’s empathy.
If we want a world where leadership actually serves people, where businesses actually understand customers, where conversations actually bring us closer instead of pushing us apart, we need to stop treating empathy like a footnote.
Here’s how:
Empathy isn’t optional. It’s not a side note. It’s the foundation of everything that works in society.
Great leaders? Empathy.
Great businesses? Empathy.
Great relationships, great movements, great change? It all starts with one thing: the ability to understand and care about someone who isn’t you.
So let’s stop treating empathy like an afterthought. Let’s stop acting like logic and emotion are enemies. Because if we really want to move forward—not just efficiently, but meaningfully—we need to start putting empathy back where it belongs: at the center of everything we do.
Because progress isn’t just about moving forward. It’s about moving forward together.
On the morning of January 6, 2021, the world watched as a mob stormed the U.S. Capitol. It was a moment of reckoning—chaos unleashed in the heart of the world’s most celebrated democracy.
Some called it a rebellion, others an insurrection. But to an ancient Greek historian named Polybius, it would have been something else entirely: inevitable.
More than 2,000 years ago, Polybius introduced a concept that few remember today, but whose relevance has never been greater: Anakyklosis—the Cycle of Political Evolution. It’s the idea that all governments, no matter how just or noble, are doomed to fall into predictable patterns of corruption, decay, and rebirth. It’s a cycle we have seen time and again, from the fall of Rome to the rise of authoritarian populism in the 21st century.
And if history tells us anything, it’s that the cycle is turning once more in 2025.
Polybius laid out the six stages of government like a tragic script, one that civilizations unknowingly follow, again and again:
Sound familiar? It should. Because right now, the world’s great democracies are teetering on the edge of ochlokratia—mob rule. The signs are all around us in 2025 and maybe earlier than that!
History doesn’t repeat, but it does rhyme. Consider the fall of the Roman Republic:
By the time Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon in 49 BCE, Rome had already crossed a point of no return. Democracy had rotted from within, paving the way for empire.
Now, look around in 2025. The warning signs are eerily similar:
Like Rome before it, modern democracy is not dying from external threats. It is crumbling from within—now at an accelerated pace thanks to technology.
Polybius never could have predicted social media, but if he had, he would have seen it as the ultimate accelerator of political decay.
In 2025, the situation has worsened. AI-driven content manipulation, hyper-personalized propaganda, and algorithm-driven outrage cycles have turned democracy into a battleground of perception over reality. Deepfake videos, voice clones, and AI-generated political figures blur the line between truth and fiction. The digital public square, once seen as a beacon of democratic engagement, has become an ecosystem of rage-fueled disinformation, rewarding extremism over nuance, engagement over truth.
And so we find ourselves in the final stage of democracy—the moment where people, manipulated by demagogues, AI-driven propaganda, and digital algorithms, turn against the very system meant to protect them.
If the ancient Greeks were right, the natural next step is a return to authoritarian rule—a strongman rising from the ashes, promising to “fix” the broken system, but at the cost of freedom.
But history is not destiny. The cycle is a warning, not a prophecy.
Democracies do not fail overnight. They erode, piece by piece, as citizens grow complacent, as leaders exploit fear, as institutions weaken under the weight of corruption. And yet, history has also shown that the fate of a nation is not written in stone—it is written by those who refuse to let history repeat itself.
The solution does not lie in nostalgia for the past, but in rebuilding trust, strengthening institutions, and restoring civic engagement. It lies in resisting the allure of simple answers to complex problems. It lies in demanding accountability from leaders, media, and ourselves.
In 2025, it also means tackling the AI-driven erosion of democracy, ensuring that technology serves the people rather than manipulates them. We must regulate AI in politics, educate citizens on digital literacy, and push for transparent governance in an age where deception has never been easier.
Polybius gave us the diagnosis. The question now is: Will we choose a different ending?
The forces of history are powerful, but they are not absolute.
As Martin Luther King, Jr1., once said, “The arc of the moral universe may bend toward justice, but it does not bend on its own.” We, the people, must be the ones to bend it.
Because democracy is not a given. It is a choice. And that choice is ours to make—before history that always tends to repeat itself makes it for us.
Imagine waking up to a world where no secret is safe. Government strategies, bank accounts, and your personal messages—wide open for anyone to see. That’s the terrifying possibility Google’s Willow quantum chip brings to our doorstep. It’s not just a technological leap; it’s a threat that could upend everything we rely on to keep our digital world secure.
Quantum computing is here, and it’s powerful enough to crack the codes that protect our data. The question is: are we ready for what’s coming?
What Is the Willow Chip, and Why Should You Care?
Quantum computing sounds like something out of science fiction, but it’s very real—and very dangerous in the wrong hands. Traditional computers work in bits, ones and zeroes. Quantum computers, like Google’s Willow chip, use qubits, which can be ones, zeroes, or both at the same time. This makes them exponentially faster.
This isn’t about making your laptop quicker or your phone smarter. This is about processing power so massive that it can break through the encryption that protects everything—our government secrets, financial transactions, and personal data.
Encryption is the backbone of our digital lives. It’s what keeps hackers from stealing your bank information, keeps your emails private, and keeps governments from spying on each other’s secrets. Today, encryption works because even the most advanced computers would take millions of years to crack it.
The Willow chip could do it in hours, maybe in seconds?.
What Happens When Encryption Breaks?
Let’s get real about what this means.
This isn’t paranoia—it’s a logical outcome of what quantum computers like Willow can do if they’re not controlled.
Why This Isn’t a Future Problem—It’s a Now Problem
The scary part is how fast this is moving. The Willow chip is a significant leap forward in quantum computing. It’s not something our current encryption can withstand. And while governments and tech companies are racing to develop “quantum-proof” encryption, they’re not there yet.
The transition to stronger encryption systems is slow. In the meantime, every encrypted piece of data—from your texts to classified government files—could be stored now and cracked later. That means the data you thought was safe today might be stolen and exposed tomorrow.
What Can Be Done?
The good news is that we’re not completely helpless. But action is needed—fast.
The Clock Is Ticking
The Willow chip is a glimpse into a future that’s both thrilling and terrifying. On one hand, quantum computing can revolutionize medicine, climate modeling, and countless other fields. On the other hand, it threatens to destroy the security systems we depend on to keep our world running.
We’ve been here before. The invention of nuclear weapons forced humanity to grapple with the destructive potential of its own brilliance.
Now, we face a similar reckoning with quantum computing. Will we act in time to protect ourselves, or will we wait until it’s too late?
One thing is clear: the world we know today won’t survive unchanged. Whether we come out stronger or more vulnerable depends on what we do right now.
It’s time to wake up—because the future is already here.
By 2040, Elon Musk predicts that robots will outnumber humans. “The pace of innovation is accelerating,” Musk said in a recent interview.
If we keep pushing the boundaries of what machines can do, robots will dominate our workforce and society in ways we can barely imagine.
But here’s the catch: Ι think that this future depends on humanity surviving its own impulses. If we continue to innovate—rather than destroy like we always do with massive-scale wars—this robotic revolution could reshape life as we know it.
Yet the question remains: In a world where robots outnumber humans, who will benefit—and who will be left behind?
Musk’s vision of a robot-dominated society assumes uninterrupted progress, but history suggests another possibility. Wars, economic collapses, and global unrest have derailed human innovation time and again. If humanity avoids large-scale conflict, the rise of robotics could usher in an era of unprecedented productivity.
But what happens if we don’t? A global war in the age of advanced robotics would transform conflict into a technological arms race, with nations weaponizing machines faster than they can regulate them. What was meant to liberate humanity could be turned against it.
The robotic revolution isn’t coming out of thin air. The following companies are already leading the charge, creating the machines that could outnumber us by 2040:
These companies aren’t just building machines—they’re redefining industries.
As robots become cheaper, faster, and more efficient, entire industries will be transformed. Some will thrive, while others will collapse under the weight of automation.
If robots outnumber humans, do we lose our sense of purpose?
For centuries, work has been central to our identity—our routines, our pride, our place in society. If machines take over, what’s left for us to do?
Some argue that automation could free us to focus on creativity, innovation, and connection. Others worry that mass unemployment will lead to widespread unrest, as billions are left without meaningful roles in society.
As Musk warned, automation could destabilize economies if we’re not careful. The question isn’t whether robots will replace us—it’s what happens when they do.
To navigate this future, we need to act now. The robotic age isn’t just a technological challenge—it’s a moral one.
Elon Musk’s prediction isn’t just a vision of technological progress—it’s a test of humanity’s ability to innovate responsibly.
The tools we create have the power to shape the future. But that future is not inevitable—it’s a reflection of the choices we make today.
By 2040, robots may outnumber us, but the question isn’t just what they’ll do—it’s what we’ll become. Will this be a world where machines enhance humanity, or one where they overshadow it?
The robotic revolution is coming. The only question is whether we’ll rise to meet it—or be left behind.
The film records the growth of four types of molds used for food fermentation, namely Rhizopus, Aspergillus niger, Aspergillus oryzae and Penicillium. Captured by time-lapse supermacro photography, the growth of these molds is magical and charming, revealing a mysterious and gorgeous tiny world. From Beauty of Science