… well, at least regarding the headphone’s design. The Headphone (1), as they are called, are both bold and beautiful to look at. Reminiscent of cassette-tapes from the 80s, the Headphone (1) feature a striking, transparent design that is unmistakable Nothing. But… what makes something Nothing?

 

Nothing is a British consumer electronics brand based in London. It was founded in 2020 by Carl Pei, the co-founder of the well-known smartphone manufacturer OnePlus. Nothing’s philosophy is to develop products that combine simplicity, transparency, and distinctive design at an affordable price. And so far in their young company history, it’s widely acknowledged they have been successful with their approach. In a field often called out for its lacking user-feedback integration, Nothing sets out to provide user-first experiences. Whether that be through smartphones, smart-watches or headphones – they stick close to their community’s wishes and listen to feedback.

Amidst the rapid, ever-changing tech-industry, Nothing manages to stay true to its core principles. With the Headphone (1), they challenge their iconic design-language in innovative ways while adhering to their heritage’s inspiration, Teenage Engineering. Handled by some as the design-first tech-company of the 21st century, their timeless, industrial inspired design calls back to the 1980s. Beautiful, functional and intuitive. – Just like Nothing’s products. Teenage Engineering isn’t the only brand that influenced the design of Headphone (1) though. Global Design Director at Nothing, Adam Bates, worked many years as Head of Design at Dyson. The company mainly known for their vacuums gained a lot of recognition for their beautiful and durable industrial design. Adam Bates made it his mission to continue developing appealing, functional products when he joined Nothing in 2022. And appealing and functional products he developed!

Back to the Headphone (1): Of course, design isn’t everything, but even when focusing solely on the features and specs, the company’s first entry into the over-ear headphone market doesn’t disappoint in the slightest. They feature an ambitious sound profile, developed in cooperation with British speaker manufacturer KEF. Even though the quality is by no means perfect, it fits the expectations coming from a 300€ pair of over-ear noise-canceling headphones. And the added bonus of an integrated equalizer in the dedicated app makes for a flawless adjustment of the sound, whenever needed. As a cherry on top, the Headphone (1) feature a broad pallet of quality-of-life features, like intuitive button-controls on the outside, a transparency mode and support for spatial audio.

Considering the style-factor of the headphones, Nothing managed to create a package, worthy of competing with the best of the best in the high-end over-ear headphone market. But really, the main selling point of the Headphone (1) is their design…– We are excited to see what is next for Nothing‘s headphones. The industry needs more innovative companies, that challenge the given and question the status quo. When happening in terms of product-design, even better!

 

 

In an age of accelerating schedules and aesthetic overload, true luxury often reveals itself not in forced extravagance, but in spaciousness that leaves room for choices. Along the glistening curve of Turkey’s southern coast, nestled beside pine forests and the Mediterranean Sea, the Ali Bey Resort Sorgun offers a version of luxury that is less about spectacle and more about alignment—between body and pace, design and ecology, past and present.

 

An organized jungle

 

It is late when I arrive at the reception hall, a big space that mixes tradition with modern design. Here, Turkish hospitality starts at its finest: A golf cart picks me up to drive me to my room, driving down the beautiful tree-framed paths that almost feel like an „organized jungle“ in the darkness. The peaceful pace and energy remains the same in the morning, despite all guest and families that have slowly openend the vacation season that comes with many activities as well.

Built in 2010 by a Turkish family-owned group, the resort unfolds across 120,000 square meters of gardens and wooded terrain. It feels less like a hotel complex and more like a cultivated ecosystem—one where architecture, nature, and time are allowed to breathe. No trees were cut during the construction of the pools; the topography was followed rather than forced. The result is a landscape of quiet elegance: stone pathways between olive trees, curved waterlines that echo natural springs, shaded corners that invite stillness.

 

A dive into rich history

 

Yet to truly understand the emotional depth of this place, one must consider its setting: Side, one of the Mediterranean’s oldest and most storied cities. Founded by Greek settlers around the 7th century BCE, Side became a thriving Roman port and a cultural melting pot of the ancient world. It was here that Antony and Cleopatra once anchored their ships; here that temples rose in devotion to Apollo and Athena, gods of sun and wisdom. Today, the ruins remain: a vast amphitheater carved into the earth, half-buried bathhouses, stone-paved roads leading to colonnades now softened by centuries of wind and salt. A short drive from the resort, the Side Museum offers one of the most quietly powerful historical encounters in the region. Housed in a former Roman bath, the museum displays sarcophagi, reliefs, and statues unearthed in the surrounding area—many left in situ, touched by time rather than removed from it. Here, history is not staged behind glass but embedded in atmosphere. It is not uncommon to stand before a 2,000-year-old lion sculpture and hear nothing but cicadas.

This subtle sense of continuity—between the ancient and the immediate—is what gives the Ali Bey Resort Sorgun its particular rhythm. Built in 2010 it now counts 429 rooms and suits, protecting sufficient privacy in 12 different buildings.

While the resort is fully modern in its offerings—Ultra All-Inclusive, four à-la-carte restaurants, a sprawling Samara Spa—it never feels severed from its surroundings. The Spa  – a signature for the resort group – follows the same vision too: mixing traditions with modern approaches, offering exclusive treatments such as Aromatherapy, Bali and Thai Massages but also a Turkish bath and saunas on four levels and 2000 square meters.

 

The experience of space

 

There is a tangible gentleness in how space is used and offered: quiet zones by the pool, hidden reading nooks and natural materials that echo the terrain. This all exists right next to a whole different reality for those who seek adventure and action: fitness or dance classes or – above – a dedicated place for tennis lovers, no matter if on professional or amateur level.With 91 courts, the Ali Bey Hotels & Resorts group counts to one of the biggest tennis centers in the world, hosting many national and international tournaments. The Sorgun resort alone has 37 courts including three children’s courts providing a dedicated service.

But back to the silence seeker: Remote workers, in particular, such as me who had come with a bag full of work, will find a kind of rare generosity here. With generous Wi-Fi – really everywhere, even at the beach – shaded garden spaces, and an atmosphere that encourages pacing rather than urgency, the resort is surprisingly conducive to creative focus. You can write beneath the trees, take calls between olive branches snacking the best turkish delights and tea, breathing in sea air to then submerge into silence again before taking a sunset yoga and stretching class facing the beach. The contrast is healing. But also the resort’s service speaks of excellence: A recent guest was complaining about not being able to have any wish left, what an overwhelming condition.

Sustainability, too, is more than a buzzword here—it is embedded in both design and operation. Beyond the ecological landscaping, long-term partnerships with local producers, and material longevity, there’s a palpable care for slowness, continuity, and conscious use. Even the gastronomic experience leans into seasonal produce, from Anatolian dishes to teppanyaki served by the sea. But the restaurant really offers something for anyone on a high quality despite it being  All-Inclusive.

Families are welcomed without compromise. Children’s programs are held in nature, not on screens, offering highlights as their famous waterpark. Entertainment takes place under stars, with live music and storytelling instead of artificial spectacle. And always, just beyond the resort, the outlines of ancient Side remain—reminding guests that luxury is not a break from history, but perhaps a quiet conversation with it. Some might here it louder, others might need to listen a little bit longer.

Ali Bey Resort Sorgun is not a minimalist retreat, nor a maximalist stage. It is something rarer: a space of balance—between leisure and purpose, family and solitude, design and nature, past and present. To stay here is not to escape, but to return: to a slower pace, to a grounded rhythm, to a setting where even the silence seems to hold memory.

Much of Future Shock is a lengthy footnote to the 1960s cultural revolution. “There are rich men who playact poverty, computer programmers who turn on with LSD. There are anarchists who, beneath their dirty denim shirts, are outrageous conformists, and conformists who, beneath their button-down collars, are outrageous anarchists. There are married priests and atheist ministers and Jewish Zen Buddhists… There are Playboy Clubs and homosexual movie theaters… amphetamines and tranquilizers… anger, affluence, and oblivion. Much oblivion.” The future is like a weird alien virus infecting the public body, mutating all the cells of human society, rendering alien and dysmorphic the human self as hitherto known.

Placating us, taking seriously their self-appointed job to tell us what all this means, Toffler presents this explosion of the future as a surface symptom of a deep structural change, the transition from one technological age to another. For Toffler, humanity has been defined by three waves: The first wave was agrarian humanity; the second wave was industrial humanity; and the third wave—the future exploding so strangely around us—is superindustrial humanity. Others have called the latter post-Fordist or postindustrial society, an economy no longer based on manufacturing but on services, no longer based on things but on information, a globalized world networked by information technology.

“The inhabitants of the earth are divided not only by race, nation, religion or ideology, but also, in a sense, by their position in time,” Future Shock states. “Examining the present populations of the globe, we find a tiny group who still live, hunting and food-foraging, as men did millennia ago. Others, the vast majority of mankind, depend not on bear-hunting or berry-picking, but on agriculture.” In this view, all wars are effectively wars between different waves. Toffler describes the West as a system in a state of disequilibrium, waiting to settle again into a steady state. Adaptation will be key, informed by understanding.

Toffler is particularly focused on how modern society’s exhausting sense of endless transience affects our sense of self and of social connections. For Toffler, the twentieth century Western world’s explosion of consumer goods is one of the main indices for the third wave’s accelerated rate of change. We ourselves might measure the changing rate of change through the ubiquity of smartphones, the personal computers through which we mediate and zombify ourselves. Only ten years ago, not everyone had one, but now, it seems unimaginable that things were ever any different. The rapid change could not but leave some feeling existentially fraught, daunted by how suddenly our inner lives have been surrendered to surveillance capitalism.

Which brings in Toffler’s most famous concept, the titular future shock. “Future shock,” Toffler writes, is the “shattering stress and disorientation that we induce in individuals by subjecting them to too much change in too short a time.” The neologism is coined by analogy with culture shock, what happens to a Westerner when they fly to a far-flung place and throw themselves into a completely foreign culture, Delhi, say, to head-spinning effect. Psychologist Sven Lundstedt defined culture shock as a “form of personality maladjustment which is a reaction to a temporarily unsuccessful attempt to adjust to new surroundings and people.” Expanding on this, Toffler defines future shock as “what happens when the familiar psychological cues that help an individual to function in society are suddenly withdrawn and replaced by new ones that are strange or incomprehensible.’

For the future-shocked person, “the strange society may itself be changing only very slowly, yet for him it is all new. Signs, sounds and other psychological cues rush past him before he can grasp their meaning. The entire experience takes on a surrealistic air. Every word, every action is shot through with uncertainty. In this setting, fatigue arrives more quickly than usual.” Acceleration, change and adaptation are key concepts assumed by this framework. Through providing an explanation of what’s going on at a deep structural level, Future Shock helps Joe and Jane Middle America adapt and regain stability amidst the typhoon of transformation. “The problem is not, therefore, to suppress change, which cannot be done, but to manage it. If we opt for rapid change in certain sectors of life, we can consciously attempt to build stability zones elsewhere.” And, indeed, to capitalize on it: one of Toffler’s later books is called Revolutionary Wealth: How It Will Be Created and How It Will Change Our Lives.

As I close Future Shock’s covers, my main takeaway is a contrary view. I am not a past person forced to live in an environment of the future; I am a future person forced to live within the environment of the past. I have past shock. The tyranny of the everyday—of conventional national identity, sexuality identity, gender identity, personhood at all in the first place—is completely bewildering. It has shocked me my whole life. I do not want to absorb the future into the everyday and thus to tame it: I want to be drained of all pastness and absorbed into a futurity that can never be contained within any earthly roots.

Techno helps me to do that. Within the club’s darkness—through immersion in flickering lights and out-there sounds and rhythms like insect heartbeats—techno envelops you in silence. Then, techno whispers that yes, what you feel despite it all is real, that history is madness and selfhood a fantasy. If a techno set by, say, Jeff Mills provokes shock in us—shock at its relentless strangeness, through its insane electronic loops—it is a shock we should embrace, recognizing as it does our real self, our future self.

A vibrant and powerful emotion, passion has always proved to be a driving force for transformative movements and activism. Think Greta Thunberg and global climate strikes leading to a commitment to environmental causes that transcend generational boundaries. Or, the 2020 elections in the United States stand as a testament to passionate civic engagement, with increased voter turnout reflecting a commitment to shaping the political landscape for the better.

Emotionally, passion brings forth feelings of excitement, joy and fulfillment. Psychologically, it propels individuals and societies to set and achieve meaningful goals, fostering resilience and personal growth. Behaviorally, passionate individuals actively engage in their chosen pursuits, investing time and effort to make a tangible impact.

In our exploration of passion, it is essential to acknowledge the potential pitfalls that can arise when enthusiasm becomes overwhelming. While passion is generally hailed as a positive force propelling individuals toward their goals, an unbridled and all-consuming fervor can lead to burnout and adverse effects on mental well-being. The dangers lie in the relentless pursuit of perfection, self-imposed pressures, and the disregard for personal boundaries. Interviews with professionals across various fields will shed light on their experiences with burnout, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a healthy balance between passion and self-care. It’s a cautionary tale that highlights the need for individuals to tread carefully along the line between unwavering dedication and the preservation of their mental and physical health.

Yet, amidst the fervor of passion, a not-so-silent undertow of apathy has permeated certain aspects of society. Characterized by a lack of interest and emotional detachment, apathy has manifested in various forms, contributing to a sense of disillusionment.

Apathy’s grip extends beyond personal disinterest; it permeates societal structures, contributing to a lack of engagement and fostering a pervasive sense of disconnect. By delving into the consequences of apathy in various contexts, from civic disengagement to its impact on community dynamics, we aim to uncover the ripple effects that extend far beyond individual experiences. As we navigate the delicate interplay between personal choices and societal implications, a nuanced understanding of the dangers of apathy emerges, urging us to consider the broader impact of our emotional states on the fabric of our communities.

Statistically, a rise in voter apathy in specific regions during recent elections signals a disconnect among individuals who feel disinterested or disillusioned with the political process. The mental health landscape has also seen an increase in feelings of apathy, particularly among younger generations, possibly linked to the multifaceted challenges posed by the global pandemic, sociopolitical uncertainties, and the climate emergency.

Emotionally, apathy leads to numbness or indifference, a void where passion once thrived. Psychologically, it can result from burnout, disillusionment, or a perception of helplessness, impacting mental health and overall life satisfaction. Behaviorally, apathetic individuals may withdraw from social interactions, avoiding responsibilities and displaying a general lack of initiative.

What we watch, read and listen to speaks volumes about how we feel. The passions that resonate within the late millennial and Gen Z often have dominant themes of dystopia, resilience and rebellion. Cinematic narratives and auditory landscapes encapsulate the existential anxieties and aspirational dimensions of an epoch defined by the uncertainties and anxieties of a generation that came into a world facing climate crises, economic challenges, and social unrest.

From post-apocalyptic worlds to narratives exploring the consequences of unchecked power, dystopian themes echo the concerns and fears embedded in our collective consciousness. Hauntology, as theorized by Jacques Derrida and later expanded upon by cultural critics, adds another layer, suggesting that our narratives are haunted by a sense of the future that has eluded us—a future that appears distant and uncertain.

From protagonists defying oppressive systems to stories of social justice warriors, the theme of rebellion aligns with the desire for change and a refusal to accept the status quo. Hauntology, in this context, suggests that these narratives are not just about the present or the past; they are haunted by a future that feels inaccessible, pushing us to question and challenge existing structures in the pursuit of an alternative future.

The phenomenon of countless reboots in entertainment further underscores the hauntological perspective. In an era marked by uncertainty, the recurrence of familiar narratives and characters may be interpreted as an attempt to grapple with the absence of a clear future. Reboots, in their repetition, reflect a cultural yearning for a more familiar and perhaps more certain past— one revisited in the absence of a defined future.

As we immerse ourselves in these cultural narratives, we navigate a landscape haunted by the specter of an uncertain tomorrow. Hauntology provides a framework for understanding the complexities of our cultural choices, suggesting that our entertainment serves as both a reflection of our present concerns and a spectral exploration of a future that seems to elude our grasp. In the darkness of the cinema and the glow of our screens, we confront not only the fears and desires of the present, but also the ghosts of a future yet to unfold.

In his book, Inventing the Future, Nick Srnicek meditates on the notion that advancements in technology, particularly automation and artificial intelligence, have the potential to liberate humanity from the drudgery of work. Giving more time and headspace to focus on enacting change in society.

 “Apathy is a symptom of a society that lacks a clear vision of the future. To combat apathy, we must articulate and work towards a transformative vision that captures the collective imagination.”

Srnicek urges us to confront the root cause of collective disengagement. It is an assertion that resonates deeply in an era marked by uncertainty, where societal currents often flow without a discernible destination. He proposes to break free from the inertia of established norms and envision a future where cultural, political and social institutions no longer perpetuate the malaise of disengagement. The status quo is not a fixed reality, but a malleable construct that demands scrutiny and reconstruction. Apathy is not an inherent trait, but a response to systems that fail to inspire or provide a compelling vision of the future.

Challenging the status quo implies a willingness to question deeply ingrained assumptions about how we organize and govern our societies. It prompts a reconsideration of cultural narratives, political structures, and social norms that may contribute to the prevailing sense of disillusionment.

To heed Srnicek’s call to action, we must embark on a journey of articulation and transformation. The onus lies not only on individuals, but on society as a whole to collectively imagine and articulate a vision of the future that transcends the status quo. In doing so, we confront the disquieting reality that the prevailing structures and systems may not be conducive to fostering a sense of purpose or shared destiny. This realization propels us into uncharted territory, demanding a deliberate and conscientious effort to redefine societal values, aspirations and trajectories.

After years of hoping for real change, many have become disenchanted with politics. It seems more about preserving the status quo than addressing the real issues affecting everyday people. The promise of transformative policies often gives way to a sense of stagnation, leaving citizens feeling unheard and disconnected from the political processes that shape their destinies.

The disillusionment with politics stems from a perceived lack of genuine commitment to addressing real, tangible issues. Instead of witnessing bold initiatives to tackle societal challenges, individuals often observe political maneuvers that prioritize partisan interests or short-term gains. This disillusionment is exacerbated by a growing sense of disconnection between the political elite and the concerns of ordinary citizens.

The prevailing sentiment echoes a desire for authentic representation and meaningful change, a yearning for politics to be a vehicle for societal progress rather than a mechanism for self-preservation. The result is a disheartened electorate, questioning the efficacy and authenticity of political systems that seem detached from the struggles and aspirations of those they are meant to serve.

In the evolving landscapes of work, society and culture, it becomes evident that our emotional responses are intertwined with the uncertainties of our time. While passion propels us towards meaningful goals, we must remember that which our passion is being directed towards and by whom. Dedication to meaningless jobs is only an act of self-preservation when one is frank about the unbelievably dire lack of credible alternatives.

We are the first generation to come into the world in a moment of global omnicrisis. Social, climate, economic — you name it, it’s fucked. The inability to own a home, find a job that one is passionate about coupled with the projection of unattainable lifestyles on social media and increasingly intense political environments across the board. Is it any wonder that the birth rate in the developed world is plummeting?

Though absolutely understandable, apathy poses a risk to societal engagement and well-being. It manifests in various forms, from political disinterest to personal withdrawal, creating a pervasive sense of disconnect that is self-reinforcing and genuinely worrying. The cultural choices we make, from entertainment preferences to the narratives we consume, are not mere reflections of our present, but haunted explorations of a worrying future.

As the writer, activist and holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel famously wrote:

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.”

Passion is existential while apathy is manufactured.