is my artistic alter ego, expressed through AI tools.

Federico’s Kundiman music is found here

By Fritz Kohle

During a recent exam, a student shares a striking observation about her generation. She explains that podcasts are gaining popularity among her peers. Young people increasingly avoid interactive smart screens. They find constant visual stimulation causes significant anxiety. They buy dumphones and listen more often to podcasts which offer a calming alternative to the noise of social media.

This conversation reflects a growing trend I see in my classroom. Many students report feeling drained by their smartphones. This feeling is a documented phenomenon called social media fatigue. Recent empirical data from 2025 confirms a sharp rise in digital burnout.

I remember a life without Wifi and Smartphones

I recall my own youth without the internet. We did not own smartphones then. I remember a life free from constant digital pings. My reality involved direct interaction and quiet moments. Sometimes I wonder how I survived the 70s without a smartphone.

Current students do not know that world. They grew up with screens as an extension of themselves. Now, they are rediscovering reality for the first time because the tsunami of fake news, AI generated content and constant marketing on TikTok, Instagram and Facebook is exhausting them. Instead they are finding joy in real people and real connections. This shift is not just a trend; it is rediscovering reality away from the smartphone.

The Mental Cost of Constant Connection

Peer-reviewed research links constant app usage to a cycle of emotional depletion. My students are part of a global shift away from “Upward Social Comparison.” This psychological process occurs when users compare themselves to idealised versions of others.

In 2025, studies show this behaviour directly lowers self-esteem. It also increases appearance anxiety through “self-objectification.” The brain suffers from this constant stream of curated content.

Research in the Era’s Journal of Medical Research (2025) highlights significant neurobiological changes. Excessive social media use desensitizes the brain’s dopamine reward system. It also reduces serotonin activity. These changes make users more vulnerable to depression and anxiety.

Finding Relief in Podcasts

The visual nature of apps demands constant cognitive processing. This creates what researchers now call “cognitive fatigue” or “brain rot.” A 2025 study shows that heavy scrolling reduces prefrontal impulse control by 35%.

Brainwave patterns change during engagement with emotionally charged content. Alpha waves decline, while Beta and Gamma waves remain high. In contrast, podcasts allow the mind to rest without visual input. My students describe podcasts as a way to engage without performance pressure. They seek content that informs them without overstimulating their senses.

The Harvard Student Who Said No

The term “Appstinence” first emerged within the Harvard Graduate School of Education. It began as a creative response to a growing mental health crisis. In 2022, a student named Gabrielle Nguyen sought a solution for her own digital burnout. She recognised that simple “detoxes” often failed.

The movement quickly transformed from a personal experiment into a structured program. It addresses the systemic nature of app addiction. Unlike many wellness trends, Appstinence focuses on the community. It provides a shared framework for young people to step back from toxic digital environments.

Taking Control: The Five Steps Back

The core of the movement is the “5D Method.” This framework provides a clear, five-step path to digital freedom.

• Decrease: Reduce the frequency of app checks.
• Deactivate: Turn off accounts to break the notification cycle.
• Delete: Remove apps from mobile devices entirely.
• Distance: Create space from digital noise.
• Develop: Build new, healthy habits in the physical world.

Is this a Digital Rebellion?

When I ask Gemnini to scan the internet for chatter on this topic, its telling that the conversation online has moved past the “digital detox” phase. On platforms like Reddit, the tone is now one of active resistance. Users in 2026 are increasingly sharing their “Analog Exit” stories. They talk about “cell-ibacy” and trading smartphones for basic devices.

One viral post on r/getdisciplined captures the mood perfectly. The author writes: “I do not compare my life with fake lives anymore. Time feels slower and more real.” This sentiment is echoed across TikTok and YouTube. Influencers are now showing off “dumbphones” as the ultimate status symbol.

Market researchers note that 73% of Gen Z now report feeling “digitally exhausted.” Many are moving to forums for “unfiltered” human advice. They want to avoid the flood of AI-generated “slop” on public feeds. This online chatter proves my students are not alone. They are part of a global community seeking a way back to the real world.

Is this the End of the Scroll Economy?

The rise of Appstinence signals a major shift in the digital economy. Platforms now face the limits of biological human attention. There are only so many waking hours available for consumption. As engagement peaks, the economy of “mass messaging” is beginning to crumble.

We are seeing a move toward “micro-communities” on private servers. Public feeds are becoming saturated with low-quality AI-generated content. Researchers call this “AI slop.” This flood of synthetic media makes users value authentic human voices even more.

Advertisers are shifting their spend away from traditional social ads. They now prioritise “audio infrastructure” and trust-based creator partnerships. Podcasts provide the depth and intimacy that scrolling lacks. This transition forces platforms to evolve or face a steady decline in relevance.

Back to the Exam

I look at my students during their final assessments. They are not just answering questions about the course material. They are solving the complex puzzle of modern life – by rediscovering a scroll- and click free world away from the smartphone.

The student who prefers podcasts is not an outlier. She represents a generation that values its mental peace. They are moving from a state of constant reaction to one of intentional action. This shift toward Appstinence is a sign of collective resistance against virtual fake AI dominance.

This article utilizes AI for research purposes. The author, Fritz Kohle, remains responsible for its content.

Reading List

Ashraf, M. (2025). Digital burnout and mental health: Evaluating interventions in Gen Z populations. International Journal of Science and Research (IJSR), 14(4), 1231-1237. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/390941544

Choi, J. N. (2025). Upward social comparison toward proactive and reactive knowledge sharing. Journal of Business Research. https://jnchoi.snu.ac.kr/wp-content/uploads/sites/166/2025/01/I78.-2024JOBR-UpwardSC.pdf

Gezginci, E., et al. (2025). Social media addiction and academic engagement: The role of sleep quality and fatigue among university students. Frontiers in Education. https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/education/articles/10.3389/feduc.2025.1614746/full

Nguyen, G. (2025). Appstinence helps others imagine a life without social media. Harvard Graduate School of Education. https://www.gse.harvard.edu/ideas/news/25/04/offline-and-empowered

Saura, J. R., Gelashvili, V., & Martínez-Navalón, J. G. (2025). Demystifying the new dilemma of brain rot in the digital era: A review. Journal of Competitiveness. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC11939997/

Sharma, A. (2025). Effects of excessive social media use on neurotransmitter levels and mental health: A neurobiological meta-analysis. Era’s Journal of Medical Research, 12(1), 56-60. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/392758716

Wang, Y., & Zhang, L. (2025). Relationship between fear of missing out and social media fatigue: A cross-lagged panel design. Journal of Medical Internet Research. https://www.jmir.org/2025/1/e75701

Zhang, R. (2025). The impact of upward social comparison on social media on appearance anxiety: A moderated mediation model. Behavioral Sciences, 15(1), 8. https://doi.org/10.3390/bs15010008

Would you like me to create a “Podcast Starter Pack” for your students featuring calming and educational shows that align with these research findings?

Jim & Jill discuss this article in their podcast here.

To get started some background about me: white male, 60 year old Gen X, married to a Filipina, two Shiba Inus, my son is half Columbian, my dad German, my mother was Dutch, worked and lived for 15 years in London, lived for a a couple of years in Spain, Singapore and the Philippines, worked in Film & TV, now teach in the Netherlands.

Reflecting on this, I can say I have been around a bit. I’d like to think that I am open minded, have a mutual respect for other cultures and the LGBTQ+ community. To me the universal declaration of Human Rights is a huge accomplishment for mankind.

I am also Human, I get things wrong. Maybe confuse a pronoun; instead of “they” I might still use “Him” or “Her”. A minor transgression I am not proud of. I do my best to understand a moral code when it arises, how it evolves and how it should be applied.

Until the other day, after reflecting on how a moral code was applied in a workshop setting. I do not want to give too much away to protect all participant and, if by coincidence one of my workshop peers reads this blog, then please feel free to message me if you want to talk about this. My impression is that the event impacted on all of us.

What happened was that the workshop activity required us to freely associate sentences together with a partner. I came up with “I’ll take off my clothes”. This triggered our coach to call me out on this and rightly so. If anyone is offended by me saying something inappropriate, I’ll be the first to apologise and adjust my behaviour. I acknowledged the feedback, but was surprised about the intensity of it. During sessions like this it is not unusual to have a coach interject and point out something problematic; behaviour is consequently adjusted and we move on. This time though, it felt like feedback was a little disproportional. But then again our coach also told us about a very recent break-up, so I thought like the rest of us, our coach had a bad day.

As we moved through the workshop I became curious. I noticed that another workshop peer associated a raunchy towel fight in the shower. I realised that our coach never got into detail why my comment was inappropriate other than that I had an extra responsibility to keep it clean. Yet the shower moment was acceptable. This got me thinking if this is a conincidence, and sure enough, there was another instance where I was called out for saying something sexist.

This was a surreal moment. There was this part of me that felt confused and guilty: what did I do? What is it that is so offending, yet others, are not called out for saying similar things? And then there was me observing myself in this workshop, curious as to what’s going on, noticing the discomfort that the vague feedback was causing.

I ploughed through the workshop, with an heightened sense of reality, observing and losing all motivation to continue. But I did. On the way home I reflected on what happened. and what I said that was perceived as so offensive; I dug deep, honest, and concluded that at best there was minor transgression which did not warrant this kind of aggressive feedback. Feedback was vague and not specific, and only applied to me; others who made similar comments were not called out at all or even complimented for their sexy association.

I investigated a little more and discovered that there is well-documented phenomenon called ‘weaponised virtue’. In small groups (10–15 people), formal authority is often less powerful than social capital. When a group adopts a moral code specifically designed to prevent sexism, a savvy operator can capture the group by positioning themselves as the “Enforcer of the Code”. Because the group fears “abuse of power,” they will grant immense authority to the person who claims to be protecting them from it.

Moral codes are necessary, without them the world would be a terrible place. In this instance, however, I learned that a weaponised moral code used to gain power is self-destructive. It hollows the group out from within, motivation is lost, and people in the group sense that something is not quite right.

You might think that perhaps the problem really is what I said during the workshop. Perhaps all of a suddenly I turned into a sexist white male, out to discriminate others. I discussed this with my wife, with friends, and as a teacher in an international institution In would like to think that I have the sensitivity needed to avoid sexist and discriminatory behaviour as much as possible. I am still a white male from a privileged background – but thats something I cannot change. Above all though I am Human Being, like everyone else on this planet. I believe we have more in common than separates us. We have mothers, fathers, siblings, family and friends – regardless of where we come from.

And thats why I decided to write this article. Yes, we need moral codes, and yes Sexism is wrong, but absolute application of a moral code and using it to gain power, is equally despicable. When the code that is designed to prevent injustice is causing suffering and more injustice, then we should resist.

This is a complex problem though, because rejecting weaponised virtue when it is directed at you is not easy. In the worst case it could escalate into the Purity Spiral, where members of a group compete to be morally superior that the tiniest transgression, if any, demanding the strongest of penalties.

Journalist Gavin Haynes investigated the Purity Spiral among an online knitting group. The group ultimately disintegrated because members became so toxic in their discussion about inclusivity that the owner of the group almost committed suicide. All he wanted was to be more inclusive towards people of colour, renaming the group to ‘diversnitty’, and in doing so became the target of thousands of people accusing him of being a white supremacist—when in fact he was gay, married, and HIV+. Yet the vast majority of his critics were not people of colour—but white middle-class people who appointed themselves as the Enforcer of the Code.

You might find yourself one day in a situation where you need to determine whether or not you committed a major, a minor, or no moral code offence at all. I created the chart below to help you navigate a potentially complex and challenging moment.

But even if you find clarity for yourself, it may not be possible to confront the Enforcer(s) of the Code; it may not be possible to have a rational discussion. In that case, just consider leaving that group on friendly terms and wish them the best of luck – they will need more than you do.

and why I (usually) do not celebrate it.

Jim & Jill discuss this article in their podcast here.

Of Dutch–German heritage, I grew up with the Dutch tradition of celebrating Sinterklaas (or Santa Claus). My mum would take us to the Dutch expat society in Stuttgart, and when it was my turn, I’d sit on Santa’s lap while Zwarte Piet – or Black Pete – handed me a present.

In 2009 I moved to the Netherlands, and a few years later people of colour began speaking out about the racist nature of Zwarte Piet. It had never been an issue for me – after all, I grew up with this tradition. Yet I couldn’t help but notice how deeply offended people of colour were, so I made a short documentary about Zwarte Piet, which you can find here.

Looking back, it was a no-brainer: Zwarte Piet had to change, or Sinterklaas simply couldn’t be considered inclusive. Friends from Anglo-Saxon backgrounds were often shocked by the tradition. Today, many communities in the Netherlands no longer feature Zwarte Piet. Instead, you’ll find yellow, orange, multi-coloured, or grey Piets – showing how Dutch traditions can evolve to remain inclusive.

Thanksgiving is following a similar trajectory. In 1970, a group of Indigenous people declared the National Day of Mourning on the fourth Thursday of November – the same day as Thanksgiving. Most of my American friends are far less critical of Thanksgiving than they are of Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet.

Nevertheless, it’s an indisputable fact that the traditional Thanksgiving narrative overlooks the Indigenous perspective. For example, the Wampanoag tribe was forced to ally with the Pilgrims after 90% of their population had been wiped out by European diseases. Traditionalists celebrate this alliance as the reason the Pilgrims survived their first brutal winter – the Wampanoag shared food and taught them how to grow local crops.

But the alliance didn’t last. As more settlers arrived, more land was stolen from the Wampanoag, leading to more violence. In 1637, Thanksgiving celebrations included the massacre of over 700 Pequot men, women and children. By 1675 the Wampanoag were brutally subdued: thousands were killed, their chief Metacomet was beheaded, and his wife and children were sold into slavery.

So again – it’s a no-brainer not to celebrate traditional Thanksgiving. I say traditional because this tradition, too, is changing. Some now honour Indigenous sacrifice by serving indigenous foods like squash, beans and offering ‘decolonised’ dishes. Setting aside a spirit plate to honour Native American ancestors is also becoming common practice.

This is why I wrote that I (usually) abstain from celebrating Thanksgiving with my American friends – unless the invitation mentions practices that acknowledge the many Indigenous victims, and in doing so, make Thanksgiving inclusive and genuinely reconciliatory.

Enjoy your thanksgiving wherever you are!

The Crisis of Value and the Empty Credential in the Media Sector and beyond

Jim & Jill discuss this article in their podcast here.

Let’s just be real: that university degree graduate students are grinding for does not have the same value anymore it once had when I went to film school. I’ve been in the industry, and my biggest wins weren’t about the degrees; they were secured by applied expertise—mastering problems on set and managing global film productions.

Across the EU, the economic shield of a degree is failing. The employment gap protecting graduates is tragically blurring across Europe. This massive erosion of value is fueled by two threats. One is overwhelming credential inflation:

“Credential inflation is largely supply driven, not demand driven; i.e. it is driven by the expansion of schooling, like a government printing more paper money; not from demand of the economy for an increasingly educated labor force.” (Collins, 2011)

This is worsened by a shrinking student pipeline due to the demographic drop:

“The massive erosion of value is the result of overwhelming credential inflation and a shrinking student pool due to the demographic drop.” (McKinsey, 2020)

External pressures also meet internal failures: the depersonalisation of teaching. If universities don’t fix this now, they are canceling their own future:

The Great Squeeze—Why Your Degree Is Just a Prerequisite

The data doesn’t lie, but it’s easy to misread. A degree still retains value as a core labor market prerequisite, but its historical power is collapsing. The employment rate for young EU graduates is barely higher than for those with vocational training. According to Eurostats “the EU employment rate for recent graduates aged 20-34 in the EU was 82.3%. The employment rate of recent graduates from medium vocational education in the EU was 80.0% in 2024.” – a difference of a mere 2.3% percentage points.

This tiny margin is quickly destroyed by the sheer price and effort required to get that degree. This is the crisis of credential inflation at its core. Employers demand degrees for roles that never needed them before, simply because they can. This forces graduates into a low-value “bumping down” situation: you pay tuition fees and still get pushed into generic roles that use few of your specialized skills.

Sociologists Tomlinson and Watermeyer observe: “As the credentials inflate within society their original value, and exclusionary effect, consequently declines… [consequently] the pressure escalates to achieve more and better credentials to signal the demands of increasingly discriminate labour market gate-keepers” (Tomlinson & Watermeyer, 2022).

The economic result is that the university is selling a costly prerequisite rather than a valued degree.

The Betrayal of the Expert and the AI Question

The biggest failure happens inside the university. The low market value of a degree is a direct result of the devalued expertise within the classroom.

The Administrator Trap

The popular “administrator” model is sold as student-centered and flexible, but its function is often cheap efficiency. The veteran academic and former professional working in the relevant industry sector—the one with decades of specialized, real-world experience—is reduced to an “administrator” managing rubrics and group chat participation.

Lampert et al found that teachers are “increasingly overworked ‘all-rounders’ and front-line workers, having to be everything from social workers, proxy parents to administrators and managers”. This managerial workload directly conflicts with the expert’s professional identity. Team based working models can be “perceived not only as counter-cultural, but also challenging in the way it can confront established academics’ self-understandings … Characterised by ‘loss of expertise”.

Massification, Managerial Models and loss of Expertise

Massification is the structural move toward larger student bodies which created a total logistical crisis for universities. This is where models like Team-Based Working (TBW) come in. TBW is not implemented for groundbreaking teaching; it is a managerial hack used to cope with student volume and budget cuts. Just as hot-desking depersonalises the workplace, creating the feeling that a teacher is merely an asset, just like a piece of office furniture. The consequences of this philosophy, if it even qualifies for one, are severe:

“In general, massification has led to broad concerns about the dilution of knowledge creation and the quality and type of knowledge being produced” (Hornsby & Osman, 2014).

TBW is the administrative mechanism that enacts this dilution, forcing experts into managerial roles just to process the sheer number of students quickly and efficiently.

Why Pay When Gemini Has the Notes?

This leads to the non-negotiable question: If the teacher is just organising information, why should anyone pay for a degree when on-the-job training, Gemini or ChatGPT can do that task better and faster? I used Gemini to research and help me spell-check this article – AI has become my personal assistant. AI will undoubtedly become the superior content administrator:

“AI-driven virtual assistants and chatbots will handle routine tasks, such as scheduling meetings, answering frequently asked questions, and transcribing conversations… Businesses that want to attract and retain Gen Z talent need to offer flexible, tech-savvy communication tools that align with their preferences.” (Mollick, 2024, as cited in nuacom, 2023)

Why bother going to a school run by administrators and AI? I argue that it will be precisely the human, the personal relation between student and expert mentor, that makes it attractive for a student to come to school. Not some automated, AI controlled, depersonalised work- and study place.

The only way a university can justify its price is to deliver something AI cannot: deep, specialized expertise and genuine human connection. Without the human expert, the degree becomes an obsolete service.

The Fight for Personal Value

We see the structural reality: the demographic drop across the EU is forcing universities to fight for every student. TBW is deployed to gain efficiency, turning teachers into administrators, AI and on-the-job training further lower student intake. This intense competition often pressures educationalists and teachers to lower standards in favour of generic, “marketable” programs. This race to the bottom must stop. The future of higher education lies in a dramatic re-personalization of the learning experience. This means committing to the expert mentor.

Restoring the Master Coach

The teacher must transition from a low-value “administrator” to the high-value Master Coach. This is about actively mentoring students through complex, non-routine challenges. The Master Coach is the one who uses decades of experience to design assignments, forcing students to truly “Make A Difference” (MAD), grounding their soft skills in in-depth expertise. The student is paying for the experts knowledge and wisdom, as well as the ethical context of the profession explored in this relationship. People crave to be taught by those who have achieved mastery. They don’t want to be taught by an AI or glorified adminstrator.

The Undeniable Human Value

The only way to create true, sustainable value is through genuine, relational re-personalization. This is because learning is fundamentally a human exchange, not a transaction. As educational researchers note: “The relation between mentor and mentee is personal. The learning that we focus on in relation to mentorship takes place in social interaction between mentee and mentor” (Taylor & Francis Online, 2017).

Universities need to change course and restore the Expert Mentor—the Master Coach—to student centred learning. By embracing this model, universities can:

• Future-proof the degree, ensuring it remains an investment in competence, not just a costly entry pass.
• Justify their price by delivering unique, non-scalable wisdom.
• Rebuild authentic trust with students who crave genuine connection and experiences.

Conclusion: The Call to Courage

The choice facing higher education is clear: continue the de-personalized model and become obsolete, or embrace the relational commitment that justifies the cost of the degree. The economic pressures are high, but the ultimate value of education has always been the human exchange between the expert and the novice. We must demand an education that prepares us not just for the job queue, but for a career defined by mastery, integrity, and passion. TBW, the “adminstrator” teaching model have proven ineffective to make that change.

“A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.” — Henry Adams

References

Academic and Data Sources

1. Adams, H. (n.d.). (Source for the inspirational quote “A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.”)
2. Collins, R. (2011). Credential Inflation and the Future of Universities. Italian Journal of Sociology of Education, 3(2), 11–28.
3. Eurostat. (2024). Employment rates of recent graduates. European Commission.
4. Hornsby, A. C., & Osman, R. (2014). Massification and Changes in Higher Education: A Critical Review of the Literature. Higher Education Journal, 67(5), 551–562.
5. Lampert, J., McPherson, A., & Casanueva Baptista, A. (2025). Not the job I imagined: teachers’ expectations of their work in the context of teaching shortages. Teachers and Teaching, 1–17. https://doi.org/10.1080/13540602.2025.2502953
6. McKinsey & Company. (2020). Higher education enrollment: Inevitable decline or online opportunity? (Analysis of demographic trends, including the decline in high school graduates, affecting university enrollment.)
7. Mollick, E. (2024). Co-intelligence: Living and Working with AI. Portfolio/Penguin. (As cited in nuacom, 2023).
8. Taylor & Francis Online. (2017). Full article: Mentorship – a pedagogical method for integration of theory and practice in higher education. Taylor & Francis Online.
9. Tomlinson, M., & Watermeyer, R. (2022). When masses meet markets: Credentialism and commodification in twenty-first century Higher Education. Higher Education, 83(1), 1–17.

In the Shadow of Distant Guns

The War Diary of Anna Müller – Stuttgart, Germany, 2026–2034

European Memory Archive – Archivist’s Note

This diary was donated to the European Memory Archive in the spring of 2045 by the family of Anna Müller (b. 1986, Stuttgart; d. 2044, Ulm). It spans the civilian experience of the Pacific War Crisis (2026–2033) from a front desk at a neighborhood GP practice and a kitchen table in Stuttgart. We preserve spelling and tone; minor redactions remove patient names where legally required.

Anna’s diary reflects the experiences of many German and European citizen during a time when major power blocs fought for dominance to establish a new world order. A fighting war was avoided inside what was then the European Union. Nevertheless, the suffering caused by this global power shift was enormous, resulting in many lives lost in Europe and worldwide.

This record serves as a reminder of the suffering that took place in Europe during what came to be known as the Pacific War Crisis.
— Librarian M.K., 2046

Anna Müller some time in 2030 at her front desk in the Stuttgart GP clinic

2026 — Shock

Mon, 9 Mar
Petrol jumps to €2.80. At the practice, Dr. Keller says two patients cancel because they can’t afford the drive. I log the calls and pretend not to notice his jaw clench. Fighter jets pass low at night. Clara covers her ears and asks if bombs are coming. I say no, but my mouth is dry.

Thu, 12 Mar
Markus tries to send money to his sister, Lena. Banking app freezes. He stares at the phone a long time. I put tea in front of him. He doesn’t drink it.

Tue, 24 Mar
News says a U.S. base on Guam is hit. (Note archivist: Guam was a US territory island in the pacific) Convoys roll past the practice. Children on the pavement point and cheer. I feel sick. At lunchtime, our insulin delivery is late. I write down the names of people we need to call back and hope the courier shows.

Sun, 29 Mar
I go through the pantry and count tins. It feels silly and also not silly at all.

Tue, 31 Mar
Three-hour blackout. Phones dead. We register arrivals on paper. Most people are patient. One man shouts about “useless doctors” and storms out. I shake for twenty minutes after he leaves. In the evening news they report that China is at war with Taiwan and all shipping in the area has stopped.

Fri, 10 Apr
Leaflet through the door: “Be Prepared — 10 Days of Supplies.” Markus pins it on the fridge, makes a joke, then stops halfway through the sentence.

Wed, 22 Apr
School asks kids to bring extra snacks “in case of shortages.” Clara is proud of her crackers. I cry later in the car where she can’t see me. Dr. Keller tells me that the casualties in Taiwan are getting him depressed. Many civilians have died.

Mon, 27 Apr
Potatoes are limited to two bags. A woman screams at the cashier and then bursts into tears. No one knows what to do. The US is getting involved in the Taiwan conflict.

Wed, 6 May
Cyberattack on a big bank. ATMs freeze. At the practice our card terminal dies for an hour and a half. A waiting room full of tired faces watches me try to reboot a little grey box that decides everything.

Fri, 22 May
Energy bill doubles. We wear coats at dinner. Clara calls it “camping.” I laugh with her and then cry in the bathroom. The German government is drafting reserve soldiers up to the age of 55 because there are not enough younger recruits.

Tue, 2 Jun
New leaflet: “Civil Defence Shelters to be Maintained.” At work, Frau Becker at the pharmacy shrugs: “We did stockrooms in COVID. We can do it again.” I like her voice. It sounds practical.

Wed, 24 Jun
Ambulance is twenty-three minutes for a suspected stroke. I count the minutes on the desk calendar. The patient’s wife keeps asking me if help is really coming. I say yes, over and over.

Fri, 17 Jul
Bread rationed today. In the queue an older woman faints. For a second everyone freezes; then two people move at once. I feel ashamed I wasn’t one of them.

Sat, 22 Aug
Another shelter notice in the mail. I don’t show Clara. I am tired of bad news.

Wed, 14 Oct
Practice phone lines keep glitching. We miss two calls from the emergency service. I call them back and apologize. I am so tired my voice sounds like someone else’s.

Wed, 16 Dec
No inhalers at the pharmacy; delivery “stuck.” A boy with asthma wheezes in the waiting room. We find one device in the cupboard and give it to his mother. She hugs me like I did something special. I only unlocked a door.

Wed, 30 Dec
We eat by candlelight again. Markus pretends it’s fun for Clara. When she sleeps, he says, “How long?” I say, “I don’t know.”

2027 — Settling into Hard

Sun, 7 Feb
Blackout during morning clinic. We handwrite blood-test forms. Patients are calmer than last year. Everyone learns the drill.

Mon, 15 Mar
At work, an older man says, “I lived through oil shocks. This is different.” He doesn’t explain. He doesn’t need to.

Thu, 8 Apr
School cancels a field trip “until supply issues ease.” Clara rips up the letter. Markus scolds her. I scold him for scolding her. We’re all frayed.

Tue, 4 May
More cars queue at dawn for petrol. Jens cycles in. He locks his bike inside the practice hallway and says, “This is my security policy.” Then terrible news: an atomic bomb exploded in Tel-Aviv killing hundreds of thousands of people.

Sat, 19 Jun
Peace march. Dr. Keller goes for an hour. The on-call doctor covers him. We are short of antibiotics for children. A mum asks me how to split adult tablets. I say she must check with the doctor and she nods, embarrassed. I hate that she has to ask. The war in Israel escalates.

Mon, 5 Jul
Mercedes cuts more shifts. Peter next door is furloughed. His wife cries in the stairwell. We take Clara over with a drawing and a chocolate bar. It feels small and also exactly right.

Tue, 10 Aug
A patient dies at home overnight, not in our care. Family can’t reach the coroner for hours because phone networks are patchy. They stand at our desk, pale and quiet. I call every number I have. Someone picks up at 10:41. I write the time down but don’t really know why because no one will check on this.

Wed, 29 Sep
Card terminal fails again. A man gets angry I won’t take cash for a video consultation the doctor already did. I dislike that sentence even as I say it. Another atomic bomb exploded in Iran. Retaliation by Israel. Taiwan surrenders but now there is a fight over the Philippines. Europe and Australia are helping with food and arms.

Fri, 19 Nov
Cold snap, energy rationing. We move the waiting room seats into the sunnier corner by the window. People thank me as if I gave them something more than a chair. The war in the Middle East es getting worse. There is fighting in Egypt. The Suez canal is closed.

Thu, 23 Dec
We wrap gifts with newspaper. Clara draws stars by hand. I like hers better than shop paper. Despite everything Clara looks happy. She hugged me today and told me she loves me and I started crying again.

2028 — Politics and Thin Shelves

Mon, 10 Jan
Talk about a new party promising “neutrality” and “cheap energy.” Posters look shiny and tired at the same time. The party is called “New Europe”. So far their ideas sound like the same old nonsense.

Wed, 2 Feb
Practice memo: “Use antibiotics only with clear indication.” We already do. It still reads like an accusation. The shortages are getting worse because of closed shipping routes near Taiwan and Egypt.

Fri, 11 Mar
Ambulance is thirty-one minutes for chest pain. Dr. Keller stays on the phone with the family the whole time. I feel proud of him and angry that he has to.

Tue, 3 May
Elections coming. Neighbours argue on the landing and then apologize to each other. We all say, “Long day,” and laugh too loudly. The neighbour shares a bottle of wine with us.

Sun, 12 Jun
Blackout overnight. Clara sits on the balcony and counts stars. She asks if the sky is different now. I tell her the sky is the same.

Thu, 7 Jul
Gas bill triples. We turn off hot water most days. Hair-wash night is an event. Clara says, “I don’t want any more events.” The US and China are now fighting directly in the Pacific. Nato article 5 is activated and Michael, our neighbours son is drafted into the Navy.

Mon, 15 Aug
Peter leaves for Hamburg—work in the shipyards. We hug goodbye in the car park. He jokes about learning the wind again. His wife doesn’t joke.

Fri, 23 Sep
Pharmacies coordinate between themselves and our practice about insulin pens; a little phone tree springs up. It’s clumsy, but by evening everyone on our list has something. I walk home light for once.

Sat, 24 Dec
Dad gets stopped at the Polish border and misses Christmas. Clara tries not to cry. She fails. I fail too. We can’t call him. Phones and internet are down for the whole week because of some cyber attack.

2029 — Frayed and Stubborn

Tue, 10 Jan
School drops two days a month to save heating. Clara spends those days at the practice with headphones and a workbook. Patients smile at her. One leaves a chocolate on my desk “for the assistant.” I put it in a drawer for emergency morale.

Sun, 5 Mar
Protests in Berlin turn violent. Many are arrested. We watch on TV. Markus and I don’t talk during the footage. After, he washes dishes for a long time. Chancellor Merz pushes the 50 hour week through parliament. Dr. Keller is laughing when he hears that: “I already do at least 60 hours week!”

Thu, 13 Apr
We run out of rapid strep tests. We go back to symptoms and judgment. Dr. Keller stands in reception and says, “We can do safe medicine with fewer toys.” He means it. I still miss the toys.

Sat, 8 Jul
Clara turns nine. No flour for cake. I bake rye bread with honey. She smiles and then later whispers, “I miss birthdays with noise.” I say I do too.

Mon, 18 Sep
Letter from Peter. Ship work is heavy and endless. He says he sleeps like a stone. He says Hamburg rain is good for thinking. I read the letter twice and keep it.

Sat, 31 Dec
Fireworks banned again. I don’t mind the quiet; I do mind what it means.

2030 — The Long Year

Mon, 17 Feb
Sabine moves to Switzerland. We stand in the practice doorway, hug one last time and wave as she drives off. I think about the first coffee we had when she started. I think about the last. Later that week Switzerland closes the border with the EU.

Wed, 7 May
A new mother sits at my desk and cries because we don’t have her usual formula brand. Dr. Keller walks to the pharmacy himself and comes back with an alternative. Baby is fine. Mum hugs both of us. We get a letter from the school: this year the summer holidays are not six but ten weeks long. Not enough teachers.

Fri, 11 Jul
Clinic runs on half power for the whole afternoon. It’s bearable until it’s not. People start snapping at each other and then apologizing immediately. We’re becoming experts at apologies. I saw a man die in the street. He just dropped dead, heart attack. A woman dropped her shopping back, then pumped the mans chest and gave mouth to mouth. It took the ambulance over an hour to arrive. I looked after the woman’s daughter, who was watching all this in silence.

Tue, 9 Nov
Christmas market cancelled “to save energy.” Clara says, “What’s the point of December then?” I have no quick line for that.

2031 — First Small Turns

Thu, 17 Feb
TV says talks in Geneva open. I want to be hopeful and also not humiliate myself by being hopeful. I make soup and say nothing. There is a ceasefire in the Pacific. The Philippines are safe. Taiwan was hit bad, sp much destruction, so many dead. Taiwan is now part of China proper.

Tue, 3 May
Shelves look better. Coffee beans appear at three times the old price. I buy a small bag and use it like medicine—one spoon at a time. Israel agrees to a Palestinian state but refuses political claims on Gaza. Thats better than nothing.

Sun, 12 Jun
Ambulance comes after 93 minutes for an elderly fall. I write the time in the diary because it feels like a miracle. The government says that this year more than 2 million people in Europe have died because health services cannot deal with the crisis. Its the worst in the Balkans.

Fri, 23 Sep
Bananas show up. A welcome change. I have not seen Banana in moths. Tiny and expensive. I buy one. Clara eats it slowly, to make it last as long as possible.

Mon, 21 Nov
Pharmacy calls to say insulin deliveries are back on a schedule “most weeks.” I sit down because my knees go soft.

2032 — Talks That Actually Move

Sat, 9 Apr
News says Geneva sessions resume. Delegates look wrecked on screen. I don’t care what they look like if they keep talking. The ceasefire between the US and China is holding. Good. We have enough floods and storms and just don’t need more war.

Mon, 1 Aug
Mercedes adds shifts. Peter writes that he’s coming back. His wife sends a photo of packed boxes and a smiling child missing two front teeth. I cry at my desk and tell patients I have hay fever.

Tue, 30 Aug
Practice staff meeting: we keep the blackout kits, but we start removing the extra chairs from storage. Small optimism: it fits on one trolley.

Tue, 30 Nov
“Framework Peace Agreement signed”. I read the alert twice, then out loud. People in the waiting room clap. A woman wipes her eyes with a sleeve and says, “Good.” Just that—“Good.”

Fri, 9 Dec
We get a normal medicine order. I take a photo of stacked boxes. I almost post it and then decide to keep it for myself.

2033 — The Thaw Feels Real

Sun, 19 Mar
Coffee beans return properly. Markus makes a pot. The smell fills the flat. We don’t speak for a minute; we just breathe.

Tue, 4 Apr
Border checks ease. Dad arrives from Ulm without a delay and brings fresh bread rolls. Clara says the rolls taste “like before.” I agree.

Wed, 5 Jul
Government ends ration credits. People cheer in Königstraße. Someone starts singing badly; others join anyway. It sounds like relief more than music.

Mon, 25 Sep
We retire our paper appointment book except for backup. I put it in a drawer and pat it like a pet. The internet is back, the phones work normally, not the daily interruptions.

Sun, 31 Dec
Fireworks legal again. We stand on the balcony together and watch color climb the sky. I don’t flinch at the bangs. Only the dogs are not happy about it.

2034 — After

Wed, 12 Jan
Borders open fully. I drive to Strasbourg for the day and buy nothing. I just walk.

Fri, 1 Mar
Supermarket looks normal. Prices are still high but not ridiculous. I stand in front of the bananas and take one without thinking. Later I go back and put another in the basket on purpose.

Tue, 23 Apr
At work we remove the “Due to Supply Issues” sign from the reception window. I fold it small and keep it in the drawer with the paper book.

Thu, 10 Oct
Practice audit says response times are stable, ambulance times within targets. I make a pot of coffee for the team and we drink it at the counter, leaning on our elbows, not in a rush.

Tue, 31 Dec
New Year’s Eve. Clara shouts from the balcony, “Happy New Life!” Markus laughs for real. I do too.

January 2035

The practice runs like a practice again. The pharmacy has stock most days. The buses come when the timetable says they will. We still keep candles in a drawer. We still keep a box of snacks in case a child waits too long.

Clara asks why I kept writing when nothing special happens. I tell her this is the special part: getting back to boring things and knowing they are precious. I tell her she can stop being brave now. She says she doesn’t know how. I say we can learn together.

I make coffee. It smells normal. I stand at the window and watch the street, the small business of an ordinary morning, and I let myself believe it stays.

Advisory Note: This document was generated by ChatGPT in response to a series of user prompts and curated sources. It is intended solely for exploratory and informational purposes and is not designed to meet academic standards for peer-reviewed publication. The findings and interpretations herein should not be considered definitive without further scholarly validation. A podcast version on this topic is available here.

Illusory Permanence

In a quiet monastery high in the Himalayas, a Buddhist monk contemplates the illusion of permanence. Meanwhile, in a state-of-the-art physics lab, scientists fire particles at each other in hopes of uncovering the secrets of the quantum world. At first glance, these two domains—spiritual introspection and empirical science—seem worlds apart. But increasingly, voices from both sides suggest they may be converging on the same startling truth: reality, as we think we know it, doesn’t hold up under close examination.

This investigation explores the deepening dialogue between Buddhist philosophy and quantum physics, two powerful traditions that, in their own ways, dismantle our assumptions about what is real. The comparison is not only intellectually provocative—it may offer us practical tools for living more wisely in a volatile world.

The Secret of the Universe: Emptiness

In Buddhist teachings, the concept of Shunyata, or emptiness, is not a nihilistic void. It’s a direct challenge to the idea that anything—objects, thoughts, even the self—has a fixed, independent essence. Emptiness reveals that all things arise in dependence on conditions; nothing exists on its own.

This view isn’t abstract theory—it’s a practice. Through meditation, practitioners observe the moment-to-moment arising and fading of perceptions, sensations, and thoughts. They come to see that even the “self” is not a static entity but a composite of interdependent processes, often referred to as the five aggregates.

“The secret of the universe,” says Tibetan master Mingyur Rinpoche, “is emptiness.” Not a vacuum, but a kind of dynamic openness. And paradoxically, this understanding leads not to despair, but to freedom: freedom from attachment, from suffering, and from the illusion of separation.

The Buddha used metaphors—a dream, a mirage, a bubble—to describe this fleeting nature of appearances. The insight isn’t just philosophical; it’s existential. If nothing has an unchanging core, then our clinging, our aversion, our fear—they all rest on shaky ground.

Two Realities: The Seen and the Unseen

Buddhist philosophy distinguishes between two modes of perceiving reality: conventional and ultimate.

• Conventional reality is the world we navigate daily. It’s the solid-seeming world of tables, trees, and tax forms. Science, especially classical physics, operates in this realm, where things obey cause and effect and are objectively measurable.
• Ultimate reality, on the other hand, points to what lies beneath those appearances: a world without fixed essence, shaped not by isolated objects but by interdependent relationships. This is the domain of emptiness and liberation, and it defies purely intellectual understanding. It must be realized directly, through insight.

These categories bear a striking resemblance to the split in modern physics between Newtonian mechanics and the baffling, probabilistic world of quantum theory.

The Quantum Connection: When Science Echoes the Sutras

Over the last century, quantum physics has turned our understanding of the universe upside down. And curiously, many of its strangest findings mirror what Buddhist thinkers have been saying for millennia.

Here are some key points of convergence:

• Interdependence and Entanglement: In Buddhism, all phenomena arise in dependence on others. In physics, quantum entanglement reveals that two particles, no matter how far apart, can remain intimately connected. A change in one affects the other instantly, suggesting the universe is far more interconnected than classical physics imagined.
• Impermanence and Event-Based Reality: Buddhism emphasizes anicca—the impermanence of all things. Quantum theory similarly suggests that particles don’t exist in fixed states. Schrödinger proposed that particles might be better understood not as things, but as events.
• Emptiness and Indeterminacy: At the subatomic level, particles don’t have definite properties until they’re observed. This is the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. Matter itself, it seems, lacks intrinsic existence—just as Buddhist teachings on emptiness have long claimed.
• Observer as Co-Creator: In quantum mechanics, the act of observation collapses a wave of possibilities into a single reality. In Buddhist psychology, the mind constructs reality through perception. Both suggest that what we see is not merely received—it’s shaped by the observer.
• Form and Formlessness: “Form is emptiness; emptiness is form,” says the Heart Sutra. Quantum field theory describes particles arising from a fluctuating field of potentiality. These aren’t poetic similarities—they suggest two lenses focused on the same mystery.

Physicists such as David Bohm, Carlo Rovelli, and Trịnh Xuân Thuận have all engaged with these parallels, with some proposing that Buddhist frameworks—particularly Madhyamaka philosophy—could help make sense of the strange, relational nature of quantum mechanics.

Beyond the Surface: What’s at Stake?

Let’s be clear: Buddhism is not a substitute for science, nor is quantum physics a spiritual doctrine. One is a path to inner liberation; the other, a toolkit for explaining the physical universe. But when these frameworks are brought into dialogue, they raise profound questions.

What is the nature of reality?
Can we trust our perceptions?
Where does consciousness fit in the picture?

Both traditions urge us to question appearances, to dig deeper. And both conclude that what we take to be solid, permanent, and separate is, in fact, fluid, contingent, and deeply interconnected.

Lessons for a Fractured World

So what can we learn from this convergence? Here are five takeaways that aren’t just philosophical—they’re actionable:

1. Question What You Assume
   Both Buddhism and quantum physics challenge us to let go of rigid thinking. The world is not as it appears. This humility is the beginning of wisdom.
2. Recognize Interconnectedness
   Whether through dependent origination or entanglement, both systems show that everything affects everything else. This has ethical implications: how we treat others—humans, animals, the planet—comes back to us.
3. The Observer Matters
   We’re not passive spectators. In both traditions, the mind plays an active role in shaping experience. Practicing awareness makes that influence conscious—and powerful.
4. Embrace Uncertainty
   We live in an unpredictable, unstable world. Both traditions suggest that trying to control it is futile—and a source of suffering. Accepting uncertainty fosters resilience and freedom.
5. Balance Outer Science with Inner Science
   Modern life is rich in information but poor in wisdom. While science gives us external power, contemplative traditions offer insight into how we use that power. The integration of both may be key to surviving—and thriving—in the 21st century.

Conclusion: A Reality Beyond Borders

In the end, what emerges from this investigation is not a unified theory of everything, but a shared direction: toward a deeper, more relational, and less ego-driven understanding of the world. The Buddha and the quantum physicist, it seems, may both be pointing at the same moon—just from different mountains.

What would happen if we truly lived from this understanding?

That, perhaps, is the next frontier.

Further reading:

Dialogue with the Dalai Lama on Quantum Physics: Professor Yueh-Nan Chen’s Trip to India

https://qfort.ncku.edu.tw/news/18

Quantum Buddhism : Dancing in Emptiness – Reality Revealed at the Interface of Quantum Physics and Buddhist Philosophy

The Quantum and the Lotus

A Journey to the Frontiers Where Science and Buddhism Mee
By Matthieu Ricard and Trinh Xuan Thuan

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/153642/the-quantum-and-the-lotus-by-matthieu-ricard-and-trinh-xuan-thuan

NOTE TO READERS: This article is a journalistic investigation compiled using publicly available historical, archaeological, and cultural sources. It was generated by ChatGPT at the user’s request and is not intended for academic publication. While it draws on verifiable materials, it serves primarily to explore and spotlight overlooked historical narratives. An AI podcast exploration using Google Notebook is available here. (Fritz Kohle, May 2025)

The Golden Tara

In 1917, a Manobo woman stumbled upon a buried treasure along the Wawa River in Agusan del Sur. What she unearthed would eventually travel across the world to the Field Museum in Chicago: a 21-karat gold statue of a female Buddhist deity, believed to be Tara—a symbol of compassion in Vajrayāna Buddhism. The artifact, now known as the “Golden Tara,” weighs nearly four pounds and dates back to the 9th or 10th century. It’s not just a glimmering relic of the past—it’s a clue. A powerful one.

What was a finely crafted Buddhist icon doing in the southern Philippines centuries before the Spanish ever set foot in the islands? And was it alone?

This article investigates a forgotten thread in Philippine history: the influence of Buddhism before colonial contact. The Philippines, often portrayed as a blank slate prior to Magellan’s arrival in 1521, was in fact entangled in the vast trade and cultural networks of maritime Southeast Asia—networks that carried not only spices and ceramics but also gods, scripts, and philosophies.

(Golden Tara, Natural History Museum, Chicago)

Gold, Gods, and the Ghosts of Śrīvijaya

The Golden Tara is not an isolated anomaly. Scattered across the archipelago—from Luzon to Palawan, from Cebu to Mindanao—are fragments of a Buddhist past. Clay medallions, bronze Bodhisattvas, and even kinnari-shaped ritual vessels have turned up in archaeological digs and accidental finds. One such kinnari, a mythical half-bird, half-woman creature from Buddhist lore, was discovered in Surigao in 1981, likely used in temple offerings or processions.

In Luzon, a clay relief of Avalokiteśvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion, was unearthed in Calatagan, Batangas. Meanwhile, in Palawan, a golden Garuda—vehicle of Vishnu in Hinduism but also revered in Buddhist cosmology—was kept as an heirloom by locals. And in Mindoro, Chinese traders once noted the presence of copper Buddha statues hidden in forests, their origins lost even to the people who kept them.

Historians believe these artifacts didn’t arrive haphazardly. Instead, they point to regular contact with the great Buddhist kingdom of Śrīvijaya, based in Sumatra, which dominated trade and culture across maritime Southeast Asia between the 7th and 13th centuries. Through these sea lanes, Buddhist imagery and ideas likely reached the Philippine shores, adapting to local spiritual landscapes rather than replacing them.

A Culture of Blending

Far from forming organized monastic communities, Buddhism in the Philippines appears to have merged seamlessly with indigenous beliefs. Pre-colonial Filipinos worshipped nature spirits known as diwata, and invoked gods like Bathala, whose name bears Sanskrit roots. The idea of karma, or moral causation, survives in the Visayan word gaba, denoting divine retribution. Even the concept of conscience, or budhi, resonates with the Sanskrit word for awakening or intellect: buddhi.

Oral epics, too, reflect this synthesis. In Mindanao, the Maranao epic “Maharadia Lawana” is a localized retelling of the Hindu epic Ramayana. In it, the demon-king Lawana wages war against a noble prince—eerily echoing the tale of Ravana and Rama.

These Indian echoes are not mere coincidence. They’re the result of centuries of cultural osmosis. And they weren’t limited to stories. Rituals invoking mantras, gestures akin to mudras, and sacred objects known as likha or larawan were common among Filipino shamans, or babaylan.

The Artisans of Dharma

Philippine goldwork, among the finest in Southeast Asia, also bears signs of Buddhist influence. Many pieces—headdresses, belts, ceremonial daggers—feature lotus petals, naga serpents, and makara, creatures from Hindu-Buddhist mythology. Art historian Florina Capistrano-Baker has noted the tantric elements in these designs, suggesting that these weren’t merely decorative: they carried spiritual meaning.

These artifacts weren’t imported en masse. They were locally made, crafted by goldsmiths who had either encountered or inherited design traditions from Java, Sumatra, or even Champa (now Vietnam). The blend of local and foreign forms paints a picture of a people actively interpreting and integrating foreign ideas, not passively receiving them.

China Took Note

Chinese dynastic records further reinforce this narrative. As early as 1001 CE, emissaries from Butuan (a polity in northeast Mindanao) sailed to the Song Dynasty court in China. They brought tributes of gold, aromatics, and even documents inscribed on golden plates. Their ruler bore the Sanskrit-style title Sri Bata Shaja. Another account from 1225 by Zhao Rugua describes copper Buddha statues deep in the forests of Ma-i—possibly Mindoro—suggesting that Buddhist figures were already embedded in the landscape, even if their original purpose had faded.

The use of Baybayin, an Indic-derived script used across the islands prior to Spanish colonization, further demonstrates how Indian culture filtered through local mediums. It was used to write poetry, laws, and perhaps prayers—though few documents survived the flames of missionary zeal.

What Remains

Today, Buddhism is a minority religion in the Philippines. But clues to its earlier presence remain in museum cases, buried in the ground, or hidden in folktales. Whether through the exquisite detail of the Golden Tara, the Sanskrit echoes in local language, or the Bodhisattva medallions resting in provincial archives, the story of Philippine Buddhism is one of fragments and rediscoveries.

It’s also a story of connection. Of an archipelago not isolated, but engaged with the intellectual and spiritual life of its region. The Philippines was not a cultural backwater waiting for Europe to arrive. It was a participant—albeit a peripheral one—in the Buddhist maritime world of Southeast Asia.

As archaeologists, historians, and storytellers continue to dig deeper—literally and metaphorically—we may yet uncover more pieces of this forgotten dharma.

Sources and further reading

• Blair, Emma H., and James A. Robertson, eds. The Philippine Islands, 1493–1898, Vol. 34. (Contains translated excerpts of Zhao Rugua’s Zhufan Zhi describing Ma-i)​gutenberg.org​gutenberg.org.
• Scott, William Henry. “Filipinos in China Before 1500.” Asian Studies 21 (1983): 1–18. (Discusses Song Dynasty records of Butuan’s missions, Indianized names, etc.)​asj.upd.edu.ph​asj.upd.edu.ph.
• Francisco, Juan R. Indian Influences in the Philippines. (Cites archaeological finds: Golden Tara, Calatagan clay Avalokiteśvara, Cebu and Palawan icons)​en.wikipedia.org.
• Capistrano-Baker, Florina. Philippine Ancestral Gold (Ayala Museum, 2011). (Analyzes gold artifacts: Agusan image, kinnari vessel, etc., and their Hindu-Buddhist motifs)​verafiles.org​verafiles.org.
• Chau Ju-Kua (Zhao Rugua). Chu-fan-chi (“Description of the Barbarians,” 1225). English translation notes in Revista Historica de Filipinas 1905​gutenberg.org​gutenberg.org.
• National Museum of the Philippines – exhibit notes on the Butuan Ivory Seal and Silver Strip​en.wikipedia.org​en.wikipedia.org.
• Jocano, F. Landa. Philippine Prehistory. (Touches on Indianization of epics and folklore).
• Laszlo Legeza. “Tantric Elements in Pre-Hispanic Philippine Gold Art.” Arts of Asia 18, no.4 (1988): 129–136. (Noted parallels between Philippine gold artifacts and Buddhist tantric iconography).​en.wikipedia.org
• Various Spanish chronicles in Blair & Robertson (Chirino, Morga, Loarca) noting indigenous religion and script​academia.edu​asj.upd.edu.ph.
• Asia Society. (2023). Religion in the Philippines. https://asiasociety.org/education/religion-philippines
• Behold Philippines. (2024). From Tradition to Identity: Exploring the Cultural Heritage of the Philippines. https://www.beholdphilippines.com/from-tradition-to-identity-exploring-the-cultural-heritage-of-the-philippines/
• Britannica. (2025). History of the Philippines. https://www.britannica.com/topic/history-of-Philippines

Or True Freedom Begins Within

Source: Movies that Matter 2025

The Garden of Earthly Delights Confronts, it does not provide comfort.

But then again, and on closer inspection it does. The film offers hope – if you dare to find it

Yesterday I was privileged to attend the screening of The Garden of Earthly Delights at the Films that Matter festival in The Hague.

This film is not easy viewing. It is not entertainment. It’s a confrontation — with systems, with taboos, with ourselves. It will not be a box office hit, but it will create value in the long term, for those willing to be challenged.

Ginto is an 11-year-old street kid in Manila, fighting to survive in a world where everything is transactional, and exploitation is the norm. For Western audiences — shaped by more subtle forms of control under a capitalist achievement society — the directness of this film may feel like a punch to the gut.

Filipino audiences face a different discomfort: that a European director has portrayed Ginto’s struggle so unflinchingly well. During the Q&A, someone asked: “Why can this story not be told by a Filipino director?” The answer is simple: when you are too close to the pain, you often cannot see and feel it clearly.

Critics may call this yet another post-colonial take from the West. And I was curious too — would this be yet another outsider’s patronising gaze? But from what I heard and saw, the director Morgan Knibbe approached the story with care and detail. The result is not a film made by a Westerner about “the other.” It is a film made by a human being about what happens when humanity is stripped away.

And that, precisely, is what makes it so uncomfortable.

Exploitation Isn’t Always Obvious — But It’s Always There

The Garden of Earthly Delights exposes exploitation in its rawest form. But the real shock is realising how familiar it feels — how close it hits to home, if you care to dig deep enough to see it.

Most of us are not exploited through violence. We’re exploited through expectation, obligation, and distraction. We live in a burnout society. In cultures that prize obedience over truth. In belief systems that offer safety in exchange for silence.

We trade honesty for harmony. To stay agreeable to be accepted. We follow rules we didn’t write, chase goals we didn’t choose, and perform identities we don’t fully believe in — all to feel like we belong.

This too is exploitation. Just less visible. Less painful. But equally numbing.

And it doesn’t belong to one country or culture. It cuts across ideologies, religions, even progressive spaces. When fear becomes the currency of love, when worth is earned through compliance — we’re not seeking truth. We’re surviving systems.

The Burnout Loop: Perform, Consume, Repeat & Judge the Other

So we distract ourselves. We chase the next thing — the upgrade, the trip, the outfit, the version of ourselves that might finally be good enough. We post curated lives for approval. We fill calendars to avoid stillness. We call it “living.” But often, it’s just running from one appointment to the other. Otherness and taboos are suppressed – or exported.

Until we crash. A burnout, a breakdown, maybe therapy. We patch ourselves up, just well enough to do it all again. Until retirement. Then death.

The Garden of Earthly Delights invites us to break that loop. It dares us to see how power is extracted from all of us — not just in the slums of Manila, but in the structures we accept as normal and that contribute from afar to Ginto’s fate: the developed world exporting their toxic taboos to developing countries.

Benjamin Moen plays the role of a pedophile who finds himself in the streets of Manila and eventually his and Ginto’s path cross. Benjamin excels in playing this difficult character who exploits the poorest among us, and who is exploited himself in a violent transactional society without inhibition.. Watching Benjamin character wander through the streets of Manila is unsettling, and it is tempting to remain focus on him and continue ignore the many other forms of exploitation around us.

The Garden of Earthly Delights isn’t a story about “them.” It’s a mirror held up to us.

Should You Watch This Film?

Are you ready to be changed? Can you witness someone else’s truth without needing to explain it away? Do you wonder how exploitation for power works — not just in politics, but in your own daily life?

Then yes, you should watch this film.

But not to be entertained.

Watch it to confront the systems we’re part of. Watch it to understand the mechanisms we’ve internalised. Watch it if you’re ready to stop pointing fingers — and start looking inwards.

Because transformation and happiness doesn’t begin with noise.

It begins with the quiet power of the unexploitable within.