Is Netflix Washed Now?

Today’s headline poses a question you’ve probably never thought to ask, so I’ll start with my answer: yes, Netflix is washed now. The content on the platform has never been great, but it’s never been worse. I open the app these days and I’m amazed. What used to be a source of fun, buzzy, compulsively watchable, and occasionally excellent TV and movies is now an endless river of reheated IP, true crime documentaries, and filler dressed as prestige. Millions of people watch this stuff, and everyone instantly forgets it.

I offer this observation as a swirl of heightened anxiety surrounds the company, so let me clarify one thing up front: I’m not predicting imminent doom. Netflix content reaches a staggering 85% of American viewers and has 325 million subscribers globally. Growth is slowing, but that’s the law of large numbers. If practically everyone in America and much of the world is already subscribed to some version of Netflix, and churn rates are still low, then any concern is relative. Going forward: cable is still dying, and even if the biggest premium distribution platform in the world can’t make great content of its own, it can still license movies, TV and sports rights. Netflix can then spread those costs across hundreds of millions of subscribers and a steadily growing ads business, seeing more engagement in a week than Apple TV sees in a year.

So no, the company’s not doomed today or destined for collapse tomorrow. Instead, I think what’s interesting to consider is that Netflix has almost certainly peaked. As a cultural force, as a business success story, and as an entertainment death star destined to swallow Hollywood whole, the arrows are all pointing the wrong direction.

Here was Lucas Shaw at Bloomberg two weeks ago, writing about one of several problems the company has encountered over the past 12 months:

Netflix is struggling to get viewers to stick with its shows for more than a season.

One Piece, one of Netflix’s most-watched shows of 2023, lost more than 30% of its audience for the second season. Season two of Beef suffered a drop of more than 70%. The Night Agent shed 50% of its audience for the second season and another 35% for its third season. These figures are all through the first four weeks of a show’s release and come straight from Netflix.

Adding insult to injury, the latest season of Avatar: The Last Airbender, one of Netflix’s most-watched titles in 2024, suffered a drop of more than 60% over week one. That doesn’t bode well for the rest of the month.

That report went viral, prompting a week of commentary on Netflix’s binge model and elongated release schedules, with lots of Twitter users observing that viewers consume eight episodes across a few days and then often have to wait as long as two or three years for the next season. By that point, memories of plot or characters are faint at best. The emotional connection to the story doesn’t exist. No one should be surprised that the audience for a show like One Piece is cut in half in 2026, three years after the first season aired.

While that explanation certainly feels true, Shaw followed up this week to note that data is mixed as to whether extended breaks between seasons do in fact correlate to audience drop-off. Severance, on Apple, gained a ton of new audience after its nearly three-year break. Stranger Things and Bridgerton have been multi-season powerhouses at Netflix despite their long breaks between seasons. Conversely, Tina Fey’s Four Seasons debuted on Netflix in May last year, was met with pretty good reviews, and returned 13 months later with half its audience.

I think the Netflix problem is more fundamental than production schedules. What if these shows just aren’t very good or differentiated? Consider the original productions Netflix has surfaced in the past few months:

• A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder
• Running Point
• Lord of the Flies
• Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen
• Unchosen
• XO, Kitty
• Big Mistakes
• Beef
• Man on Fire
• Little House on the Prairie
• His & Hers
• Nemesis
• The Boroughs

That list is culled from a post by the Entertainment Strategy Guy charting Netflix originals that have under-performed in the second quarter of 2026, and one common thread between those titles is that I haven’t heard of almost any of them. Netflix is the one streaming service everyone subscribes to and is theoretically well positioned to be setting the cultural agenda, but that hasn’t happened for quite some time. Did you know that Avatar: The Last Airbender was a thing? Apparently that show lost 60% of its season one audience when its second season aired in late June.

Content and the Year of Discontent

I mentioned the anxiety surrounding Netflix these days, so let me take a step back here. Amazingly, it’s only been eight months since Netflix won the bidding war to buy Warner Bros. Discovery and looked poised to become an entire generation’s one-stop shop for high-end entertainment. The implications of that news produced lots of anxiety, including one of my first articles on this website—Netflix and the Flattening of Everything—and a memorably ominous Variety cover that captured Hollywood’s mood at the time:

The Warner Brothers deal was abandoned at the end of February, when Netflix walked away from the table in the face of regulatory pressure from Washington and an increased bid from Paramount. Even so, the market hated the initial play, as investors wondered en masse why the world’s most (only?) successful streaming platform was suddenly ready to take on a mountain of new debt to acquire a company that had already been the subject of several expensive, failed acquisitions over the past 25 years.

Now, even as the deal is off, the questions remain. Are we sure a Netflix world takeover is a forgone conclusion? Is Netflix sure? The stock is down 18% this year and over 40% across the past 12 months. Investors who did a double take last December seem to have noticed that YouTube has twice the overall engagement that Netflix does, and more time watched on televisions, while free, ad-supported TV services like Tubi and the Roku Channel are becoming meaningful engagement competitors themselves.

Meanwhile, alongside all the original programming that’s failed to launch (or re-launch?), Netflix is adding videos from BuzzFeed, Condé Nast, Hearst and Penske Media (as Shaw notes: “Get ready for lots of Bon Appétit cooking videos on Netflix.”) Last fall the platform also added a variety of high-end podcasts in a bid for relatively cheap, recurring content that may be seeing underwhelming results. Then again, they continue to buy more, so who knows? Elsewhere, the Wall Street Journal reports that Netflix executives have “recently discussed adding live channels that would continuously stream certain programs, or shows and films from a certain genre.” Can Netflix become HBO before HBO becomes Netflix? Can Netflix become Tubi before Tubi destroys Netflix’s long-term pricing power?

All of those moves might have once been seen as the savvy power plays of a world-conquering behemoth intent on taking the next step to expand its footprint. Today, in the shadow of a Warner Brothers bid that accidentally punctured the company’s air of inevitability, this year’s moves look more like spaghetti being thrown at a wall by a company that’s searching for something—anything!—that might hold people’s attention and scale more effectively than an expensive library of content that’s consumed, discarded, and then effectively worthless.

Looking back at the deal to acquire Warner Brothers, HBO and all that IP, I think it’s clear Ben Thompson was right when he wrote that concerns over competition from YouTube specifically and the internet generally were likely key drivers of Netflix’s decision-making. Those concerns seem to be animating all the other options the company is considering, and understandably so. The same way that the rise of social media has throttled the growth of the gaming market, it stands to reason it could do the same to demand for scripted content. With respect to the specific Netflix logic for buying WBD, that context is important: the biggest companies, with the deepest, most diverse libraries, will have the best chance at defending themselves in this new environment. [...]

I like to leave all Aggregator analysis to Ben, but I don’t think investors are crazy to have some questions about where this leads and what the upside looks like. For all the advantages its massive customer base affords (leverage over costs, advertising upside), an obvious difference between Netflix and businesses like Meta, YouTube, or Google—the other demand aggregators—is that Netflix has to spend far more money to deliver on its value proposition to customers and has fewer network effects to defend its long-term centrality to people’s lives.

by Ben Thompson and Andrew Sharp, Sharp Text |  Read more:

Images: Al Bello/Getty Images for Netflix; Variety

[ed. See also: Predictions on the Future of Netflix (and Other Huge Platforms) (Honest Broker).]

A Script for Mark Zuckerberg

The setting: Meta’s earnings call in early August, 2026.

The speaker: Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg.

Good afternoon everyone, and welcome to Meta Platforms’ Second Quarter 2026 Earnings Conference Call. Our remarks today will include forward-looking statements, which are based on assumptions as of today. Actual results may differ materially as a result of various factors, including those set forth in today’s earnings press release and in our quarterly report on Form 10-Q filed with the SEC. We undertake no obligation to update any forward-looking statement.

I know it’s weird that I, Mark Zuckerberg, am doing the Director of Investor Relations job, but anything is possible when this speech is made up. What follows isn’t actually me: it’s what Ben Thompson of Stratechery thinks I should say on this call.

I know that Meta and myself are facing a lot of questions about AI, particularly the amount of money we are spending on capex. Our core business is an asset-light cash generation machine, so why are we spending tens of billions of dollars on AI? To answer this question I want to give you a quick recount of our history, what I’ve learned, and why I am so confident that we are doing the right thing for our future. So let’s get to it.

A Brief History of Facebook

Facebook was, as you know, the digital representation of Harvard’s analog Face Books. What was clear from the very first day we went live was the extent to which humans are, first and foremost, interested in other humans. People would spend hours clicking around to people’s pages. To put it another way, our first algorithm was human curiosity.

What truly super-charged Facebook usage, however — and which transformed the Internet — was the feed. Now, instead of actively surfing to friends’ pages to look for an update, we showed updates to you in a single feed on your homepage.

You might remember that we got a lot of heat for this decision, including protestors outside our office in Palo Alto. The lesson we took from that, however, is one that has guided us to this day: first, the revealed preference of users, as captured by data, was that they loved the feed: engagement skyrocketed. Second, we learned to trust our own — my own — product intuition, and that conviction has served us well over the years.

Another critical moment in our early history was the shift to mobile. We didn’t get this right in the beginning — more on that in a moment — but what was quickly apparent is that more access to Facebook meant more usage of Facebook. I can’t emphasize this point enough: when humans can connect to humans, they do, and when they can do it more conveniently and in more places, they do it more often.

Finally, I would be remiss to not mention Instagram. Obviously Instagram has been a major part of our growth over the last 15 years — and, I would add, we have been a major part of Instagram’s growth. To that end, an important thing to understand about Instagram is the extent to which it has evolved. Just because we gave our users what they wanted at one particular moment in time does not mean we can afford to sit still: more bandwidth first meant more pictures in Stories, and then video in Reels. Instagram has gone from strength-to-strength precisely because it has changed as technology has changed.

My Mistakes

We — I — haven’t done everything perfectly. We’ve taken our arrows through the years for lots of things that frankly aren’t our fault, but are rather the reality of being the primary communications platform for all of humanity, and humanity is flawed. I’m proud of the efforts we have made to ameliorate humanity’s worst impulses while enabling some of our best tendencies, including that desire to connect.

Rather, my mistake is itself a very human one: for many years I have resisted embracing what Facebook — now Meta — is, and spent too much time trying to emulate some of the tech titans who came before me. Specifically, I have been obsessed with becoming a platform.

The first manifestation of this error was the initial shift to mobile I referenced above. When Facebook was primarily a browser app I invested heavily in trying to build a platform, with things like Facebook Games, payments, etc. We had some success there — some of you on this call might have played Farmville back in the day — but when mobile came along we mistakenly tried to hold onto web technologies that supported my vision, and were years too late in investing in a truly native smartphone experience.

The reality — and this is hard for me to admit — is that Apple saved us from my mistaken obsession. Mobile Made Facebook Just an App, and that was Great News. Instead of diminishing the Facebook experience so that we could feature third-party developers, we had to cede that space to Apple and put our own content front-and-center. It turns out that was what people wanted the most; in fact, they wanted it so much that they willingly scrolled through and clicked on the most compelling ad units ever. And make no mistake, we paid back our debt: Facebook built the App Store just as much as Apple did.

My second error was Reality Labs. While in recent years I have framed our acquisition of Oculus and virtual reality as a necessary response to Apple’s attempt to handicap our business, the truth is that I invested twelve figures into this technology because I thought it was cool, and yes, because I wanted to own a platform. I do think we’ve made compelling strides in this area — and we’ve created technology that is going to matter in the long run — but I now recognize that part of the reason I am delivering this mea culpa right now is because I burned a lot of credibility with investors with all of the losses Reality Labs has endured with very little to show for it.

My third error was not in trying to make Facebook something it was not, but rather failing to appreciate what it had become. While I was thinking about platforms, I took it for granted that connection was enough for the core business; in fact, Facebook had evolved into entertainment, at least in its public-facing forms (I will take credit for the acquisition of WhatsApp and realizing that Messaging Was Mobile’s Killer App). This was an insight that TikTok figured out first, and it was a blindspot for me.

The Ad Blindspot

What I’ve come to realize is that all of these mistakes are symptoms of what has been my biggest failing as CEO: all of you on this call have appreciated our ad business more than I have. I’ve been very blessed as CEO to have excellent co-workers who have over the years developed the world’s best digital ad business, while I frankly haven’t taken as much interest as I should have.

My failure to appreciate our ad business is another lens through which to examine my mistakes:

• Building a platform is antithetical to building an ad business. A platform’s goal is to feature third-parties; an advertiser’s goal is to capture attention for itself.

• Investing in an entirely new technology, including developing hardware, fundamentally limits our addressable market; an advertiser’s goal is to maximize its market size.

• Entertainment is the best possible category for an advertiser to own: people willingly give entertainment their attention, which is exactly what an advertiser wants to sell.

This neglect as CEO left us badly exposed in our disputes with Apple. I firmly believe that Apple’s characterization of digital advertising was unfair, dishonest, and self-serving. What I failed to do, not just in that bruising battle but in the years leading up to it, was make the affirmative case for ads generally, and Meta ads in particular.

It’s easy to see how the Internet has made it possible for an entirely new category of entrepreneurs to create products that uniquely serve the tremendous capacity of humans to manufacture an infinite array of desires, growing the economy to the benefit of everyone; what’s harder to appreciate — in part because I haven’t made the case — is that the only way to connect those creators to the consumers who love them is digital advertising. We don’t serve ads like Google — or Apple in the App Store, or Amazon on Amazon.com — that in many respects function as a tax on search; we show people products they never knew existed, but that immediately generate desire and, ultimately, happiness. In short, I believe that we are a force for good in the world, not just because we connect people to each other, but because we connect entrepreneurs with customers in a way no one else does.

Why AI Matters

Forgive the long preamble, but this is necessary context for me to properly explain why AI is so important to Meta, and why I am making the right choice to invest so heavily in both talent and infrastructure.

First, when investors compliment our asset-light business, what they are complimenting is the fact that our business is purely digital. Everything digital, however, is firmly within AI’s cross-hairs. It may seem odd to begin my AI pitch by highlighting terminal value risk, but today is about honesty: every single digital company on earth faces an existential threat from AI, and we are no exception. Meta must invest in AI because a failure to do so would cost us far more in the fullness of time, particularly now that we’ve seen the very real risks entailed in depending on a third-party.

Second, AI makes our business better — and by “our business”, I mean ads. AI is more than LLMs: it is machine learning, and we have been using machine learning to improve our ads business for years. More recently, we have developed GPU-dependent algorithms that have significantly improved our ability to not just target ads but also recommend content, which keeps people entertained longer, which lets us serve them more ads. And, looking forward, LLMs themselves will transform advertising, not just by generating copy and images, but by predicting the ads and content that people want to see. Every single one of these improvements goes directly to our top line — and remember, because advertising enables us to offer our products for free, the capacity to increase our top line is unbounded by price elasticity.

Third, the single most important indicator that our business is on the verge of a step-change in growth is when we dramatically increase inventory. This is something investors regularly get wrong: back when we added Stories, investors panicked about falling prices-per-ad without realizing we were increasing inventory we could grow into. Five years later, investors made the exact same mistake with Reels. Those were the two best opportunities to buy Meta stock — or any stock, really — in history. We are facing an even larger opportunity over the next several years. AI makes every pixel monetizable, which means we are looking at the largest inventory expansion ever. Yes, it will take a few years to realize this opportunity, but the technology is there.

More importantly, what I’ve come to realize as I’ve embraced our status as an entertainment provider and ad purveyor is that — our nature as a digital business notwithstanding — we are remarkably well-placed to thrive in an AI era. Remember what we learned about humans: they are obsessed with other humans, and they want to connect with them; that obsession and desire are only going to increase as we interact more and more with AI. AI is going to make our properties more essential, not less.

Moreover — and here I must issue one more mea culpa — AI is a productivity tool, but productivity is not the end-all-be-all of the human experience. I have talked over the last year about building superintelligence that helps you get things done, but that’s a business story. What we can uniquely do is give people the experiences they want — from connection to entertainment to shopping — when they are off the clock. The fact that we are investing in AI but not selling solutions to businesses is actually one of our biggest advantages.

Oh, and by the way, AI might actually lead to new hardware paradigms. I admit I was wrong to spend so much time on virtual reality, but that did lay the groundwork for a unique opportunity to develop devices that make much more sense in a world where we want to access AI everywhere, not just on a phone in our pocket.

The Compute Hurdle

I know that many of you on this call have doubted my investment decisions before — and I understand the consternation about Reality Labs in particular. However, keep in mind that when our stock dipped in 2022, one of the big reasons was because of our aggressive capex spending, which went primarily to GPUs; ChatGPT came out a month later, and that decision to spend heavily with Nvidia looked incredibly prescient in hindsight.

That prescience, however, pales in comparison to the payoff that will accrue to anyone with the foresight to build data centers and buy compute over the last several years, and for years into the future. We don’t have the luxury of waiting until the future is invented and then investing; we need to invest now, especially when the opportunity in front of us — with ads specifically — is so apparent.

by Ben Thompson, Stratechery |  Read more:

Image: uncredited via

[ed. Less social network, more optimizing ad juggernaut. See also: Anthropic is in talks to lease computing power from Meta, potentially for $10 billion over two years, so this would be smaller than the Anthropic deal with SpaceX. Meta is considering it. They would turn a profit on the compute, but to do that they have to admit they don’t have a better use for it. via.]

Tariffs For Debt

Donald Trump’s most consequential construction project may not be a ballroom or an arch, but his tariff wall... By the end of this month, the administration is expected to introduce major tariffs on dozens of countries intended to ensure what once was a temporary regime lasts well beyond this presidency. Unlike most previous rounds of tariffs, including the ones just threatened on Canada, the new ones are backed by monthslong investigations into alleged unfair trade practices by other countries. No court has ever overturned this kind of tariff.

But the biggest obstacle to undoing Mr. Trump’s tariffs after 2028 won’t be legal. It will be financial. With the national debt clocking in at a staggering $39.6 trillion, the market responsible for selling this debt has quickly grown addicted to the money coming into the government every day thanks to tariffs. Few politicians are willing to upset the bond market given that it dictates the cost of borrowing money for some of the most important purchases Americans make including their cars and their homes. Rather than be constrained by these forces, the next president can find a way to use them to the country’s advantage.

It’s a situation almost no one saw coming. It was the bond market that originally thwarted Mr. Trump’s tariffs only 15 months ago.

In April 2025, on the so-called Liberation Day, the president threatened to raise tariffs on nearly everything America imports to their highest level in nearly a century. Bond markets panicked, fearing that a global trade war could bring higher prices and slow growth, and they went into a nosedive, leading Mr. Trump to pause his plans a week later. “I was watching the bond market. The bond market is very tricky,” he admitted at the time.

But Mr. Trump, still convinced that tariffs are the best economic weapon he has available to fix what he believes is an unfair trading system, never abandoned the strategy. In the months following, he relentlessly added tariffs on countries including America’s major trading partners. This time, the bond market shrugged. It certainly helped that the risk of a global trade war faded as Europe, India and Japan all declined to retaliate. At the same time, the United States was adding an estimated $40 billion a week to the national debt. Wall Street found that number much easier to swallow thanks to the new tariff money flowing into the Treasury.

Three months after Liberation Day, the Trump administration used the funds it had raised from tariffs to convince Congress that it had a way to pay for the sweeping tax cuts in the One Big Beautiful Bill. “The Congressional Budget Office put out a 10-year estimate that says that the tariff revenue that’s already in place right now is going to raise $2.8 trillion over the next 10 years,” noted Kevin Hassett, director of the National Economic Council. That, he said, was “deficit reduction right there.” By the end of 2025, the government had taken in a record $264 billion in net tariff revenue — more than triple the receipts from the previous year.

In less than a year, America’s financial markets went from hating tariffs, to being able to live with them, to needing them to help cope with the country’s deficit.

The latest evidence came this winter. In February, the Supreme Court struck down the president’s authority to use the International Emergency Economic Powers Act to levy tariffs. Investors rapidly sold off bonds over worries about the cost of refunds and the end of a revenue stream. Instead of panicking about the introduction of tariffs, the bond market was fretting over the possibility of losing them.

Mr. Trump had a plan ready. Within hours, the administration introduced backup tariffs, and by the end of the day, the market had settled down. When those backup tariffs expire this week, the administration will step in again with new tariffs, ones the courts have consistently said that presidents have the authority to impose. Those could generate nearly $ 1 trillion over the next 10 years.

Over that period, our increasingly untenable national debt is likely to put even more fiscal pressure on future presidents. Regardless of who wins in 2028, the desire to avoid the wrath of the bond market may be at a high.

Mr. Trump’s successor will have options. The next president could keep some tariffs while rebalancing where the revenue comes from — and he should.

Mr. Trump’s recent trade strategy has been to put tariffs on everyone, whether friend or foe. What about a more targeted approach? The logical place to focus is China. Considering that it is now running the largest trade surplus in history, the case against China is stronger than at any point in the past decade.

The smart move would be to cut our allies a deal. The United States could partly lower tariffs on its partners in return for their help raising tariffs on key sectors in China. European leaders, feeling pressure from a crushing wave of Chinese exports on everything from cars to chemicals to steel to solar panels, are likely to be much more receptive to this arrangement than in years past.

by Josh Lipsky, NY Times |  Read more:

Image: Daniel Ribar for The New York Times

[ed. I'm not an economist but it sounds like we're making everyone else pay for our insane, ballooning debt? How long can that go on?  And why would European countries want to help the US at this point after being forced to develop new supply chains for everything from defense to EVs to solar panels etc. after US trade policy became unpredictable and punitive? At least with China they know who and what they're dealing with.]

The ACA Death Spiral Is No Longer Just a Theory

Insurers are now quantifying what experts long warned would happen: healthier consumers are leaving the marketplace, premiums are rising, and affordability is deteriorating.

I’ve long warned that letting the enhanced ACA subsidies expire could set off a classic insurance death spiral: healthier people priced out first, a sicker risk pool left behind, higher premiums as a result, more healthy people priced out — rinse and repeat. Reports this week from KFF News and other media outlets about 2027 rate filings is the first time I’ve seen that mechanism actually measured rather than predicted.

Insurers filing preliminary 2027 rates in 16 states and D.C. are asking for a median 14% increase, according to a Peterson-KFF analysis. If the rates are approved by state regulators, that would be the second-highest jump since 2018. What makes this year’s filings different from a routine “medical costs went up” story is that insurers are saying that about four percentage points of that increase is the direct result of the enhanced subsidies expiring because of Congressional inaction – and healthier people leaving the pool as a consequence. Another chunk — UnitedHealthcare put it at 12.7% in its New York filing — is attributed to new Trump administration enrollment rules that make it harder to sign up and stay signed up.

In other words, what we’re now seeing is insurance companies telling regulators that the failure of Congress to extend the subsidies, along with the Trump administration’s new enrollment rules — not just rising medical costs — are a measurable share of what ACA marketplace premiums will be next year.

I want to be careful here because its too early to suggest that a death spiral is definitely underway. A full death spiral means an insurance market becomes non-viable — premiums rise, enrollment collapses, insurers exit the market, and coverage disappears entirely for a region or population. That is not what’s happening in the ACA marketplace right now. Enrollment is down about 3 million from last year, which is not a collapse. Federal risk-adjustment programs are still functioning. Most subsidized, low-income enrollees — the bulk of the marketplace — are still price-protected because their subsidies rise automatically as premiums rise. Some insurers are leaving this market – including big ones like Aetna and Cigna, where I used to work – but most insurers are still filing to participate in 2027 in most states, not fleeing the market (not yet, anyway).

What we’re seeing so far seems to be a self-reinforcing cost spiral concentrated among the roughly 5% of enrollees earning above 400% of the federal poverty line who lost all subsidy protection when the enhanced tax credits expired at the end of 2025. For them, the mechanism KFF describes is real and is compounding. And this is the second consecutive year of double-digit marketplace rate increases, on top of last year’s subsidy cliff. While that’’s a genuine affordability crisis for a specific population, it’s not evidence the whole system is on the verge of collapse. But, going forward, as more people continue to drop coverage because of premium increases, the affordability crisis will encompass more enrollees, and more of them will join the ranks of the uninsured.

by Wendell Potter, Healthcare Un-Covered |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

[ed. Thanks to the Big, Beautiful, Backstabbing Bill passed by Republicans, which means more emergency room visits by uninsured people, and higher insurance premiums for the rest of us (exacerbated by cuts to Medicaid). Also, more people pushed into bankruptcy. See also: The Other Health Care Cliff Americans Are About to Fall Off  (high deductibles); and, In Preliminary Rate Filings, ACA Marketplace Insurers Largely Propose Double-Digit Premium Increase For 2027, Following a Steep Climb This Year (KFF); and, despite all this, Republican voters continue to internalize waste, fraud and abuse messaging as being the most important issue (KFF).]

We're Headed for a Depression Worse Than 2008; and Military Spending Isn't Helping

[ed. Which sounds like the good news if AI doesn't kill us all first.]

Michael Hudson and Radhika Desai discuss many of the long-operating forces that have been eating away at the foundations of the American economy, from its super-sized military to neoliberalism and financialization, now exhibiting many late-stage pathologies, from asset speculation to extreme wealth concentration. And as bad as those trends have been, Trump has succeeded in making them worse.

  

Michael Hudson and Radhika Desai examine the gap between Trump's promised economic boom and the reality of an economy sustained by asset bubbles rather than production. They show that the stock market's rise reflects cheap credit, buybacks, and speculation rather than profit, a Ponzi-scheme dynamic that cannot survive the oil shock triggered by Trump's war on Iran. His tariffs have not reversed deindustrialization, and his refusal to end that war guarantees the inflation he promised to kill. The result is a starkly K-shaped economy, in which the wealthiest 1% have seen their assets grow from $10 trillion to over $50 trillion in twenty-five years while the bottom half of Americans have gone from nothing to nothing, pushing the US toward a depression as serious as the 1930s and eroding even his own base's faith in him.

00:00 – Highlights 

01:12 – Channel introduction 

02:02 – Iran war escalation and the coming global oil/energy shock 

06:56 – The dollar's shift from treasury-based to stock market speculation (Ponzi bubble) 13:56 – China's stabilizing role vs. the Fed's inflation-vs-interest-rate gap 

25:06 – Inflation, GDP growth, and why "growth" numbers are largely fake (rents, fees) 34:00 – De-industrialization, manufacturing job losses, and shrinking labor force participation 

42:06 – The K-shaped economy: stock market boom vs. wealth inequality, and Trump's collapsing approval ratings  [...]

Radhika Desai:

Today we have decided to talk about the US economy under Trump. Now, of course, Trump is doing everything in his power to suck the oxygen out of the story about the economy. That includes continuing to escalate wars and all sorts of diplomatic and other shenanigans that he is constantly involved in, berating leaders of other countries and generally trying to make a big spectacle of himself... Anyway, all of these shenanigans are designed to distract attention from the biggest story, the condition of the US economy. Notwithstanding his unhinged and genocidal antics, the topic of the US economy simply will not go away. The world is settling down to summer before the midterm elections, and assessments of the US economy are proliferating. That is what we are going to talk about today, because the US voter votes on her economic condition, and her economic condition is not looking good at all. Michael, what are the headlines from your point of view?

Michael Hudson:

Well, the headline is really that the US economy is all about Donald Trump right now. The main thing, as you have just pointed out, is the war with Iran that he is escalating. Instead of rolling things back, he is bombing Iran. Iran has taken a response that is irreversible. It has closed down trade not only in the Strait of Hormuz but also in the Red Sea, with the Yemenis’ support, and it is bombing Bahrain’s port. It is absolutely certain that there is going to be a shutdown in the oil trade, and that is going to affect the entire world economy and push it into what I think is going to be as serious a depression as the 1930s. That is the US economy... It has been a huge expansion of financial wealth without any real expansion in living standards, real wages, or prosperity for most of the population. All of this financial wealth has been based on credit. Companies are not making more profits. The whole leadership of the stock market has been the seven AI companies linked to computers. AI is not making a profit; it is all speculation that we are going to expand and that there is going to be a huge market because everybody is going to use AI. But all of this market is dependent on computer chips that run on energy. We are going to see energy prices go way up, and that means electricity prices are going to go up. I want to briefly explain why the oil war is so important when we talk about the economy. [...]

Michael Hudson:

I want to explain just how that works. My whole premise in Super Imperialism is that after the United States went off the gold standard in 1971, all of this military spending, which is the major cause of the balance of payments deficit, ended up in foreign countries. The recipients took the dollars, turned them over to the central banks, and the central banks bought Treasury bonds and Treasury securities. What has happened in the last few years is that banks have stopped buying Treasury securities. The growth in international reserves has taken the form primarily of buying gold, not Treasury securities, and yet the US dollar remains strong. What has happened is that the private sector that has been receiving these dollars has not been turning them over to the government to recycle to the US as Treasuries, as you and I have been talking about. They have spent them into the US stock market. What has that done? It has inflated prices and ridden on the wave of the Federal Reserve supporting the banking system and creating huge asset price inflation, starting with the zero-interest-rate policy that Obama began. What has been creating all this financial wealth, making trillions of dollars for financial investors, has not been profits. It has been the ability to borrow at a low interest rate, including low interest rates in Japan, to buy US securities, bid up the prices of stocks, and create a huge credit overhead. So it is not a profit bubble; it is a Ponzi-scheme capital-gains bubble. It is a credit-creation bubble.

The problem is what happens when there aren’t the profits to support the stock buyback programs and the dividend payouts that have enabled borrowers to carry the debts they have taken on to bid up the stocks. If the credit begins to be rolled back here, and two weeks ago we talked about how Warsh and Bessent want to roll back the Federal Reserve’s balance sheet, they want to begin selling the Federal Reserve bonds that they have been buying in recent years to help liquefy the economy. The economy is going to be made much less liquid, and all of a sudden it is like a Ponzi scheme. A Ponzi scheme requires more and more people buying into it to provide the revenue to pay off investors. If interest rates go up, there is no more recycling of all this money into the stock market to help support things, and there is going to be a huge write-down. When that happens, stocks begin to fall. With higher energy prices, higher food prices, and higher costs of doing business, companies will go out of business. The Financial Times and main business sites have been saying the real problem is private equity. They have borrowed money from the banking system to buy companies, and now some of these companies are going to be running losses and closing down operations because it is not profitable to operate with high oil prices, high energy prices, and high electricity prices. Once they close down operations, they will not be able to pay the debts they have taken on, creating the same snowball effect that people expected in 2008–2009, when Obama decided on a bailout of the banks and decades of asset-price inflation to keep the bubble going and save the banking system. We are talking about the dynamics set in motion by the oil war, the rise in energy prices, and the AI demands for electricity that cannot be met because there is no electricity supply. All of this hopium has evaporated, and the result is going to be the serious depression we have been talking about all along. Yet the stock market idles along as if everything is all right. Our point is that these changes are irreversible. You cannot reverse a debt-inflated economy without wiping out the debts. How does that happen? Companies go bankrupt. There is not going to be a Brady Plan for the American economy. It is going to be companies going broke, and there will be a capital flight out of the dollar, not into the dollar. The whole world balance is being thrown out of kilter in a way that, unlike 2009, there is no monetary solution to a problem of actual physical supply of energy, electricity, oil, and chemicals not being available. This is the grand interruption that we are going to be talking about.

by Radhika Desai with Michael Hudson, Naked Capitalism |  Read more:

Image: YouTube

[ed. Not to mention the trillion bucks or so we're spending on the military each year, and the insane level of national debt that's accruing each day (nearly $40 trillion and counting (see this real time clock). The military's current arsenal is also severely depleted and will likely require even more big bucks to replenish expensive weapons systems (that are likely to be antiquated as soon as they're delivered as kinetic warfare rapidly shifts to AI controlled drones (NYT); see also: The US is Blowing Billions on the Wrong Weapons (Atlantic). Finally, remember that non-war we're not fighting? Iran War: Brief US Pause Followed by Renewed Strikes as Iran Intensifies Attacks on Bases and Kuwait Desalination; Continued Speculation About US Operation (NC):]

***

From Larry Johnson in The US Faces a Strategic Crisis with Iran…The Rapid Depletion of US Battlefield Missiles: [...]

These are not just the numbers currently in the hands of US CENTCOM (i.e., the US military command in charge of the war against Iran), these are the total numbers available to all of the US military commands. If these missiles are allocated evenly to the other two critical commands — i.e., EUCOM (European Command) and PACOM (Pacific Command) — then you begin to understand the gravity of this deficit.

Let’s take the case of the Tomahawk missile. Let’s assume there are 3,000 left (I believe that is a generous over estimate) and the remaining number are divided evenly among CENTCOM, EUCOM and PACOM… That means each command gets 1,000. Does anyone want to argue that in the event of a hot war with Russia or China that EUCOM and PACOM respectively would be able to sustain combat operations for more than four weeks? Hell, CENTCOM fired 850 of them during the first four weeks of EPIC FURY.

Here’s another major problem: All eight missile systems rely on rare earth elements — there are no exceptions among modern US precision-guided weapons. The dependence is nearly universal because rare earth permanent magnets are irreplaceable for the high-performance actuators, guidance motors, and seeker gimbals that make these weapons accurate. And who controls the supply chain of these rare earth minerals? China!…

The supply chain isn’t just about mining — it’s about processing, separation, and magnet manufacturing, which China controls:

Mining: China ~60% of global rare earth oxide production
Refining/Separation: China ~91%
Sintered NdFeB Magnet Manufacturing: China **~94%**

11,700 Free Photos from John Margolies’ Archive of Americana Architecture: Download, Use & Re-Mix

Your children may not be able to visit an orange juice stand shaped like an orange or the Leaning Tower of Pizza, but thanks to the Library of Congress, these locales can be pitstops on any virtual family vacation you might undertake.

In July 2017, the library selected the John Margolies Roadside America Photograph Archive as its “free to use and reuse” collection. So linger as long as you’d like and do with these 11,700+ images as you will–make postcards, t‑shirts, souvenir placemats.

Whatever you decide to do with them, the archive’s homepage has tips for how to best search the 11,710 color slides contained therein. Library staffers have supplemented Margolies’ notes on each image with subject and geographical headings.

Begin your journey through the Library of Congress’ John Margolies Roadside America Photograph Archive here.

by Ayun Halliday, Open Culture |  Read more:

Images: John Margolies/Library of Congress

The New Coming Age

Google CEO Demis Hassabis offered us a first rate second rate essay, A Framework for Frontier AI and the Dawning of a New Age. I’ll go over that essay and various responses to it in Part 1.

Part 2 of this post then covers Alex Turner’s resignation, and his story about how he tried and failed to prevent Google from signing up to allow the Department of War to use its models for essentially whatever the government wants, including autonomous weapons.

Demis Hassabis sold DeepMind to Google on condition that something like this would not happen. Yet here it is, happening. A cautionary tale. [...]

***

The Core Statement and Request

He saying we are standing in the foothills of the singularity.

His ask is a Frontier AI Standards Body within the US Government, similar to FINRA, that would govern ‘frontier labs,’ defined as any company that produces a frontier model based on various technical benchmarks. Evaluations would be updated regularly, and vulnerabilities would be addressed, both before and after release.

He is excellent about stating that this is big, really big, no bigger than that, it be big.

Demis Hassabis: I’ve spent my whole life working on AGI because I’ve always had a deep conviction that, if built and deployed responsibly, it would prove to be one of the most beneficial and transformative technologies ever invented. AGI cannot be compared to standard technological breakthroughs, not even ones as consequential as the internet or mobile - it is much more akin to the discovery of electricity or fire. If you stop to think about it, we’ve essentially found a way to make sand think. It’s miraculous.

The magnitude of this technology’s impact will be unprecedented, perhaps 10x of the Industrial Revolution at 10x the speed. It will help us solve some of the biggest problems society faces from accelerating drug discovery to developing new clean energy sources to creating novel advanced materials. We could even reach a point where resources are no longer the limiting factor for human progress, leading to an amazing new era of abundance.

Things Left Unsaid

There is definitely a ‘don’t say the thing’ aspect of this, where he won’t name what the downside risks actually are. When Demis says ‘experts disagree’ he is rather avoidant about the way in which they disagree here.

Nate Soares (MIRI): I’m glad Demis acknowledges that this is a “pivotal moment in human history” during an “extremely intense” race. I’m disappointed that his proposed solution is a “standards body” to evaluate whether models are dangerous, with no plan for what to do once they are.

I’m glad he acknowledges that “experts disagree.” I’m annoyed that he glosses past how the disagreement is about whether there’s a ~5% or ≥50% chance of total catastrophe. We’ve gotta do better.

Aaron Scher: Glad to see AI CEOs speaking publicly about their views on AGI. I think Demis is wrong about his policy prescription: it’s far too little too late. When he says the experts disagree, he means that some think 5% this tech kills literally everybody, some at 40%, some at 90%.

Clearly this is strategic, but if you don’t already know, or are looking to not realize, it is very easy to come away thinking that Demis does mean the effect on jobs, even though when he says ‘safely’ he very much does not (primarily) mean that.

The Proposal

Demis Hassabis: … On the horizon, we will need robust safeguards to maintain control of increasingly agentic, recursively self-improving systems - and tackle unknown issues that will only become clearer over time.

… I’ve always believed in the power of human ingenuity and creativity to solve any problem. I’m confident that mitigating the technical risks related to AI is a challenge we can collectively address, but only if we give ourselves the time and space to get this next crucial step right. Currently, as a field and as a wider society, we aren’t doing that.

He makes clear part of this is about giving us options, including for a slowdown.

The strength of this approach is it would be technically focused, while at the same time supporting innovation and incentivising responsible behaviour. It is designed to keep up with the field’s acceleration and adapt to the biggest risks as they are identified, and could be ratcheted up if the seriousness of the situation demands, including coordinating a slowdown in development among the Frontier Labs if deemed necessary.

Demis keeps it short, not offering many details. To the extent that he has laid out a proposal, it seems to be a good one. It is definitely an improvement on the margin.

Jack Clark (Anthropic): At this point, everyone at the frontier of AI agrees that third-parties should test out AI systems and use these to develop standards to feed into policy - excellent to see @demishassabis laying out a framework to do this!

Samuel Hammond: It is striking to see leadership at Google, Anthropic, OpenAI and Microsoft all fairly independently sounding warning alarms about an imminent technological acceleration.

Thus I file this post and its ask, as high praise, under ‘the least you could do.’

A Good Start But Insufficient

I agree with Peter Wildeford that while better than nothing FINRA is not a great model here, with heightened risk of regulatory capture, and not a substitute for full government action. You need an SEC to your FINRA. That doesn’t mean don’t make the FINRA. It does mean you still need the SEC.

Would such a (at least partly) voluntary regime, only for models intended for release, and without a related binding intentional agreement, be sufficient to solve the problem? No, again it’s just way better than doing nothing, as Peter Wildeford and many others noted.

You do not need to believe, as Aaron Scher and Connor Leahy do below, that only a full halt would be sufficient here, to know we have a long way to go. Demis’s statements here, if you know what they actually mean, imply a level of danger and urgency that is not reflected in the proposal.

Eli Tyre: > Initially, Frontier Labs would voluntarily share models with the Standards Body for review up to 30 days before release.

Is this proposal only intended to address risks from models that companies plan to release? If a company develops a frontier model and never releases it, only deploying it internally to develop even more powerful AI capabilities, are they thereby exempt from this oversight scheme?

Connor Leahy: While @demishassabis is right that we need urgent action to address risks as we approach AGI (and superintelligence, I’d add), the correct response to the threats is not a ‘self-regulatory organization’.

We need to prohibit superintelligence, not give industry regulatory power.

Aaron Scher: … The extinction threat, the “only a few short years”, the “10x the Industrial Revolution”—these aren’t indicators that point to “let’s evaluate models to understand their capabilities and have voluntary safety standards”. We need to back off, we need to halt the creation of ASI.

Point 2: I agree with the attached quote that we need more time. But I think Demis’s optimism is a vibe, not a trustworthy basis for predictions. Rob Miles says it best in this video, if an asteroid we’re headed earth’s way 200 years ago, we’d just die 🤷

Point 3: As others have pointed out, it’s not clear that this proposal would reduce risks from internal deployment (it seems to focus on public deployment and pre-deployment testing), but internal deployment is where much of the risk is.

Point 4: I don’t think the proposed body could actually enact, verify, and enforce a slowdown; there’s ambiguity about what’s voluntary. Again, I think we need a long-term international treaty and to actually back off, not just to slow down a little.

by Zvi Mowshowitz, DWV |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

[ed. See also: The Voice of Google (New Yorker):]

***

I started working at Google in the summer of 2007, straight out of college, as a “new-­grad associate” in the communications department. My first week, I sat with more than a hundred other “Nooglers” (new Googlers) at the company’s weekly staff meeting, T.G.I.F., wearing matching company-issued propeller caps as a kind of ritual hazing. The venue was Charlie’s Cafe, a multilevel auditorium in the heart of the “Googleplex,” the company’s sprawling campus in Mountain View, California. The event felt less like a corporate meeting than like a weekly revival—part stand­up set, part science fair, part sermon, all of it fuelled by keg beer.

Google’s founders, Larry Page and Sergey Brin, were bona-fide public figures by then, and self-­made billionaires multiple times over, but in Charlie’s they were idols. They would often ascend the stage together, practically matching in sweat-wicking athletic clothes and Crocs. Larry had a dopey perma-smile, and seemed delighted by everything, especially Sergey. Sergey was the straight man, with a faint lilt, a product of his childhood in Russia, and an acrobatic build that made him look like he might launch into a handspring at any moment. Their charisma was unconventional, contextual; you had to be there. The audience of employees lapped up every word, giggled at every dad joke. During a Q. & A. portion of the proceedings, even adversarial questions were absorbed into the Google spirit—­it all melted into laughs, love. Merriam-­Webster had added “google” to the dictionary the year before. Fortune had crowned it the “Best Company to Work For” in America. Profits were, as the execs loved to boast, “up and to the right,” fuelled by an online-advertising machine that minted cash beyond Wall Street’s wildest dreams. But the company’s financial success felt almost incidental. What mattered, we told ourselves, was the mission—a conviction that technology could improve the world and that we were helping to build the future. The air in Charlie’s buzzed with collective belief.

That first meeting was the only one I’d ever attend as a pure spectator. By week two, I was working the event—­cordoning off the Noogler section, handing out extra caps—and I soon began helping to draft bits of Larry and Sergey’s script. A portion of my time was spent supporting the P.R. team, and I started to pick up my first press requests, providing office tours to journalists eager to see the “Google experience” firsthand. I studied a “master workplace talking points” document, which was maintained with input from PeopleOps, which was Google-speak for human resources. This was the era of “bringing your whole self to work,” of shiny, smiling H.R. people doing press hits about the importance of valuing employees’ authentic personhood (always with a telling corollary: “Because that’s how people do their best work!”). I was required to attend a training on “conscious business” with a guy named Fred Kofman, an executive coach whom Sheryl Sandberg credited with shaping her “lean-in” ethos. The course was, theoretically, about living one’s courageous values, but its most salient lesson was that employees should take “unconditional accountability”—which, in practice, sounded a lot like never questioning the higher-ups. The message reiterated over and over was that there were two kinds of people in the world: victims and players. You wanted to be a player at all times.

Despite the lore, Google’s offices didn’t make a big first impression. The bulk of the campus had been quickly converted after its previous occupant went down in the fallout from the dot-­com bust. The result was a complex of squat, one-­ or two-level buildings with metal and glass siding, surrounded by a moat of parking spaces, with Google signs plunked into the dirt out front. But there were plenty of amenities to point out—­the massage rooms and nap pods, the dinosaur fossil, the wacky sensory-­break touches like ball pits, swings, and yoga balls (even if no one actually seemed to use them). Foreign journalists seemed more skeptical than their American counterparts of perks such as lunch-­break haircuts or on-site laundry rooms, which I’d heard described as letting Google be your “housewife.”

“Z is is all a big plot to control ze workers, no?” a French reporter said.

At that point, though, I was still learning to see Google through Google’s eyes. I learned to deflect these kinds of questions and pitied the askers, a little bit, for their cynicism.

More Bad Behavior in Prediction Markets

Trump teleprompter aide made $100,000 betting on what Trump would say, reports say.

Kalshi is a high-tech prediction market that allows people to “forecast the future” (their term). It is about contracts and information, the company says, making its offerings more like a soybean futures contract than a round of blackjack or a pull on the one-armed bandit.

Still, prediction markets look a lot like betting if you squint, which is why states like New York have tried to regulate them under gambling laws. To head this off, Kalshi has sought federal protection under the Commodity Futures Trading Commission (CFTC). Yes, this means regulation for Kalshi, but it also means the CFTC will sue states like Kentucky, Minnesota, Illinois, and Rhode Island, trying to pre-empt their laws in favor of a single national standard that the CFTC controls.

While this battle plays out, government insiders continue to generate insider trading stories after using their work knowledge to place bets “forecast the future” and make huge sums of money. The classic example, of course, was Gannon Ken Van Dyke, a US soldier who participated in planning the capture of Venezuela’s Nicolas Maduro and then made $410,000 from that knowledge on the prediction site Polymarket. Van Dyke was arrested in April.

But there are also more ridiculous stories, such as disgraced former Congressman George Santos, who allegedly talked up his upcoming appearance at the State of the Union, secretly bet on whether he would attend, and then didn’t go at the last minute to score a payout.

This activity raises questions, like: How many people are gambling forecasting the future based on government secrets or insider knowledge? How many are actively manipulating results they have bet on? Even the Trump White House was concerned enough to issue a memo in March telling employees not to “use nonpublic information to buy or sell these contracts.”

But concerns have lingered, especially after major wins on contracts involving US government policy or actions. Such suspicions will not be helped by new allegations today from multiple outlets that insider trading on Kalshi has extended even to President Trump’s teleprompter operator, who allegedly made $100,000 “forecasting” specific words and phrases that might appear in Trump speeches.

The mention market

According to sources speaking to NPR, Trump aide Gabriel Perez bet on something called a “mention market.” This is a section of Kalshi where you can sink money into contracts on crucial questions such as “What will Domino’s say during their next earnings call?” (Currently, $26,000 has been invested in this question; the smart money thinks that “Parmesan” and “DomOS” are more likely to be mentioned than not.)

In the case of Perez, his “forecasting” allegedly took place over several months at the end of last year and the beginning of this year, and his contracts were sometimes adjusted in the middle of Trump speeches. According to ABC:

Sources say Perez typically has the final eyes on nearly all of the president’s prepared remarks—and is often known to take last-minute edits from Trump himself… In certain instances, investigators uncovered times when Perez would back out of certain bets mid-speech when Trump skipped over a portion of the speech that included a word he had previously bet would be mentioned, the sources said.

This conjures up an amazing mental image: The teleprompter operator for one of the world’s most powerful people tapping away at his phone during a Trump speech to ensure he made more money for himself. [...]

Whatever you want to call it, “predicting the future with money at stake” has become huge business in America. A recent (and terrific) long article by McKay Coppins in The Atlantic showed people what a year of online sports gambling looks like, and it raised serious questions about the negative issues that widespread, legal, bet-from-your-phone gambling might cause in a country where “roughly half of men ages 18 to 49 have an active account with an online sportsbook.”

by Nate Anderson, Ars Technica |  Read more:

Image: Getty

[ed. See also: Sucker (The Atlantic article) mentioned. And: Truth Social to sell trading firms 'fastest' access to Trump's posts (Reuters).]

Grocery Store Tourism

Grocery tourism is the hot trend of 2026 according to Condé Nast Traveler. This is all well and good, but also a bit late to the trolley because I have been practicing this trend since my twenties, although without the benefit of a name or a hashtag.

My two worlds met in the supermarket aisle. Before I was a travel writer and sent to places with hotel beds that appeared to have been prepared for minor royalty or a very clean corpse, I was a checkout chick at supermarket chain Coles. This was when prices were typed in by hand, making me feel like I was conducting a low-level NASA launch procedure.

A tin of pineapple rings would trundle towards me, and I would punch in its code. Behind it would come shampoo, fish fingers, instant pudding, 24 cans of Diet Coke, and a packet of aspirin. From these items, I could deduce entire family systems. Marriage trouble. School excursions. Flu. A birthday party. A woman about to murder everyone in her house unless she got a Mint Slice into herself immediately.

I loved the products. Not necessarily the customers who could turn feral over a five-cent discrepancy in canned tomatoes. The conveyor belt was a pageant of human need. It was anthropology in a polyester apron.

When people now declare that they have discovered grocery store tourism, I feel like saying, “We know. We’ve had those for years.”

My first trip to America should have been my grand supermarket awakening. I was a PR manager for Malaysia Airlines in the late ’90s, and we were launching a very long flight to New York from Sydney via KL and Dubai. I arrived bristling with ambition. I wanted to see the cereal aisle. Long had we heard rumors of American supermarkets. They were great glittering cathedrals of corn syrup with aisles devoted just to cereal and marshmallows in the shapes of everything from the moon and stars to presidents. I wanted to stand before them all in awe, like Moses, if Moses had come down from the mountain carrying Pop-Tarts.

But the group itinerary was against me. We went to Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s and Saks. We went to FAO Schwarz. We went to Woodbury Common in New Jersey. But we did not go to a grocery store. We stayed at The Mark, and while it’s a beautiful hotel, it’s a hopeless base for a woman hoping to loiter near canned soup. Five days in New York and not a single trolley. I still consider this one of the great failures of my professional life.

Japan was different because come hell or highwater, I was finding a supermarket, and I did. Japan has KitKats in flavors that sound like haiku composed during a fever. There are soft drinks made of melon and sandwiches so neat they seem to have been assembled by watchmakers.

I once stood in a Japanese aisle looking at 15 varieties of bottled tea and felt the kind of reverence other people reserve for stained glass. This is the point of grocery tourism. It’s anthropology with a basket.

Every country gives itself away eventually. This is usually somewhere between the biscuits and the cleaning products. Finland offers Moomins in places no Australian supermarket would dare put a cartoon hippo. Singapore understands the spiritual importance of salted fish skin. Sweden puts things in tubes that should never be in tubes and then offers fermented herring.

And then the Netherlands has licorice. The Dutch have built an entire moral philosophy out of licorice. Sweet, salty, double-salty, hard, soft, shaped like coins, cars, and warnings from your dentist. I’ve always admired the Dutch, but this commitment to black chewy punishment is heroic. Sweden is not to be outdone and has thus flirted with licorice-flavored chips.

Then there are the products that cause the traveler to stop dead and reconsider the whole Enlightenment. In Vietnam, I couldn’t walk past snake wine without dancing an involuntary flamenco of horror. There was a snake in a bottle suspended in alcohol. Sometimes there were scorpions.

South Korea has canned silkworm pupae. Peru has coca tea. Colombia has arequipe. America has cheese in a spray can, which I respect as both a product and a cry for help.

And now, social media has turned all of this into content. Travelers narrate the experience into their phones. A German soccer fan can wander into an American Waffle House at one in the morning and emerge as a folk hero. Erewhon in Los Angeles has become a celebrity shrine where a smoothie can cost more than a small household appliance and one strawberry comes packaged like an engagement ring and with a similar price.

Grocery stores offer the rarest thing in modern travel, the uncurated ordinary. The supermarket is the one place travel cannot fully manicure itself. Hotels can lie. Brochures can lie. Restaurants, especially the ones with menus printed on thick paper, can lie beautifully. But supermarkets are hopeless at lying. They’re too busy. ...

Museums tell you what a country wants to remember. Restaurants tell you what it wants photographed. Supermarkets tell you what it eats at 6:14 PM when everyone is tired and dinner has become a hostage negotiation. They tell you whether a nation believes in breakfast or whether its citizens require 12 flavors of mayonnaise or 87 yogurts. They disclose the private life of a destination complete with its anxieties and emergency snacks. They reveal the daily economic choices of consumers.

by Nicole James, The Freeman |  Read more:

Image: Yufei Yang/Conde Nast

Catching Up With Keanu

Keanu Reeves' First Original Action Movie Since 'John Wick' Is 'Groundhog Day' With Sharks

I'm sure that’s one of the reasons you guys are doing press today, to raise awareness. Before I run out of time, Keanu, I'm a big fan of Tim Miller. And I know you're getting ready to film something with him in the Dominican Republic.

REEVES: Yeah.

What can you tease about this project, and what made you say, “I need to do this?”

REEVES: Sharks. Time machine. Groundhog Day.

Everything you just said sounds fucking amazing.

REEVES: Yeah, man!

Does that mean you're spending a lot of time in the water? Is that something that you're looking forward to?

REEVES: Yes. And getting eaten by sharks.

by Tamera Jones & Steven Weintraub, Collider |  Read more:

Image: Lionsgate

[ed. All in. Maybe they're Russian sharks and he'll be blasting them left and right for eating his groundhog.]

The Looting of Science Fiction

Tech titans claim the genre inspired them. But all they’ve done is graft their politics onto stories of a better future.

In January 2026, Elon Musk stood before the US Secretary of Defense and senior Pentagon leaders at the SpaceX Starbase in Texas. ‘We want to make Star Trek real, OK?’ he declared. ‘We want to make Starfleet Academy real. So that it’s not always science fiction, but one day the science fiction turns to science fact, and we have spaceships going through space. Big spaceships!’ He painted a vivid picture: exploring alien civilisations, humanity spreading across the stars. ‘That’s the goal!’ he concluded. ‘And that is what I think the public thinks of when they think of Space Force!’

It was a remarkable pitch selling the Pentagon a science-fiction vision. Of course, the fit is partial, incomplete. Star Trek depicts a post-scarcity, post-capitalist society where money has been abolished and humanity works toward collective betterment. Gene Roddenberry’s Federation was built on principles of equality and exploration for the sake of knowledge, not profit or military dominance. Musk took the aesthetic – big spaceships, alien encounters, epic adventures – and left its political foundation. You don’t have to be a Trekkie to know that, in Star Trek, capitalism, nationalism and militarism have been left behind. Musk wants the Enterprise, but reimagined for the military-industrial complex.

In 2021, when Mark Zuckerberg announced Facebook’s rebrand to ‘Meta’, he took the name from Neal Stephenson’s novel Snow Crash (1992), which imagines the ‘Metaverse’: a virtual reality where people’s avatars navigate digital space.

But Snow Crash is one of the sharpest satirical novels of the past half-century. Stephenson wrote it as a warning: his Metaverse is a consolation prize for a society that has collapsed. The federal government has disintegrated; corporate franchises govern daily life; even pizza delivery has been privatised into a Mafia-run operation. The novel’s protagonist is a pizza deliveryman and part-time hacker whose sword-fighting avatar in the virtual world is the only place where dignity is available to him. Stephenson intended the contrast between digital glamour and material poverty to be horrifying. He saw it as a cautionary vision of where platform capitalism leads.

Zuckerberg’s presentation did not engage with any of this. The platform economy – where corporations are protected from democratic accountability while providing essential services – echoes Stephenson’s model precisely, and Zuckerberg read it as inspiration.

Steve Wozniak, Apple’s co-founder, gave expression to this ethos in 2017 when he said: ‘We are the people who make fantasies real.’ It sounds inspiring, but it is important to know which parts of those fantasies they’re choosing, and which parts they’re leaving out. When Musk unveiled Tesla’s Cybertruck in 2019, he had already told investors what to expect: something ‘really futuristic, like cyberpunk Blade Runner’. Musk was selling survival gear for a collapsing world, a version of Blade Runner’s Los Angeles. The aesthetics got materialised. The warnings did not. [...]

Science fiction in the 1950s imagined flying cars, abundant energy and more – but it did so before Three Mile Island, before Chernobyl, before we learned, often through disaster, what happens when you prioritise speed over safety. Those regulatory frameworks Andreessen wants to demolish emerged from hard-won lessons. The optimistic aesthetic gets borrowed; the learning gets discarded.

Perhaps nowhere is this more legible than in the naming of Palantir Technologies. J R R Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings (1937-49) is one of the great works of 20th-century literature precisely because it is an extended meditation on the corrupting nature of power. Written in the shadow of industrialised warfare and imperial extraction, it insists on the value of the small, the local and the unglamorous against the totalising ambition of industrial force. Its central moral is not that evil can be defeated by the right hero wielding the right weapon – it is that power itself corrupts, that the Ring cannot be used for good by anyone, and that the only salvation lies in relinquishing the will to dominate entirely. Tolkien’s fictional race of hobbits prevail not because they are powerful but because they are outside the logic of power. Tolkien built an entire mythology to make that argument.

In Tolkien’s novels, the palantíri are seeing-stones or crystal balls that allow their users to see across great distances. They sound like neutral tools, like surveillance technology. But they are devices of corruption: Saruman’s palantír connects him to Sauron and leads to his downfall; Denethor’s drives him to madness and suicide. The palantíri don’t just enable seeing – they enable manipulation and control by those who master them.

The US company Palantir Technologies provides analytics and surveillance tools to governments, militaries and ICE, US immigration and customs enforcement. Its name does political work: it transforms invasive tracking into mystical insight, casting algorithmic surveillance as wise foresight rather than systematic intrusion. In their book The Technological Republic (2025), Palantir’s CEO Alexander Karp and his legal counsel Nicholas Zamiska frame Palantir’s government work in martial terms: ‘We will find a way to build coalitions and bands of warriors. To deny the human need for such affiliation has been a mistake.’ They position surveillance tools as fulfilling a fundamental human need for warrior brotherhood. The Tolkien reference provides the aesthetic authority; the distance from Tolkien’s actual moral vision provides the freedom to act without it. Naming a surveillance company after devices that corrupt and betray their users isn’t homage – it is the appropriation of aesthetic while rejecting the moral core.

William Gibson’s novel Neuromancer (1984) introduced ‘cyberspace’, a term Gibson coined. Its protagonist, Case, is a hacker whose nervous system was damaged by former employers as punishment. Burned out and banned from cyberspace, he drifts through neon-soaked Chiba City as a ‘console cowboy’ with nowhere left to go. The novel’s cyberspace is owned and controlled by vast corporations; individual hackers are not heroes but tools, hired and discarded by interests they can barely see. Gibson’s vision was explicitly dystopian: a world in which the democratising potential of digital networks had been foreclosed before it could begin, captured by capital and turned into an instrument of its own expansion.

In September 1988, the software developer John Walker wrote an Autodesk internal white paper, ‘Through the Looking Glass: Beyond “User Interfaces”’, in which he outlined what he called a ‘cyberpunk initiative’: a proposal to build, within 12 months, a doorway into cyberspace. The project’s motto was blunt: ‘Reality isn’t enough any more.’

By 2025, the San Francisco headquarters of OpenAI pump high-energy electronic dance music across their reception area, where easy chairs, scatter cushions and Swiss cheese plants create what the CEO Sam Altman calls a ‘comfortable country house’ rather than a ‘corporate sci-fi castle’. The chrome and grime of cyberpunk – the neon-soaked warning that the corporate capture of digital space would be brutal and dehumanising – has been replaced by Scandinavian furniture and artisanal coffee. Gibson’s ‘consensual hallucination’ has been rebranded as cozy domesticity. The dystopia has not been avoided; it has been made comfortable enough to sign up for.

Gibson himself registered the irony. In an interview with Wired magazine in 2012, he acknowledged that the cyberspace of Neuromancer – all corporate interests and information thieves – bore little resemblance to the early internet he failed to anticipate: the 1990s-2000s moment when a teenager in a bedroom could genuinely outcompete corporations, when the network felt briefly open and democratic. Gibson missed that phase entirely. But he was accidentally right about where things ended up. The corporate platforms – Google, Meta, Amazon – that now dominate digital life are far closer to his original vision than to the participatory web that briefly flourished between them. Gibson imagined cyberspace as a space of corporate dominance from the start; Silicon Valley built the open internet first, then converged on his dystopia anyway. The difference is that, in Neuromancer, that convergence was the disaster to be resisted. They turned his warning into a product roadmap.

by Ali Rıza Taşkale, Aeon | Read more:
Image: Amazon