You Can Make Free Money on Polymarket. If You Know Math.

Betting is fundamentally about risk: You might win or you might lose. But what if you could always win?

Enter prediction markets, sites that let users bet on pretty much anything. Most of those users lose. But a savvy few have made a fortune using basic math.

Prediction sites like Polymarket and Kalshi offer many of the same markets. And usually, they post the same odds.

But sometimes the odds diverge — like in these markets about the 2028 Democratic presidential primary race.

In March, Kalshi had Gavin Newsom’s odds of winning at 29 percent, but Polymarket had them at 24 percent. These disparities are good news, if you’re gambling.

Taking both sides of the same bet is usually a wash. But not when there’s a price disparity.

In the example with Mr. Newsom, imagine you bought “Yes” on Polymarket, for 24 cents, and also “No” on Kalshi, for 71 cents.

If Mr. Newsom wins, then Polymarket owes you a dollar.

If he loses, then Kalshi owes you a dollar.

One of these bets must be a winner — so you’re guaranteed to make a dollar. But because of the disparity, you’ll only have spent 95 cents on the bets.

If this sounds like printing money, that’s because it basically is. It’s called “arbitrage,” long a favorite strategy of quantitative traders trying to juice profits from the stock market with minimal risk. You buy something at a cheap price, and simultaneously sell it at a more expensive price. It’s a win-win.

Some bettors are now using the same strategy to rake in thousands of dollars from online prediction sites. Moving quickly, they can take advantage of price gaps between exchanges like Polymarket and Kalshi, or even between the prediction sites and sports-betting sites like DraftKings and FanDuel. The wider the spread, the bigger the potential profit.

Ryan Noel, 25, has built a career arbitrage-betting (or “arbing,” as he calls it) during sports games. He regularly makes more than 1,000 arbitrage bets per week on prediction sites like Polymarket, Kalshi, Novig and ProphetX, in addition to online sportsbooks, he said.

“Software shows me the price of every sort of market at the same time,” said Mr. Noel, who started arbing in late 2023, while working as an actuary, before quitting his job last year. So far, the strategy has netted him more than $1 million, he said. “I don’t care about sports at all. I think watching sports is the most boring thing you can do with your time. I’m a mathematician.”

Math skills are essential — but so are the right tools, said Aidan Gawlowski, a Chicago-based college student who started arbing last year before coding his own software to hunt down prediction-market price discrepancies. Mr. Noel buys software from OddsJam, Pick the Odds and Bookie Beats that tracks price changes across thousands of markets, flagging the possible arbitrage.

“I figured out that there was this opportunity,” said Mr. Gawlowski, 21, who said he started betting when he was 14. “You’re mathematically guaranteed to make money.”

Some moneymaking opportunities last longer than others. The arbitrage with Mr. Newsom? It existed, unexploited, for weeks. During that period, you could’ve bought “Yes” on Polymarket and “No” on Kalshi, for a roughly 3 percent profit. (The probability spread of around five percentage points, minus Kalshi’s transaction fee.)

But there are a couple of reasons that opportunity was an anomaly. For one, the market doesn’t resolve for two years. That’s a long time to tie up money you could invest elsewhere, said Abraham Wyner, a professor of statistics and data science at the Wharton School at Penn. There’s also additional risk that some bets carry more than others: What if the election gets weird, and the sites don’t agree on what defines a Newsom nomination? Then, you might lose both sides of your bet.

That was enough to deter Mr. Noel and Mr. Gawlowski, who spend most of their time arbing on sports. There are loads of sites that let users bet on sports, meaning more chances for price discrepancies. And during games, odds must constantly update to keep up with live developments. That process takes time, which can translate into arbitrage opportunities.

“You can make a significant amount of money on a big N.B.A. day,” Mr. Gawlowski said. During sports games, Mr. Noel’s price-tracking programs catch an arbitrage opportunity every minute or so, he said.

These discrepancies often emerge when casual users, betting based on vibes, move a market just a hair out of alignment. Then arb bettors pounce, and their actions end up evening the odds across the sites again.

Taking advantage of these short-lived opportunities is hard enough for you and me. But the window is closing even for bettors like Mr. Noel and Mr. Gawlowski, as big financial institutions get in on the action with automated bots that can trade faster than any human. [...]

“Back in 2022, these arbitrage opportunities would last 30 seconds,” said Alex Llewellyn, 36, a professional sports bettor. “These days I execute bets in two to five seconds. And instead of 8 percent arbs, you generally see 4 to 5 percent.” [...]

Prediction sites, awash in Wall Street money and bots, are heading toward the same fate as other major financial markets. One-tenth of the top one percent of accounts on Polymarket rake in more than two-thirds of the profits, a Wall Street Journal analysis found.

“You’re not betting against Joe Schmo anymore,” said Alex Monahan, the founder of OddsJam. “You’re betting against a quant firm with infinitely better technology than you.”

by Evan Gorelick and Katherine Chui, NY Times | Read more:
Image: uncredited
[ed. Forget the opioid crisis - so yesterday. These days everybody's got a gambling addiction. Here's a different form of arbitrage: Net Gain (NYT):]

***

For the first game of the N.B.A. finals, my friends and I went to a bar offering a deal that seemed too good to be true: If the Knicks won, the bar would cover every customer’s tab, up to $100.

As tipoff approached, young people variously clad in starched button-downs and Brunson jerseys galloped from nearby Midtown offices for a chance at free booze. The line snaked around the block, and the bouncer made a show of blocking the front entrance. People screeched at one another. My buddy, already inside, shooed me in through a side door. (I heard someone whine, “Why does he get to go in?”)

Three hours later, when the Knicks overcame a 14-point deficit to take down the Spurs, strangers in the crowd were hugging and high-fiving. Outside, a passing garbage truck honked its horn in celebration. The entire city seemed to be shouting with joy. And at the Jeffrey, which bills itself as a neighborhood spot for “craft beer, cocktails and bites,” 726 beers, 385 cocktails and 175 smash burgers were on the house.

Over the hedge

When someone hands you a freebie, by all means: Take it. But you and I both know there ain’t no such thing as a truly free lunch. So while downing drinks, I kept asking myself whose money I was taking.

Turns out, it belonged to Kalshi users who’d bet on San Antonio — in other words, deadbeats and turncoats who had it coming. (Kidding! Kind of.) Before the game, the bar’s owner, a 50-year-old corporate lawyer, had used the prediction market to bet $5,000 on the Knicks. Since the Spurs were the favorites, that position netted him around $8,000 when New York prevailed — enough to cover nearly everything the crowd had consumed. If the Knicks had lost, the bar would’ve been out the $5,000, but it could have covered its losses with all those drinks and smashburgers. (Plus the free publicity — you’re welcome.)

That Dropped Call With Customer Service? It Was on Purpose.

In hindsight I’ll say: I always thought going crazy would be more exciting—roaming the street in a bathrobe, shouting at fruit. Instead I spent a weary season of my life saying representative. Speaking words and numbers to robots. Speaking them again more clearly, waiting, getting disconnected, finally reaching a person but the wrong person, repeating my story, would I mind one more brief hold. May my children never see the emails I sent, or the unhinged delirium with which I pressed 1 for agent.

I was tempted to bury the whole cretinous ordeal, except that I’d looked behind the curtain and vowed to document what I’d seen.

It all began last July, here in San Francisco. I’d been driving to my brother’s house, going about 40 mph, when my family’s newish Ford Escape simply froze: The steering wheel locked, and the power brakes died. I could neither steer the car nor stop it.

I jabbed at the “Power” button while trying to jerk the wheel free—no luck. Glancing ahead, I saw that the road curved to the left a few hundred yards up. I was going to sail off Bayshore Boulevard and over an embankment. I reached for the door handle.

What followed instead was pure anticlimactic luck: Ten feet before the curve in the road, the car drifted to a stop. Vibrating with relief, I clicked on the hazards and my story began.

That afternoon, with the distracted confidence of a man covered by warranty, I had the car towed to our mechanic. (I first tried driving one more time—cautiously—lest the malfunction was a fluke. Within 10 minutes, it happened again.)

“We can see from the computer codes that there was a problem,” the guy told me a few days later. “But we can’t identify the problem.”

Then he asked if I’d like to come pick up the car.

“Won’t it just happen again?” I asked.

“Might,” he said. “Might not.”

I said that sounded like a subpar approach to driving and asked if he might try again to find the problem.

“Look”—annoyed sigh—“we’re not going to just go searching all over the vehicle for it.”

This was in fact a perfect description of what I thought he should do, but there was no persuading him. I took the car to a different mechanic. A third mechanic took a look. When everyone told me the same thing, it started looking like time to replace the car, per the warranty. I called the Ford Customer Relationship Center.

Pinging my way through the phone tree, I was eventually connected with someone named Pamela—my case agent. She absorbed my tale, gave me her extension, and said she’d call back the next day.

Days passed with no calls, nor would she answer mine. I tried to find someone else at Ford and got transferred back to Pamela’s line. By chance—it was all always chance—I finally got connected to someone with substantive information: Unless our vehicle’s malfunction could be replicated and thus identified, the warranty wouldn’t apply.

“But nobody can replicate the malfunction,” I said.

“I understand your frustration.”

Over the days ahead, and then weeks, and then more weeks, I got pulled into a corner of modern existence that you are, of course, familiar with. You know it from dealing with your own car company, or insurance company, or health-care network, or internet provider, or utility provider, or streaming service, or passport office, or DMV, or, or, or. My calls began getting lost, or transferred laterally to someone who needed the story of a previous repair all over again. In time, I could predict the emotional contours of every conversation: the burst of scripted empathy, the endless routing, the promise of finally reaching a manager who—CLICK. Once, I was told that Ford had been emailing me updates; it turned out they’d somehow conjured up an email address for me that bore no relationship to my real one. Weirdly, many of the customer-service and dealership workers I spoke with seemed to forget the whole premise and suggested I resume driving the car.

“Would you put your kids in it?” I’d ask. They were aghast. Not if the steering freezes up!

As consuming as this experience was, I rarely talked about it. It was too banal and tedious to inflict on family or friends. I didn’t even like thinking about it myself. When the time came to plunge into the next round of calls or emails, I’d slip into a self-protective fugue state and silently power through.

Then, one night at a party, a friend mentioned something about a battle with an airline. Immediately she attempted to change the subject.

“It’s boring,” she said. “Disregard.”

On the contrary, I told her, I needed to hear every detail. Tentatively at first, she told me about a family trip to Sweden that had been scuttled by COVID. What followed was a protracted war involving denied airline refunds, unusable vouchers, expired vouchers, and more. Other guests from the party began drifting over. One recounted a recent Verizon nightmare. Another had endured Kafkaesque tech support from Sonos. The stories kept coming: gym-quitting labyrinths, Airbnb hijinks, illogical conversations with the permitting office, confounding interactions with the IRS. People spoke of not just the money lost but the hours, the sanity, the basic sense that sense can prevail.

Taken separately, these hassles and indignities were funny anecdotes. Together, they suggested something unreckoned with. And everyone agreed: It was all somehow getting worse. In 2023 (the most recent year for which data are available), the National Customer Rage Survey showed that American consumers were, well, full of rage. The percentage seeking revenge—revenge!—for their hassles had tripled in just three years.

I decided to de-fugue and start paying attention. Was the impenetrability of these contact centers actually deliberate? (Buying a new product or service sure is seamless.) Why do we so often feel like everything’s broken? And why does it feel more and more like this brokenness is breaking us?

Turns out there's a word for it.

by Chris Colin, The Atlantic |  Read more:

Image: Timo Lenzen
[ed. I was trying to explain the concept of friction to a friend recently and he just didn't get it. But once you understand it, you see it everywhere. Other examples not mentioned in this article: impenetrable user agreements continually being updated to make sure administrative processes like appeals, refunds, lawsuits etc. are nearly impossible to pursue; Right to Repair issues where anything from from John Deere tractors to automobile software, to mobile phones, to printers, etc. (the list goes on and on) that require specific parts only available from the company you purchased the product from (despite available substitutes). Conversely, a whole new universe of companies and apps have been created to remove friction (think Stripe, Venmo, Uber, Doordash, etc. etc. etc). So of course, the Trump administration has been actively trying to kill the one agency that's supposed to protect the public -  the Consumer Financial Protection Agency (CFPB). They haven't been able to completely eliminate it yet (despite significant DOGE downsizing) so instead they've made it useless for its intended purpose and decided to weaponize it to advance the administration's anti-woke agenda.]

How Amsterdam is Reviving the Fine-Grained Courtyard Block

At Centrumeiland, a new district in Amsterdam’s IJburg expansion, the city is avoiding one of the great failures of contemporary urban development, the large-parcel megaproject. Rather than handing the 37 acres over to a few large developers to build massive, hotel-like buildings, Centrumeiland is subdividing the site into perimeter-block parcels, assigning each parcel a buildable role through a plot “passport,” and enabling many smaller actors to build within one coherent urban framework.

Begun in 2013 as part of Amsterdam’s IJburg land-reclamation project, Centrumeiland modernizes the old perimeter-block model for contemporary goals. It will be dense, but green; urban, but family-oriented; highly planned, but open to many builders. Amsterdam plans roughly 1,500 to 1,700 homes on the 37-acre island, or about 40 to 46 homes per acre. By American standards, that is serious density. But it is not being delivered as a monoculture of towers or double-loaded apartment blocks. Centrumeiland includes a mix of housing types and tenures: large family-sized homes, smaller rentals, social housing, mid-market housing, market-rate condos, individual self-build houses, collective self-build projects, housing-association buildings, and developer-led apartments.

The ambition is a dense urban neighborhood that can serve households across the lifecycle: singles, couples, families with children, older residents, renters, owners, and collective building groups. It also adapts the perimeter-block tradition to contemporary priorities: low-car living, accessibility, climate resilience, mixed tenure, family housing, and broader participation in development and ownership.

All of this depends on the subdivision and passport system. Amsterdam breaks the large site into many buildable pieces, assigns each parcel a role through a plot passport, and holds the pieces together through streets, blocks, party-wall conditions, courtyards, public-space rules, and environmental obligations. In this way, they have brilliantly resurrected the old urban formula that allows many builders to participate in the development of a large site, making a real neighborhood.

For American cities, the moral of the story is clear. On large brownfield and greenfield sites, cities should stop treating whole districts as single development packages to be handed to master developers. They should do the more civic work first of laying streets, subdividing land into buildable parcels, and issuing clear “parcel passports” that specify what each site can become. In existing neighborhoods, the same logic should operate at a smaller scale. Cities should create transit-oriented overlays that give ordinary private lots clear building rights that make great multifamily housing easier to finance, permit, and build.

Centrumeiland goes far beyond “build more housing.” It is more radical and more urbane. Divide the land, write good code, and let many hands build the city.

The Megadevelopment Trap

For the last half-century, large urban sites have met a sadly familiar fate. A railroad, port authority, public agency, hospital, university, or industrial landowner controls a vast tract of developable land. The master-planning process then carves it into a few enormous parcels and awards them to one or several major developers. After years of negotiation, public fights, redesigns, entitlement battles, and financing risk, the developer may finally build the megaproject, which is widely reviled by the public.

Megaprojects may be economically productive. They can deliver housing, offices, parks, retail, transit, and tax revenue. But the development model itself is thin. Too few actors control too much land. The parcels are too large, the buildings are too big, and the building code and underwriting norms push toward deep floorplates and double-loaded corridors. The buildings are dominated by small, expensive, hotel-like units that are poorly suited to middle-income families who need light, storage, bedrooms, outdoor access, and a sense of domestic permanence. These districts may be a success on paper (for now), but they make failed neighborhoods, lacking the social depths and street life that is the reward of fine-grained courtyard urbanism. [...]

The problem is the development system. A megaproject cannot make a great neighborhood. Neighborhoods require many actors, many front doors, many ownership structures, many building types, many ground-floor conditions, and many small adaptations over time. They need private yards. They need a public framework strong enough to coordinate many actors.

That is the old art of division and perimeter block planning Centrumeiland begins to recover.

Making Land Into City

Centrumeiland is part of Amsterdam’s IJburg expansion, a chain of artificial islands built in the IJmeer on the city’s eastern edge. IJburg extends Amsterdam outward into the water between the historic city and the open landscape of the Markermeer, turning what was once lakebed into new urban land. Centrumeiland sits within this larger archipelago, connected back to Amsterdam by bridges, cycling routes, bus service, and the IJtram to Amsterdam Centraal. It is therefore both peripheral and deeply urban, a new island neighborhood made from water, but tied into the metropolitan fabric of Amsterdam.

While the land reclamation is impressive, even more remarkable is the public framework that governs the development. The city divided the land into kavels, and created parcel-specific rules through kavelpaspoorten, or plot passports.

A passport can define the parcel boundary, buildable envelope, maximum height, frontage condition, access requirements, open-space obligations, water-management rules, parking expectations, program, tenure, sustainability requirements, and sometimes ground-floor use. It tells a builder not merely that “residential” or “commercial” is allowed, but what kind of urban contribution this specific piece of land is supposed to make: a row of townhouses, a small apartment building, a collective self-build project, a social-housing block, a mid-market rental building, a mixed-use corner building, or a larger perimeter-block parcel with shared courtyard space.

The subdivision and passport framework enables much broader participation in the development. Of the planned 1,500 to 1,700 homes, roughly 60 to 70 percent are intended to be self-build. But “self-build” here does not only mean one household designing one eccentric house. It includes individual self-builders, small groups, collective private commissioning, building groups, housing cooperatives, and other resident-led or small-group development structures...

Its lesson moral here is that parcelization broadens participation and creates more development pathways than the master-developer model. [...]

The American Application

For American cities, the lesson is to create a modern urban passport system.

There are two obvious applications: large-site development and existing-neighborhood overlays.

On brownfield and greenfield sites — former industrial land, rail yards, malls, hospital campuses, public land, waterfronts, and other large redevelopment areas — cities should stop defaulting to the megaproject model. They should lay out streets first, shape interesting blocks, design public spaces, subdivide land into buildable parcels, and assign parcel passports. Those parcels could then be allocated to many actors: small developers, cooperatives, housing associations, community development corporations, nonprofit builders, resident-led groups, and larger developers where appropriate.

Large developers may still participate. But they should not control the whole district. The city should not ask one actor to simulate the complexity of a neighborhood.

by Alicia Pederson, Courtyard Urbanist |  Read more:

Images: uncredited

AI Won’t Stave Off the Debt Disaster

For years, I kept a favorite cartoon in my desk and pulled it out to open the annual business-plan meeting at the unit I led. It showed a frazzled executive standing in front of a screen displaying his multiyear sales projections. The line ran straight horizontally, close and parallel to the x-axis, almost to the right edge, where it leaped steeply upward, next to a label that said, “Miracle happens here!”

No impulse is more human than wishfulness, the tendency to grasp at any straw that enables us to avert our eyes from difficult realities and put off facing them. Members of America’s national political class personify this failing, in their continuing practice of fiscal denialism. Even as the inexorable arithmetic piles up, those responsible for the nation’s economic future and national security fasten on imaginary miracles to justify a gross default of their duty of stewardship.

A decade ago, as the national debt surged toward the once unthinkable level of $20 trillion (now nearing $40 trillion), denialists took brief refuge in an alchemist fantasy that called itself Modern Monetary Theory. The notion that a nation could borrow without limit, forever, in its own fiat currency was quickly demolished by full-spectrum critiques, in venues ranging from the Cato Institute to the Review of Keynesian Economics. The experts weren’t really necessary; you could have just consulted the Journal of Common Sense, or maybe your grandparents.

MMT has mercifully disappeared from serious discussion, but the wishful impulse has not. Its latest comfort station is the claim that the productivity boost that artificial intelligence will bring to the economy will bail us out of our sinking boatload of debt. Stop worrying; “Miracle happens here!”

In our post-truth world, facts aren’t as stubborn as they used to be, but the most obstinate of all are the mathematical ones. They tell us not to rely on even the powerfully positive impact of these new technologies to spare us the radical adjustments that a generation of procrastination has now made inevitable.

That isn’t to say that no help is on the way. The evidence is persuasive that AI and related advances are already boosting the economy in the most important way possible, by raising productivity. That’s the biggest reason that GDP is surprising on the upside while job growth remains tepid. Moreover, forecasts that this favorable windage will accelerate seem highly credible.

What’s not credible is the idea that even an AI-led productivity surge can suffice to offset our decades of dereliction. The Congressional Budget Office, the Federal Reserve, and other forecasters peg average future economic growth at a little under 2 percent. Assume a 70 percent boost from the AI revolution, to 3 percent or so, and it becomes possible to imagine our current debt level stabilizing, not improving but merely getting no worse.

But even this daydream requires far too many improbable breaks. Simulations conclude that the chances of growth of even 2.6 percent are less than 1 in 20. That’s without factoring in the possibility of a military crisis, a recession, another pandemic, or any other macroeconomic setback. AI revenue increases could be partially offset by new spending requirements, for energy infrastructure, for example.

The Penn Wharton Budget Model credits AI with a healthy 1.5 percent productivity and GDP increase over the next decade. That would result in deficit reduction of some $400 billion over those 10 years. Not chump change, but only a fraction of what would be required, given the tsunami of entitlement spending, driving trillions of added debt, making landfall over that period.

AI enthusiasts assure us that the beneficial impact will be even bigger. Let’s hope they’re right, although that would mean a bigger productivity surge than those brought by electricity or the Internet. Even if it happens, it cannot conceivably get here before the trust fund insolvencies start in the early 2030s. Kent Smetters, a Penn Wharton Budget Model scholar, states flatly that AI, however positive, isn’t “a magic bullet” and that the call is “not even close.”

Let’s stipulate that AI will be the transformative wonder that its inventors foresee; that the CBO and other forecasters have often tended to underestimate US economic growth, especially in environments of lightened regulation and taxation; and that the United States somehow sails through an unprecedented streak without a single costly exogenous blow.

It still ain’t enough.

by Mitch Daniels, Law and Liberty/WaPo |  Read more:

Image: chekart/Shutterstock
[ed. Yet we keep digging deeper. Where does another $500 billion/yr for defense spending come from? Or, say, $700 million to prop up coal billionaires (below)? Thin air.]

‘Clean, Beautiful’ Coal Industry Gets $700m Bailout

Trump uses wartime powers to dole out $700m to ‘clean, beautiful’ coal (The Guardian)

Donald Trump is using wartime presidential authority to hand $700m to coal-fired power plants in the US, the latest move by the president to bolster what he called “clean, beautiful coal”, despite it being the dirtiest of fossil fuels.

“Today, we’re taking historic action to bring down the price of energy and the cost of living for all Americans with the power of clean, beautiful coal,” he said at a press conference on Thursday. [...]

In the past year, the Trump administration has doled out hundreds of millions of dollars to the coal industry, signed orders forcing ratepayers to pay extra for ageing plants to stay open, and dismantled environmental rules that limit toxins from coal leaching into Americans’ shared air and water.

The administration’s attempts to provide a cuddly rebranding to coal have even extended to creating a new mascot with giant eyes, called Coalie, and gushing social media posts that include an image of a lump of coal wearing sunglasses as if it were on the TV show Love Island.

“You’re not allowed to say ‘coal’ within the Trump administration unless it’s preceded by the words ‘clean, beautiful’,” Trump said on Thursday. “Complicates our life, but it’s good.” [...]

Trump’s attempts to revive the coal industry, while at the same time seeking to stymie the rapid growth of clean energy such as solar and wind, have so far floundered. The number of people working in coal has declined by more than 90% in the past century, with more people now working in Waffle Houses across the US than in coal.

US coal production is currently less than half of what it was in 2008, with coal recently declining as both a fuel for electricity and as an input for manufacturing materials such as iron and steel. Cheap, abundant gas has helped displace coal from power grids with even cheaper renewable energy also now taking off in the US despite the administration’s efforts to kill it off.

“What’s next, a taxpayer bailout to build new phone booths?” said Kit Kennedy, a senior climate campaigner at the Natural Resources Defense Council, of the new round of support for coal. “This is going to mean higher bills and dirtier air. What a waste.”

by Oliver Milman and Dharna Noor, The Guardian | Read more:
Image: Jonathan Ernst/Reuters
[ed. One picture = thousand words. The stupidity never ends. In other news of the stupid, henchman Hegseth gets bad reviews for his speech commemorating D-Day:]

***

"Speaking in north-west France on Saturday to mark the 82nd anniversary of the D-day landings, Hegseth seized on the moment marking the wartime liberation of Europe to reiterate the US administration’s longstanding attack on European immigration policies.

“Sadly, today, different European beaches are stormed by different, dangerous ideologies,” Hegseth told those gathered at the American military cemetery in Colleville-sur-Mer.

“Beaches in Spain, Italy, Greece and Bulgaria, boats and men arrive. When will European capitals do something about that invasion, or is it too late? I pray not, and I believe not,” he said."

The remarks were swiftly condemned on social media. The English historian, author and television presenter Simon Schama described them as a “special kind of loathsomeness: a blend of historical deafness, grotesque stupidity and comically ludicrous self-importance”.

Schama added: “As if the little people’s rage against immigration somehow is superior to the war against the 3rd Reich and entitles this comic book nobody to lecture the actual heroes.”

Betting on Humans

What to do about AI & jobs.

Now, the great majority of people—whether they are “blue collar” or “white collar” laborers—spend their working hours orchestrating machines of various kinds: some to transform knowledge or bits, and others to transform atoms. Yet just a few decades ago, it would have been impossible to understand what it is that most people today call “work.”

Today, a relatively small group of technologists is starting to see the world through the lens of another fundamental discovery: deep learning, the approach to AI that has enabled machines to think and undergirded substantively all major advancements in AI over the past decade. And like their forebears at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, these technologists are building new machines, uniquely enabled by the insights and abstractions furnished from the new science. Some believe new types of labor will emerge, concentrated on the orchestration of machines, or the tasks that remain best suited to the human touch. Others believe this time is different, and that human labor will soon be permanently obsolete.

We do not pretend to know the definitive answers. What we do know is that much of this future remains to be written, in no small part by the policy choices we make today. And what we hope to offer is a roadmap for how politicians and policymakers might bet on human agency under stark uncertainty.

Futures Not Yet Written

There are two fundamental stories one can tell about the impact of artificial intelligence on human labor. One is the pessimistic version: most of us are like the people in the early Industrial Revolution who could not learn to adapt or were stuck as mere cogs in factories. Very few of us, if any, will learn to orchestrate machines at a higher level of abstraction, and neither will we learn to invent new machines, since the artificial intelligence systems will soon exceed humans in their capacity for invention and discovery. That view is one of historical discontinuity: replacing knowledge work strikes deeper at the human uniqueness that has kept us employed than replacing various kinds of cognitive and manual labor has in the past.

The other story is optimistic: just like those early conductors and inventors of machines, we will continue our long human legacy of finding yet more to occupy our time, yet more activity that other humans find valuable. There is much more of this than we can possibly realize, because our collective imagination is bounded, yet our collective wants are limitless. How barren, in retrospect, do we find the mind of the man who thought the human touch was gone simply because we had invented machines stronger, more durable, and more reliable than us at physical labor?

Both stories will probably be true at the same time, but the unfortunate reality is that nobody knows in what proportion. More unfortunately still, it will be some time until we know: the temporary disruption that would portend broad displacement would look quite similar to the creative destruction that would come with just another industrial revolution. It’s easy for policymakers who first start to grapple with the notion of advanced artificial intelligence to reflexively adopt the pessimistic view: for so long, they’ve heard the idea that AI will be important and the idea that many jobs will be lost in the same breath that coming around on the scope of AI seems to imply believing that human labor is doomed. But that would be premature, and converts must resist becoming zealots.

Here, then, is the first—and in some sense the most troubling—message for policymakers: nobody can know what is going to happen. Anyone speaking with confidence about predictions of this kind is either misunderstanding or misleading. It is not just that we do not know “the future,” in some broad sense. We also do not know the specific nature of any problems posed by AI to the labor market: we do not know what industries, age groups, levels of seniority, job types, and so on will be affected by AI automation in practice rather than in theory or in speculation. We do not know over what timeframe these still-hypothetical changes will occur.

And if AI really does profoundly upend the labor market, we still do not know what the resulting distribution of economic resources will look like. Will the AI labs profit immensely, absorbing huge swathes of economic value as many other institutions struggle to survive? Or will AI models and systems become commodified, with value accruing to the compute designers and manufacturers? Or is it some hybrid, with most firms in the economy seeing higher profits with fewer employees and, for whatever reason, not seeing a need to hire additional people to do anything? Will there be new, high-skilled jobs created that we need to retrain millions of people for? Or will there be no new jobs at all? We do not know, and we cannot know.

That is because we are still in the process of writing this future. The role of humans in future economies is not something we simply discover as it occurs. How we distribute tasks between humans and machines is largely downstream of a web of complicated economic incentives and technical features. Is the marginal unit of computing power better spent on smoothing over the jagged frontier so no role remains for humans, or for even further improving the spikes of AI capability? Does the tax system favor firms who spend the marginal payroll dollar on hiring a worker to oversee the machines or an agent to do the same? Is there a safety net to catch those hit by local disruptions to give them the room to reorient themselves, come back five years later, and fight for their place in a new economy—or do we mollify their drive with ill-placed subsidies long enough for them to grow docile and for the structures around them to calcify? All this is contingent, and when policymakers ask ‘what will happen’, they fail to see that they’re among the central live players in this question.

How should our leaders grapple with this double uncertainty of what they should want and what will happen?

by Anton Leicht and Dean W. Ball, Threading the Needle |  Read more:

Image: via

[ed. Spoiler alert: Zvi provides a quick (and incomplete) summary (DWAtV):] 

***

"Anton Leicht and Dean Ball team up to write about what we should do about potential job loss due to AI, from the perspective of prospective ‘de facto normal technology’ AI worlds even if they don’t call it that. They wisely say we don’t know what will happen, and that the ‘no regrets’ actions will be insufficient so solve the problem, but expect the world to stay normal enough, and humans competitive and useful enough, that we can use traditional solutions to such problems.

They start with easy wins.

1. Even footing: Equalize tax treatment of AI versus labor. Yes, please.

2. Retraining: Bolster workforce training and development. They notice they are skeptical in practice, and I am even more skeptical, but sure, we can try it.

3. Measurement: Know what is happening. Yes, of course.

Then they recommend what they call difficult bets.

4. Junior Job Subsidy.

Anton Leicht and Dean Ball: We put to you that the solution to deal with junior job losses might be to keep these jobs around by brute force for a while, so that the critically important economic incentive to explore how to use junior workers does not cease.

More specifically, we might do so by restructuring the tax code to subsidize junior employment.

Given who is saying to keep jobs around by brute force, by which they mean tax incentives, we should listen. This seems like a good use of progressive taxation, which we want to do anyway, to stack the deck in favor of hiring more young workers and those switching industries, presumably with phase outs for high earners.

This risks distortions if taken too far (e.g. dumping senior workers for subsidized junior workers, or gaming designations), the marginal value of young workers could easily fall below zero marginal product if there is no future for them, and gating to particular industries or occupations risks going into ‘picking winners and losers’ and other similar dangerous territories and opportunities for corruption and pork. The authors are well aware, and are pushing anyway.

The main solution they offer is, again, taxes. They suggest doing so via raising corporate taxes, despite this having a long track record of being highly economically damaging. You definitely need to avoid worse distortions, and you definitely do not want a ‘token tax’ as such for this reason, although a tax on compute is non-crazy. Taking a stake in frontier developers is definitely an error.

They quickly dismiss consumption taxes as having a fatal perception problem, despite them being objectively the efficient answer, because they raise prices and signaling is too important here. I found this disappointing, and there are ways to fix this and also make the tax progressive.

It would be great if humans remained fundamentally highly productive while we collectively got far wealthier due to AI, so all we needed to do was redistribution and moving the tax code around.

Alas, no, I do not expect we live in such a convenient world. At which point, we likely have bigger problems, but also employment does not get solved with basic tax code shifts. If we stay in control somehow then we could do progressive redistribution to keep food on the table and a roof over people’s heads, but the jobs will vanish, or they will be rather fully fake."

Trump Administration Continues Efforts to Dismantle Consumer Protection Agency

Consumer protection agency deletes thousands of pages as Trump administration seeks to dismantle it (The Guardian)

Last February, Trump appointed Russell Vought, White House budget director, as acting director of the CFPB. Vought was a key architect of Project 2025, which called for the abolition of the agency. He has since ordered CFPB employees to stop all work, dropped dozens of pending enforcement cases and tried to fire most of the agency’s staff, a move blocked by a federal judge in an ongoing lawsuit brought by the agency’s staff union. Recent court filings reveal agency leadership aims to reduce the agency’s headcount from 1,174 to 556. [...]

The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau was created by Congress in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis to enforce federal consumer financial law, promote fair competition, protect people from deceptive or predatory financial products and compel companies to engage with consumers when they file complaints.

Since its inception, the bureau has returned more than $21bn to consumers through monetary compensation and canceled debts. A Democratic Senate banking committee report released this year found the Trump administration’s gutting of the bureau and moves to rescind industry regulations have already cost consumers billions in the past year.

by Amy Qin and Flávio Pessoa, The Guardian | Read more:
Image: Guardian Design/Getty Images
[ed. ... and the hits keep coming. See below. Until his supporters say enough is enough, we and they will continue to get screwed. The most relevant question now is if recovery will ever be possible again. Always easier to destroy than to create (or restore). See also: Why are US consumers so angry? It’s not just high prices (Guardian).]

The Home-Insurance Coin Flip: Nearly Half of Claims Result in Zero Payout

When disaster strikes, many Americans face a near flip-of-the-coin chance that their home insurer will pay a claim.

And the problem is getting worse. The five biggest home-insurers as a group didn’t pay out on more than 44% of claims resolved last year, forcing homeowners and renters to fund repairs out of their own pockets, an analysis by The Wall Street Journal found.

The risk that a claim will result in no payment among the group—State Farm, Allstate, Liberty Mutual, United Services Automobile Association and Farmers Insurance—shot up from 36% a decade earlier, according to the analysis.

Several factors are driving nonpayment rates higher, according to industry analysts and executives. Prime among them: Insurers are responding to a yearslong run of postpandemic losses in their home-insurance businesses by getting tougher on claims.

One way they have done this is to raise deductibles, or the amount the customer has to pay before the insurer kicks in. Some companies applied higher deductibles to specific risks such as hurricane and hail, and changed certain deductibles from a dollar value to a percentage of the value of a home. They have also set tighter criteria for claims on expensive items like roof replacements.

 
Consumers hit by rising premiums are themselves selecting higher deductibles to save money, insurers and consumer advocates say. This sets consumers up for disappointment when they put in for claims.

 
Home insurers pitch policies as a peace-of-mind financial safety net. But customers can find the apparent guarantee of compensation for disasters evaporates when they come to claim. [...]

A spokesman for USAA, whose unpaid claims ticked up to 51% from 49% a decade ago, said the Journal’s analysis was misleading because it lacks important context around why claims may be closed without payment. That includes losses below a deductible, claims not pursued by customers or claims later reopened and paid, he said. Considering those factors, fewer than 6% of USAA claims were denied, he added.

There are other drivers of the rise in claims closed without a payout. More frequent losses from disasters, in part driven by climate change and increased development in danger-prone areas, are also triggering more claims that aren’t covered by the policies, such as for flood damage, insurers say. [...]

Location has a big influence on the odds of no payment. Insurers in Florida had the highest rate of no payouts, affecting more than two in five homeowner claims in 2024, significantly higher than the 34% five-year average for the Sunshine State. Back-to-back hurricanes in 2024—Helene and Milton—likely drove up rejections as homeowners claimed for flood damage that wasn’t covered, insurers said.

The fallout from Hurricane Milton, when insurers declined payments on claims from more than 95,000 Floridian homeowners, shows the main reasons companies say no.
Heading the list: deductibles. Insurers have sharply increased the typical deductible amount in recent years, while often introducing separate—even higher—deductibles for wind and hail damage in high-risk areas.

by Jean Eaglesham and Jaclyn Jeffrey-Wilensky, Wall Street Journal |  Read more:

Image: WSJ

***

Steps to consider if you believe your claim has been denied unfairly include:

• Ask the insurance company for a letter setting out the reasons for the denial, and copies of their relevant documentation. Consumer group United Policyholders has a sample letter on its website.

• Collect any additional evidence you can to support your claim, such as photographs or reports from independent experts.

• File an appeal to the insurer: Instructions for doing this should be in the denial letter or policy document.

• If an appeal is denied, you can submit a complaint to your state insurance regulator.
• If you want outside help, consider asking a public adjuster or attorney if they will help fight your case. You can find a local public adjuster on The National Association of Public Insurance Adjusters website. Expect them to take a slice of any eventual payout.

Bye, Bye SI

On Friday, several of Sports Illustrated’s best and brightest writers, or what remains of them, announced they’d been laid off.

Jeff Pearlman, who made his bones as a journalist for SI when it was one of the world’s most prominent sports magazines, had his heart broken all over again.

Among those who said on social media that they’d been laid off were Stephanie Apstein, Tyler Lauletta, Kyle Koster, and Mike McDaniel. Meanwhile, Front Office Sports reported that several longtime writers — including Greg Bishop and Michael Rosenberg — were laid off as part of the latest round of cuts at SI.

This is, of course, just the latest in a long series of cuts and reorganizations for the once-proud sports media brand that now trades on its reputation to create merchandise, resorts, and mostly mediocre editorial content, sometimes aided by AI.

“As a guy who wrote for Sports Illustrated for a long time and a guy who loves Sports Illustrated, like loves, loves, loves… this stuff carves me up,” Pearlman said in a TikTok video. “And it’s one thing that they get rid of writers, they lay people off. What I hate the most is that these corporate douchebags who have taken over the magazine view it just as a name now.

“That’s all Sports Illustrated is. It’s a name. It’s something to put on cruise ships. It’s something to put on clubs. It’s something to put on popcorn. Literally, there’s a Sports Illustrated popcorn. It’s something to put on whatever you can shove that thing on. That’s what it is now. Sports Illustrated has become nothing more than a way to attract people… It’s just so disturbing.”

Pearlman then ran down the who’s-who list of prominent sports writers who once graced the magazine’s pages. [...]

Pearlman, who left SI in 2002, says he could see the writing on the wall even back then.

“I started knowing SI was in trouble, I would say, for me, a couple of things,” Pearlman said. “Number one, when they f*cked up adjusting to the internet. Big time screw-up. Number two, when they laid off all of their photographers, considering it’s literally Sports Illustrated. Number three, when they just decided to destroy their library. Like, literally take the SI library, which was awesome, and just give it away.

“And now here we sit. The last of their name writers gone. Now, basically an empty vessel for selling sh*t to idiots and for getting people to gamble away their money on sports. It sucks. It’s a dark day in sports.”

by Sean Keeley, Awful Announcing|  Read more:

Image: Sports Illustrated Resorts, Jeff Pearlman

[ed. Rolling Stone business model.]

Why Japanese Companies Do So Many Different Things

Consider Toto.

If you spend much time in American public bathrooms, or rather if you’re simply a particularly attentive patron of American public bathrooms, you’ll probably have noticed Toto’s toilets at some point or another: they’re distinguished by a quite memorable serif-font “TOTO” logo. Toto toilets aren’t quite dominant in American bathrooms, since they have healthy competition from our homegrown toilet champions American Standard and Kohler—though Toto is doing better and better as Americans start to fall in love with the bidet-toilet—but globally Toto is the world’s largest manufacturer of toilets and bidets. And in its home country of Japan, Toto is simply everywhere: 80 percent of Japanese homes contain a Toto bidet-toilet.

And if you’re a longtime Toto shareholder—maybe an investor with a particular interest in bathroom fixtures—this has been a wonderfully lucrative year for you. Toto’s stock is up 60 percent year to date; in just the last few weeks, it’s risen by 30 percent. Toto is doing better than ever: its net profit, in the first quarter of 2026, was up 230 percent year over year.

But Toto’s remarkable year doesn’t have much to do with toilets or bidets. Toto might have been founded in the 1910s to “provide a healthy and civilized way of life” through affordable toilets, and in the decades since might have become the global leader in the bathroom game. But Toto also does a lot of other things. Toto manufactures not just bidets and toilets but also bathroom tiles, prefabricated bathroom modules, faucets, modular kitchens, photocatalytic coatings for buildings, and assistive equipment for the elderly. And, most importantly, Toto has a very lucrative sideline in the fabrication of memory chips.

Since 1988, in a once-obscure corner of the company called the “advanced ceramics division,” Toto has been producing a very particular component called the electrostatic chuck, or the “e-chuck.” The e-chuck is a sort of high-precision ceramic plate, about the size of a steering wheel, that uses electrostatic force to hold a silicon wafer perfectly flat and thermally stable while memory chips are etched into it with bombardments of plasma. Making these components is extraordinarily difficult, since the ceramic body needs to have near-zero particle generation and be polished to submicron flatness: and this means that there are only a few companies in the world that are capable of manufacturing e-chucks reliably. Almost all of them—Shinko Electric, NGK, Toto, Kyocera, Sumitomo Osaka Cement, Niterra—are based in Japan.

For most of its history, the advanced ceramics division was a rounding error on Toto’s balance sheet: the money maker, as it had been since the 1910s, was the toilet and bidet business. But we’re in a new era. Demand for AI is exploding, meaning that demand for the high-bandwidth memory that AI data centers require is exploding, meaning that demand for memory chips is exploding, meaning that demand for e-chucks is exploding. And so Toto’s advanced ceramics division is suddenly the company’s largest business, generating the majority of its operating profit. Toto’s leadership, suddenly awash in AI-driven revenue, announced that they would double down by investing hundreds of millions in expanded electrostatic chuck production: the toilet company had become, quite unexpectedly, a supplier to the semiconductor supply chain.

The Toto story is a fun and interesting illustration of corporate diversification and how strange bets can pay off. But that type of diversification—a toilet company that also produces photocatalytic coating and high-precision components for semiconductors—isn’t really unique to Toto. Practically every company in Japan seems to do a thousand very different things.

Consider, for example, Kyocera, another one of the e-chuck makers. Kyocera was founded in 1959 as a producer of ceramic insulators for cathode-ray tubes; today it manufactures not only industrial ceramics but also printers, smartphones, ballpoint pens, kitchen knives, solar PV modules, lens components, industrial cutting tools, automotive camera modules, electronics components, semiconductor packaging, biocompatible tooth and joint replacements, UV-LED curing systems, LCD systems, medical products, and lab-grown gemstones. Or another e-chuck maker. Sumitomo Osaka Cement, as you might have been able to deduce from the name, produces cement and ready-mixed concrete; but it also produces optical components, measuring instruments, industrial ceramics, artificial marine reefs, cosmetics and nanoparticle materials.

And this degree of diversification extends to many of Japan’s most famous companies. Yamaha, for example, manufactures pianos, motorcycles, guitars, drums, boats, snowmobiles, ATVs, audio equipment, golf clubs, tennis rackets, home appliances, specialty metals, molding and bonding equipment for semiconductors, and industrial robots. Hitachi makes nuclear reactors, power grids, railway systems, elevators, semiconductor manufacturing equipment, medical imaging devices, data storage, IT consulting, and industrial machinery. Even a company as simple as Oji, Japan’s largest paper company, has been drawn into the production of disposable diapers, functional films, adhesives, cellulose nanofibers, and wood-based EUV photoresists; and it also operates a hotel, an airport catering business, a concert hall, and an insurance agency.

All of which is to say: Japanese companies do a lot of things.

There are, of course, other countries with companies that “do lots of things”: much of Indian economic life, for example, is defined by the sprawling activities of a few large business clans—the Adanis, the Ambanis, the Tatas, the Birlas. But India is a relatively poor country with a low level of economic specialization, and the sprawling conglomerates that dominate its economy focus on relatively simple things like cement, steel, ports, and telecommunications. Japan, by contrast, is a wealthy, developed society—by one measure, the most economically complex country in the world. What’s striking about Japanese companies is not that they do lots of different things but rather that they do them very well. There are all sorts of high-precision inputs—the e-chuck being just one example—that are produced virtually only by Japanese firms.

This is very different from how most wealthy countries operate. American firms, for example, tend to prioritize focus above all else: it would be bizarre for an American paper mill to also operate a concert hall and an airport catering business, or for American Standard or Kohler to somehow have something to do with semiconductors. Even a country like Germany, which matches Japan in its depth of high-precision firms, has nothing like Japan’s corporate diversification. Only a few large conglomerates, like Siemens, have anything approaching the lateral breadth of the Japanese firm. South Korea—whose economic system was not coincidentally modeled off the Japanese one—does have a few chaebol conglomerates, like Samsung and SK, that truly do as many things as Japanese companies. But these are economy-dominating, state-entangled megafirms, cultivated as national champions by Korean industrial policy. They look nothing like, say, Sumitomo Osaka Cement, which is hugely diversified despite being relatively small. (“Look what they need to mimic a fraction of our power!”)

So why are Japanese companies like this? Why do they do so many different things? And how do they manage to do so all those different things so well?

Here is the answer I want to suggest: Japanese companies excel in lots of very different domains because it’s inherent in how they’re structured. The form of the corporation that we know and love in the United States—specialized, market-oriented, governed by shareholders—is just one form that the corporation can take; but it’s not the only way to coordinate capital and labor in a successful and profitable way. The protean corporations of Japan are best understood as a different species of thing altogether: better at some things, worse at others, but still highly adapted to their particular environment. And the things that they’re very good at turn out to be extraordinarily helpful for all sorts of things in which American companies tend to struggle.

by David Oks, Website |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

Price's Law

Spotify has about 11 million artists, but 50% of all streams are generated by only 3,300 artists. That’s insane.

Oh and this isn’t just a Spotify problem or even a music industry problem.

This is a pattern that shows up everywhere once you know what to look for

What Is Price’s Law?

In 1963, a physicist named Derek J. de Solla Price was studying scientific publications, trying to understand why some researchers dominated their fields while others published and got zero attention.

He noticed something strange: the distribution of productivity wasn’t a bell curve as you’d expect… it wasn’t even close.

It followed a completely different mathematical pattern.

Price’s Law states that the square root of the number of people in a domain does 50% of the work.

Here’s what that looks like in practice:

• In a company with 100 employees, 10 people produce half the output

• In a field with 10,000 scientists, 100 produce half the meaningful research

• On a team of 25, 5 people carry the entire operation

Price discovered this while analyzing scientific citations. In any given field, a small fraction of researchers generated half of all cited papers. The rest still published, but their work barely got noticed.

The formula is simple: √n = your high performers, where n is the total population.

Oh, and it wasn’t exclusive to research papers—this pattern showed up everywhere he looked.

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

In corporate America, Price’s Law shows up with eerie precision. Of the 30 million businesses in the United States, about 5,500 (the square root) generate half the total economic output.

Amazon, Apple, Microsoft, and a few thousand other companies produce as much as the other 29,994,500 combined.

In astrophysics, the square root of stars in a galaxy produce half the light. The Milky Way has roughly 100 billion stars, but 316,000 of them (0.0003%) generate half the luminosity. Most stars are dim, unremarkable red dwarfs.

A handful of blue giants blaze so bright they illuminate entire stellar neighborhoods. (Scientifically known as a Power Law distribution)

In creative fields like YouTube, very few channels account for the vast majority of both views and ad revenue.

The list goes on and on. River systems, sales teams, Wikipedia editors, wealth distribution, anywhere you look, the square root does half the work.

And this is not a coincidence or rigged systems or unfair advantages (though those exist too).

This is just how complex systems work when skill, consistency, opportunity, and luck all compound over time.

And if you’re building a personal brand or a one-person business, understanding this law might literally save you.

by Kaguura Gichuru, The Write Path |  Read more:

Image: via

Trump’s Endgame Is Surrender

The outlines of President Trump’s endgame in the Iran war are now emerging. In a phone call with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu yesterday, Trump reportedly explained that the United States was negotiating a “letter of intent” with Iran that would “formally end the war and launch a 30-day period of negotiations” on Iran’s nuclear program and the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz. The purpose and effect of such an agreement should be clear: The United States is walking away from the crisis. Trump may launch another limited strike to look tough and satisfy the demands of the war’s supporters, but it would be a performative gesture. Endgame in this case is a euphemism for “surrender.”

Trump has blinked many times in the confrontation with Iran—ever since March 18, when Israel attacked the Pars gas field and Iran retaliated with a strike against Qatar’s most important natural-gas-production facility. Trump then called for a halt on U.S. and Israeli targeting of Iran’s energy infrastructure, and the war effectively ended.

Trump’s repeated threats to resume attacks since then have proved to be bluffs. The leaders in Tehran have been calculating for two months that Trump would not launch another attack, and for this reason they have made no concessions despite the damage they suffered from 37 days of relentless strikes. On the contrary, their terms for a settlement are those of a victor: They demand war reparations, no limits on uranium enrichment, recognized control of the strait, and an end to sanctions.

For Trump to respond to this defiance by now calling for another 30 days of cease-fire and talks is a tacit admission of defeat. If he does launch a performative attack in the next few days, the Iranians will understand it for what it is. No one believes that he is going to resume a full-scale war a month from now. Among other reasons, with 30 more days to heal, rearm, and fill its coffers with tolls, Iran will be a more formidable adversary.

In 30 days, moreover, the new Iranian strait regime may already be firmly in place. As the Institute for the Study of War reports, Iran has been using the cease-fire period to “normalize” its control over the strait by “compelling oil-importing countries” to establish transit agreements with Tehran and charging fees on vessels from nations without such deals. According to Iranian officials, the new strait regime will give Iran’s strategic partners, such as Russia and China, priority and allow nations friendly to Iran, such as India and Pakistan, to negotiate their own transit agreements. Vessels associated with nations that Iran regards as an adversary will be denied access to the strait entirely.

Several nations, including South Korea, Turkey, and Iraq, are reportedly already negotiating at least temporary transit agreements. Now that Trump has made clear he has no intention of fighting to reopen the strait, the stampede to get good terms with Tehran will begin. All nations heavily dependent on energy from the Persian Gulf will want to cut their deal quickly to get the oil and gas and other commodities flowing and rescue their battered economy. Those nations currently allied with the United States and friendly to Israel will feel pressure to distance themselves and make their peace with Iran. The international sanctions against Iran will collapse, and even more money will pour into the country’s accounts as its newly central role in the global economy becomes normalized. By the end of 30 days, most of the world will have a stake in the new arrangement and will oppose any resumption of hostilities, even in the unlikely event that Trump wanted to go back to war.

Trump no doubt hopes that he can slip away without Americans noticing the magnitude of this defeat. The financial markets may stabilize if it is clear that oil will eventually start flowing again through a reopened strait, even if under the new Iran-controlled system. A major strategic setback for the United States need not affect Wall Street. The president may also hope that he can change the subject by launching another military operation, this time against the government in Cuba. And the news media have indeed begun writing more about Cuba than about the unfolding disaster in Iran.

According to one U.S. official, Netanyahu’s “hair was on fire” after the call with Trump—for good reason. The Iran war may end up as the single most devastating blow to Israel’s security in its brief history. On the present trajectory, Iran will emerge from the conflict many times stronger and more influential than it was before the war. It will exercise leverage with dozens of the richest nations in the world, all of which will have an acute interest in keeping Iran happy. They will be unlikely to take Israel’s side in any conflict that it has with Tehran or with its proxies in Lebanon and Gaza, because Iran will have the means to punish them if they do. Israel will emerge more isolated than it has been at any time in its history—and not least from its only reliable protector, the United States. When Trump turns his back on Israel, as he must do to implement this policy, MAGA will gladly follow. The bipartisan anti-Israel consensus in the United States will grow and harden.

Will Israel go gentle into this good night? That is the wild card that may disrupt the financial markets’ dreams of a new stability in the Gulf. A stronger, richer, more influential Iran will mean new life for Hamas and Hezbollah. It will mean the end of the Abraham Accords, as the Gulf States will have to make their own peace with Tehran so that their economies can survive. Trump says that Netanyahu “will do whatever I want him to do.” But can Israel stand by while Iran replaces the United States as the arbiter of power in the region?

by Robert Kagan, The Atlantic |  Read more:

Image: Chip Somodevilla/Getty

The Public Lands Rule Is Gone

What the BLM's Public Lands Rule was, why the Trump administration killed it, and what it means for the 245 million acres we all own.

On Tuesday, the Bureau of Land Management officially rescinded the Conservation and Landscape Health Rule—better known as the Public Lands Rule. The change takes effect June 11. The administration had been signaling this move since last spring, but this week made it final, and it landed alongside a separate proposed rule weakening grazing oversight on 155 million acres of Western land.

I haven’t previously written about the Public Lands Rule, in large part because, frankly, it’s very much an in-the-weeds policy story and tough to make interesting. But that doesn’t mean the rule was not important or that this week’s decision won’t have downstream impacts. The PLR was a sincere attempt to put conservation on equal footing with drilling, mining, and grazing in how the BLM makes decisions about the 245 million acres it manages—roughly one in ten acres in the United States. That the administration moved so aggressively to kill even that modest reset tells you something about where its priorities lie.

Here’s what you need to know.

What was the Public Lands Rule, exactly?

For most of the BLM’s modern history, “multiple use” in practice meant that drilling, grazing, and mining got to sit with the adults when decisions were made, while conservation was relegated to the kids’ table, typically alongside recreation. The Public Lands Rule, finalized in May 2024, was meant to fix that. It directed the BLM to protect the most intact landscapes, restore degraded habitat, and use science and Indigenous knowledge as the foundation for management decisions. Most consequentially, it made conservation an official use of public lands—meaning a tribe, a rancher, or a conservation organization could hold a restoration lease on a piece of ground the same way an oil company leases it for drilling. That’s what was really at stake. Not a land grab, but a seat at the table.

Who made the rule?

The Biden-era BLM, led by director Tracy Stone-Manning, finalized it in May 2024 after a lengthy public process. The comment period generated 215,000 remarks, and the overwhelming majority were in favor. The rule wasn’t a new policy invention so much as a course correction. The Federal Land Policy and Management Act of 1976 already requires the BLM to manage lands for “multiple use and sustained yield” to benefit current and future generations. After decades of drift toward extraction as the default, the Public Lands Rule was the agency trying to follow the law Congress wrote nearly 50 years ago.

What was the case for rescinding it according to the current administration?

Interior Secretary Doug Burgum argued the rule was “unnecessary” and could block access to hundreds of thousands of acres, hurting energy producers, miners, and ranchers. The administration began the rescission process last spring. A 60-day public comment period followed—and the results were striking. Roughly 98% of more than 61,000 commenters opposed rescission, including members of Congress, former BLM officials, Tribal representatives, ranchers, hunters, and local elected leaders. The administration proceeded anyway.

What does the rescission mean in practice?

Picture the Owyhee Canyonlands in southwestern Idaho—one of the most intact desert ecosystems left in North America, home to bighorn sheep, golden eagles, and some of the wildest river country in the lower 48. Under the Public Lands Rule, a conservation organization or Tribal nation could have held a restoration lease there, giving those values a formal foothold in BLM planning. That mechanism is now gone.

More broadly: 81% of BLM lands are open to oil and gas drilling. About 60% are grazed by livestock. Just 14% are designated for lasting conservation. The rule was meant to start bending those numbers toward balance. Instead, the thumb goes back on the extraction side of the scale.

OK, so how big a deal is this?

The Public Lands Rule was only 16 months old when the administration moved to kill it. Its most important provisions—like conservation leasing—hadn’t yet been fully tested. So the rescission prevents future progress more than it reverses present gains. That’s actually a useful way to understand the administration’s broader strategy: move fast enough that the seeds for a different future, one guided by long-term stewardship principles, never get a chance to take root.

The rescission is significant—but it’s also one item in a very long list, and that context matters. Since January 2025, the administration has fired or pushed out thousands of Interior Department and Forest Service employees. It has proposed cutting public lands agency budgets by more than a third. It issued an executive order making mining the "primary land use" across all public lands where legally allowable—ahead of recreation, wildlife, watersheds, cultural sites, everything. It opened sensitive Arctic habitat to drilling, moved to strip mineral protections from the Boundary Waters watershed in Minnesota, and declared a state of “emergency” on nearly 60% of national forest lands to fast-track commercial logging.

The Public Lands Rule rescission is the headline this week. But the pattern is the real story.

by Christopher Keyes, Re:Public | Read more:
Image: Daniel Halseth/Unsplash
[ed. Public lands (and the public's access to them) are under assault in this administration. See also: The Sellout of the Crazies (Re:Public):]

***

"At the end of a dirt road along the northeastern edge of Montana’s Crazy Mountains, a simple sign warns visitors they are now entering private property.

For fifth-generation Montanan Brad Wilson, the notice marks a defeat with implications far beyond the Crazies.

“The fate of our public lands and our rights are in jeopardy right now,” Wilson told Floodlight.

Wilson is a former sheriff’s deputy and lifelong hunter. For most of his life, he has lived in the jagged shadows of the Crazy Mountains—their snow-capped peaks and twisting valleys watched him grow from a boy herding sheep on his grandfather’s ranch to a grey-haired hunter tracking elk herds across their remote slopes.

“The loss of this access means a lot to me and everybody else,” he said beside the gate, looking down and hiding the wet corners of his eyes.

The road beyond the gate next to Wilson leads into what was, for more than a century, one of two historic public trails into the east side of the Crazies. The U.S. Forest Service relinquished the public’s access to the trail early last year as part of a land swap with the Yellowstone Club—an exclusive mountaintop retreat for the megarich located 100 miles away in Big Sky.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me to give this up,” said Wilson.

For many Montanans, the swap has come to symbolize the growing influence of wealthy private interests spreading across America’s public lands and provides a glimpse of what could come under the Trump administration. [...]

Perhaps nowhere in the country is the fight over public lands—and the big-moneyed interests pulling the strings—more on display right now than in Montana’s Crazy Mountains.

“This is a really simple issue,” said Andrew Posewitz, a Montana public lands advocate and the son of a renowned conservationist. “The public had some really good land and some really good access in the Crazy Mountains. Some really rich people decided they liked the Crazy Mountains a lot … And now the public doesn’t have that access.”

Every American—not just Montanans—should care, he warned.

“Because it is very much a harbinger of potentially what could come.”