USA-myndighet har börjat sälja obligationer från bankkollapserna

USA-myndighet har börjat sälja obligationer från bankkollapserna

Den amerikanska myndigheten FDIC, som hanterar den statliga insättningsgarantin, har börjat sälja övertagna obligationer från kollapsen av de regionala bankerna Silicon Valley Bank och Signature Bank. Det rapporterar The Wall Street Journal som noterar att det är tidigare än analytikers tidigare förväntningar om att myndigheten skulle inleda avyttringarna först i maj.

Från schamaner till privata läkare – miljardärer idag har en stab av experter

Från schamaner till privata läkare – miljardärer idag har en stab av experter

Glöm betjänter. För att se till att maximera sin hälsa och prestation knyter dagens miljardärer och techentreprenörer till sig en mindre armé av specialister. Det kan vara alltifrån personliga kemister, dietister och tränare till psykologer, schamaner och doktorer, skriver The Washington Post. Att mikrodosera olika droger eller läkemedel uppges också vara populärt bland eliten. Vissa går så långt som att använda sig av matchmaking-specialister för att hitta partners med högt IQ i förhoppning om kunna att skapa ”superbarn” som ska rädda planeten. – Det här är erfarna businesspersoner, och de styr sina privata liv på samma sätt de skulle styra ett företag eller en verksamhet, säger författaren och entreprenören Richard Kirshenbaum till tidningen. (Svensk översättning av Omni). The wealthy are employing an army of niche specialists — from shamans to hospitality directors — to optimize their lives in the name of self-improvement By Christopher Cameron October 12, 2023 Jag Gill is a New York-based banker turned tech CEO. She has an MBA from MIT. She's a serial start-up founder. In 2021, she launched an artificial intelligence-powered tech company, Vertru Technologies, focused on climate and human rights impacts in supply chains. Her demanding job means that she travels about every month of the year between New York City and places such as San Francisco, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Stockholm and India. She sits in on roughly 25 meetings per week. And she has a monk in her life. "There are areas I want to work on," says Gill, who would prefer not to name the monk she met while at Tibet House US in New York, a cultural center established at the behest of the Dalai Lama. "There's professional growth, being a better CEO and a better founder. So he helps me by organizing meditations, where we just sit in noble silence, or we may talk about things." To deal with stress and practice mindfulness, she joined a breathwork community with Angell Deer, a shamanic healer, mystic, medicine man, teacher, permaculturist, beekeeper and international speaker, according to his website. In July, she traveled to Esalen, the storied Big Sur retreat known for its connections to the Human Potential Movement of the 1960s. "I'm there exploring breathwork and these new modalities, but it's all very steeped in Silicon Valley tech culture. There's a guy from Google there," she says. Ben Tauber, a former Google product manager, was CEO at Esalen until 2019. The popularity of metaphysical practices in an industry otherwise founded upon the strict mathematics of algorithms has become a well-known facet of life among the tech elite. Founders are under immense pressure to alchemize start-up ideas into palpable profits for investors. Who better to guide you on that journey than a shaman? But while Gill engages with a well of inspirational figures, she also seeks out experts with a more science-based perspective. To conquer stressful deals, she works with "CEO whisperer" Sharon Melnick, PhD, a business psychologist and executive coach focused on women's success with a decade of research at Harvard Medical School under her belt. "When I have big negotiations, or when I need tactics and strategies, she's on the other end of the phone," Gill says. "We've been doing a program together with some other women on power and pleasure. We are learning how to use dance, movement, flirting and self-talk to just be more alive in the world." Gill and her peers are pursuing the optimization of everyday life, supported by entourages of experts - often managed by a single power assistant - who help the hyper-successful live longer, do more and pursue a fleeting and intangible perfection in every aspect of their existence. Personal chemists now help CEOs hack their psyches with psilocybin chocolates, ayahuasca retreats, microdoses of LSD and IV drips of ketamine. (Elon Musk is one alleged user.) Teams of private doctors, dietitians, scientists, wellness practitioners and trainers help aging executives search for the Fountain of Youth - with occasionally gruesome techniques (such as tech mogul Bryan Johnson's "blood boy"). Shamans guide board room bosses through difficult decisions. Mixed martial artist Khai "The Shadow" Wu trains Mark Zuckerberg. "Pro-natalists" tap matchmakers to secure high-IQ partners to produce elite super children for a world they agree is doomed to societal and environmental collapse. At the $100 million homes of these masters of the universe, vast teams of niche connoisseurs make sure that the right furnishings are in the lounge, the right cars are in the garage, the right toys are on the yacht, the right wines are in the cellar and the right works of art are on the walls - even if the owners of those Veblen goods aren't always sure what it is exactly that they are buying. "Amenity floors" - sprawling underground playpens that have become de rigueur in mansions - create a need for additional specialists. Even a starter estate now comes with a home gym, a movie theater, a wine-tasting room, a cigar room, a treatment room, a styling room, a swimming pool, a game room and, of course, a panic room. Each of those rooms represents an outside expert to hire, whether it's the projectionist or the home security adviser who makes sure that you'll be able to sit out a home invasion in comfort. Real estate agents are traditionally one of the most omnipresent and trusted hired guns to the world's rich. After going through decades of deals, they become like family, discussing markets over dinner at Per Se and showing up at birthday parties. Now, even the family broker is faced with competition from a more optimized expert. "If one of my clients is interested in purchasing a property, I will assist by narrowing down which properties are better suited for them energetically," says Wendi Eckstein, a Los Angeles area-based Reiki master practitioner who harmonizes the energy of individuals and the real estate holdings of wealthy families. "Or if a client feels that there is an uneasiness to the home, I will go in and balance the house." The economy of experts swirling around the super rich has to varying degrees existed for decades, perhaps centuries, but the motivations for hiring them and the roles they play have changed. As the straightforward materialism of the flash 1980s gave way to the holistic self-help perfectionism of the new millennium, tennis coaches and feng shui gurus began to look old hat. Faced with ever-less-ignorable wealth inequality and the hyper-visibility brought on by social media, a moral justification for conspicuous consumption was necessary. A holiday to a $20,000-a-night villa in Polynesia - with the nannies and PA in tow - could look out of touch. But add a marine biologist, an Indigenous healer and an environmentalist to talk to you about coral bleaching, and you are a step closer to being a better you. Their expertise gave your experience purpose. Today, that pursuit of ethical, moral and professional optimization is being pushed toward its logical conclusion afresh by the rise of artificial intelligence, the creation of Scrooge McDuck swimming pools of lucre and a boiling over of existential angst. "During the pandemic, a lot of people had a brush with their own mortality," says Melnick, whose 2022 book, "In Your Power: React Less, Regain Control, Raise Others," attempts to explain why CEOs, politicians and tech moguls often feel "out of their power," unheard, reactive and held hostage to others, despite their material advantages. "It motivated many to want to optimize their lives. 'Do I really want to live like this?' 'Is that all there is?' A lot of factors not within our control prompt us to want to maximize what we can control - which is ourselves. Because of this, many embarked on a journey to 'optimize' what they eat, heal their mental health and get fit. We saw a lot of emphasis on this on social media." Although the pandemic caused most of us to confront our own powerlessness, the already rich were better rewarded for their introspection. Between 2020 and 2022, a fresh billionaire was minted every 30 hours. Billionaires as a whole saw their wealth blossom in the first 24 months of the pandemic more than it had in the period from 1987 to 2010, according to an Oxfam report analyzing Forbes estimates. Post-pandemic, those steeped in the capitalistic efficiency of, say, Silicon Valley or Wall Street, and self-improvement culture of curanderismo healers in Mexico and cryotherapy in the Swiss Alps now had the impetus and resources to apply the logics of those ideologies broadly. "These are seasoned business people, and they run their personal lives the way that they would a corporation or business," says Richard Kirshenbaum, the CEO and founder of NSG/SWAT (a boutique branding agency), an author and a frequent commentator on living life among the wealthy. As a consequence, their homes are frequently operated like five-star resorts, according to Aimée Moreault, a Los Angeles-based personal assistant to ultrahigh-net-worth (UHNW) families, which are defined by the accumulation of at least $30 million, according to Knight Frank, a London-based real estate company. If you were lucky enough to be invited to the Malibu home of a person worth several hundred million, she says, you might be greeted by a personal hospitality director. Like at a luxury resort, the director is there to help plan guests' daily activities, advise them on which trails to hike and set up the surfboards. "They make sure there is consistency throughout their homes," she says. "It's about creating a lifestyle experience. It's more of a younger, tech industry thing." The littoral locations often inhabited by the super rich are hubs for sport fishing, kite boarding, surfing and wakeboarding - sports that have boomed in popularity with a class that prefers its excitement to be imbued with an aura of health and fitness. It has led to demand for full-time water-sports specialists, who manage board sports and an array of watercraft, or who take the family tubing, fishing and jet skiing, according to Forrest Barnett, the president of Hire Society, a staffing agency with locations in New York, the Hamptons, Los Angeles and Santa Barbara. He adds that exotic pets, exotic cars and exotic trips often get their own single-hat micromanager. And just as a Fortune 500 company might tap a consulting firm, those with unlimited means seek out experts who can sharpen a dull facet. "I placed a full-time, permanent gaming expert," says a person working for an UHNW family who spoke on the condition of anonymity because of a nondisclosure agreement. "My client wanted someone who was the best at all of the best games." Astaple of life among the 1 percent - and pop culture moments from "The Devil Wears Prada" to Naomi Campbell's infamous phone-throwing tantrum (not to mention the recent arraignment of Donald Trump's body man Waltine "Walt" Nauta) - the power PA is also evolving. With dozens to hundreds of specialists working for a single family, the title of personal assistant is giving way to chief of staff, an appellation borrowed from politics. Combining business with pleasure, the CoS not only manages home life - the fitness instructor, dietitian, the watch adviser and Savannah cat tamer - but they also attend their "principal's" business meetings, taking minutes, advising and facilitating high-level requests. Yet unlike executive assistants of yore, the chief of staff is less burdened with planner keeping. AI assistants can now handle the more transactional tasks of scheduling. The more general aspects of travel have become a breeze for those who are not price sensitive thanks to online booking. Exclusive WhatsApp groups help execs like Gill quickly crowdsource needs and arrange last-minute meetings. But rather than put the assistant out of work, advances in technology have created more time to focus on the intimate aspects of the job, according to Bethany Burns, first mate to the captain (a title she created in lieu of chief of staff). Her captain is James Watt, the embattled chief executive of Scottish beer giant BrewDog and the subject of a 2022 BBC documentary alleging inappropriate behavior, claims that Watt has denied. "The assistant role has become more specialized and more personal," she says. "You're a force multiplier. You are a key decision-maker. You are a partner in strategy. You are an influence, a project executor, an integrator. You are making sure that everything flows like qi." In a Wodehousian twist, the power assistant has also been saddled with an even more personal role worthy of the wardrobe-conscious Jeeves: tastemaker. "It's changed," says Nahla Bee, a Los Angeles-based personal assistant to UHNW families. "It used to be that people who had a high net worth had a certain provenance and came from a certain type of family. And generally, they understood luxury from birth. Now, many people are becoming wealthy midlife, or early in life, for the first time." Moreault adds that, when young people become hundred-millionaires or billionaires "overnight," they face a steep learning curve. "The East Coast has much more of that traditional, old-school money that gets handed down. They are a little bit more used to having help around," she says. "On the West Coast, they're not always used to having people around. They're not used to how much staff it takes to run the estates that they're buying. So there is a lot of up educating people as to what it takes to live this lifestyle that they've seen on TV. You have to educate them and train them about what it means to collect art and what it means to collect cars." The nation's 100 largest private landowners - billionaires such as telecom baron John Malone - own a slice of the United States roughly the size of New England, and that's not even counting their properties overseas. Anyone who devoured "Downton Abbey" has a rough idea of what it takes to manage just one of those estates. Housekeepers, butlers, chefs, nannies, chauffeurs and gardeners, even those traditional staffing roles, are being optimized beyond the recognition of a stalwart Carson. "Today it's not just being able to find a nanny, but a ski nanny or a nanny that specializes in Montessori, Waldorf or Reggio Emilia philosophies," says Samantha Lloyd-Gordon, founder and CEO of the SLG Group, a staffing agency serving UHNW individuals. "It's not just holding a child and burping them. It's about how you're engaging with a child in a way that makes them a better person. It's not that this stuff wasn't always there, but there's more of it because of social media and because we are all talking about this stuff more than we did in the past." Lloyd-Gordon adds that other now-common domestic jobs with hyper-specifications include drivers with a police background, firearm training and a concealed-carry permit; a housekeeper who is also an illustrious laundress; a chef capable of cooking for a family of four with four different dietary requirements; and, perhaps, an architecture tutor who can travel with a precocious child. Even the butler is getting a remix, trading in his morning coat, white gloves and "G'evening, Sirs" for an iPhone and a business-casual nonchalance. "When I first started my agency, a lot of my clients were sort of old-school with formal service and formal butlers," says Philippa Smith, the founder and managing director of Silver Swan Recruitment. Founded in 2013, her company staffs the ski chalets, mansions, yachts and private jets of the global 1 percent, placing butlers on $170,000 to $200,000 per year salaries with benefits. Housekeepers make about $120,000, while chefs can make as much as $400,000, she says. "Now, there is a younger generation of UHNW [individuals], and they don't want a 60-year-old butler. They want a butler who can pack a suitcase but who can also handle personal assistant duties. They want a cool, good-looking 30-year-old butler." But the pursuit of excellence also has its more suburban side. "People just want the best," Smith says. "Some of that is for show. Some of it is about keeping up with the Joneses. If their mate down the road has a Russian-Mandarin-French-speaking nanny, they think, 'Why the hell don't we have a Russian-Mandarin-French-speaking nanny?' It's very competitive in the elite world, and everyone wants more. We're a greedy species." © 2023 The Washington Post. Sign up for the Today's Worldview newsletter here.

Nio unga väljare i USA inför valet: Detta borde kandidaterna fokusera på

Nio unga väljare i USA inför valet: Detta borde kandidaterna fokusera på

Den amerikanska väljarkåren utgörs numera till 40 procent av generation Z och millenials. Inför nästa års presidentval har Washington Post intervjuat nio unga väljare runt om i USA om deras politiska knäckfrågor. Aborter, klimatkrisen, vapenvåldet, stöd till småföretagare och den osäkra bostadsmarknaden är några av hjärtefrågorna som återkommer. – Jag tror att det finns många frustrerade unga människor som är i min situation, unga yrkesarbetande som gått ut college och vill ha ett eget hem, säger 30-åriga Sam Cole som bor norr om Boston där den ekonomiska krisen är påtaglig. (Svensk översättning av Omni). From affordable housing and abortion to support for small businesses, here's what nine Millennial and Gen Z voters want 2024 candidates to focus on. By Anthony J. Rivera 30 September, 2023 Next year's national elections could be consequential for millennials, born between 1981 and 1996, and members of Generation Z, people born between 1997 and 2012. The generations combined are on track to make up roughly 40 percent of U.S. voters, and their vote could decisively impact election outcomes. Over the last decade, issues like abortion, gun violence and the climate crisis have emerged as key priorities of younger voters, according to a survey by the Center for Information and Research on Civic Learning and Engagement (CIRCLE) at Tufts University after the 2022 midterms. Those topics also matched some of the concerns expressed in interviews, most from a Washington Post social callout this summer asking younger voters what issues they wanted candidates for political office - from state and local offices to the presidency - to address in 2024. Other issues included health care costs, campaign finance reform, supporting small businesses, stagnant wages for essential workers and more. Their responses offer a sampling of views: most leaned left or didn't identify with a party. Some individuals are politically active, working in groups centered on youth organizing or running for office. Others are trying to make a living fighting wildfires or operating their own market research company. All said their responses were based on their personal experiences. Sam Cole, a software engineer in Massachusetts, is worried about economic stability and the fentanyl crisis unraveling his hometown. "The issues that I brought up is just the stuff that's most salient in my life," he told The Post. "It's the stuff that I sort of, you know, feel with my heart and see with my eyes." While younger voters have typically turned out to vote at lower rates than older generations, that gap is beginning to narrow. Between 2014 and 2018, turnout among 18- to 29-year-olds increased by 16 percentage points and among 30- to 44-year-olds increased 13 percentage points. In 2020, high voter turnout among younger voters continued: 53 percent of 18- to 29-year-olds turned out compared to just 44 percent in 2016 while 63 percent of 30- to 39-year-olds turned out compared to just 56 percent. Turnout dropped among younger voters in 2022 compared to 2018, at 26 percent turnout for 18-29 and 38 percent for 30-39 - still historically high for a midterm election, which typically produces a lower turnout rate than general elections. These numbers are from The Post's analysis of data released by the census after every election. The impact of their increased participation and the issues they prioritized was most recently demonstrated in the 2022 midterms. Younger voters were galvanized by the Supreme Court's decision to overturn Roe v. Wade and in key battleground states were credited with helping stem a "red wave" pundits had predicted, with Democrats retaining control of the Senate and Republicans narrowly winning the House. Several of the people we spoke to described multiple issues as inherently connected. The effects of climate change, some said, affect health care, job growth and transportation. Reproductive rights were one domino among many relating to gender equality, one student said. And a former wildland firefighter placed his concerns at the center of a web of issues like wage stagnation, inflation and a rapidly heating planet. ​​ "The age of the single issue voter is quickly going away," Rep. Maxwell Frost (D-Fla.), a Gen Z member of Congress, told The Post when asked about engagement among younger voters. "A huge part of that is because young people tend to view issues not in the traditional silos that most folks in politics may be used to. They like to connect the issues and they see how these issues inherently work with each other to create the conditions that we're in." How candidates talk about these issues and their policy positions with younger voters will be paramount as younger voters make up more of the electorate and shift to the left. According to a poll released by the Institute of Politics at Harvard Kennedy School earlier this year, 18- to 29-year-olds have shifted significantly over the past 10 years for government intervention in curbing climate change, issues of poverty, health care, gun laws and same-sex marriage. "You can collapse each of those [issues] into even a bigger or broader issue, which is the concern about basic freedoms and rights being questioned or under attack, or outright taken away," said John Della Volpe, polling director at Harvard Kennedy School Institute of Politics. "I think that in large measure is really what young people are going to be grappling with in '24," Della Volpe said. Akshara Santoshkumar will never forget as a kid being evacuated out of Cairo in 2011 by her parents' employer, the World Bank's International Finance Corporation, when the country was in the throes of the Arab Spring. She listed off more memories, like how the family eventually relocated to Dubai. And she remembers years later, when she was in grade school there, seeing the 2016 U.S. presidential election on every TV screen and teachers of every nationality keeping tally of votes. "I think we were all cognizant that this would define the rest of our lives," she said, and one consequence of that was the question of reproductive rights. Born in the United States, Santoshkumar returned to Northern Virginia in 2019 and four years later the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. "As a woman and as a woman of color, my rights are directly impacted and I firmly believe that abortion should be protected at a larger level," she said. As a self-proclaimed progressive liberal, any candidate she backs in 2024 must commit to protecting abortion rights nationally because the fight isn't just about women's bodily autonomy. "Young people understand that abortion is kind of like the first domino to fall under the issue of just equality," she said. "I think young people have kind of woken up and they've realized that their rights are, like, under attack." Santoshkumar, who currently attends Barnard College, Columbia University, spoke with reverence of the democratic process that she used to only see from afar, but is now able to participate in. With those basic rights on her mind, she registered to vote and cast a ballot in the state's June primary. "Being able to vote for the first time was really special," she said. Sam Cole lives in a community that sits an hour northwest of Boston, where the heartbreaking effects of economic instability are evident. "There's a lot of towns like this in New England," he said. "It's one of these old mill towns that 100 years ago, you know, was prospering. But it's kind of like a shell of itself now." As an independent, he wants to hear 2024 candidates focus on their challenges. "I think there's a lot of frustrated young people that are my in my situation, that are sort of post-college, young working professionals that want to have their own home," he said. High mortgage rates have left many feeling like "the finish line keeps sprinting ahead," and is destroying peoples' faith in the system. Cole said he was laid off once but considered he and his family, who own their home, lucky for getting back on their feet so quickly. Still, he's deeply concerned about inflation and its effect on the kind of capital needed to sustain the tech sector he has worked in for much of his professional life. Since the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank and Signature Bank, he said, "the jobs in tech are taking a beating." Cole has also seen the scourge of addiction, particularly fentanyl, that has filled the void left by the economic ruin in some communities. Church has always been a big part of his life, he said, so he has volunteered to help how he can. In doing that, he has seen how drugs have ravaged people and it haunts him. "I work with youth," he said, "and just knowing that some of them are going to - one day someone's just going to give them a needle or a pill, it's just brutal." "Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world," Davin Faris said, reciting a line from Mary Oliver's poem "To Begin With, The Sweet Grass," a favorite. He said it paints a great picture of his connection to nature and the environment. He enjoys writing, martial arts and playing his great-grandfather's handed-down Epiphone guitar. But his life's work is about stopping climate change and he has volunteered with Sunrise Movement, a group that focuses on the issue. There's no question climate change is the most important topic for the coming election for Faris, who said he's a progressive, has worked as a congressional intern and was accepted to St. John's College in Annapolis, Md. Any candidate who wants his vote must address it each day they campaign. "It affects virtually every other topic that you can name," he said, "whether it's health care or just job growth or transportation or anything else that people say that they care about." Faris, who lives with his family on a farm that focuses on sustainability and regeneration, pointed to instances of severe flooding in his region the last several years and the smoke from the Canadian wildfires that recently affected the area's air quality. CIRCLE's 2022 poll showed climate change as one of the prime concerns among young people, which tracks with Faris's own assessment. "I think climate change is the issue that my generation will have to suffer with more than anything else," he said. Too few leaders are listening to young peoples' call to curb the use of fossil fuels that are packing carbon into the atmosphere, he said. "I think it's kind of very necessary that our politicians treat the crisis that we're in as a crisis," he said, "and it's something that needs to be not its own discrete conversation, but included in everything else they're talking about." Cherie Animashaun noticed something about several of the students at her elementary school who ended up in juvenile detention: they came from unstable homes, had no mentors and lacked encouragement from adults. It inspired her to do something about education. "What I've been trying to do right now is bring students to the forefront," said the Cornell University freshman. Putting students first and focusing on the needs of young people is also a core part of who Animashaun will vote for next year. "I'm definitely looking for the candidate who will make a firm decision on preserving education for all people," she said. She's noticed politicians who speak on things she cares about and reaches young people where they are, like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.) and Frost. Tennessee state representative Justin Pearson (D), who risked his seat for young victims of gun violence and showed "the true heart of a politician," has gained her admiration. Animashaun, who said her Christian faith is the center of her life, has been engaged in social causes from a young age. She started a nonprofit in 2021 called Her Rising Initiative that she said educates around 200 girls a year in aspects of leadership, the legal system and women's rights. She also wrote her first book with the help of mentors when she was 12, a curriculum text titled "Growing With God," and then wrote the "Compass" book series, which features mini lessons about setting goals and harnessing the energy to reach them. She got involved in politics, she said, to help push for the changes in this country - and education is the key. She hopes improving and diversifying the curriculum can prepare children to make more informed decisions about today's biggest problems as they become adults. "If we're not properly educated," she said, "then we won't be able to tackle those branches and those barriers." Joe Ybarra can't understand why some essential workers - particularly ones with the U.S. Forest Service - aren't being compensated properly while risking so much. "When a wildfire is heading towards a town out west, I mean, you want there to be professionals over there being able to stop it," he said. "A lot of the wildland firefighters, especially seasonal, are pretty much homeless. They're living in their trucks, their cars, their RVs throughout the season if their duty station doesn't have sleeping quarters." Ybarra, who is a firefighter in an engine house in southwest Indianapolis and has a background in teaching, tried that seasonal work - which he said can go from May until October and sometimes longer - in Nevada and Idaho. He considered making the move permanent, but couldn't square his financial needs with the wages being offered. And it wasn't just the pay of seasonal workers that turned him off. "A lot of them don't have health insurance as they're going out to fight these fires as well," he said, adding that the Federal Employees Health Benefit, or FEHB, was problematic. The result, Ybarra said, has been a shrinking workforce because of burnout and shortages affecting leadership, who end up lacking the experience they once had. There have been some positive developments in addressing the problem. But without more reforms, "hiring and retaining the permanent wildland firefighting workforce we need will continue to be challenging," the U.S. Fire Service told The Post in an email. "This is pretty important because, you know, these wildfires out West are getting more intense," Ybarra said. And while the issue he wants candidates to talk about centers on fair wages and the dignity of work, much of the problem has its ties in climate change too. "The fire seasons are lasting longer," he said, "I mean, heck, all of us have been indirectly affected by the wildfires up in Canada." Ybarra considers himself a centrist and in 2024 he'll be listening for candidates' solutions for recruiting new wildland firefighters and make sure they get better pay and benefits to ensure the at-risk communities out West get the protection they need. When SarahBeth Boothe thinks about her opposition to abortion, she thinks of her older sister, who needs lifelong special needs care because of an intellectual disability, a condition that wasn't discovered until well after she was born. Some women, however, do discover an abnormality through prenatal screening early on and face a difficult decision about continuing with the pregnancy, one that includes health or financial concerns. Boothe believes that segment of women who are deciding to end the pregnancy should reconsider. She has rejected the argument by some that intellectual disabilities or other special needs don't belong in the discussion about abortion. "We're completely devaluing their life," she said. Because of that, she feels it's the most salient aspect of the topic and one that conservative politicians should lean into. "I would love to hear candidates bring up the special needs community and get them involved," she said is a way to earn her vote. Boothe said nobody in her family has pushed her to choose left or right when casting a ballot, but she considers herself a conservative. She has turned to mainstream news sources like The Post or the New York Times, then sought the perspectives of political commentators Ben Shapiro or Candace Owens. Being "open minded and well-rounded" is important when weighing issues, she said, and has discussed these topics with friends on the left. A world without her sister is too much to contemplate for Boothe. She loves people she said and especially enjoys working with disabled children, who can often be ignored. "When I become a mother and I get married, I want to adopt more children with special needs," she said. "I just absolutely adore them." Ultimately, Boothe believes life begins at conception and that there's danger in "changing the definition of something so vital." She urged candidates to stand up for that perspective next year. "What's true has consistently been true," she said. When George Heller talked about the health care system in the United States, he thought of two family members who had to get MRI's for serious medical conditions and how much stress that brought. While his family was able to absorb the cost, it left him dwelling on the worst-case scenarios others face. "I can't, like, even imagine being in a position where we have to decide between saving our parents lives and paying the bills," he said. "Like, I can't imagine that." "If you're in a job that doesn't provide you insurance and you need lifesaving surgery, then what are you going to do?" he asked. This freshman at George Washington University, who considers himself a Democrat, doesn't mince words on his dissatisfaction with the health care system and the solutions he wants to hear from candidates. "The fact that that exists in the richest country in the world really, really bothers me," he said. "It's hard enough to deal with issues like a parent facing a life-threatening illness. It shouldn't be made harder by affordability." "I know, like there are tons of things you can do and there are tons of things like presidential candidates talk about that they can't do on their own," he said. Heller partly drew insights on the topic from his experience on Rep. Anna G. Eshoo's (D-Calif.) student advisory board, where he focused on health care. "Having a divided Congress makes that really hard. But there are certainly things that we can do that we aren't doing right now. So I want them to be talking about things like price caps. I want them to be talking about patent restrictions." "I would love to have a system where everyone in the country has free health care at no restrictions, but that's just not possible with the way our country works right now," Heller said. Brandon Andrews learned a lot about the 1921 Tulsa race massacre and Black Wall Street after he came to Oral Roberts University to study international relations. He noted how, as a testament to human ingenuity and perseverance, Black people in Tulsa tried to resurrect the Greenwood neighborhood in the years after the riot and make Black Wall Street even bigger, before it was eventually disrupted by a highway project. "I feel like I take some of that Black Wall Street, some of that Greenwood legacy with me as an entrepreneur," he said. As an independent, Andrews said he believes in the power of the market and isn't interested in the government picking winners and losers. But he wants candidates to talk more about how they're going to support small businesses and microbusiness, especially since the disruption of the pandemic as well as the changes that have occurred over the past several decades. "I've seen over and over again just a mismatch between businesses or entrepreneurs like myself and the kinds of businesses we're starting and the kinds of resources that are available from the federal government," said Andrews, who's a senior consultant for a company linked to ABC's "Shark Tank." Opportunity has appeared in many places for Andrews, who not only owns a pair of businesses, but has also gotten involved in nonprofit work and the DC Commission on Fashion, Arts, and Events, as detailed on his professional website. On the older end of the people interviewed, he hailed his generation and those younger for stepping up with entrepreneurial spirit. But he often thinks about what effort is put into ensuring their businesses have a path of success open to them. "How do we put them on a track to ensure that they grow and hire so we have all these positive economic effects that the people like to talk about when they talk about small business?" he said. Sam Cao fondly remembers his mother dragging him to the final debate between Sen. Sherrod Brown (D-Ohio) and Rep. James B. Renacci (R-Ohio) in 2018 at Miami University of Ohio when he was younger. "I really loved the energy of the crowd," he said, and as an eighth grader discovered more appreciation for the issues being discussed than he ever had before. "I used to think of politics as a hobby," he said. "So I would say, sorry, I don't do politics, but I realized that's more of a very privileged thing to say." After covid caused a teacher shortage at William Mason High School where he attended and forced it to close, he looked to his statehouse representative for help. Paul Zeltwinger (R), "one of the most absentee members of the state house," was part of a supermajority corrupted by gerrymandering and special interests, Cao said. So he decided to run for the seat as a Democrat. His candidacy caught the attention of local news and caused a stir. And while he lost the primary with 30 percent of the vote, he said the experience taught him a lot about running for office, made him an expert in Ohio politics and opened his eyes to the need for campaign finance reform. "When I talk about campaign finance reform to them," Cao said of his peers, "I also talk about just how getting that resolved or reformed is going to help with just winning on the education issue or the reproductive rights issue." For him, a solution to that problem is the keystone to so many of the problems his fellow Democrats want to fix. "So climate, education, reproductive rights, criminal justice, all those things, they - none of that really can be reformed or change without the proper campaign guidelines," he said. His mother, Hongmei Li, has been an associate professor of strategic communications at Miami University since 2015 according to LinkedIn and before that at Georgia State University in Atlanta, a hub of the civil rights movement in the 1950s and '60s. "She definitely played a large role in just like my activism," he said, describing how racist views associated with the coronavirus triggered her involvement in the anti-Asian hate crimes awareness movement in Cincinnati, where she spoke at National Underground Railroad Freedom Center. © 2023 The Washington Post. Sign up for the Today's Worldview newsletter here.

Kan Open AI bli nästa techgigant?

Kan Open AI bli nästa techgigant?

Open AI:s resa mot att bli en potentiell techjätte har präglats av snabb tillväxt, skriver The Economist. Startupen fick 100 miljoner användare med lanseringen av Chat GPT, vilket lockade rivaler som Google till chattbot-marknaden. Bara under första halvåret i år har över 40 miljarder dollar investerats i AI-företag. Trots Open AI:s pionjärstatus står de inför utmaningar. Chat GPT:s förbättringar har varit gradvisa, och konkurrensen från företag som Google och Microsoft är påtaglig. Dessutom väcker företagets ”svarta lådan”-modeller oro kring dataskydd och transparens. Open AI:s förmåga att behålla sin starka ställning kommer att bero på deras kapacitet att anpassa sig, innovera och navigera i det komplexa AI-landskapet, menar tidningen. What the business of AI’s leading startup says about the technology’s future. By The Economist 18 September, 2023 The creation of a new market is like the start of a long race. Competitors jockey for position as spectators excitedly clamour. Then, like races, markets enter a calmer second phase. The field orders itself into leaders and laggards. The crowds thin. In the contest to dominate the future of artificial intelligence, OpenAI, a startup backed by Microsoft, established an early lead by launching Chatgpt last November. The app reached 100m users faster than any before it. Rivals scrambled. Google and its corporate parent, Alphabet, rushed the release of a rival chatbot, Bard. So did startups like Anthropic. Venture capitalists poured over $40bn into AI firms in the first half of 2023, nearly a quarter of all venture dollars this year. Then the frenzy died down. Public interest in AI peaked a couple of months ago, according to data from Google searches. Unique monthly visits to Chatgpt’s website have declined from 210m in May to 180m now (see chart). The emerging order still sees OpenAI ahead technologically. Its latest AI model, GPT-4, is beating others on a variety of benchmarks (such as an ability to answer reading and maths questions). In head-to-head comparisons, it ranks roughly as far ahead of the current runner-up, Anthropic’s Claude 2, as the world’s top chess player does against his closest rival—a decent lead, even if not insurmountable. More important, OpenAI is beginning to make real money. According to The Information, an online technology publication, it is earning revenues at an annualised rate of $1bn, compared with a trifling $28m in the year before Chatgpt’s launch. Can OpenAI translate its early edge into an enduring advantage, and join the ranks of big tech? To do so it must avoid the fate of erstwhile tech pioneers, from Netscape to Myspace, which were overtaken by rivals that learnt from their early successes and stumbles. And as it is a first mover, the decisions it takes will also say much about the broader direction of a nascent industry. OpenAI is a curious firm. It was founded in 2015 by a clutch of entrepreneurs including Sam Altman, its current boss, and Elon Musk, Tesla’s technophilic chief executive, as a non-profit venture. Its aim was to build artificial general intelligence (AGI), which would equal or surpass human capacity in all types of intellectual tasks. The pursuit of something so outlandish meant that it had its pick of the world’s most ambitious AI technologists. While working on an AI that could master a video game called “Dota”, they alighted on a simple approach that involved harnessing oodles of computing power, says an early employee who has since left. When in 2017 researchers at Google published a paper describing a revolutionary machine-learning technique they christened the “transformer”, OpenAI’s boffins realised that they could scale it up by combining untold quantities of data scraped from the internet with processing oomph. The result was the general-purpose transformer, or GPT for short. Obtaining the necessary resources required OpenAI to employ some engineering of the financial variety. In 2019 it created a “capped-profit company” within its non-profit structure. Initially, investors in this business could make 100 times their initial investment—but no more. Rather than distribute equity, the firm distributes claims on a share of future profits that come without ownership rights (“profit-participation units”). What is more, OpenAI says it may reinvest all profits until the board decides that OpenAI’s goal of achieving AGI has been reached. OpenAI stresses that it is a “high-risk investment” and should be viewed as more akin to a “donation”. “We’re not for everybody,” says Brad Lightcap, OpenAI’s chief operating officer and its financial guru. Maybe not, but with the exception of Mr Musk, who pulled out in 2018 and is now building his own AI model, just about everybody seems to want a piece of OpenAI regardless. Investors appear confident that they can achieve venture-scale returns if the firm keeps growing. In order to remain attractive to investors, the company itself has loosened the profit cap and switched to one based on the annual rate of return (though it will not confirm what the maximum rate is). Academic debates about the meaning of AGI aside, the profit units themselves can be sold on the market just like standard equities. The firm has already offered several opportunities for early employees to sell their units. SoftBank, a risk-addled tech-investment house from Japan, is the latest to be seeking to place a big bet on OpenAI. The startup has so far raised a total of around $14bn. Most of it, perhaps $13bn, has come from Microsoft, whose Azure cloud division is also furnishing OpenAI with the computing power it needs. In exchange, the software titan will receive the lion’s share of OpenAI’s profits—if these are ever handed over. More important in the short term, it gets to license OpenAI’s technology and offer this to its own corporate customers, which include most of the world’s largest companies. It is just as well that OpenAI is attracting deep-pocketed backers. For the firm needs an awful lot of capital to procure the data and computing power necessary to keep creating ever more intelligent models. Mr Altman has said that OpenAI could well end up being “the most capital-intensive startup in Silicon Valley history”. OpenAI’s most recent model, GPT-4, is estimated to have cost around $100m to train, several times more than GPT-3. For the time being, investors appear happy to pour more money into the business. But they eventually expect a return. And for its part OpenAI has realised that, if it is to achieve its mission, it must become like any other fledgling business and think hard about its costs and its revenues. GPT-4 already exhibits a degree of cost-consciousness. For example, notes Dylan Patel of SemiAnalysis, a research firm, it was not a single giant model but a mixture of 16 smaller models. That makes it more difficult—and so costlier—to build than a monolithic model. But it is then cheaper to actually use the model once it has been trained, because not all the smaller models need be used to answer questions. Cost is also a big reason why OpenAI is not training its next big model, GPT-5. Instead, say sources familiar with the firm, it is building GPT-4.5, which would have “similar quality” to GPT-4 but cost “a lot less to run”. But it is on the revenue-generating side of business that OpenAI is most transformed, and where it has been most energetic of late. AI can create a lot of value long before AGI brains are as versatile as human ones, says Mr Lightcap. OpenAI’s models are generalist, trained on a vast amount of data and capable of doing a variety of tasks. The Chatgpt craze has made OpenAI the default option for consumers, developers and businesses keen to embrace the technology. Despite the recent dip, Chatgpt still receives 60% of traffic to the top 50 generative-AI websites, according to a study by Andreessen Horowitz, a venture-capital (VC) firm which has invested in OpenAI. Yet OpenAI is no longer only—or even primarily—about Chatgpt. It is increasingly becoming a business-to-business platform. It is creating bespoke products of its own for big corporate customers, which include Morgan Stanley, an investment bank. It also offers tools for developers to build products using its models; on November 6th it is expected to unveil new ones at its first developer conference. And it has a $175m pot to invest in smaller AI startups building applications on top of its platform, which at once promotes its models and allows it to capture value if the application-builders strike gold. To further spread its technology, it is handing out perks to AI firms at Y Combinator, a Silicon Valley startup nursery that Mr Altman used to lead. John Luttig of Founders Fund (a VC firm which also has a stake in OpenAI), thinks that this vast and diverse distribution may be even more important than any technical advantage. Being the first mover certainly plays in OpenAI’s favour. GPT-like models’ high fixed costs erect high barriers to entry for competitors. That in turn may make it easier for OpenAI to lock in corporate customers. If they are to share internal company data in order to fine-tune the model to their needs, many clients may prefer not to do so more than once—for cyber-security reasons, or simply because it is costly to move data from one AI provider to another, as it already is between computing clouds. Teaching big models to think also requires lots of tacit engineering know-how, from recognising high-quality data to knowing the tricks to quickly debug the source code. Mr Altman has speculated that fewer than 50 people in the world are at the true model-training frontier. A lot of them work for OpenAI. These are all real advantages. But they do not guarantee OpenAI’s continued dominance. For one thing, the sort of network effects where scale begets more scale, which have helped turn Alphabet, Amazon and Meta into quasi-monopolists in search, e-commerce and social networking, respectively, have yet to materialise. Despite its vast number of users, GPT-4 is hardly better today than it was six months ago. Although further tuning with user data has made it less likely to go off the rails, its overall performance has changed in unpredictable ways, in some cases for the worse. Being a first mover in model-building may also bring some disadvantages. The biggest cost for modellers is not training but experimentation. Plenty of ideas went nowhere before the one that worked got to the training stage. That is why OpenAI is estimated to have lost $500m last year, even though GPT-4 cost one-fifth as much to train. News of ideas that do not pay off tends to spread quickly throughout AI world. This helps OpenAI’s competitors avoid going down costly blind alleys. As for customers, many are trying to reduce their dependence on OpenAI, fearful of being locked into its products and thus at its mercy. Anthropic, which was founded by defectors from OpenAI, has already become a popular second choice for many AI startups. Soon businesses may have more cutting-edge alternatives. Google is building Gemini, a model believed to be more powerful than GPT-4. Even Microsoft is, despite its partnership with OpenAI, something of a competitor. It has access to GPT-4’s black box, as well as a vast sales force with long-standing ties to the world’s biggest corporate IT departments. This array of choices diminishes OpenAI’s pricing power. It is also forcing Mr Altman’s firm to keep training better models if it wants to stay ahead. The fact that OpenAI’s models are a black box also reduces its appeal to some potential users, including large businesses concerned about data privacy. They may prefer more transparent “open-source” models like Meta’s llama 2. Sophisticated software firms, meanwhile, may want to build their own model from scratch, in order to exercise full control over its behavour. Others are moving away from generality—the ability to do many things rather than just one thing—by building cheaper models that are trained on narrower sets of data, or to do a specific task. A startup called Replit has trained one narrowly to write computer programs. It sits atop Databricks, an AI cloud platform which counts Nvidia, a $1trn maker of specialist AI semiconductors, among its investors. Another called Character AI has designed a model that lets people create virtual personalities based on real or imagined characters that can then converse with other users. It is the second-most popular AI app behind Chatgpt. The core question, notes Kevin Kwok, a venture capitalist (who is not a backer of OpenAI), is how much value is derived from a model’s generality. If not much, then the industry may be dominated by many specialist firms, like Replit or Character AI. If a lot, then big models such as those of OpenAI or Google may come out on top. Mike Speiser of Sutter Hill Ventures (another non-OpenAI backer) suspects that the market will end up containing a handful of large generalist models, with a long tail of task-specific models. If AI turns out to be all it is cracked up to be, being an oligopolist could still earn OpenAI a pretty penny. And if its backers really do see any of that penny only after the company has created a human-like thinking machine, then all bets are off. © 2023 The Economist Newspaper Limited. All rights reserved.

"AI kan förändra livet i fattiga länder – så som mobiltelefonen gjorde"

"AI kan förändra livet i fattiga länder – så som mobiltelefonen gjorde"

I fattiga delar av världen är den stora frågan hur människorna kan dra nytta av AI, inte tvärtom. Det skriver den svenske Columbiaforskaren Daniel Björkegren i Foreign Affairs. Han drar paralleller till mobiltelefonens revolution i låginkomstländer för drygt 20 år sedan och spår en liknande utveckling kring AI. Tillgången på utbildning och sjukvård är bara några av de områden som Björkegren tror att den nya tekniken kan förändra i grunden. ”Filosofer, ekonomer och ingenjörer har ägnat ändlösa artiklar åt att diskutera hur AI kommer påverka rika länder. Nu är det dags att ta fram en AI-agenda för resten av världen”, skriver han. How to Harness the Power of AI in the Developing World By Daniel Björkegren 09 August, 2023 Among elites in wealthy countries, a worry about artificial intelligence has taken hold: the machines will take our jobs. With the explosive popularity of ChatGPT, the remarkably lifelike chatbot, many in the West have begun to fear that it is not only truck drivers and assembly workers who are at risk of being replaced by robots but highly paid knowledge workers, too. Accountants, data analysts, coders, financial advisers, lawyers, even Hollywood screenwriters—all now worry that AI will leave them jobless. But AI’s effect on the 100-odd countries and more than four billion people in the developing world is likely to be very different. Lower-income countries employ far fewer knowledge workers, and a larger share of their populations work in sectors that are less amenable to automation, particularly agriculture. In poor countries, the big question is not how AI will affect millions of employed people but how will billions of people employ AI. The most transformative applications in the developing world will probably not be those that replace humans; they will be those that open new possibilities for humans. So far, nearly all discussion of how to support AI and how to mitigate its risks has centered on rich countries, which are home to the companies and universities working on the technology. But because the effects of AI—good and bad—will play out differently in poor countries, the investments and regulations these countries need are also likely to be different. Philosophers, economists, and technologists have spilled endless ink contemplating the future of AI in the developed world. It is now time to think through an AI agenda for everyone else. Machine learning has already touched the lives of the world’s poor. Consider developments in credit. Many poor people lack financial histories and credit scores and thus have little access to formal loans. In 2010, I proposed a way of creating alternative credit scores, using machine learning to draw inferences about the likelihood of repayment from data automatically collected by cellphone networks. This method is now one of several that lenders in dozens of countries have employed to offer small loans via mobile phone to millions of people. Other researchers are applying machine learning to the same kind of data to identify which households in a given area are poorest, so that aid can be smartly targeted during a crisis. Still others are employing it on satellite images, refining population estimates based on patterns of human settlement and anticipating food shortages based on patterns of vegetation. Such programs highlight one particular value of AI in the developing world: in low-information environments, machine learning can draw signals from new sources of data. The possibilities do not stop there. Consider schooling. Most education systems in developing countries struggle to deliver quality instruction. Personalized AI tutors—chatbots with endless patience—might someday meet the needs of curious students in remote schools. They might also help professionals transition between skills—allowing, say, repair workers to level up their skills and learn engineering. Or take health. In much of the developing world, sound medical advice is hard to come by; AI-powered systems might offer better and more widely available diagnostics. Many communities have high rates of depression and few therapists; digital mental health tools such as chatbot therapists might fill a real need at a low cost. AI could play a similar role helping people navigate bureaucracies. An Indian entrepreneur looking to enter a new market, for example, might someday be able to rely on an AI-powered app to fill in the required permits. The technologies that enable these potential applications will continue to improve as wealthy countries invest enormous resources in AI. The key for developing countries will be to complement that stream of investments by using the resulting technologies in products and services that meet local needs. Developing countries have much of the social infrastructure needed to start new ventures: tech hubs, universities, and entrepreneur groups. Their companies, however, have little incentive to build applications aimed at the poorest people, who are seldom profitable to serve. Some large, middle-income countries such as India can afford to overcome this problem by investing in AI technologies for the poor. But many other countries lack the resources and scale to do so. Hence, there is a role for networks of entrepreneurs, who can share learning across borders, and for international organizations such as the World Bank, which can coordinate investments between governments and philanthropies. There are two main paths AI tools could take in the developing world. The first is to find a task that AI is becoming good at in wealthy countries and adapt it for poor countries. For example, many entrepreneurs are developing chatbot tutors for wealthy schools, tools that could be modified to work in places with worse Internet connectivity and higher student-to-teacher ratios. The second is to find altogether new applications for AI—new products that could meet the specific needs of the developing world. For example, an AI-powered financial planner for subsistence farmers might help them manage the risks involved in decisions about what to plant. Indeed, some innovations began in a poor country and only reached richer ones later. Kenya’s M-Pesa mobile payment system, for example, took off well before similar apps did in the United States. While some AI tools emerging from wealthy countries may work well right out of the box in the developing world, others will require tailoring. One problem is that most AI systems have been trained on data specific to the developed world, data that is gathered from people with relatively high incomes and is usually written in English. Little of the world’s corpus of written knowledge is about the poor or presented in minority languages. Moreover, AI systems are mostly trained to produce decisions and outputs that satisfy wealthy consumers in the West, so they may make faux pas when dealing with poorer ones in other places—for example, greeting customers by their first name in a culture that deems such familiarity disrespectful. Wealthy Western societies had a head start amassing training data, so it will take time for AI models to fully represent people from the rest of the world. But the process can be hastened. Researchers can identify applications that could prove transformative, if only one could make the data behind them more representative. An AI-powered medical adviser, for example, may be good at helping a person with high blood pressure in Silicon Valley but less useful for someone in Lagos facing malaria because it lacks exposure to local medical cases. Or such a system might prove popular among English speakers but not be available in Yoruba, one of Nigeria’s main native languages. To compensate for the dearth of developing-world data, new content must be created for the models to train on. Here, crowdsourcing could help. The WikiAfrica movement, for example, coordinated the addition of African content to Wikipedia. Such initiatives are all the more valuable now that this knowledge can improve the decisions of machines. In other domains where correctness is harder to discern—such as medicine or agriculture—crowdsourcing will not be enough. Experts will have to be hired, or analog data, such as paper clinic records, will have to be digitized. Representation is only part of the puzzle because developers will have to arbitrate between groups with different values. Different religious groups in India, for example, may disagree over what constitutes appropriate medical advice. A second problem with importing AI to the developing world is technological. Despite vast progress, the developing world still lags behind the developed world on a number of technological benchmarks. Some AI applications will require wider access to smartphones, better Internet connectivity, or digital recordkeeping systems to track the performance of students in a school, the health of patients in a hospital, or the outcome of cases in a courthouse. For AI, as with previous waves of technological innovation, the key will be to differentiate between applications that can be valuable relatively soon and those that will remain in the realm of science fiction for the foreseeable future. That line will shift, and it will vary from one field to another. For example, medicine has a lower tolerance for the mistakes that AI systems will inevitably make, and agriculture depends on nuanced contextual factors that are intuitive to farmers but difficult to express to AI systems. In the developed and developing world alike, the diffusion of AI will present risks. But developing countries face a different array of risks, and they are less able to regulate the technology. The main q­uestion is whether the technology will remain centralized—that is, controlled by a small number of tech firms. Centralized AI systems are likely to be regulated in large markets such as the United States and the EU. Smaller markets can exert only limited pressure, so they will live in the shadow of U.S. and EU regulation. Although they could shut off access to a centralized system—for example, blocking servers, just as some authoritarian governments have done with Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube—they will not be able to prevent AI-generated content from crossing borders. It is not clear, however, whether AI will remain centralized. Open-source alternatives such as Llama (a large language model produced by Facebook’s owner, Meta) and Stable Diffusion (an image generator made by the startup Stability AI) are gaining ground. These decentralized systems can be modified and run by anyone with a computer. If they become sufficiently useful, it will be difficult for any country to regulate them directly. But such open systems can be more easily adapted to local needs because they are often free to use and because anyone can modify their code. Given the limited levers for regulation, developing countries may have to settle for adapting to new technology rather than controlling it. To mitigate harms, they may have to focus on regulating not AI itself but the industries that use it—for example, resorting to consumer protection laws that hold companies liable when a product is unsafe, regardless of whether it uses AI. AI has kicked off a healthy debate about regulation in rich countries. But many of the proposals for addressing its risks may be insufficient in poor countries. Regulators in the West lack the ability to assess how the rules work in different contexts; a system that is certified as safe in Brussels might not work so well in Bangalore. Moreover, Western regulators’ standards may be inappropriately strict in places where the existing alternatives to an AI application are much worse. Weather forecasts, for example, need not be perfect to improve on what is available to farmers in developing countries. And even in higher-stakes settings such as medicine, AI may soon be better than existing options available to the poor. One 2023 study audited clinical performance in low-income countries to find out what fraction of cases were correctly handled. The answer: less than half. At the same time, the average person in a developing country is also more vulnerable than his or her counterpart in the developed world. Many people in the developing world have little recourse to challenge automated decisions, such as the rejection of a loan application. New AI systems often perform worse than advertised, and it is all too easy for companies to ignore problems that arise among lower-income people. That is why it will be important for regulators to ensure that consumers have adequate processes to report issues and appeal decisions. Many people in the developing world also are new to the idea of AI and have never heard of algorithms before. So care must be taken to communicate effectively. A study I conducted with Joshua Blumenstock and Samsun Knight shows this is possible. We gave low-income Kenyans an app that rewarded them financially based on how they used their mobile phone, employing an algorithm similar to those that score one’s creditworthiness. When subjects were given straightforward descriptions of how algorithms work, they adjusted their behavior—a concrete sign of understanding. Political obstacles also abound. Deepfakes—realistic photos, videos, and audio clips generated by AI—can have an especially pernicious effect in developing countries, where political systems tend to be fragile, and trust between groups is often low. As people become aware that media can be generated, they may cease to believe incriminating content that is actually true. To head off these problems, civil society can play a role in building the infrastructure of trust—spreading awareness that content may be faked and establishing independent venues that develop reputations for vetting content. AI will also enable new forms of surveillance, such as tracking people through mobile devices and facial recognition. Most developing countries in the market for high-tech surveillance tools do not develop their own but instead import them, often from China. This outsourcing means that the actual implementation of AI-powered technology may be scattershot, making it easier for the information collected to be leaked to third parties and for rights to be infringed in unpredictable ways. Once again, civil society will have a role to play, monitoring new systems and drawing attention to abuses. This current wave of AI has introduced challenges and opportunities with unprecedented speed. But we have seen similar technological transitions before. Although mobile phones were initially designed for wealthy consumers, they took off among the poor over the past 20 years. Developing countries benefited from the standardized hardware—antennas and handsets—made in the West. Telecom companies invented business models that served the poor, such as pay-as-you-go cellphone plans. Entrepreneurs started new organizations that allowed people to use phones to send money, obtain credit, and check prices. These innovations allowed mobile phones to quickly reach most of the world’s poor and connect them to the global economy. It is these very links that have set the stage for the spread of AI. Yet despite the success of mobile phones, even that innovation has fallen short of its potential in the developing world. Most private-sector innovation has focused on the needs of the wealthy. Much more has been invested in apps to connect rich consumers to drivers, vacation houses, and prepared meals than in apps to connect subsistence farmers to markets and remote children to learning. Private-sector innovation in AI is likely to transform many industries, from education to health to law. But harnessing the full potential of the technology for developing countries will require formulating an expansive vision of what is possible—and paying extra attention to the people whose lives it could change. © 2023 Council on Foreign Relations, publisher of Foreign Affairs. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency. Read the original article at Foreign Affairs.

Nu tvingas Tesla ta efter traditionella bilmärken

Nu tvingas Tesla ta efter traditionella bilmärken

Tesla har uppnått en anmärkningsvärd framgång på marknaden för elbilar. Men nu står Elon Musks företag inför utmaningen att behålla sin snabba tillväxt i en hårt konkurrensutsatt miljö – samtidigt som Teslas fördelar som ungt teknikföretag inte väger lika tungt längre. För att uppnå Musks ambitiösa mål att tillverka 20 miljoner bilar per år till 2030 måste Tesla hämta inspiration från traditionella biltillverkare, skriver The Economist. Det handlar bland annat om att förnya åldrande modeller, satsa på klassisk marknadsföring och erbjuda fler alternativ för att locka en bredare kundbas. Become more like the industry you disrupted. By The Economist 18 July 2023 In 2011 Tesla stated an aim of becoming “the most compelling car company of the 21st century, while accelerating the world’s transition to electric vehicles”. At the time this was easy to dismiss as crackers. In the eight years since its founding in 2003 it had manufactured a piddling 1,650 EVs. Its first big-selling car, the Model S, had yet to hit the road. Today it is almost as mad to argue that Elon Musk, the carmaker’s boss since 2008, has not achieved that goal. His company, a rare insurgent in an industry with formidable barriers to entry, has grown at neck-snapping speed. In the first quarter of 2023 Tesla’s Model Y mini-suv was the world’s bestselling car. In the second quarter it delivered a total of 466,000 cars, beating analysts’ forecasts (see chart 1). Mr Musk’s promise of 2m sales this year, up from 1.3m in 2022, no longer seems fanciful. On July 15th its first Cybertruck, an angular, retro-futuristic pickup, rolled off the production line. Tesla is about to publicly unveil an expansion plan for its German factory, where it wants to double capacity to 1m vehicles per year. Besides almost single-handedly reimagining the car, Mr Musk has done the same to the car industry. His focus on streamlined manufacturing of only a handful of models has kept costs at bay. Last year Tesla boasted operating margins of 17%; among non-niche carmakers only Porsche, which churns out fewer than 1m cars annually, matched its performance. Mr Musk’s ambition to dominate the auto business—making 20m cars a year by 2030, double the current output of today’s top manufacturer, Toyota, and creating the go-to self-driving system—certainly compels investors, who value Tesla at over $900bn. That is down from more than $1trn in early 2022 but still more than the next nine most valuable carmakers put together. Incumbents are scrambling to electrify their product ranges and to copy Mr Musk’s vertically integrated approach to production, while fending off a wave of ev newcomers, many of them Chinese, all trying to be the next Tesla. Yet the question now is whether Tesla can keep growing as fast and as profitably as it has. On July 19th it is expected to report margins of around 12%, roughly what it eked out in the first three months of the year, as it slashed prices in order to compete with cheaper rivals (see chart 2). Its advantages as a disruptive tech firm with a Silicon Valley mindset are in danger of being eroded. To make even 5m-6m cars a year this decade, a more realistic target than Mr Musk’s goal of 20m, would require “embracing the techniques of legacy auto”, observes Dan Levy of Barclays, a bank. In order to remain a disruptive force, Tesla may, paradoxically, need to become a bit more like the stodgy car business it has disrupted. Tesla maintains a lead over its more established rivals in batteries, software and manufacturing productivity, notes Philippe Houchois of Jefferies, an investment bank. But competitors are catching up. In some areas, like marketing and product planning, they have overtaken it, notes Mr Houchois. When it launched the Model S—large and pricey with big batteries and a long range—it had the EV market largely to itself. Nowadays motorists can choose between 500 or so EV models from dozens of marques. Bernstein, a broker, estimates that around 220 new models may be launched this year and another 180 in 2024 (chart 3). For Tesla to grow fast in the face of all this competition will be difficult. Unlike incumbent carmakers’ “something for everybody” approach, Tesla manufactures just five models (if you count the Cybertruck) and relies heavily on two of them. The Model 3, a small saloon, and the Model Y account for 95% of the vehicles Tesla shifts. By comparison, Toyota’s two bestsellers, Corolla and RAV4, make up just 18% of the vehicles sold by the Japanese firm. For Tesla to hit its target of selling a combined 3m-4m Model 3s and Model Ys, each model would need to control 50% of the cars in its class ($40,000-60,000 mass-market cars and $45,000-65,000 suvs, respectively). According to Bernstein, no carmaker has ever had more than 10% in those two segments. And both models are ageing. The Model Y is three years old and the Model 3 has just turned six, which makes them less desirable in a business where novelty has historically counted for a lot. Carmaking’s rule of thumb to keep sales chugging along is to refresh models every two to four years and redesign them completely every four to seven years. Tesla’s planned “refresh” of the Model 3’s styling and its tech innards this year looks late by industry standards. The company will need to go well beyond its current strategy of offering frequent software updates that improve some of its cars’ features or add new ones. That may have done the trick for its original customer base of early-adopter techies but is unlikely to cut it with the average motorist. One solution is to offer more options for its existing range. Barclays estimates that the Model 3 comes in 180 configurations, compared with 195,000 for a comparable (petrol-powered) BMW 3 Series saloon. But that would introduce the sort of complexity that Mr Musk has hitherto shunned. Another route to higher sales is to launch new models, like the Cybertruck, or a low-cost mass-market vehicle—unofficially called the “Model 2” and with prices starting at $25,000—which Mr Musk has promised to start selling in the next couple of years. But new models come with new challenges. The relevant pickup market, with global sales of 1.3m, according to Bernstein, is relatively modest—and the Cybertruck’s bold styling may limit its appeal. And though low-cost Teslas could expand the company’s market beyond America, China and Europe, they will almost certainly generate lower margins, depressing the company’s overall profitability. Moreover, granting regional ventures greater autonomy to manage regional differences in taste, as established carmakers have long done, again adds complexity and costs. Mr Musk may be unable to avoid other expensive industry practices. One is marketing. In contrast to all other big carmakers, which are thought to spend princely sums on ads, Tesla has depended on word-of-mouth and Mr Musk’s own larger-than-life persona to promote its products. Barclays reckons that eschewing ads and, by selling directly to buyers, bypassing dealers, currently saves the company $2,500-4,000 for every car it sells. As it seeks new customers, and as Mr Musk sullies his personal brand with his polarising stewardship of Twitter, his $44bn side-project, Tesla is likely to forgo some of those savings. Mr Musk has conceded as much, saying that, for the first time, his company might “try a little advertising”. Another carmaking staple to which Tesla has belatedly come around is price cuts. Mr Musk had pledged never to offer discounts or allow inventory to build up. His company has lately done both. Production exceeded sales in the past five quarters. After growing at an average annual rate of 60% for years, quarterly sales volumes expanded by an average of only 30-40% between the second quarter of 2022 and the first quarter of 2023. To shift more vehicles Mr Musk began slashing prices late last year, by up to 25% on some models. Sales duly ballooned, by more than 80% in the second quarter, compared with a year ago. The flipside was that margins duly contracted. Investors have tolerated Mr Musk’s price cuts more than in the case of his rivals: on July 17th Ford’s share price fell by 6% after the Detroit giant announced hefty discounts on its f-150 pickup. But they may not stay so forgiving for ever. As its various costs rise, Tesla will try to keep cutting them elsewhere, notably in manufacturing. In March it unveiled what it called the “unboxed process”, designed to make cars “significantly simpler and more affordable” by streamlining or even eliminating stages of the production process. It is unclear what exactly he has in mind. Despite his record of engineering ingenuity, at least one previous attempt to up-end car manufacturing, by replacing people with robots for the Model 3, led to what Mr Musk himself described as “production hell” and near-bankruptcy in 2018. Mr Musk’s last new challenge—another one he shares with incumbent Western carmakers—is China. Tesla, which makes more than half its cars at its factory in Shanghai, no longer seems to hold its privileged position in the country. It was allowed to set up without the Chinese joint-venture partner required of other foreign carmakers, at a time when China needed Mr Musk to supply EVs for Chinese motorists and, importantly, to encourage the country’s own EV industry to raise its game. That has worked too well. Tesla is thought to have sold 155,000 cars in China in the second quarter, 13% more than in the previous three months. But China Merchants Bank International Securities, an investment firm, reckons its market share may have slipped below 14%, from 16% in the preceding quarter, as buyers switched to fast-improving home-grown brands. In a sign that Tesla now needs China more than China needs Tesla, the company was obliged to sign a pledge on July 6th with other car firms to stop its price war and compete fairly in line with “core socialist values”. Tu Le of Sino Auto Insights, a consultancy, recounts rumours that the authorities are pushing back against Tesla’s efforts to increase manufacturing capacity in China. And that is before getting into the increasingly fraught geopolitics of Sino-American commerce. If Tesla is to sell 6m cars a year at an operating margin of 14% by 2030, which Mr Levy of Barclays thinks possible, it probably needs to avoid at least some of these pitfalls. It would be foolish to dismiss that eventuality, given Tesla’s knack for confounding sceptics. It could, for example, offset part of the decline in sales growth with new revenue streams, such as recent deals to open its charging network to Ford and General Motors customers. As brands become defined by the digitally intermediated experience of driving rather than the body shell or handling, its superior software—including, one day, self-driving systems—may allow it to keep offering fewer models than its rivals. Mr Le thinks Tesla will mitigate the China risk by manufacturing more of its cars in Germany and other countries, including low-cost ones. Tesla has been by far the most compelling car company of the early 21st century. If it is to hold on to that title, it has its work cut out. © 2023 The Economist Newspaper Limited. All rights reserved.

Hemmajobbets vara eller icke vara – striden hårdnar

Hemmajobbets vara eller icke vara – striden hårdnar

En global undersökning avslöjar en växande klyfta mellan arbetsgivare och arbetstagare när det gäller distansarbete. Medan företagschefer fruktar minskad produktivitet fortsätter anställda att önska mer arbete hemifrån. I genomsnitt vill arbetstagare världen över jobba två dagar borta från kontoret, en dag mer än vad de för närvarande får. Trenden har även spridit sig till länder där distansarbete traditionellt sett har varit mindre vanligt, som i Japan och Sydkorea. Samtidigt har den avkylda jobbmarknaden gett många företag mod att inskränka distansarbetet, skriver The Economist. Employees want to toil in the kitchen. Bosses want them back in the office. By The Economist 10 July 2023 Remote work has a target on its back. Banking CEOs, like Jamie Dimon of JPMorgan Chase, are intent on making working from home a relic of the pandemic. Staff at America’s biggest lender and other Wall Street stalwarts like Goldman Sachs are finding that five-day weeks are back for good. Big tech companies are also cracking the whip. Google’s return-to-work mandate threatens to track attendance and factor it in performance reviews for rebellious employees. Meta and Lyft want staff back at their desks, demanding at least three days of the week in the office by the end of the summer. With bosses clamping down on the practice, the pandemic-era days of mutual agreement on the desirability of remote work seem to be over. Fresh data from a global survey shows just how far this consensus has broken down. Across the world, plans for remote working by employers fall short of what workers want, according to WFH Research, a group that includes Stanford University and the Ifo Institute, a German think-tank, which has tracked the sentiment of full-time workers with at least a secondary education in 34 countries. Corporate bosses fear that fully remote work dents productivity, a worry reinforced by a slew of recent research. One study of data-entry workers in India found those toiling from home to be 18% less productive than their office-frequenting peers; another found that employees at a big Asian IT firm were 19% less productive at home than they had been in the office. Communication records of nearly 62,000 employees at Microsoft showed that professional networks within the company ossified and became more isolated as remote work took hold. Yet all the pressure from above has done little to dent employees’ appetite for remote working. Workers want to be able to work more days from the comfort of their living rooms than they currently do, according to WFH Research. On average, workers across the world want two days at home, a full day more than they get. In English-speaking countries, which already have the highest levels of home-working, there is an appetite for more. And the trend is spreading to places where remote work has been less common. Japanese and South Korean employees, some of the most office-bound anywhere, want more than a quarter of the week to themselves. Europeans and Latin American crave a third and half, respectively. Continued desire for more remote work is not surprising. The time saved not having to battle public transport or congested roads allows for a better work-life balance. On average, 72 minutes each day is saved when working remotely, which adds up to two weeks over a year, according to a working paper by Nicholas Bloom of Stanford, who helps run WFH Research, and colleagues. Employees also report that they feel most engaged when working remotely, according to a poll last year by Gallup. On average globally, workers value all these benefits to the tune of an 8% rise in their salaries, suggesting that some would take a pay cut to keep their privileges. Until recently, as firms tried to lure workers during the post-pandemic hiring bonanza, employees’ demands and employers’ plans seemed to be converging in America, the best-studied market. This convergence is tailing off (see chart). At the same time, the pandemic has entrenched work-from-home patterns. At the moment, a third of workers surveyed by WFH Research have a hybrid or fully remote arrangement. Those practices will not be easy to unwind. It is no coincidence that the crackdown on remote work is happening as the labour market begins to cool. Deepening job cuts across Wall Street and Silicon Valley have handed power back to businesses. However, even in tech and finance some employees are standing their ground. In May nearly 2,000 employees at Amazon staged walkouts over the e-empire’s return-to-work policies. Other companies are quietly adapting with the times, perhaps recognising that a more flexible approach is inevitable. HSBC, a British bank, is planning to relocate from its 45-storey tower in Canary Wharf to smaller digs in the City of London. Deloitte and KPMG, two professional-services giants, plan to reduce their office footprint in favour of more remote work. The gap between the two sides of the work-from-home battle may yet narrow. The question is whether the bosses or the bossed will yield the most. © 2023 The Economist Newspaper Limited. All rights reserved.

Fed: USA:s storbanker klarar en recession

Fed: USA:s storbanker klarar en recession

Att bankerna klarade det årliga testet är ett tecken på att USA:s bankväsende är motståndskraftigt trots den senaste krisen som ledde till att Silicon Valley Bank, Signature Bank och First Republic Bank kollapsade. Även om de 23 bankerna klarade testet manar Fed till fortsatt vaksamhet. "Vi bör förbli ödmjuka inför hur risker kan uppstå och fortsätta vårt arbete för att säkerställa att banker är motståndskraftiga mot en rad ekonomiska scenarier, marknadschocker och andra påfrestningar" säger Michael Barr från Fed i ett uttalande.

Vinnare och förlorare på Big Techs stålbad

Vinnare och förlorare på Big Techs stålbad

Efter en tio år lång anställningsboom har techbranschen i USA gjort sig av med över 200 000 anställda hittills i år. Skiftet har rullat in som en kall dimma över det soliga Silicon Valley, skriver Bloomberg. Tidningen har intervjuat unga dataingenjörer som baserade sitt karriärval på att det var en säker arbetsmarknad. Nu har de i stället blivit fråntagna tidigare löften om anställning. Löneläget i branschen har planat ut, eller till och med sjunkit, utom för AI-specialisterna – just nu den enda kategori anställda som företagen fortfarande slåss om. A look at who’s unemployed, who should be worried and who’s more valuable than ever. By Ellen Huet

Bloomberg, 13 June 2023 There have been many innovations in Silicon Valley over the past decade, but for people who aspire to work in the tech industry, the most transformative may be the assembly line it developed to ingest fresh-faced summer interns and spit out highly paid software engineers. Tech companies have been so desperate for talent that, instead of hiring only for specific roles, many would make a “return offer” to every intern who met certain levels of proficiency. Dylan Castillo, 21, knew the drill. He interned at Alphabet, Meta, Figma and Stripe and graduated in May from Cornell University with a computer science degree. In November, Alphabet Inc. told him he qualified for a full-time job. Then Castillo met the new Big Tech. For several months, Google’s parent company held off on matching him with a team. It gave him a “we’ll get back to you” update in January. Finally, in March, a few weeks after laying off 12,000 employees, the company rescinded his offer. Castillo wasn’t shocked that the company had reneged on its promise. It was actively cutting jobs, after all. Still, this wasn’t how things were supposed to work. He’d cleared all the proficiency hurdles—he was good enough. “If you meet that threshold, you should get an offer,” Castillo says. “It was that way before,” he pauses, “whatever this is called.” Whatever you call it, this reversal of the decade-long hiring boom has rolled across sunny Silicon Valley like a cold fog. Job loss has always been part of the tech industry, but it’s generally associated with startups failing and dumping all of their workers, who easily land elsewhere. This time, workers can no longer bet on being quickly swept up by other startups or trillion-dollar behemoths. “It used to be if you had a pulse and could do basic coding exercises, you could get a six-figure offer from a bunch of companies,” says one startup executive who spoke on condition of anonymity because of the sensitivity of the topic. “Now people come to me and ask, ‘Are there roles at this company?’ and the company says, ‘We’re not really hiring right now.’ And that’s like, whoa.” More than 200,000 tech industry employees have been laid off this year, according to Layoffs.fyi, a website that tracks tech job cuts. More than 80,000 people got canned in January alone. Less tangible, but clearly present, is an industrywide feeling that setbacks such as widespread layoffs, the collapse of crypto and the Silicon Valley Bank’s failure are deflating Silicon Valley’s golden balloon. Shellshocked tech workers are considering, sometimes for the first time, that the promise of perpetual, lucrative employability may not be as solid as they thought it was. Castillo immigrated from Venezuela when he was 13 and chose software engineering as a career because it seemed safe—and because he couldn’t afford law school. He thought he was being conservative by aiming for employment at big tech companies and late-stage private companies. But now some of his friends who made similar career decisions are facing joblessness. “People are pretty scared,” he says. He’s taken a job at Figma Inc. and plans to start in August. Some of Castillo’s peers are accepting more than one offer, because they fear the jobs might not actually materialize. They’re also weighing less glamorous coding work in nontech sectors such as finance and health care, where companies still thirst to hire computer science majors. “Pay and career advancement are usually poorer in comparison, but you can rely more on those jobs not to be taken away or rescinded,” Castillo says. Amid all the uncertainty, one obvious strategy is to lean into the latest object of fascination in Silicon Valley: artificial intelligence. While the tech industry is notoriously faddish, Castillo says he and his peers see AI as more substantive than some of the sector’s other recent fixations and something that might be worth building a career around. “We’ve definitely considered focusing on learning AI and machine learning,” he says, because it seems as if those jobs will be in high demand for longer. Right now, the average salary for a senior software engineer who specializes in artificial intelligence or machine learning is 12% higher than the salary of one who doesn’t, says Roger Lee, who runs both layoff tracker Layoffs.fyi and Comprehensive.io, which monitors salaries in the industry. Although pay for tech workers has plateaued or even dipped in the past year, salaries of AI-related roles have risen 4%, Lee says. In the startup world, where venture funding is largely drying up and many startups are cutting jobs to survive, investors are still salivating over companies offering anything AI-related. This is especially true of generative AI, the term encompassing technology such as OpenAI’s ChatGPT. At larger companies, workers who attach themselves to AI projects may be the safest, at least in the short term. As Drew Houston, Dropbox Inc.’s chief executive officer, announced that the company was cutting 500 workers, he noted that part of the rationale for the cuts was to make way for AI-related hires: “Our next stage of growth requires a different mix of skill sets, particularly in AI and early-stage product development.” When Mark Zuckerberg laid out plans in March to eliminate 10,000 jobs at Meta Platforms Inc., he said one company focus was “building AI tools to help engineers write better code faster, enabling us to automate workloads over time.” At the same time that AI promises to be Silicon Valley’s next big boon, it also threatens to upend the conventional wisdom that simply learning computer programming is insurance against job insecurity. International Business Machines Corp. CEO Arvind Krishna recently told Bloomberg News that he could “easily see” thousands of IBM jobs being replaced by AI in the next five years, particularly for mundane tasks in human resources. (He later said he thought that AI would end up creating more jobs than it destroyed.) Right now, AI may actually be serving as a face-saving explanation for executives who want to avoid admitting that job cuts are a result of overhiring during the pandemic boom. There’s no evidence that AI has already begun to displace significant numbers of technology jobs. Still, it’s easy for an engineer to watch ChatGPT spit out code—and correct its own programming errors—and imagine how a team of five programmers could be replaced by two humans and some advanced AI tools. The artificial intelligence frenzy is another factor scrambling the way things work in Silicon Valley. Julie Lein, a co-founder of the Urban Innovation Fund, says the change to a more restrained atmosphere happened so quickly that it hasn’t registered with everyone. “It’s whiplash,” she says. A founder will propose at a board meeting a plan to spend aggressively on marketing and be greeted with unfamiliar resistance. “Everyone’s like, ‘What? You have to conserve cash,’ ” she says. “Are we even being a responsible company right now if we’re not laying people off?” When it comes to letting employees go, companies haven’t always reacted in the most artful ways. At the ride-sharing company Lyft Inc., which had already cut about 650 jobs in November, the incoming CEO made an ominous comment in an all-hands meeting about the potential for new job losses. This set off weeks of speculation, culminating with the announcement that Lyft would let 25% of its staff—more than 1,000 workers—go. On the planned day of the layoffs, everyone was told to stay home. The “impacted” employees were told they’d lost their jobs and were asked to attend a video call, but the call malfunctioned, and some were unable to sign on. An employee at another public tech company, who asked not to be named because she isn’t authorized to talk publicly about her work, says early warning signs of an impending layoff surfaced late last year. The CEO reassured employees that they were doing all right, before mysteriously delaying performance reviews. One morning this year, the employee got a text from her manager saying her job was safe. “I was like, ‘Safe?’ Why wouldn’t it be?’ ” she says. Then she saw the email from the CEO explaining that job cuts were coming. Employees quickly figured out they could tell who’d lost their jobs, because those who’d been cut had a symbol next to their names on the company’s Slack message board. At many companies, the first to go are recruiters, a natural choice given their job function only makes sense when companies are hiring. “I get it,” says a recruiter who was recently laid off from Meta and asked not to be named for fear of retribution. “I never took it personally.” Salespeople are also often vulnerable, in part because it’s easy to quantify their impact on the bottom line and cull lower performers. This time, another group on the chopping block has been those on tech companies’ more whimsical or experimental projects. These jobs have generally come with added prestige but, in tighter times, appear not to have been close enough to the companies’ core moneymaking business. At Alphabet, the cuts were particularly deep in departments such as Jigsaw, a geopolitical think tank that tried to prevent extremism and censorship, and Area 120, an in-house incubator where employees worked on side projects full time. Adjusting to the new era may be painful for people who’ve spent their entire careers employed during Silicon Valley’s boom years. Eric Bahn, who worked as a product manager at Facebook in the mid-2010s, recalls joining the company with no specific role. For three months, he spent his days engaged in light training. “I read a novel for an hour eating breakfast” each day, he says—then met with teams internally to decide if he wanted to work for them. Many of his co-workers were living lavishly on the money their employers threw into ample salaries and stock grants. Bahn would ask his young colleagues about their weekend plans, and they’d tell him they chartered a jet to Alaska to go fishing. “If growth is still double digits and all that, no one is really looking at the other side of the bottom line,” he says. Bahn remembers peers who planned to quit but were instead told to take months of paid leave, just so they wouldn’t abscond to a rival. When people did actually succeed in leaving a job, the response was often: “Congratulations!” “The belief was, ‘There are infinity jobs, and there will be infinity more,’ ” the startup executive says. “You can fill the bucket up with as much water as you want, and it never overflows.” Workers accustomed to such a charmed environment—and to the unhinged Bay Area living costs—have had trouble at times resetting their expectations. Bahn, who’s now a venture capitalist, says he has laid-off friends asking him for help finding new positions. “One of my friends said that his salary requirements are minimum $600,000 a year,” he says. “Why can’t you live with $300,000 or $400,000?” He adds: “The golden handcuffs are pretty real.” There’s already a healthy dose of schadenfreude being directed at people like Bahn’s friends. But anyone familiar with the tech industry knows that the stereotype of the decadent tech worker has always excluded a large portion of the workforce. For each software engineer who can’t imagine working for a measly half-million a year, there’s also a shadow worker who has none of the same protections. Noha Elsewaify, a single mother of two living in Brooklyn, New York, was employed at Google for more than five years, but as a contractor, not an employee. She worked full time and trained Google Assistant to speak fluently in Arabic but got her paychecks from contractor companies: first Artech, then Ask, then Accenture. Although her job stayed the same, she switched “employers” every two years, to skirt the rule that limits Google from keeping contractors on a job for too long without hiring them directly. In April, with only three weeks’ warning, Elsewaify was told her job was being eliminated. If she’d been a Google employee with five years of tenure, she would have gotten six months of severance. Other tech companies offered at least 16 weeks to their employees. As an Accenture employee contracted with Google, she got zero. (Google declined to comment; Accenture didn’t respond to a request for comment.) “When your last day at your current position comes,” Elsewaify wrote in a letter to Alphabet CEO Sundar Pichai, “I hope you are treated with respect and appreciation, not like how I was let go, over a Hangout meeting, 3 weeks before my last check arrives.” She added: “When this day finally came, I was tossed away as if I had never been there.”

—With Julia Love and Aisha Counts For more articles like this please visit us at bloomberg.com

Silicon Valley Bank på YouTube

How Silicon Valley Bank Collapsed in 36 Hours | WSJ What Went Wrong

Silicon Valley Bank collapsed in less than two days when FDIC regulators seized control. In that time, the bank's stock price fell ...

The Wall Street Journal på YouTube

The Silicon Valley Bank Collapse, Explained | WSJ

The abrupt collapse of Silicon Valley Bank, the second-biggest bank failure in U.S. history, happened after a run on deposits ...

The Wall Street Journal på YouTube

Inside Silicon Valley Bank's Collapse

The collapse of Silicon Valley Bank set off a maelstrom of panic, blame, good intentions and greed, followed finally by salvation for ...

Bloomberg Originals på YouTube

US Banking Crisis: The Truth Behind The Disaster

Silicon Valley Bank, Signature Bank and Silvergate bank have all collapsed throwing up a warning signs that something horrible ...

ColdFusion på YouTube

Silicon Valley Bank: what really went wrong?

Since the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank, American regulators have pulled out all the stops to protect depositors. But the scramble ...

The Economist på YouTube

Silicon Valley Bank i poddar

Lessons from Silicon Valley Bank

In his latest memo, Howard Marks discusses the significance of the Silicon Valley Bank collapse. He argues that it likely doesn’t portend a wave of banking failures but may amplify preexisting wariness among investors and lenders, leading to further credit tightening and additional pain across a range of industries and sectors.The memo is read by LJ Ganser.You can read the memo here (https://www.oaktreecapital.com/insights/memo/lessons-from-silicon-valley-bank).

Silicon Valley Bank Failure Roils Tech and Finance Industries

After experiencing a classic bank run with depositors withdrawing $42 billion in one day, Silicon Valley Bank was shut down by federal regulators on Friday. For many startups, SVB was the bank of choice, and its closure has roiled the tech industry. While federal regulators announced on Monday that 100% of Silicon Valley Bank’s deposits would be repaid, that has not stopped turmoil in the market. Shares in San Francisco-based First Republic Bank dropped over 60% on Monday with other bank stocks following suit. Added to this are last week’s failures of both Signature Bank, a regional bank in New York closed by regulators this weekend, and Silvergate, a banking concern favored by cryptocurrency investors. We’ll talk about how these banking issues are impacting the Bay Area and what it means for customers and the tech industry. Guests: Natasha Mascarenhas, senior reporter, TechCrunch Mark Calvey, senior reporter covering banking and finance, San Francisco Business Times Margaret O'Mara, historian of the modern United States, University of Washington - She writes and teaches about the growth of the high-tech economy, the history of American politics, and the connections between the two. Lizette Chapman, reporter, Bloomberg

How Silicon Valley Bank failed

Silicon Valley Bank was the 16th largest bank in America, the bank of choice for tech startups and big-name venture capitalists. Then, in the span of just a few days, it collapsed. Whispers that SVB might be in trouble spread like wildfire through group texts and Twitter posts. Depositors raced to empty their accounts, withdrawing $42 billion in a single day. Last Friday, after regulators declared that SVB had failed, the FDIC seized the bank.As the dust settles on the biggest bank failure — and bank rescue — in recent memory, we're still figuring out what happened. But poor investment choices, weak regulation, and customer panic all played their parts. We'll look into the bank's collapse to understand what it can teach us about the business of banking itself.This episode was produced by Willa Rubin, with help from Dave Blanchard. It was edited by Keith Romer, and engineered by Brian Jarboe. Fact-checking by Sierra Juarez. Our acting executive producer is Jess Jiang.Music: "I Don't Do Gossip," "Groovy Little Penguins" and "Vision." Help support Planet Money and get bonus episodes by subscribing to Planet Money+ in Apple Podcasts or at plus.npr.org/planetmoney.

Silicon Valley Bank: a very modern bank run

After the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank sent jitters through the financial system, Duncan Weldon explains how it’s just the latest in the long history of bank runs.He talks to financial analyst and former banking regulator Dan Davies - author of ‘Lying for Money’ - to understand how bank runs happen, and what the repercussions of this very modern bank run might be for the global financial system. Presenter: Duncan Weldon Producer: Nathan Gower Editor: Richard Vadon Programme Coordinators: Helena Warwick-Cross Sound Engineer: Neva Missirian(Photo credit: Reuters)

Silicon Valley Bank: Finance teams in the eye of the storm

The second-biggest bank collapse in U.S. history created a storm for CFOs and their finance teams during a panic-induced 48 hours in March. It only ended as regulators took control of Santa Clara, Calif.-based SVB and a dramatic intervention by financial regulators. In this special edition of FP&A Today, meet those in finance and FP&A who saw the events at Silicon Valley Bank first hand. Understand how the banking crisis played out and how ongoing ripples continue to impact everyone in FP&A and how your finance teams can cope with the ongoing aftermath. The panel: Josh Aharonoff (aka Your CFO Guy), CEO and Founder, Mighty Digits had many clients banking with SVB and had to make quick decisions as news broke. He shares Finance & Accounting Best Practices & Advice everyday to his nearly 85,000 LinkedIn followers Follow Josh on LinkedIn   CJ Gustafson is a CFO at a series B startup, PartsTech. He has been in the startup space within the  private equity sector and has helped to scale venture backed companies for the last 10 years. He also authors Mostly Metrics, an irreverent and analytical spin on metrics which has crossed more than 10k subscribers. Follow CJ Gustafson on LinkedIn Casey Woo is a seven-time high Tech CFO- turned investor. He has held finance and CFO roles at Silicon Valley companies including at WeWork and property tech companies before founding an “operators community” turned investment fund FOG ventures. Follow Casey Woo on LinkedIn   What is covered in this episode: Casey Woo explains being at the “heart of the storm” in Silicon Valley with a close personal relationship with SVB The reasons that VCs put pressure to withdraw money from SVB in a classic “prisoner’s dilemma” How the fallout from SVB continues to impact companies and particularly finance professionals  The challenges for CFOs, particularly in tech, seeking to fundraise after SVB’s crash  What are the differences between fractional banking and Ponzi schemes The initial $250,000 ceiling on federal deposit insurance explained How could KPMG have given SVB a clean bill of health with so many stored-up challenges?  Why is the impact of raising rates so dramatically different than in the 1970s when no banks failed? Strategic advice for Treasury and FP&A pros going forward post-SVB  The importance for CFOs and FP&A leaders to understand “second order effects” beyond cash entering and leaving the building.  How the SVB saga has emphasized the value of an FP&A function that can show everything that's happened, is happening, and is going to happen “and being in control of that story” - allowing you to take action quickly. FP&A Today is brought to you by Datarails.   Datarails is the financial planning and analysis platform that automates data consolidation, reporting and planning, while enabling finance teams to continue using their own Excel spreadsheets and financial models. Watch the full show on YouTube Read the full transcript and blog  

Silicon Valley Bank: What Happened and Why

Episode 31: (Recorded 03/10/23) Alex Lieberman (@businessbarista) and Jesse Pujji (@jspujji) react and unpack the news about Silicon Valley Bank and its collapse. Jesse goes into where banks fit in the entire financial ecosystem and how they relate to startups. Then, they go into some of the early lessons learned that could apply to business leaders.  #TheCrazyOnes #Startups #Entrepreneur Listen to The Crazy Ones here: https://link.chtbl.com/OV4W93_W Watch The Crazy Ones here: https://www.youtube.com/@TheCrazyOnesPod  Subscribe to Morning Brew! Sign up for free today: https://bit.ly/morningbrewyt Follow The Brew! Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/morningbrew/ Twitter - https://twitter.com/MorningBrew Tik Tok - https://www.tiktok.com/@morningbrew Follow Our Hosts! Alex Lieberman (@businessbarista) Jesse Pujji (@jspujji) Learn more about Electric here: https://electric.ai/crazyones Learn more about ADP here: https://adp.com/thecrazyones Learn more about Mailchimp here: https://mailchimp.com/guesswork/ Disclaimer - Mailchimp sponsored this segment of the podcast. Mailchimp is not affiliated with any other products, brands or companies featured or mentioned in this podcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Episode 55: Silicon Valley Bank: From Boom to Bust

The Great Fail kicks off Season 3 with one of the biggest failures of 2023 thus far, as we watched one of the nation’s largest banks unravel. Once a rising star in the tech industry, Silicon Valley Bank was a paragon for startup founders and venture capitalists reaching dizzying heights of success in 2020. So how did it go from boom to bust just a few short years after? Was it greed, mismanagement, or something more sinister? You won't want to miss this riveting exploration of Silicon Valley Bank's rise and fall. Listen to Episode 55 of The Great Fail to hear the story. Special thanks to Professor Mark T. Williams for his contributions to this segment. Sources  For 40 years, Silicon Valley Bank was a tech industry icon. It collapsed in just days WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO SILICON VALLEY BANK What Happened to Silicon Valley Bank? The tech industry moved fast and broke its most prestigious bank Here’s how the second-biggest bank collapse in U.S. history happened in just 48 hours The Ugly Lessons of Silicon Valley Bank’s Collapse Why almost everyone failed to predict Silicon Valley Bank’s collapse Fed's Barr to Congress: SVB's failure is 'textbook case of mismanagement' This is why SVB imploded, says top Fed official FDIC says First Citizens Bank has reached deal to purchase Silicon Valley Bank Silicon Valley Bank Collapse: Lessons for Boards Is Moody’s Ratings Downgrade The Reason Why Silicon Valley Bank Fell? Silicon Valley Bank: A Timeline and Summary of Events Silicon Valley Bank's demise began with a downgrade threat  Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The Closer Weekly: The Collapse of Silicon Valley Bank

Financial Times journalist Tabby Kinder was one of the first to report on weaknesses at Silicon Valley Bank. In this episode of The Closer, she breaks down the bank's swift collapse and tells us what it's been like covering the story as it unfolds. Read Tabby's reporting at ft.com/tabby-kinder For more from The Closer, visit TheCloser.FM. The Closer is a Project Brazen production. Subscribe to Brazen+ on Apple Podcasts or at brazen.fm/plus and get exclusive bonus episodes for The Closer and all our shows, as well as ad-free listening and early access to new podcasts.  For more fearless storytelling visit brazen.fm, home to all our podcasts, documentaries and newsletters. At Brazen, we show you how the world really works – from espionage and corruption to deal-making and organised crime, we’ll take you inside stories from hidden worlds.

BONUS: Silicon Valley Bank Collapse Explained

With the sudden shut down of Silicon Valley Bank over the weekend, Zacc and Laura are here to explain how this happened, what is being done to help the situation and if this can have an affect on you as a listener. Tune in now!

Why Silicon Valley Bank collapsed

A huge thank you to ⁠Pearler⁠ for sponsoring this week’s episode. ⁠Pearler⁠ is the intuitive and easy to use Aussie investing platform that makes it easy for anyone to invest in the stock market, and you can start building a sensible, diversified portfolio tailored to your needs with as little as $5. Not only is it built for long term investing, it brings together community and education, so you can learn from people just like you. Don't wait to start building your financial future - check out ⁠Pearler.com⁠ today with code GIRLSTHATINVEST and start investing in your goals with $20 free Pearler credit.Listen in this week to hear Sim & Sonya break down the Silicon Valley Bank (SVB) collapse in classic GTI, no nonsense, no jargon fashion. For more Girls That Invest: ⁠Join our weekly 'Stock Market Tea' newsletter⁠ ⁠Find us on Instagram⁠ ⁠Find us on TikTok⁠ ⁠Find us on Twitter⁠ ⁠Join our Facebook community⁠'Til next week, team! 💖 --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/girls-that-invest/message Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Why Silicon Valley Bank Collapsed — And What Comes Next

Last Friday, in the largest bank failure since 2008, Silicon Valley Bank failed.Banks fail all the time. But unless it’s a big or highly-connected bank, most of us don’t pay much attention. That’s because at the average bank, about half of all accounts are F.D.I.C.-insured. That means, if a typical bank fails, the F.D.I.C. will step in and pay every depositor back up to $250,000.But Silicon Valley Bank was not a typical bank. It seems that only around a single digit percentage of accounts were under $250,000. And the people who banked at Silicon Valley Bank are among the most powerful in the world. Nearly half of venture finance-backed tech and life-science companies had money in there. When these people start shouting, those in power listen.And so the Federal Reserve and the Treasury Department and the F.D.I.C. stepped in forcefully. They retroactively insured all the accounts, and created an emergency system to backstop other struggling banks, too. But that doesn’t mean this is over. Bank runs are narrative phenomena. Rising interest rates are revealing a financial system that had only planned for low interest rates — in perpetuity. And if, in practice, we’re going to make whole any depositor at any bank no matter how much money is in the account, shouldn’t we make that into actual policy, and charge banks for the privilege of full social insurance?Noah Smith is an economist, a former columnist at Bloomberg, and the author of the fantastic Substack Noahpinion, and he’s done some of the clearest writing and coverage of this mess. We talk about the above, as well as what the crypto boosters — many of whom were begging for a bailout here — got wrong about trust and finance, the problem the Fed now faces raising rates to fight inflation, whether this was a “bailout,” how a bank can be “narratively important” no matter its size, and much more.Mentioned:“How the Fed is ‘Shaking the Entire System’” by The Ezra Klein Show“Why the US Backstop After SVB’s Failure Is a Bailout” by Joe WeisenthalNoahpinionBook Recommendations:Chip War by Chris MillerHow Asia Works by Joe StudwellThe Invisible Bridge by Rick PerlsteinThoughts? Guest suggestions? Email us at ezrakleinshow@nytimes.com.You can find transcripts (posted midday) and more episodes of “The Ezra Klein Show” at nytimes.com/ezra-klein-podcast, and you can find Ezra on Twitter @ezraklein. Book recommendations from all our guests are listed at https://www.nytimes.com/article/ezra-klein-show-book-recs.“The Ezra Klein Show” is produced by Emefa Agawu, Annie Galvin, Jeff Geld, Rogé Karma and Kristin Lin. Fact-checking by Michelle Harris, Mary Marge Locker and Kate Sinclair. Mixing by Sonia Herrero and Efim Shapiro. Original music by Isaac Jones. Audience strategy by Shannon Busta. The executive producer of New York Times Opinion Audio is Annie-Rose Strasser. Special thanks to Pat McCusker and Kristina Samulewski.

Silicon Valley Bank UK Explained with Prav Reddy, Insolvency and Restructuring Partner at Katten Muchin Rosenman

In this episode, Stephanie Anais is joined by Prav Reddy, Insolvency and Restructuring Partner in the UK office of US law firm, Katten Muchin Rosenman. During the episode, Prav and Stephanie discuss the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank US and use it as a commercial case study to help Student Lawyers understand the technicalities involved in the acquisition of a distressed bank. Specifically, Prav explains the various procedures that the Bank of England can take when dealing with a bank on the brink of collapse, why HSBC was able to acquire SVB UK for £1 when others like Credit Suisse are sold for £billions, and how an insolvency and restructuring practice area of a law firm may be involved in such an acquisition. Prav also reveals what his typical day at the office looks like, the biggest misconception of working in a US law firm, and how to succeed as a student lawyer and progress to partnership. Interested in a career at Katten? Apply to the firm’s London training contract and summer vacation scheme, here: https://katten.com/london-training-contract-and-internship-programme **Interested in learning more about the University of Law, who are the sponsors of this podcast episode? Click here to view the courses on offer (https://bit.ly/3xhsefp) (Ad)** Don’t forget to subscribe to the podcast to ensure that you never miss an episode, and please share this episode with others who might find it useful! Hosted by Stephanie Anais, Produced by Nathan Gore

China: One Bed, Two Dreams. Ken Wilcox, Former CEO, Silicon Valley Bank.

When a Western executive is called on to build business in China what should be his or her mindset? What are the most important things they need to know before they go? Ken Wilcox, former CEO of Silicon Valley Bank, has answers. For three years, Mr Wilcox ran a 50-50 joint venture with the Shanghai Pudong Development Bank. On paper the two partners' mission and objectives were totally aligned. Reality was a different story. In this week's episode, Mr Wilcox delivers a master class in the realities of doing a joint venture in China, from the glorious honeymoon period to the hellscape of unexpected twists, turns, delays and obfuscations. It is pointless to whine or complain, says Wilcox. Just know how things work before you take your first steps and "try to lose your leverage gradually." This week's Driving With Dunne conversation previews Mr Wilcox's forthcoming blockbuster book: One Bed, Two Dreams, scheduled for publication in early 2024.

What led to the crisis at Silicon Valley Bank (SVB)?

Things escalate and hit the fan very quickly in banking. It's fascinating to see how banks go belly-up for the same fundamental reasons but in an entirely unique way each time. It's like being served the same romantic comedy story again and again with different actors, locations, and songs. But, these banking crisis stories are not as enjoyable and they hurt real people financially and emotionally. In this episode, we discuss the crisis at Silicon Valley Bank. How this seemingly robust, conservative, bank with $180 billion in deposits tumbled down in just a couple of days. All was good with the Silicon Valley Bank until, one day, it wasn't. NO, there was no accounting scam. This isn't like Enron.  NO, there wasn't any irresponsible speculative betting. This isn't like Lehman.  This time it's a different story. But, with the same result.  Listen in as Deepak and Shray tell you everything you need to know about the Silicon Valley Bank crisis:  What actually happened?  What could SVB have done differently starting a year ago? Understand how rising interest rates affect the business of banking What is going to happen next? Lessons for the future If you enjoy Capitalmind Podcast, tweet to us @capitalmind_in and let us know. It doesn't take more than 2 minutes and is the fuel that keeps us going.