Everyone in San Francisco is talk­ing about the sin­gu­lar­ity. At din­ner par­ties, at cof­fee shops, at the OpenClaw meetup where Ashton Kutcher showed up for some rea­son. The con­ver­sa­tions all have the same shape: some­one says it’s com­ing, some­one says it’s hype, and no­body has a num­ber.

This seems like the wrong ques­tion. If things are ac­cel­er­at­ing (and they mea­sur­ably are) the in­ter­est­ing ques­tion is­n’t whether. It’s when. And if it’s ac­cel­er­at­ing, we can cal­cu­late ex­actly when.

I col­lected five real met­rics of AI progress, fit a hy­per­bolic model to each one in­de­pen­dently, and found the one with gen­uine cur­va­ture to­ward a pole. The date has mil­lisec­ond pre­ci­sion. There is a count­down.

Five met­rics, cho­sen for what I’m call­ing their an­thropic sig­nif­i­cance (anthropic here in the Greek sense (“pertaining to hu­mans”), not the com­pany, though they ap­pear in the dataset with sus­pi­cious fre­quency):

Tokens per dol­lar: cost col­lapse of in­tel­li­gence (log-transformed, be­cause the Gemini Flash out­lier spans 150× the range oth­er­wise)

Each met­ric nor­mal­ized to . Release in­ter­vals in­verted (shorter = bet­ter). Tokens per dol­lar log-trans­formed be­fore nor­mal­iz­ing (the raw val­ues span five or­ders of mag­ni­tude; with­out the log, Gemini Flash at 2.5M to­kens/$ dom­i­nates the fit and every­thing else is noise). Each se­ries keeps its own scale, no merg­ing into a sin­gle en­sem­ble.

An ex­po­nen­tial ap­proaches in­fin­ity only as . You’d be wait­ing for­ever. Literally.

We need a func­tion that hits in­fin­ity at a fi­nite time. That’s the whole point of a sin­gu­lar­ity: a pole, a ver­ti­cal as­ymp­tote, the math break­ing:

As , the de­nom­i­na­tor goes to zero. . Not a bug. The fea­ture.

Polynomial growth () never reaches in­fin­ity at fi­nite time. You could wait un­til heat death and would still be fi­nite. Polynomials are for peo­ple who think AGI is “decades away.”

Exponential growth reaches in­fin­ity at . Technically a sin­gu­lar­ity, but an in­fi­nitely pa­tient one. Moore’s Law was ex­po­nen­tial. We are no longer on Moore’s Law.

Hyperbolic growth is what hap­pens when the thing that’s grow­ing ac­cel­er­ates its own growth. Better AI → bet­ter AI re­search tools → bet­ter AI → bet­ter tools. Positive feed­back with supra­lin­ear dy­nam­ics. The sin­gu­lar­ity is real and fi­nite.

The pro­ce­dure is straight­for­ward, which should con­cern you.

The model fits a sep­a­rate hy­per­bola to each met­ric:

Each se­ries gets its own scale and off­set . The sin­gu­lar­ity time is shared. MMLU scores and to­kens-per-dol­lar have no busi­ness be­ing on the same y-axis, but they can agree on when the pole is.

For each can­di­date , the per-se­ries fits are lin­ear in and . The ques­tion is: which makes the hy­per­bola fit best?

Here’s the thing no­body tells you about fit­ting sin­gu­lar­i­ties: most met­rics don’t ac­tu­ally have one. If you min­i­mize to­tal RSS across all se­ries, the best is al­ways at in­fin­ity. A dis­tant hy­per­bola de­gen­er­ates into a line, and lines fit noisy data just fine. The “singularity date” ends up be­ing what­ever you set as the search bound­ary. You’re find­ing the edge of your search grid, not a sin­gu­lar­ity.

So in­stead, we look for the real sig­nal. For each se­ries in­de­pen­dently, grid search and find the R² peak: the date where hy­per­bolic fits bet­ter than any nearby al­ter­na­tive. If a se­ries gen­uinely curves to­ward a pole, its R² will peak at some fi­nite and then de­cline. If it’s re­ally just lin­ear, R² will keep in­creas­ing as and never peak. No peak, no sig­nal, no vote!

One se­ries peaks! arXiv “emergent” (the count of AI pa­pers about emer­gence) has a clear, un­am­bigu­ous R² max­i­mum. The other four are mo­not­o­n­i­cally bet­ter fit by a line. The sin­gu­lar­ity date comes from the one met­ric that’s ac­tu­ally go­ing hy­per­bolic.

This is more hon­est than forc­ing five met­rics to av­er­age out to a date that none of them in­di­vid­u­ally sup­port.

Same in­puts → same date. Deterministic. The sto­chas­tic­ity is in the uni­verse, not the model.

The fit con­verged! Each se­ries has its own R² at the shared , so you can see ex­actly which met­rics the hy­per­bola cap­tures well and which it does­n’t. arX­iv’s R² is the one that mat­ters. It’s the se­ries that ac­tu­ally peaked.

The 95% con­fi­dence in­ter­val comes from pro­file like­li­hood on . We slide the sin­gu­lar­ity date for­ward and back­ward un­til the fit de­grades past an F-threshold.

How much does the date move if we drop one met­ric en­tirely?

If drop­ping a sin­gle se­ries shifts by years, that se­ries was do­ing all the work. If the shifts are zero, the dropped se­ries never had a sig­nal in the first place.

The table tells the story plainly: arXiv is do­ing all the work. Drop it and the date jumps to the search bound­ary (no re­main­ing se­ries has a fi­nite peak). Drop any­thing else and noth­ing moves. They were never con­tribut­ing to the date, only pro­vid­ing con­text curves at the shared .

Note: Copilot has ex­actly 2 data points and 2 pa­ra­me­ters ( and ), so it fits any hy­per­bola per­fectly. Zero RSS, zero in­flu­ence on . It’s along for the ride!

The model says at . But what does “infinity” mean for arXiv pa­pers about emer­gence? It does­n’t mean in­fi­nitely many pa­pers get pub­lished on a Tuesday in 2034.

It means the model breaks. is the point where the cur­rent tra­jec­to­ry’s cur­va­ture can no longer be sus­tained. The sys­tem ei­ther breaks through into some­thing qual­i­ta­tively new, or it sat­u­rates and the hy­per­bola was wrong. A phase tran­si­tion marker, not a phys­i­cal pre­dic­tion.

But here’s the part that should un­set­tle you: the met­ric that’s ac­tu­ally go­ing hy­per­bolic is hu­man at­ten­tion, not ma­chine ca­pa­bil­ity.

MMLU, to­kens per dol­lar, re­lease in­ter­vals. The ac­tual ca­pa­bil­ity and in­fra­struc­ture met­rics. All lin­ear. No pole. No sin­gu­lar­ity sig­nal. The only curve point­ing at a fi­nite date is the count of pa­pers about emer­gence. Researchers notic­ing and nam­ing new be­hav­iors. Field ex­cite­ment, mea­sured memet­i­cally.

The data says: ma­chines are im­prov­ing at a con­stant rate. Humans are freak­ing out about it at an ac­cel­er­at­ing rate that ac­cel­er­ates its own ac­cel­er­a­tion.

That’s a very dif­fer­ent sin­gu­lar­ity than the one peo­ple ar­gue about.

If marks when the rate of AI sur­prises ex­ceeds hu­man ca­pac­ity to process them, the in­ter­est­ing ques­tion is­n’t what hap­pens to the ma­chines. It’s what hap­pens to us.

And the un­com­fort­able an­swer is: it’s al­ready hap­pen­ing.

The la­bor mar­ket is­n’t ad­just­ing. It’s snap­ping. In 2025, 1.1 mil­lion lay­offs were an­nounced. Only the sixth time that thresh­old has been breached since 1993. Over 55,000 ex­plic­itly cited AI. But HBR found that com­pa­nies are cut­ting based on AI’s po­ten­tial, not its per­for­mance. The dis­place­ment is an­tic­i­pa­tory. The curve does­n’t need to reach the pole. It just needs to look like it will.

Institutions can’t keep up. The EU AI Act’s high-risk rules have al­ready been de­layed to 2027. The US re­voked its own 2023 AI ex­ec­u­tive or­der in January 2025, then is­sued a new one in December try­ing to pre­empt state laws. California and Colorado are go­ing their own way any­way. The laws be­ing writ­ten to­day reg­u­late 2023′s prob­lems. By the time leg­is­la­tion catches up to GPT-4, we’re on GPT-7. When gov­ern­ments vis­i­bly can’t keep up, trust does­n’t erode. It col­lapses. Global trust in AI has dropped to 56%.

Capital is con­cen­trat­ing at dot-com lev­els. The top 10 S&P 500 stocks (almost all AI-adjacent) hit 40.7% of in­dex weight in 2025, sur­pass­ing the dot-com peak. Since ChatGPT launched, AI-related stocks have cap­tured 75% of S&P 500 re­turns, 80% of earn­ings growth, and 90% of cap­i­tal spend­ing growth. The Shiller CAPE is at 39.4. The last time it was this high was 1999. The money flood­ing in does­n’t re­quire AI to ac­tu­ally reach su­per­in­tel­li­gence. It just re­quires enough peo­ple to be­lieve the curve keeps go­ing up.

People are los­ing the thread. Therapists are re­port­ing a surge in what they’re call­ing FOBO (Fear of Becoming Obsolete). The clin­i­cal lan­guage is strik­ing: pa­tients de­scribe it as “the uni­verse say­ing, ‘You are no longer needed.’” 60% of US work­ers be­lieve AI will cut more jobs than it cre­ates. AI us­age is up 13% year-over-year, but con­fi­dence in it has dropped 18%. The more peo­ple use it, the less they trust it.

The epis­temics are crack­ing. Less than a third of AI re­search is re­pro­ducible. Under 5% of re­searchers share their code. Corporate labs are pub­lish­ing less. The gap be­tween what fron­tier labs know and what the pub­lic knows is grow­ing, and the peo­ple mak­ing pol­icy are op­er­at­ing on in­for­ma­tion that’s al­ready ob­so­lete. The ex­perts who tes­tify be­fore Congress con­tra­dict each other, be­cause the field is mov­ing faster than ex­per­tise can form.

The pol­i­tics are re­align­ing. TIME is writ­ing about pop­ulist AI back­lash. Foreign Affairs pub­lished “The Coming AI Backlash: How the Anger Economy Will Supercharge Populism.” HuffPost says AI will de­fine the 2026 midterms. MAGA is split­ting over whether AI is pro-busi­ness or anti-worker. Sanders pro­posed a data cen­ter mora­to­rium. The old left-right axis is buck­ling un­der the weight of a ques­tion it was­n’t built to an­swer.

All of this is hap­pen­ing eight years be­fore tst_sts​. The so­cial sin­gu­lar­ity is front-run­ning the tech­ni­cal one. The in­sti­tu­tional and psy­cho­log­i­cal dis­rup­tion does­n’t wait for ca­pa­bil­i­ties to go ver­ti­cal. It starts as soon as the tra­jec­tory be­comes leg­i­ble.

The pole at is­n’t when ma­chines be­come su­per­in­tel­li­gent. It’s when hu­mans lose the abil­ity to make co­her­ent col­lec­tive de­ci­sions about ma­chines. The ac­tual ca­pa­bil­i­ties are al­most be­side the point. The so­cial fab­ric frays at the seams of at­ten­tion and in­sti­tu­tional re­sponse time, not at the fron­tier of model per­for­mance.

The date comes from one se­ries. arXiv “emergent” is the only met­ric with gen­uine hy­per­bolic cur­va­ture. The other four are bet­ter fit by straight lines. The sin­gu­lar­ity date is re­ally “the date when AI emer­gence re­search goes ver­ti­cal.” Whether field ex­cite­ment is a lead­ing in­di­ca­tor or a lag­ging one is the crux of whether this means any­thing.

The model as­sumes sta­tion­ar­ity. Like as­sum­ing the weather will con­tinue to be “changing.” The curve will bend, ei­ther into a lo­gis­tic (the hype sat­u­rates) or into some­thing the model can’t rep­re­sent (genuine phase tran­si­tion). marks where the cur­rent regime can’t con­tinue, not what comes af­ter.

MMLU is hit­ting its ceil­ing. Benchmark sat­u­ra­tion in­tro­duces a lep­tokur­tic com­pres­sion ar­ti­fact. MMLU’s low R² re­flects this. The hy­per­bola is the wrong shape for sat­u­rat­ing data.

Tokens per dol­lar is log-trans­formed (values span five or­ders of mag­ni­tude) and non-mo­not­o­nic (GPT-4 cost more than 3.5; Opus 4.5 costs more than DeepSeek-R1). The cost curve is­n’t smooth: it’s Pareto ad­vances in­ter­spersed with “we spent more on this one.”

Five met­rics is­n’t enough. More se­ries with gen­uine hy­per­bolic cur­va­ture would make the date less de­pen­dent on arXiv alone. A proper study would add SWE-bench, ARC, GPQA, com­pute pur­chases, tal­ent salaries. I used five be­cause five fits in a table.

Copilot has two data points. Two pa­ra­me­ters, two points, zero de­grees of free­dom, zero RSS con­tri­bu­tion. The sen­si­tiv­ity analy­sis con­firms it does­n’t mat­ter.

The math found one met­ric curv­ing to­ward a pole on a spe­cific day at a spe­cific mil­lisec­ond: the rate at which hu­mans are dis­cov­er­ing emer­gent AI be­hav­iors. The other four met­rics are lin­ear. The ma­chines are im­prov­ing steadily. We are the ones ac­cel­er­at­ing!

The so­cial con­se­quences of that ac­cel­er­a­tion (labor dis­place­ment, in­sti­tu­tional fail­ure, cap­i­tal con­cen­tra­tion, epis­temic col­lapse, po­lit­i­cal re­align­ment) are not pre­dic­tions for 2034. They are de­scrip­tions of 2026. The sin­gu­lar­ity in the data is a sin­gu­lar­ity in hu­man at­ten­tion, and it is al­ready ex­ert­ing grav­i­ta­tional force on every­thing it touches.

I see no rea­son to let epis­te­mo­log­i­cal hu­mil­ity in­ter­fere with a per­fectly good timer.

See you on the other side!

ECB President Christine Lagarde has called for Europe to break its de­pen­dence on American pay­ment in­fra­struc­ture, warn­ing that every card trans­ac­tion sends European con­sumer data to the United States. A coali­tion of 16 banks thinks it has the an­swer.

What’s hap­pen­ing? ECB President Christine Lagarde told Irish ra­dio that Europe needs its own dig­i­tal pay­ment sys­tem “urgently,” warn­ing that vir­tu­ally all European card and mo­bile pay­ments cur­rently run through non-Eu­ro­pean in­fra­struc­ture con­trolled by Visa, Mastercard, PayPal or Alipay. Days later, on 2 February, the European Payments Initiative (EPI) and the EuroPA Alliance signed a land­mark agree­ment to build a pan-Eu­ro­pean in­ter­op­er­a­ble pay­ment net­work cov­er­ing 130 mil­lion users across 13 coun­tries. The sys­tem, built around the dig­i­tal wal­let Wero, aims to let Europeans pay and trans­fer money across bor­ders with­out touch­ing a sin­gle American net­work.

Every time a European taps a card, pays on­line or splits a bill with friends, the trans­ac­tion flows through in­fra­struc­ture owned and op­er­ated by American com­pa­nies. Visa and Mastercard to­gether process ap­prox­i­mately $24 tril­lion in trans­ac­tions an­nu­ally. Card pay­ments ac­count for 56% of all cash­less trans­ac­tions in the EU. And the data — who bought what, where, when and for how much — leaves European ju­ris­dic­tion every time.

“It’s im­por­tant for us to have dig­i­tal pay­ment un­der our con­trol,” Lagarde told The Pat Kenny Show. “Whether you use a card or whether you use a phone, typ­i­cally it goes through Visa, Mastercard, PayPal, Alipay. Where are all those com­ing from? Well, ei­ther the US or China.”

The host’s re­sponse — “I did­n’t re­alise this” — cap­tured the broader European blind spot. Most con­sumers have no idea that their pay­ment data rou­tinely ex­its the EU. In a geopo­lit­i­cal en­vi­ron­ment where Europe is scram­bling to re­duce de­pen­dence on the United States across de­fence, en­ergy and trade, pay­ments re­main an over­looked vul­ner­a­bil­ity.

The les­son of Russia sharp­ened the ur­gency. When Western sanc­tions cut Russia off from Visa and Mastercard in 2022, the coun­try’s do­mes­tic pay­ments were im­me­di­ately dis­rupted. European pol­i­cy­mak­ers asked the ob­vi­ous ques­tion: what would hap­pen if the US de­cided — or was pres­sured — to re­strict European ac­cess to those same net­works?

The European Payments Initiative, a con­sor­tium of 16 ma­jor banks and pay­ment proces­sors in­clud­ing BNP Paribas, Deutsche Bank and Worldline, launched Wero in July 2024 as Europe’s an­swer. Built on SEPA in­stant credit trans­fers, Wero lets users send money us­ing just a phone num­ber — no IBAN, no card, no in­ter­me­di­ary.

The num­bers so far are en­cour­ag­ing. Wero al­ready has over 47 mil­lion reg­is­tered users in Belgium, France and Germany, has processed over €7.5 bil­lion in trans­fers, and counts more than 1,100 mem­ber in­sti­tu­tions. Retail pay­ments went live in Germany at the end of 2025, with mer­chants in­clud­ing Lidl, Decathlon, Rossmann and Air Europa al­ready ac­cept­ing Wero on­line. France and Belgium fol­low in 2026.

But the real break­through came on 2 February, when EPI signed a mem­o­ran­dum of un­der­stand­ing with the EuroPA Alliance — a coali­tion of na­tional pay­ment sys­tems in­clud­ing Italy’s Bancomat, Spain’s Bizum, Portugal’s MB WAY and the Nordics’ Vipps MobilePay. The deal in­stantly con­nects ap­prox­i­mately 130 mil­lion users across 13 coun­tries, cov­er­ing roughly 72% of the EU and Norway pop­u­la­tion. Cross-border peer-to-peer pay­ments launch this year, with e-com­merce and point-of-sale pay­ments fol­low­ing in 2027.

“European pay­ment sov­er­eignty is not a vi­sion, but a re­al­ity in the mak­ing,” said Martina Weimert, CEO of EPI.

Europe has tried this be­fore. The Monnet Project, launched in 2008 by twenty European banks, col­lapsed in 2012. The orig­i­nal EPI vi­sion it­self was scaled back af­ter sev­eral found­ing mem­bers with­drew, forc­ing a pivot from a full card-re­place­ment scheme to a nar­rower ac­count-to-ac­count model.

The core prob­lem has al­ways been frag­men­ta­tion. Each EU coun­try de­vel­oped its own do­mes­tic pay­ment so­lu­tion — Bizum in Spain, iDEAL in the Netherlands, Payconiq in Belgium, Girocard in Germany — but none could work across bor­ders. A Belgian con­sumer buy­ing from a Dutch re­tailer still needed Visa or Mastercard. National pride and com­pet­ing bank­ing in­ter­ests re­peat­edly sab­o­taged at­tempts at uni­fi­ca­tion.

The net­work ef­fect com­pounds the chal­lenge. Merchants ac­cept Visa and Mastercard be­cause con­sumers carry them. Consumers carry them be­cause mer­chants ac­cept them. Breaking that loop re­quires ei­ther reg­u­la­tory force or a crit­i­cal mass of users large enough to make mer­chants care — which is pre­cisely what the EuroPA deal at­tempts to de­liver by con­nect­ing ex­ist­ing na­tional user bases rather than build­ing from scratch.

Running in par­al­lel is the ECB’s dig­i­tal euro pro­ject, which would cre­ate a cen­tral bank-backed dig­i­tal cur­rency us­able across the eu­ro­zone. EU fi­nance min­is­ters have ac­cel­er­ated dis­cus­sions on the ini­tia­tive, though the European Parliament has not yet passed the re­quired leg­is­la­tion. Once ap­proved, the ECB es­ti­mates it would need a fur­ther two to three years to launch.

EPI is care­ful to dis­tin­guish Wero from the dig­i­tal euro. Wero is a pri­vate-sec­tor ini­tia­tive; the dig­i­tal euro is pub­lic money. They are de­signed to com­ple­ment rather than com­pete — though the over­lap in am­bi­tion is ob­vi­ous. Both ex­ist be­cause Europe’s po­lit­i­cal es­tab­lish­ment has fi­nally ac­cepted that pay­ments sov­er­eignty is as strate­gi­cally im­por­tant as en­ergy in­de­pen­dence or de­fence au­ton­omy.

Sceptics have good rea­sons for doubt. Creating a vi­able al­ter­na­tive to Visa and Mastercard re­quires “several bil­lion eu­ros” in in­vest­ment, ac­cord­ing to EPI’s own es­ti­mates. Low in­ter­change fees un­der EU reg­u­la­tion make prof­itabil­ity dif­fi­cult. Consumer habits are deeply en­trenched — and nei­ther Visa nor Mastercard will sit idle while Europe tries to dis­man­tle their most prof­itable mar­ket.

Weimert her­self con­cedes that call­ing Wero a “challenger” may be pre­ma­ture, de­scrib­ing it as func­tion­ing like a startup — al­beit one with €500 mil­lion in back­ing and 47 mil­lion users al­ready on board.

But the po­lit­i­cal tail­winds are stronger than they have ever been. The EU’s in­stant pay­ments reg­u­la­tion, the Capital Markets Union push, the broader drive for European strate­gic au­ton­omy in a world of tar­iff wars and great power ri­valry — all point in the same di­rec­tion. The ques­tion is no longer whether Europe wants its own pay­ment in­fra­struc­ture. It is whether it can ex­e­cute fast enough to mat­ter.

As Lagarde put it: “We have the as­sets and op­por­tu­ni­ties to do that our­selves. And if we were to re­move the in­ter­nal bar­ri­ers that we have set for our­selves in Europe, our eco­nomic wealth would in­crease sig­nif­i­cantly.”

Google ful­filled an Immigration and Customs Enforcement sub­poena that de­manded a wide ar­ray of per­sonal data on a stu­dent ac­tivist and jour­nal­ist, in­clud­ing his credit card and bank ac­count num­bers, ac­cord­ing to a copy of an ICE sub­poena ob­tained by The Intercept.

Amandla Thomas-Johnson had at­tended a protest tar­get­ing com­pa­nies that sup­plied weapons to Israel at a Cornell University job fair in 2024 for all of five min­utes, but the ac­tion got him banned from cam­pus. When President Donald Trump as­sumed of­fice and is­sued a se­ries of ex­ec­u­tive or­ders tar­get­ing stu­dents who protested in sup­port of Palestinians, Thomas-Johnson and his friend Momodou Taal went into hid­ing.

Google in­formed Thomas-Johnson via a brief email in April that it had al­ready shared his meta­data with the Department of Homeland Security, as The Intercept pre­vi­ously re­ported. But the full ex­tent of the in­for­ma­tion the agency sought — including user­names, ad­dresses, item­ized list of ser­vices, in­clud­ing any IP mask­ing ser­vices, tele­phone or in­stru­ment num­bers, sub­scriber num­bers or iden­ti­ties, and credit card and bank ac­count num­bers — was not pre­vi­ously known.

“I’d al­ready seen the sub­poena re­quest that Google and Meta had sent to Momodou [Taal], and I knew that he had got­ten in touch with a lawyer and the lawyer suc­cess­fully chal­lenged that,” Thomas-Johnson said. “I was quite sur­prised to see that I did­n’t have that op­por­tu­nity.”

The sub­poena pro­vides no jus­ti­fi­ca­tion for why ICE is ask­ing for this in­for­ma­tion, ex­cept that it’s re­quired “in con­nec­tion with an in­ves­ti­ga­tion or in­quiry re­lat­ing to the en­force­ment of U. S. im­mi­gra­tion laws.” In the sub­poena, ICE re­quests that Google not “disclose the ex­is­tence of this sum­mons for in­def­i­nite pe­riod of time.”

Thomas-Johnson, who is British, be­lieves that ICE re­quested that in­for­ma­tion to track and even­tu­ally de­tain him — but he had al­ready fled to Geneva, Switzerland, and is now in Dakar, Senegal.

The Electronic Frontier Foundation, which is rep­re­sent­ing Thomas-Johnson, and the ACLU of Northern California sent a let­ter to Google, Amazon, Apple, Discord, Meta, Microsoft, and Reddit last week call­ing on tech com­pa­nies to re­sist sim­i­lar sub­poe­nas in the fu­ture from DHS with­out court in­ter­ven­tion. The let­ter asks the com­pa­nies to pro­vide users with as much no­tice as pos­si­ble be­fore com­ply­ing with a sub­poena to give them the op­por­tu­nity to fight it, and to re­sist gag or­ders that would pre­vent the tech com­pa­nies from in­form­ing tar­gets that a sub­poena was is­sued.

“Your promises to pro­tect the pri­vacy of users are be­ing tested right now. As part of the fed­eral gov­ern­men­t’s un­prece­dented cam­paign to tar­get crit­ics of its con­duct and poli­cies, agen­cies like DHS have re­peat­edly de­manded ac­cess to the iden­ti­ties and in­for­ma­tion of peo­ple on your ser­vices,” the let­ter reads. “Based on our own con­tact with tar­geted users, we are deeply con­cerned your com­pa­nies are fail­ing to chal­lenge un­law­ful sur­veil­lance and de­fend user pri­vacy and speech.”

In ad­di­tion to Thomas-Johnson’s case, the let­ter refers to other in­stances in which tech­nol­ogy com­pa­nies pro­vided user data to DHS, in­clud­ing a sub­poena sent to Meta to “unmask” the iden­ti­ties of users who doc­u­mented im­mi­gra­tion raids in California. Unlike Thomas-Johnson, users in that case were given the chance to fight the sub­poena be­cause they were made aware of it be­fore Meta com­plied.

“Google has al­ready ful­filled this sub­poena,” an at­tor­ney for Google told Thomas-Johnson’s lawyer, as The Intercept pre­vi­ously re­ported. “Production con­sisted of ba­sic sub­scriber in­for­ma­tion.”

The ICE sub­poena re­quested the de­tailed in­for­ma­tion linked to Thomas-Johnson’s Gmail ac­count. Thomas-Johnson con­firmed to The Intercept that he had at­tached his bank and credit card num­bers to his ac­count to buy apps.

Google did not re­spond to a re­quest for com­ment.

Lindsay Nash, a pro­fes­sor at Cardozo Law and a for­mer staff at­tor­ney with ACLU Immigrants’ Rights Project, said that by not giv­ing prior no­tice, Google de­prived Thomas-Johnson of his abil­ity to pro­tect his in­for­ma­tion.

“The prob­lem is that it does­n’t al­low the per­son whose per­sonal in­for­ma­tion is on the line and whose pri­vacy may be be­ing in­vaded to raise chal­lenges to the dis­clo­sure of that po­ten­tially pri­vate in­for­ma­tion,” Nash said. “And I think that’s im­por­tant to pro­tect rights that they may have to their own in­for­ma­tion.”

Tech com­pa­nies’ data shar­ing prac­tices are pri­mar­ily gov­erned by two fed­eral laws, the Stored Communications Act, which pro­tects the pri­vacy of dig­i­tal com­mu­ni­ca­tions, in­clud­ing emails, and Section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act, which pro­hibits un­fair or de­cep­tive trade prac­tices.

“Under both fed­eral law and the law of every state, you can­not de­ceive con­sumers,” said Neil Richards, a law pro­fes­sor at Washington University St. Louis who spe­cial­izes in pri­vacy, the in­ter­net, and civil lib­er­ties. “And if you make a ma­te­r­ial mis­rep­re­sen­ta­tion about your data prac­tices, that’s a de­cep­tive trade prac­tice.”

Whether or not cor­po­ra­tions are clear enough with con­sumers about how they col­lect and share their data has been lit­i­gated for decades, Richards said, ref­er­enc­ing the in­fa­mous Cambridge Analytica law­suit brought by the Federal Trade Commission, al­leg­ing that the com­pany mis­led Facebook users about data col­lec­tion and shar­ing.

Google’s pub­lic pri­vacy pol­icy ac­knowl­edges that it will share per­sonal in­for­ma­tion in re­sponse to an “enforceable gov­ern­men­tal re­quest,” adding that its le­gal team will “frequently push back when a re­quest ap­pears to be overly broad or does­n’t fol­low the cor­rect process.”

According to Google, the com­pany over­whelm­ingly com­plied with the mil­lions of re­quests made by the gov­ern­ment for user in­for­ma­tion over the last decade. Its data also shows that those re­quests have spiked over the last five years. It’s un­clear how many of those users were given no­tice of those re­quests ahead of time or af­ter.

Richards said that cases like these em­pha­size the need for le­gal re­forms around data pri­vacy and urged Congress to amend the Stored Communications Act to re­quire a higher stan­dard be­fore the gov­ern­ment can ac­cess our dig­i­tal data. He also said the fed­eral gov­ern­ment needs to reg­u­late Big Tech and place “substantive re­stric­tions on their abil­ity to share in­for­ma­tion with the gov­ern­ment.”

It’s hard to know ex­actly how tech com­pa­nies are han­dling our per­sonal data in re­la­tion to the gov­ern­ment, but there seems to have been a shift in op­tics, Richards said. “What we have seen in the 12 months since the lead­ers of Big Tech were there on the podium at the in­au­gu­ra­tion,” Richards said, “is much more friend­li­ness of Big Tech to­wards the gov­ern­ment and to­wards state power.”

From Dakar, Thomas-Johnson said that un­der­stand­ing the ex­tent of the sub­poena was ter­ri­fy­ing but had not changed his com­mit­ment to his work.

“As a jour­nal­ist, what’s weird is that you’re so used to see­ing things from the out­side,” said Thomas-Johnson, whose work has ap­peared in out­lets in­clud­ing Al Jazeera and The Guardian. “We need to think very hard about what re­sis­tance looks like un­der these con­di­tions… where gov­ern­ment and Big Tech know so much about us, can track us, can im­prison, can de­stroy us in a va­ri­ety of ways.”

This story has been up­dated to re­flect that Thomas-Johnson’s le­gal team still does not know the full ex­tent of the in­for­ma­tion that Google pro­vided to ICE, but that Thomas-Johnson said his bank and credit card num­bers were at­tached to his ac­count.

I wrote my first line of code in 1983. I was seven years old, typ­ing BASIC into a ma­chine that had less pro­cess­ing power than the chip in your wash­ing ma­chine. I un­der­stood that ma­chine com­pletely. Every byte of RAM had a pur­pose I could trace. Every pixel on screen was there be­cause I’d put it there. The path from in­ten­tion to re­sult was di­rect, vis­i­ble, and mine.

Forty-two years later, I’m sit­ting in front of hard­ware that would have seemed like sci­ence fic­tion to that kid, and I’m try­ing to fig­ure out what “building things” even means any­more.

This is­n’t a rant about AI. It’s not a “back in my day” piece. It’s some­thing I’ve been cir­cling for months, and I think a lot of ex­pe­ri­enced de­vel­op­ers are cir­cling it too, even if they haven’t said it out loud yet.

My favourite pe­riod of com­put­ing runs from the 8-bits through to about the 486DX2-66. Every ma­chine in that era had char­ac­ter. The Sinclair Spectrum with its at­tribute clash. The Commodore 64 with its SID chip do­ing things the de­sign­ers never in­tended. The NES with its 8-sprite-per-scanline limit that made de­vel­op­ers in­vent flick­er­ing tricks to cheat the hard­ware. And the PC — start­ing life as a bor­ing beige box for spread­sheets, then evolv­ing at break­neck pace through the 286, 386, and 486 un­til it be­came a gam­ing pow­er­house that could run Doom. You could feel each gen­er­a­tion leap. Upgrading your CPU was­n’t a spec sheet ex­er­cise — it was trans­for­ma­tive.

These weren’t just prod­ucts. They were en­gi­neer­ing ad­ven­tures with vis­i­ble trade­offs. You had to un­der­stand the ma­chine to use it. IRQ con­flicts, DMA chan­nels, CONFIG. SYS and AUTOEXEC.BAT op­ti­mi­sa­tion, mem­ory man­agers — get­ting a game to run was the game. You weren’t just a user. You were a sys­tems en­gi­neer by ne­ces­sity.

And the soft­ware side matched. Small teams like id Software were go­ing their own way, mak­ing bold tech­ni­cal de­ci­sions be­cause no­body had writ­ten the rules yet. Carmack’s ray­cast­ing in Wolfenstein, the VGA Mode X tricks in Doom — these were peo­ple push­ing against real con­straints and pro­duc­ing some­thing gen­uinely new. Creative con­straints bred cre­ativ­ity.

Then it pro­fes­sion­alised. Plug and Play ar­rived. Windows ab­stracted every­thing. The Wild West closed. Computers stopped be­ing fas­ci­nat­ing, can­tan­ker­ous ma­chines that de­manded re­spect and un­der­stand­ing, and be­came ap­pli­ances. The craft be­came in­vis­i­ble.

But it was­n’t just the craft that changed. The promise changed.

When I started, there was a gen­uine op­ti­mism about what com­put­ers could be. A kid with a Spectrum could teach them­selves to build any­thing. The early web felt like the great­est lev­el­ling force in hu­man his­tory. Small teams made bold de­ci­sions be­cause no­body had writ­ten the rules yet.

That hope gave way to some­thing I find gen­uinely dis­taste­ful. The ma­chines I fell in love with be­came in­stru­ments of sur­veil­lance and ex­trac­tion. The plat­forms that promised to con­nect us were re­ally built to mon­e­tise us. The tin­kerer spirit did­n’t die of nat­ural causes — it was bought out and put to work op­ti­mis­ing ad clicks.

The thing I loved changed, and then it was put to work do­ing things I’m not proud to be as­so­ci­ated with. That’s a dif­fer­ent kind of loss than just “the tools moved on.”

But I adapted. That’s what ex­pe­ri­enced de­vel­op­ers, hu­man be­ings, do.

Over four decades I’ve been through more tech­nol­ogy tran­si­tions than I can count. New lan­guages, new plat­forms, new par­a­digms. CLI to GUI. Desktop to web. Web to mo­bile. Monoliths to mi­croser­vices. Tapes, floppy discs, hard dri­ves, SSDs. JavaScript frame­works ar­riv­ing and dy­ing like mayflies.

Each wave re­quired learn­ing new things, but the core skill trans­ferred. You learned the new plat­form, you ap­plied your ex­ist­ing un­der­stand­ing of how sys­tems work, and you kept build­ing. The tool changed; the craft did­n’t. You were still the per­son who un­der­stood why things broke, how sys­tems com­posed, where to­day’s short­cut be­came next mon­th’s mess.

I’ve writ­ten pro­duc­tion code in more lan­guages than some de­vel­op­ers have heard of. I’ve shipped soft­ware on plat­forms that no longer ex­ist. I’ve chased C-beams off the shoul­der of Orion. And every time the in­dus­try lurched in a new di­rec­tion, the ex­pe­ri­ence com­pounded. You did­n’t start over. You brought every­thing with you and ap­plied it some­where new.

That’s the deal ex­pe­ri­enced de­vel­op­ers made with the in­dus­try: things change, but un­der­stand­ing en­dures.

I say that know­ing how of­ten those words have been wrong through­out his­tory. But hear me out.

Previous tech­nol­ogy shifts were “learn the new thing, ap­ply ex­ist­ing skills.” AI is­n’t that. It’s not a new plat­form or a new lan­guage or a new par­a­digm. It’s a shift in what it means to be good at this.

I no­ticed it grad­u­ally. I’d be work­ing on some­thing — build­ing a fea­ture, de­sign­ing an ar­chi­tec­ture — and I’d re­alise I was still do­ing the same thing I’d al­ways done, just with the in­ter­est­ing bits hol­lowed out. The part where you fig­ure out the el­e­gant so­lu­tion, where you wres­tle with the con­straints, where you feel the sat­is­fac­tion of some­thing click­ing into place — that was in­creas­ingly be­ing han­dled by a model that does­n’t care about el­e­gance and has never felt sat­is­fac­tion.

I’m not typ­ing the code any­more. I’m re­view­ing it, di­rect­ing it, cor­rect­ing it. And I’m good at that — 42 years of ac­cu­mu­lated judg­ment about what works and what does­n’t, what’s el­e­gant ver­sus what’s ex­pe­di­ent, how sys­tems com­pose and where they frac­ture. That’s valu­able. I know it’s valu­able. But it’s a dif­fer­ent kind of work, and it does­n’t feel the same.

The feed­back loop has changed. The in­ti­macy has gone. The thing that kept me up at night for decades — the puz­zle, the chase, the mo­ment where you fi­nally un­der­stand why some­thing is­n’t work­ing — that’s been com­pressed into a prompt and a re­sponse. And I’m watch­ing peo­ple with a frac­tion of my ex­pe­ri­ence pro­duce su­per­fi­cially sim­i­lar out­put. The craft dis­tinc­tion is real, but it’s harder to see from the out­side. Harder to value. Maybe harder to feel in­ter­nally.

Here’s the part that makes me laugh, darkly.

I saw some­one on LinkedIn re­cently — early twen­ties, a few years into their ca­reer — lament­ing that with AI they “didn’t re­ally know what was go­ing on any­more.” And I thought: mate, you were al­ready so far up the ab­strac­tion chain you did­n’t even re­alise you were tee­ter­ing on top of a wob­bly Jenga tower.

They’re writ­ing TypeScript that com­piles to JavaScript that runs in a V8 en­gine writ­ten in C++ that’s mak­ing sys­tem calls to an OS ker­nel that’s sched­ul­ing threads across cores they’ve never thought about, hit­ting RAM through a mem­ory con­troller with caching lay­ers they could­n’t di­a­gram, all while npm pulls in 400 pack­ages they’ve never read a line of.

But sure. AI is the mo­ment they lost track of what’s hap­pen­ing.

The ab­strac­tion ship sailed decades ago. We just did­n’t no­tice be­cause each layer ar­rived grad­u­ally enough that we could pre­tend we still un­der­stood the whole stack. AI is just the layer that made the pre­tence im­pos­si­ble to main­tain.

The dif­fer­ence is: I re­mem­ber what it felt like to un­der­stand the whole ma­chine. I’ve had that ex­pe­ri­ence. And los­ing it — even ac­knowl­edg­ing that it was lost long be­fore AI ar­rived — is a kind of grief that some­one who never had it can’t fully feel.

I don’t want to be dis­hon­est about this. There’s a ver­sion of this post where I tell you that ex­pe­ri­ence is more valu­able than ever, that sys­tems think­ing and ar­chi­tec­tural judg­ment are the things AI can’t re­place, that the craft en­dures in a dif­fer­ent form.

And that’s true. When I’m work­ing on some­thing com­plex — jug­gling sys­tem-level de­pen­den­cies, hold­ing a men­tal model across mul­ti­ple in­ter­act­ing spec­i­fi­ca­tions, mak­ing the thou­sand small de­ci­sions that de­ter­mine whether some­thing feels co­her­ent or just works — I can see how I still bring some­thing AI does­n’t. The taste. The judg­ment. The pat­tern recog­ni­tion from decades of see­ing things go wrong.

AI tools ac­tu­ally make that kind of think­ing more valu­able, not less. When code gen­er­a­tion is cheap, the bot­tle­neck shifts to the per­son who knows what to ask for, can spot when the out­put is sub­tly wrong, and can hold the whole pic­ture to­gether. Typing was never the hard part.

But I’d be ly­ing if I said it felt the same. It does­n’t. The won­der is harder to ac­cess. The sense of dis­cov­ery, of fig­ur­ing some­thing out through sheer per­sis­tence and in­ge­nu­ity — that’s been com­pressed. Not elim­i­nated, but com­pressed. And some­thing is lost in the com­pres­sion, even if some­thing is gained.

I turned 50 re­cently. Four decades of in­ten­sity, of craft­ing and find­ing sat­is­fac­tion and iden­tity in the build­ing.

And now I’m in what I’ve started call­ing a fal­low pe­riod. Not burnout ex­actly. More like the ground shift­ing un­der a build­ing you thought that al­though ever chang­ing also had a per­ma­nence, and try­ing to fig­ure out where the new foun­da­tion is.

I don’t have a neat con­clu­sion. I’m not go­ing to tell you that ex­pe­ri­enced de­vel­op­ers just need to “push them­selves up the stack” or “embrace the tools” or “focus on what AI can’t do.” All of that is prob­a­bly right, and none of it ad­dresses the feel­ing.

The feel­ing is: I gave 42 years to this thing, and the thing changed into some­thing I’m not sure I recog­nise any­more. Not worse, nec­es­sar­ily. Just dif­fer­ent. And dif­fer­ent in a way that chal­lenges the iden­tity I built around it and does­n’t sat­isfy in the way it did.

I sus­pect a lot of de­vel­op­ers over 40 are feel­ing some­thing sim­i­lar and not say­ing it, be­cause the in­dus­try wor­ships youth and adapt­abil­ity and say­ing “this does­n’t feel like it used to” sounds like you’re falling be­hind.

I’m not falling be­hind. I’m mov­ing ahead, tak­ing ad­van­tage of the new tools, build­ing faster than ever, and us­ing these tools to help oth­ers ac­cel­er­ate their own work. I’m cre­at­ing prod­ucts I could only have dreamt of a few years ago. But at the same time I’m look­ing at the land­scape, try­ing to fig­ure out what build­ing means to me now. The world’s still fig­ur­ing out its shape too. Maybe that’s okay.

Maybe the fal­low pe­riod is the point. Not some­thing to push through, but some­thing to be in for a while.

I started pro­gram­ming when I was seven be­cause a ma­chine did ex­actly what I told it to, felt like some­thing I could ex­plore and ul­ti­mately know, and that felt like magic. I’m fifty now, and the magic is dif­fer­ent, and I’m learn­ing to sit with that.

We have raised a $200M Series C, and yes, you are per­mit­ted a dou­ble take: did­n’t we just raise a

$100M Series B? And aren’t we the ones that are es­pe­cially can­did about the

per­ils of rais­ing too much money?Well, yes, on both fronts, so let us ex­plain a lit­tle. First, we have the lux­ury of hav­ing achieved real prod­uct-mar­ket fit: we are mak­ing a prod­uct that peo­ple want to buy. This takes on ad­di­tional di­men­sions when mak­ing some­thing phys­i­cal: with com­plex­i­ties like man­u­fac­tur­ing, in­ven­tory, cash-con­ver­sion, and shift­ing sup­ply chains, prod­uct-mar­ket fit im­plies get­ting the unit eco­nom­ics of the busi­ness right. All of this is a long way of say­ing: we did not (and do not) need to raise cap­i­tal to sup­port the busi­ness.So if we did­n’t need to raise, why seek the cap­i­tal? Well, we weren’t seek­ing it, re­ally. But our in­vestors, see­ing the busi­ness take off, were ea­ger to sup­port it. And we, in turn, were ea­ger to have them: they were the ones, af­ter all, who joined us in tak­ing a real leap when it felt like there was a lot more risk on the table. They un­der­stood our vi­sion for the com­pany and shared our love for cus­tomers and our de­sire to build a sin­gu­lar team. They had been with us in some dif­fi­cult mo­ments; they know and trust us, as do we them. So be­ing able to raise a Series C purely from our ex­ist­ing in­vestors pre­sented a real op­por­tu­nity.Still, even from in­vestors that we trust and with a quick close, if the busi­ness does­n’t need the money, does it make sense to raise? We have al­ways be­lieved that our biggest chal­lenge at Oxide was time — and there­fore cap­i­tal. We spelled this out in our ini­tial pitch deck from 2019:Six years later, we stand by this, which is not to min­i­mize any of those chal­lenges: the tech­ni­cal chal­lenges were in­deed hard; we feel for­tu­nate to have at­tracted an ex­tra­or­di­nary team; and we cer­tainly caught some

lucky breaks

with re­spect to the mar­ket. With this large Series C, we have en­tirely de-risked cap­i­tal go­ing for­ward, which in turn as­sures our in­de­pen­dence.This last bit is re­ally im­por­tant, be­cause any buyer of in­fra­struc­ture has had their heart bro­ken count­less times by promis­ing star­tups that suc­cumbed to ac­qui­si­tion by one of the es­tab­lished play­ers that they were seek­ing to dis­rupt. The se­r­ial dis­ap­point­ments leave a re­fresh­ing blunt­ness in their wake, and it’s not un­com­mon for us to be asked di­rectly: “How do I know you won’t be bought?“Our in­tent in start­ing Oxide was not to be an ac­qui­si­tion tar­get but rather build a gen­er­a­tional com­pany; this is our life’s work, not a means to an end. With our Series C, cus­tomers don’t have to merely take our word for it: we have the cap­i­tal to as­sure our sur­vival into the in­def­i­nite fu­ture. If our Series B left us with con­fi­dence in achiev­ing our mis­sion, our Series C leaves us with cer­tainty: we’re go­ing to kick butt, have fun, not cheat (of course!), love our cus­tomers — and change com­put­ing for­ever.

Add AP News as your pre­ferred source to see more of our sto­ries on Google.

Add AP News as your pre­ferred source to see more of our sto­ries on Google.

WASHINGTON (AP) — The Federal Aviation Administration re­opened the air­space around El Paso International Airport in Texas on Wednesday morn­ing, just hours af­ter it an­nounced a 10-day clo­sure that would have grounded all flights to and from the air­port.

The Federal Aviation Administration said in a so­cial me­dia post that it has lifted the tem­po­rary clo­sure of the air­space over El Paso, say­ing there was no threat to com­mer­cial avi­a­tion and that all flights will re­sume.

Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy said in a post on X that the FAA and the Defense Department “acted swiftly to ad­dress a car­tel drone in­cur­sion. The threat has been neu­tral­ized and there is no dan­ger to com­mer­cial travel in the re­gion.”

He said nor­mal flights are re­sum­ing Wednesday morn­ing.

He did not say how many drones were in­volved or what specif­i­cally was done to dis­able them.

The shut­down an­nounced just hours ear­lier “for spe­cial se­cu­rity rea­sons” had been ex­pected to cre­ate sig­nif­i­cant dis­rup­tions given the du­ra­tion and the size of the met­ro­pol­i­tan area.

El Paso, a bor­der city with a pop­u­la­tion of nearly 700,000 peo­ple and larger when you in­clude the sur­round­ing metro area, is hub of cross-bor­der com­merce along­side the neigh­bor­ing city of Ciudad Juarez in Mexico. The brief clo­sure does not in­clude Mexican air­space.

The air­port said in an Instagram post af­ter the clo­sure was an­nounced that all flights to and from the air­port would be grounded from late Tuesday through late on Feb. 20, in­clud­ing com­mer­cial, cargo and gen­eral avi­a­tion flights. It sug­gested trav­el­ers con­tact their air­lines to get up-to-date flight in­for­ma­tion.

Rep. Veronica Escobar, a Democrat whose dis­trict in­cludes El Paso, had urged the FAA to lift the re­stric­tions in a state­ment Wednesday morn­ing. There was no ad­vance no­tice given to her of­fice, the city of El Paso or air­port op­er­a­tions, she said.

“The highly con­se­quen­tial de­ci­sion by FAA to shut down the El Paso Airport for 10 days is un­prece­dented and has re­sulted in sig­nif­i­cant con­cern within the com­mu­nity,” Escobar said. “From what my of­fice and I have been able to gather overnight and early this morn­ing there is no im­me­di­ate threat to the com­mu­nity or sur­round­ing ar­eas.”

The air­port de­scribes it­self as the gate­way to west Texas, south­ern New Mexico and north­ern Mexico. Southwest, United, American and Delta all op­er­ate flights there, among oth­ers.

A sim­i­lar tem­po­rary flight re­stric­tion for spe­cial se­cu­rity rea­sons over the same time pe­riod was im­posed around Santa Teresa, New Mexico, which is about 15 miles (24 kilo­me­ters) north­west of the El Paso air­port.

Southwest Airlines said in a state­ment that it has paused all op­er­a­tions to and from El Paso at the di­rec­tion of the FAA.

“We have no­ti­fied af­fected cus­tomers and will share ad­di­tional in­for­ma­tion as it be­comes avail­able,” Southwest Airlines said. “Nothing is more im­por­tant to Southwest than the safety of its cus­tomers and em­ploy­ees.”

If there’s one sin­gle con­sis­tent ad­van­tage the United States has car­ried since its found­ing, it is its abil­ity to draw tal­ent and ex­pand its pop­u­la­tion. Now, as the coun­try pre­pares to cel­e­brate its 250th birth­day and pon­ders its ap­petite for President Donald Trump’s crack­down on im­mi­gra­tion, the US risks record­ing a his­toric and eco­nomic mile­stone decades ahead of sched­ule: Based on at least one re­spected es­ti­mate, 2026 may see the first real pop­u­la­tion de­cline in American his­tory.

Even if that mile­stone does­n’t hap­pen this year, there’s broad agree­ment among ex­perts on both sides of the im­mi­gra­tion de­bate that Trump’s sec­ond term is has­ten­ing a crit­i­cal point — when net mi­gra­tion into the US stops off­set­ting the de­clin­ing births and ris­ing deaths that come with an ag­ing na­tive-born pop­u­la­tion. The more Trump cracks down on im­mi­gra­tion, the sooner the US pop­u­la­tion plateaus or even shrinks.

A coun­try’s pop­u­la­tion is an es­sen­tial el­e­ment of its eco­nomic mass. The shrink­ing pop­u­la­tion of China, which in 2025 recorded its low­est birth rate since Communist rule be­gan in 1949, is one good rea­son it may never over­take the US as the world’s largest econ­omy. Japan’s pop­u­la­tion peaked at 128 mil­lion in 2010, and its de­cline has dragged on growth for years. Europe’s wors­en­ing de­mo­graph­ics have long fed its nar­ra­tive of eco­nomic malaise.

The US has for years mostly stood apart from that con­ver­sa­tion. In 2023, when the US Census last is­sued long-run fore­casts for the pop­u­la­tion, the main pre­dic­tion was that it would de­cline for the first time in 2081. But the way things are go­ing, this year the US is at best poised to record a lower pop­u­la­tion growth rate than Germany, where an ag­ing pop­u­la­tion has con­tributed to its rep­u­ta­tion as the “sick man of Europe.”

To be clear, that’s not nec­es­sar­ily a prob­lem for Trump. His ad­min­is­tra­tion is fo­cused on de­liv­er­ing on his promise to re­duce the im­mi­grant pop­u­la­tion and ar­gues, de­spite the protes­ta­tions of econ­o­mists, that do­ing so will mean greater op­por­tu­ni­ties and wages for na­tive-born work­ers and will re­duce the cost of every­thing from hous­ing to health care by re­duc­ing de­mand.