Key developments on June 8:
This weekly update from the Kyiv Independent aims to shed light on the situation facing Ukrainians living under Russian occupation and the ever-tightening control of information imposed by the Kremlin.
Key news as of June 8:
By John WHITEHEAD’S
Contact us: info@strategic-culture.su
“We’re gonna win so much, you may even get tired of winning.”—Donald Trump
Donald Trump promised Americans they would get tired of winning.
If this is what winning looks like, America can’t afford much more of it.
We are losing ground economically. We are losing credibility abroad. We are losing tourists, workers, stability, trust, constitutional guardrails, and whatever remained of the illusion that the government answers to “we the people.”
The tourism economy is taking a hit, with international visitors increasingly reluctant to come to the United States. Even migration—the lifeblood of America’s economic growth, innovation, labor force and national renewal—is now moving in the wrong direction. Fewer people are coming in, more Americans are leaving, and by some estimates the country has already crossed into negative net migration.
That is not the mark of a nation “winning.” It is the mark of a nation people are increasingly choosing to escape.
Even the looming World Cup—normally an economic windfall for tourism, travel and hospitality—is being shadowed by the administration’s immigration crackdown, detention protests and threats to disrupt international travel at key airports.
That is what happens when a nation treats visitors, immigrants and dissenters as threats first and human beings second: people stop coming, businesses suffer, and fear becomes official policy.
The economy, despite the administration’s relentless victory laps, is flashing warning signs: downgraded growth, strained consumers, rising costs, depleted savings, and policy chaos that leaves families, small businesses and entire industries guessing what fresh disruption tomorrow will bring.
We are being worn down by the losses.
Meanwhile, the man who promised to end wars has presided over their continuation and expansion. The man who promised to bring prices down has helped drive uncertainty up. The man who promised to drain the swamp has turned government into a spoils system for loyalists, cronies, contractors, oligarchs and power brokers. The man who promised law and order has treated the law as something to be weaponized against enemies and waived for friends.
This is not winning.
This is the slow-motion defeat of a constitutional republic by spectacle, grievance, greed and brute force.
The losses are piling up.
Americans were told they would get prosperity. What they got was an economy in which corporate profits and stock market gains mask the fact that ordinary households are stretched thin, savings are shrinking, debt is mounting, and the cost of basic necessities keeps eating away at wages.
They were told tariffs would punish foreign governments and bring jobs home. What they got were higher costs passed down to consumers, retaliation, supply disruptions, and a trade policy built less on strategy than on political theater. Even the courts have begun treating the tariff agenda as what it is: economic policy by executive improvisation, with judges striking down or narrowing tariff maneuvers while the administration keeps looking for new legal workarounds.
They were told immigration crackdowns would make America stronger. What they got was a nation frightening away the workers, students, tourists, entrepreneurs and families who have long helped power its economy.
They were told America would be respected again. What they got was a country increasingly viewed as unstable, hostile, unpredictable and unsafe—not merely by adversaries, but by allies, visitors, investors and would-be partners.
They were told the wars would end. What they got was more war talk, more military escalation, more blank checks for the war machine, and more excuses for expanding executive power in the name of national security.
They were told the Constitution would be restored. What they got was a president who declared, “He who saves his Country does not violate any Law.”
Listen carefully when any ruler says something like that.
That is not constitutionalism. That is the language of kings, dictators and strongmen who believe their intentions place them above the law.
The Constitution was written precisely to prevent that kind of thinking from taking root in America.
The problem with Trump’s brand of winning is that it requires Americans to lose.
For the police state to win, the Fourth Amendment must lose.
For the surveillance state to win, privacy must lose.
For the war machine to win, peace must lose.
For the executive branch to win, the separation of powers must lose.
For the oligarchs to win, working families must lose.
For the propaganda machine to win, truth must lose.
For a strongman to win, the Constitution must lose.
Trump’s “winning” is simply the latest branding campaign for an old con: convince the people they are winning while stripping them of the power to govern themselves.
Call it what you will—national security, border security, economic nationalism, law and order, anti-corruption, emergency authority, America First—but when the end result is more government power and less individual freedom, we should know by now who is really winning.
The winners are the same as always: the defense contractors, data brokers, private prison operators, surveillance companies, lobbyists, political insiders, Wall Street speculators, government contractors, partisan enforcers, donors with access, loyalists seeking payouts, and bureaucratic power centers that thrive on fear, crisis and control.
The losers are “we the people.”
This is the hard truth Americans must face: a government that promises to make you “win” by taking power away from someone else will eventually take power away from you, too.
Rights are not partisan. Due process is not partisan. Free speech is not partisan. Privacy is not partisan. Limits on executive power are not partisan. The Constitution is not supposed to be a campaign prop, a legal technicality or a speed bump on the road to political victory.
The Constitution is the contract that binds the government down.
Without it, all we have are rulers and subjects.
That is why the real measure of any administration is not how loudly it boasts, how many enemies it punishes, how many executive orders it signs, how many troops it deploys, how many agencies it purges, or how many headlines it dominates.
The real measure is whether the people are freer, safer in their rights, more secure in their property, more protected from government abuse, and more capable of holding power accountable.
By that measure, we are not winning.
We are losing in all the ways that matter.
A president can call it winning. A party can call it winning. The media can package it as winning. The crowds can chant along.
But as I make clear in my book Battlefield America: The War on the American People and in its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, if the price is the Constitution, then we all lose.
Original article: www.rutherford.org
Lebanon is now playing a key role in any ceasefire deal that Trump might think he has nailed with Iran. But can Hezbollah go rogue on all the main players?
Contact us: info@strategic-culture.su
Lebanon is now playing a key role in any ceasefire deal that Trump might think he has nailed with Iran. But can Hezbollah go rogue on all the main players?
Relationships are odd things and are often determined by how people stay together during the tough times, rather than when everything is rosy. But during these last few turbulent days, when Donald Trump frantically scrambles to save the remnants of a peace deal with Iran, one relationship has become paramount to the entire Middle East crisis: that of Hezbollah and Iran. Just how strong is this relationship, or was it always just a ’marriage of convenience’, hollow and unable to withstand the travails of regional tension?
While the Iranians walked away from talks with the U.S. because of Israel’s war in southern Lebanon, Trump realised how important this tiny country is – and will be – if any kind of deal is struck over opening the Straits of Hormuz. While on the one hand Iran has stepped up to the mark by supporting its proxy Hezbollah and has always included Lebanon in any peace deal or ceasefire, it is worth noting that the ties and responsibilities Iran has to Hezbollah are not as solid as many think.
Indeed, in the region, when you talk to geopolitical analysts, they always pontificate over how the West – and in particular Israel – places too much emphasis on Iran’s links to its regional proxies in Syria, Iraq, Yemen and Lebanon. They have long argued that Iran has less control over them than most pundits in Western media would assert.
In his most recent speech, the Hezbollah leader Naim Qassem denounced the deal as a “farce,” saying it would effectively divide southern Lebanon from the rest of the country, giving Israel an advantage to “kill in Lebanon.”
“We have given no commitment to anyone,” Naim said, as he urged the Lebanese government to call off talks with Israel and demanded Israel’s full withdrawal from Lebanese territory. “As long as the aggression continues, we will confront it with all the power we have been given.”
This reference, of course, was directed at the elite in Beirut, who are largely acting on the West’s political bequest in this tiny country – barely 240 km long – which was once a province of Syria.
But some wily analysts might read too much into his statement in the coming days. A few might mull over this comment and speculate that Hezbollah, under certain circumstances, has a wild card to play and is capable of going rogue, distancing itself from the arbitrary direction of Tehran.
Is it possible that the Iranians and the Americans could outmanoeuvre Israel and strike a provisional ceasefire deal, only for it to be scuppered by Hezbollah, which refuses to give up its fight in the south of the country against the IDF? Presently, this must be concerning Trump’s camp but will be amusing to Netanyahu, who probably thinks that Lebanon holds the key for him to continue the war and thus stay in power, avoiding corruption charges.
Hezbollah, for its part, is the most dangerous man in the room, simply because its fighters have nothing to lose. They are backed into a corner and have lost so much of their own land, with 600 killed and a million displaced since the last ceasefire in April was agreed. Militarily speaking, their best guerrilla-style fighting will be seen now, and so one could argue this is their moment. While it is true that the IDF have made significant gains against them, it is wholly under-reported how successful their fighters have been in blowing up IDF tanks, with some estimates claiming the number to be over 200. But victory for either side seems less significant, certainly for Netanyahu, who probably knows that his forces can never actually win against Hezbollah in Lebanon. That is not the point. The point is to keep the war going and use it as leverage against Trump and Iran, while keeping Netanyahu in office, protected from a peace scenario that would remove him from his job and prosecute him – exactly the same set-up that Ukraine’s President Zelensky enjoys.
Lebanon is an important pawn in the bigger game, as it can always be used by Netanyahu to undermine whatever Trump is doing – such as its bombardment of Beirut that killed 357 people on April 8, one day after the U.S. and Iran announced their own ceasefire deal.
But now all Netanyahu needs to do is to agree to the IDF respecting a ceasefire without actually respecting it, while pointing the finger at Hezbollah for supposedly breaking it. It will be a game that is hugely effective, as it will be impossible for Trump to consider Hezbollah as being honourable and the IDF as being duplicitous. Even from a PR perspective, it’s genius.
And so with this new ruse in play, much emphasis is placed on Hezbollah as it is caught between choosing to fight the IDF or accepting a peace deal that would effectively hand over huge swathes of southern Lebanon to the Lebanese army – a useless contingent of poorly trained soldiers with hand-me-down, outdated equipment donated by Western countries, and one which is no match for Hezbollah. Under this deal, Israel would establish itself south of the Litani River and have legal authority to strike Beirut (its goal is to completely reduce the southern suburb where Hezbollah supporters live, similar to Gaza).
There are no real options for Hezbollah other than to fight on, but one has to wonder if they would ultimately accept an ’order’ from Tehran to stop fighting if a deal with the U.S. could be struck. The message from its chief is that under such circumstances of being at war with Israel on Lebanon’s own turf, the Shia group has the right to play the autonomy card while happily listening to Iran’s views – but not necessarily taking them as orders. Suddenly the whole world is watching Lebanon. Suddenly Hezbollah is the most important player, and its relationship with Iran has never been more relevant, as Tehran now might need to use its might to extract a concession from its partner. Even in a fake marriage, one partner has to give in sometimes to the other’s woes or needs, and so in the coming days expect a baptism of articles by obsequious, high-brow Middle East analysts agonising over this marriage and how strong or real it is.
Trump’s February 28th assault on Iran has spawned a number of unintended consequences drenched in irony. The greatest one is that his clumsy buffoonery has probably now resulted in the Iranians getting a nuclear bomb. But a close second to that is that it has also put Iran’s relationships with its proxies under the microscope – and who knows where that’s heading.
Some names have been changed to protect the identities of those featured in the story
As a war crimes researcher at the Reckoning Project, my job was to listen to Ukrainians who had fled the occupation. What they had to say reshaped how I understand life in Russian-occupied territories.
Simplistic
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Key developments on June 6-7:
Sections:
While much of the media industry focused on the churn of headlines, we became increasingly interested in the undercurrents beneath them: the hidden systems, infrastructures and ideologies shaping events across borders and over time.
Again and again, our reporting led us back to the same realization: for a long time, the struggle over information was understood primarily as a question of censorship or access. Who controls information? Who gets to publish? Who gets silenced?
Those questions still matter. But they no longer fully describe the world we live in.
Today, the struggle over information is about who builds the systems through which reality is organized, distributed and trusted. From state propaganda to algorithmic feeds, from platform monopolies to AI-generated noise, the battle is not over facts. It is over the infrastructures that determine which narratives spread, which voices are amplified and which communities remain connected.
Over the past year, these questions led to a collaboration between Coda and The Continent, the pan-African newspaper founded in Johannesburg by Simon Allison and Sipho Kings. Although our reporting emerges from very different histories and geographies, we found ourselves arriving at remarkably similar conclusions about power, fragmentation and the future of journalism in an age of informational instability.
This two-chapter essay is the beginning of that collaboration, and marks the start of a new project called The Atlas. Pilot edition is available here — please feel free to share with friends, family and colleagues, preferably in its entirety.
In Chapter One, I return to the world of my Soviet childhood: propaganda, samizdat and the search for trustworthy signals through noise.
In Chapter Two, The Continent co-founder Simon Allison presents the Parable of Sinn Sisamouth: the story of how some of the greatest songs ever written were nearly lost, and then found, and then lost again.
Taken together, these essays ask what journalism becomes in a world where information is no longer organized primarily to inform, but to capture attention, manufacture reaction and shape perception at planetary scale.
The Atlas grows out of that question.
Whenever I am asked why I decided to become a journalist, an image from my childhood pops into my head. It’s dusk. I am 10, sitting in the kitchen with my mom. She is glued to a shortwave radio. Outside, the Soviet Union is on the cusp of collapse. Georgia, where we are, is on the brink of civil war. We didn’t use the term back then, but fake news was all we got through official channels. Real news — coming from the West — felt like a lifeline. I was in awe of the crackling radio that held my mother’s full attention. I wanted to become that voice.
Years later, I got my dream job at the BBC and spent much of my adult life moving between wars, uprisings and authoritarian states. Again and again, I found myself in places where truth was contested terrain: Baghdad, Damascus, Donetsk, Sana’a. But over time I realized something fundamental had changed. Modern authoritarianism no longer relied primarily on suppressing information. It had discovered something more effective.
Information could simply be drowned out by static.
That realization became stark for me in eastern Ukraine in the summer of 2014. I arrived in a field of bright yellow sunflowers where the bodies from Flight MH17 still lay scattered across the ground. A Russian missile had blown the passenger plane out of the sky, killing all 298 people on board. Yet almost immediately, the Kremlin flooded the information space with competing explanations. It was a Ukrainian fighter jet. A failed assassination attempt on Putin. The plane had been filled with corpses before takeoff. Each theory contradicted the next, but that hardly mattered. The point was not to persuade, it was to exhaust. It was to create so much noise that truth itself began to feel unstable.
Over the following years, I watched versions of the same logic spread far beyond Russia. Social platforms transformed public conversation into a permanent stream of outrage, performance and distraction, collapsing vastly different kinds of information into the same endless feed. War footage, propaganda, conspiracy theories, journalism and gossip all began competing inside systems designed not to inform people but to capture and hold attention.
Noise became the new censorship.
And increasingly, I found myself thinking about the world of my childhood again. Not because history was repeating itself neatly, but because the emotional landscape felt strangely familiar: confusion, exhaustion, distrust, the constant sense that reality itself was becoming slippery. Back then, people searched desperately for clear signals through the static of Soviet propaganda. Today, we are drowning in a different kind of static, but the instinct, the search for clarity feels remarkably similar.
In the Soviet Union, people developed ways of navigating that confusion. Among my strongest memories from that time is the sound of my parents’ typewriter late at night. Friends would pass around copies of banned Soviet literature and my parents would sit at the kitchen table all night, retyping them page by page so they could be shared again. It was my first encounter with samizdat, although I didn’t know the word then.
Looking back now, what strikes me is that samizdat was never simply about forbidden texts. It was about building trusted alternative systems of circulation when official systems had lost credibility.
At Coda, we have spent years building journalism against the logic of noise. We slowed stories down. We followed themes instead of headlines. We built a reporting system designed to connect events across borders and over time, helping readers see patterns instead of fragments. But as our globally distributed newsroom adapted to an increasingly fractured information landscape, it became clear that journalism alone was not enough. Distribution shapes understanding as much as reporting does.
Around the same time, in Johannesburg, Simon Allison, Sipho Kings and their team were building something that challenged many of the assumptions dominating digital media. The Continent, their pan-African newspaper, spreads largely through direct sharing networks: passed from reader to reader rather than pushed by algorithms.
Different histories had brought us to remarkably similar questions. What does journalism look like when trust is collapsing, attention is fragmented and the systems that carry information have themselves become instruments of power?
Out of that convergence came The Atlas: a new publication that brings together Coda’s methodology of following systems across borders and over time with The Continent’s radically distributed model for reaching readers beyond algorithmic feeds.
The Atlas is built on a shared conviction: as fragmentation, distrust and informational overload spread across the world, some of the clearest ways through will come from places that have already spent decades navigating propaganda, instability and contested reality. Places once treated as peripheral are becoming essential to understanding the defining question of this age: how can meaning survive systems designed to overwhelm it.
Imagine if your favourite song disappeared, forever.
Almost every album I have ever loved was recommended to me by my friend An-Rui. A few months ago, he sent me a track by the undisputed King of Khmer Music, the Golden Voice, the Cambodian Elvis himself – Sinn Sisamouth.
I had never heard of him.
I didn’t respond at first, so he nudged me. That night, after the kids were asleep, I put on my headphones, sat in the garden and immediately lost myself in Cambodia’s psychedelic rock scene of the 1960s and ‘70s. I don’t know enough about music to explain exactly what I fell in love with, but within weeks I was, according to Spotify, among the top one percent of Sinn Sisamouth listeners worldwide.
An-Rui had added a note to his recommendation. “the songs are happy but since i know what his fate was and i don’t understand the words, it sounds incredibly sad to me”.
The story goes something like this: A small-town boy with an extraordinary voice moves to the big city, and conquers all before him. He writes hundreds of songs, bridging Khmer musical traditions with new western influences: jazz, rock & roll, bossa nova, blues, the Beatles, and, of course, Elvis Presley. He toured the country. He toured the world. He made music with an actual King, Norodom Sihanouk, and became Cambodia’s most beloved rockstar.
Then, in 1975, the Khmer Rouge seized power. In the course of committing a genocide, the communist regime disappeared Sinn Sisamouth, and banned his music. He has never been seen, or heard from, again.
But his music never died. It lived on brittle records, hidden for generations under floorboards. It lived on scratchy cassettes, passed hand to hand among the diaspora.
It was only decades later that his music was digitised and remastered, and made available on streaming platforms to the likes of me.
When I listen to Sinn Sisamouth, I can’t help but think about how easily we could have lost his masterpieces entirely. And I wonder what else might have been lost that we have not been able to recover.
And then it happened again.
There’s a particular track that I like to play in my car, where I can turn the bass up as high as it goes. I was driving one afternoon and looked for it on Spotify. It was gone, even though the rest of the album was there.
I looked again on my laptop at home. Nothing. Gone from Spotify. Gone from Apple Music. Gone from YouTube. Like it had never been there in the first place. I started to wonder if I had gone crazy, and maybe imagined the song entirely. And then I started to panic: What if I never heard it again?
Eventually, I found a bootleg YouTube version, using a different transliteration of the Khmer title – Kanlang Pnheu Pran, instead of Konlong Phner Bran. Before I tracked that down, I had to wade through dozens of AI-generated Sinn Sisamouth ‘cover versions’, all uploaded to YouTube within the last few months. If I had never heard it before, I would never have been able to tell which was the original.
It’s not unusual for songs to disappear from the Internet, especially when the music is from non-English-speaking countries. I’ve had similar experiences with the music of Sharhabil Ahmed, the Sudanese jazz legend, and Ethiopia’s Tilahun “The Voice” Gessesse.
In fact, it’s not unusual for other kinds of information to disappear from the internet; to be edited after the fact; or to be simply lost among all the digital noise. Digital information is incredibly precarious, and becoming more so by the day. AI slop is taking over social media platforms. Algorithms determine what information we can and can’t see, shaping our cultural and political preferences. And powerful interests are becoming increasingly bold when it comes to brazenly manipulating information in their favour – or, of even greater concern, restricting the flow of information across borders.
Amazon changes the contents of books on people’s Kindles without telling anyone. News websites quietly alter critical stories, post-publication, to remove evidence of wrongdoing (my favourite example: the Financial Express published a story critical of India’s richest family; only to replace it with a glorified press release a few days later. They neglected to amend the URL, however, which contains the original headline). Governments shut down internet access on a whim, or legislate which apps and websites are available to specific populations.
For journalism, this is an existential threat. Our job is not just to hold power to account – it is also to write the first draft of history. But if we can’t preserve that first draft, or distribute it effectively, then what, exactly, is the point?
The Continent and Coda Story are working together to try something different. We want to publish news about the world, produced and verified by humans, that cannot be edited after the fact; and to distribute it in a way that dramatically decreases our reliance on unaccountable algorithms or search engine optimisation. The Atlas — pilot edition available here — is our answer to the precarity of information online. It’s a work in progress.
Stay tuned: if we’re going to succeed, we’ll need your help. And if we do succeed, the secret of our success will be those very same transnational networks that kept the music of Sinn Sisamouth alive. Communities of like-minded people, of friends and families will always find a way to stay connected, no matter how vast the distances between them, or how great the obstacles. So what does a global newspaper look like if we design it with exactly these communities in mind?
As soon as I found that bootleg on YouTube, I ripped an MP3 copy and sent it to An-Rui on Signal. “KEEP THIS SAFE,” I told him. I don’t know what happened to the song on Spotify, or if it is ever coming back. But I can’t take the risk of never hearing that bassline again. And here it is, in case you want to hear it too.
Natalia Antelava
Isobel Cockerell
Natalia Antelava
The post The new samizdat appeared first on Coda Story.
My name is Darina,” says an elfin teen, ponytail pulled through the back of her cap, and “next year I’ll be earning 150,000 rubles (nearly $2,000) a month.” Darina works at what she calls “the world’s largest drone factory,” helping to assemble versions of the Iranian Shahed drone. “My parents are proud of me. Wanna do the same?” She asks as she advertises a polytechnic in Tatarstan. The Russian government, in the face of war and looming demographic disaster, has been relaxing child labor laws since 2022, making it easier to put 14-year-olds to work. Now, legislators are open about the need to reform “outdated” restrictions on employing minors in industries that were “considered dangerous 20 years ago.” Drone production is not the only part of the war effort to which teenagers are being recruited. This month in a “content camp” in Moscow, soldiers and state media propagandists trained 120-plus teens on how to make videos, use AI, and grow their audiences as aspiring influencers. Vladislav Golovin, a former soldier and a leader of Russia’s Young Army Cadets National Movement, said the program had “created a huge team of kids who understand how to broadcast government values.”
But many young people, subject to year-round conscription, subject to internet shut downs and subject to surveillance, have little desire to spread propaganda. Instead, according to Google Trends data, growing numbers of Russians are seeking information on how to emigrate. A new exodus would accelerate Russia’s deep demographic crisis. Already, up to a million people are thought to have left Russia since the full scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. According to one recent count, nearly 210,000 Russian soldiers have been killed in the war with Ukraine, with other estimates suggesting over 1.2 million casualties, including 325,000 deaths. And Russian fertility rates are the lowest they have been for 200 years. Anton Kotyakov, the labor minister, has told Vladimir Putin that the country faces a labor shortage of 11 million people by 2030.
So concerning is this crisis that Rosstat, the national statistics agency, has stopped publishing monthly demographic data. State officials and local governors have been told to compete to come up with the most innovative solutions to a seemingly intractable problem. The pressure on Russian officials and the Kremlin is leading to desperate measures, including guidance from the Russian health ministry that women who say they do not want to have children should be referred to a psychologist. Nothing the Russian state has tried has worked, from financial incentives (extended even to schoolgirls under 18) to banning advertising that supposedly promotes “child-free” lifestyles and so-called “LGBTQ propaganda.”
Alongside “anti-woke” policies disguised as family values, is rising xenophobia and anti-immigrant rhetoric that has led to a marked decline in the number of foreigners living in Russia. The Kremlin’s anti-migrant policies include a new system to monitor migrant workers through biometric registration, location tracking, and intensified police oversight. The Russian parliament is currently debating enhancing the number of offences that can be punished by deportation or substantially increased fines. Much of it is targeted at Russia’s Central Asian migrants who make up an overwhelming majority of immigrant labor. Some Central Asian governments, notably Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, have now urged their citizens to think twice about going to Russia for work.
Russia has been publicizing political stunts such as its “shared values visa” in which applicants from 46, largely developed, nations are given temporary residence permits if they profess to support “traditional Russian values.” The visa, the Kremlin has said, is “Russia’s response to what it perceives as the harmful effects of Western neoliberal policies.” But only a tiny fraction of the immigrants Russia needs will be Westerners who apply for such a visa; instead, Russia has been diversifying its pool of migrant workers by looking further east. Around 72,000 work permits were issued to Indian nationals in 2025, up from just 5,000 in 2021. Russian officials have signaled they are ready to accept “unlimited” numbers of workers from South Asian countries like India, Sri Lanka, and Myanmar.
While the Kremlin is looking to South Asia and Africa to address its immediate need for workers (and soldiers), the ambition in the longer term is to boost Russian birthr rates, despite the signal failure of ongoing attempts.
In the U.S., there have been several moves borrowed from the Kremlin’s playbook, including the restriction of abortion, the attempt to deny women birth control, and even alarm at the fall in teen pregnancies. But data released this month showed that women in the U.S. gave birth to 710,000 fewer babies in 2025 than they did in 2007, a reflection of two decades of steadily dropping birth rates. Russian demographer Salavat Abylkalikov, at the Leibniz Institute for East and Southeast European Studies in Germany, says “if the birth rate has fallen below the level of simple reproduction, it is almost impossible to raise it back.” Especially when financial incentives cover just a fraction of childcare costs.
In any case, Abylkalikov says, “in Russia, death is much more profitable than birth: in Nizhny Novgorod Oblast, the government provides around 1,000,000 rubles (about $12,000) for each child, but if one person goes to war and dies, the family receives up to 12 million rubles in total. That's more than $120,000. This is the economy of death.” The evidence, from countries like Russia, Hungary and the U.S., is that appeals to tradition, to religion and to female “responsibility” do not work, when support for families is limited. And while migration is an obvious fix to demographic questions everywhere, it’s politically toxic.
Russia knows it is hurtling towards demographic doom but can do little to halt the momentum. Its policies are riddled with inconsistencies — a strong line in anti-migration rhetoric and bullying, while being forced to import workers and soldiers from Asia and Africa; a patriarchal view of women’s roles, mostly confined to the domestic, while increasingly reliant on women to take the jobs of the men who are fighting and dying in Putin's war; and encouraging more women to give birth, while employing children to build drones. With family values like these, no wonder young Russians are hesitant to procreate.
Natalia Antelava
The post Teens making drones: Russia’s demographic collapse appeared first on Coda Story.
Someone recently asked me what mark out of 10 I’d give for the efforts of governments to tackle financial crime. It got me thinking about that one bright spot of recent times — the West’s response to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine four years ago — and how it is now looking. Back in 2022, a lot of us were pleasantly surprised by the speed and ambition with which Western governments sanctioned the Russian government, state-owned companies and wealthy individuals. While Western pressure did not prevent the war, the asset freezes did impose a real cost on those conducting it. Four years on, however, those sanctions are beginning to look a bit shopsoiled. If they began at 7/10, they’re now scoring a lot lower.
There are reasons for this: Donald Trump does not appear particularly interested in Ukraine; the now former Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán has been snarling things up; and so on, as laid out in this analysis from Tom Keatinge. To make things worse, Trump’s latest adventure in Iran has pushed the oil prices sharply higher, earning more money for Russia while also giving Trump cover to lift sanctions, a temporary measure he has recently extended.
Keatinge argues that European countries need to be far more focussed on going after Russia’s payment mechanisms, particularly digital. “The extent to which crypto activity supports Russia’s war effort is clear,” he writes, “yet repeated initiatives to elevate the importance of opening a concerted line of effort on this issue are ignored. This must change.”
I agree, though it won’t be easy, considering the diffuse crypto ecosystem, and the increasing sophistication of Russian involvement in it. As long as Telegram is willing to host markets, the markets will continue to function to some extent whatever Western countries do (see the story of Xinbi, a Chinese-language hub for illicit crypto.) However, it does look like someone somewhere has lost patience with the ease with which Russia is funding itself.
“The sanctioned Russia-linked cryptoasset exchange Grinex announced an immediate suspension of its operations, citing a ‘large-scale cyberattack,’” reports Elliptic. According to the statement, which Kyrgyzstan-registered Grinex posted on Telegram, it lost around $13 million worth of USDT in the hack, blaming the theft on Western intelligence agencies.
“Today the attempts to destabilise our fatherland’s financial sector hit a new level, with the direct theft of the assets of Russian citizens and companies with the involvement of complex cyberattacks,” the statement said. Grinex is the successor to Garantex, which was shut down just over a year ago after years of effort by Western law enforcement. I would be surprised if Western countries had decided to take direct action against Grinex, as the exchange claims they did. Westerners tend to be a bit too legalistic for this kind of smash-and-grab, and I would expect any operation to more closely resemble what worked a year ago, conducted with Tether’s cooperation.
Instead, I suspect this attack is the work of hacktivists, perhaps working for or with the Ukrainians. Whatever the answer, it is embarrassing for the Russians, shows their crypto-security is not impregnable, and has made a noticeable dent in trading volumes of the A7A5 ruble-denominated stablecoin, which has become a key sanctions evasion tool. Three birds with one stone.
The important point is that sanctions were never supposed to be permanent: they are a foreign policy tool, not a law enforcement one. Hundreds of billions of Russian-owned dollars are languishing in various frozen bank accounts, and Western countries need to start thinking about what to do with them. They can confiscate them, investigate them or — if they’re feeling brave — use their potential return as leverage to persuade wealthy Russians to break with the Kremlin. What they shouldn’t do is leave them as they are to gather dust.
Hopefully, now that Orbán is out of the way, European countries will be able to take firmer collective action but they also need to be imaginative, and to start behaving as if they actually want Ukraine to win, rather than just not lose.
Of course, the United States will have a lot to say about that too, and what it ends up saying about how to tackle the Russian crypto operations will depend on what happens in the midterm elections this year. So, it strikes me as a big deal that crypto firms are once more pouring tens of millions of dollars into campaign vehicles in their quest for, what they euphemistically refer to as, “regulatory clarity.” Among them, of course, is Tether.
If you’re wondering quite how it’s possible to spend that much money on elections, I draw your attention once more to the great Integrity Index, with its records for who’s been spending what. It boggles my mind that, for example, the three Democratic rivals to the Republicans’ Susan Collins for the Maine Senate seat have raised more than $17 million just for the primary. Collins herself has raised over $10.5 million. There really shouldn’t be that much money in politics.
Besides, when it comes to value for money, investing in court cases beats investing in politics every day of the week. I don’t know how much the (ironically) anonymous plaintiffs in the 2022 case against corporate transparency in Luxembourg paid their lawyers, but its effects just seem to keep compounding to the benefit of those who want to hide their wealth from society.
The European Union’s retreat from revealing the ownership of shell companies has given cover for Britain’s tax havens as they resisted efforts from London to force them to open up their own corporate registries. It looks like those efforts may have finally failed. “We are committed to full transparency, but I don’t think there will be any turning back,” said the British Virgin Islands’ Junior Minister for Financial Services Lorna Smith in comments confirming that the islands are in fact very much not committed to full transparency.
A version of this story was published in this week’s Oligarchy newsletter. Sign up here.
Oliver Bullough
Oliver Bullough
The post Why Europe must disable Russia’s crypto ecosystem appeared first on Coda Story.
In 2016, when Peter Thiel killed Gawker, he insisted that he wasn’t attacking journalism writ large.
On the contrary, he told the New York Times, he’d spent $10 million secretly backing Hulk Hogan’s lawsuit against the news outlet because: “I saw Gawker pioneer a unique and incredibly damaging way of getting attention by bullying people even when there was no connection with the public interest… if I didn’t think Gawker was unique, I wouldn’t have done any of this. If the entire media was more or less like this, this would be like trying to boil the ocean.”
10 years later with the aid of an “AI tribunal,” a team of intelligence and law enforcement veterans, and a political climate vastly more hostile to press freedom, he is trying to do exactly that, bypassing the courts, short-circuiting the first amendment, and making it much, much cheaper to indulge in the quasi legal harassment of journalists.
Objection.ai is a new startup funded by Thiel, and cofounded by Aron D’Souza, who worked closely with him on the Gawker case. It promises “a fast affordable way to challenge statements in the media.” Anyone can file an objection, which will trigger an investigation by a team hired, the company says, from the CIA, FBI, and British intelligence agencies. Targeted outlets and reporters will have an opportunity to respond, and the results will be fed to an AI model, which will render a verdict. The complainant, and the target, are asked to agree to binding arbitration, with an unspecified range of potential consequences. Financial details are vague, but the company has said the process will cost around $2,000 — far less than the retainer of a crisis communications expert.
An initial slate of cases includes objections against the New York Times, for reporting on how Thiel’s fellow traveller David Sacks, former PayPal chief operating officer and Donald Trump’s former “AI and Crypto Czar,” uses his White House position to benefit Silicon Valley connections; The Wall Street Journal for its revelations about the doodle contributed by Donald Trump to Jeffrey Epstein’s birthday book (a case recently dismissed by a federal judge); and British reporter Hannah Broughton for an aggregated story in the UK tabloid the Mirror about allegations that Amazon workers were told to continue working while a colleague lay dead on the warehouse floor. A smattering of social media provocateurs (Candace Owens) and politicians (Bernie Sanders) round out the roster, but the aggregate effect is indisputable: Thiel’s animus was about journalism all along. Indeed, the Objection.ai team couldn't be clearer about that.
“Gawker was not unique,” writes D’Souza on the company’s website. “It was simply the first large media company to be tested against reality in the age of clicks, outrage, and algorithmic amplification. Since then, the same structural failure has spread everywhere.”
“Peter Thiel and I … did not just fight Gawker,” he goes on. “ — We demonstrated that facts still mattered if someone was willing to enforce them.”
This is worse than revisionism. D’Souza is banking on everyone having forgotten that the Hulk Hogan case had nothing to do with “reality.” It was undisputed that the sex tape published by Gawker was real. The original suit, which failed, was for copyright infringement and the ultimate $140 million award that bankrupted the company was for invasion of privacy and intentional infliction of emotional harm.
This foundational lie is important, because it is a warning against the temptation to engage Objection.ai on the merits. It would be easy enough to conduct a good faith debate to take at face value D’Souza’s argument that tech platforms and algorithms amplify false claims to millions, that courts are expensive and slow, media ombuds toothless, and fact-checkers partisan. And it would not be hard to demonstrate that he is harnessing widely shared concerns about a disordered information environment to mobilize support for an AI powered justice system controlled by a hyperpartisan private company with a track record of attacking the very institutions that are holding the line on consensus reality.
It would also be a mistake. There is nothing good faith about this effort. Rather, it is classic Thiel: an attempt to hack the principles of accountability, and turn them against journalism. Leave it to his less sophisticated Silicon Valley peers to rail against the media, create in house news outlets or buy them. The PayPal co-founder is going for the heart of the system, and financing infrastructure that will enable anyone who can afford a used Honda Civic to launch a harassment campaign, cloaked in the language of legitimate investigation. James O’Keefe, but with the judicial rather than journalistic process as its governing metaphor.
It will be tempting, too, to question the likely financial sustainability of Objection. That will be the least of its founders' concerns. The for-profit structure supports a story about the company’s purpose. It may work, or not, but its goals are nonfinancial. We reached out to Thiel for comment on Objection.ai before publication and will update this article as soon as he responds.
Providing funding, alongside Thiel, is Balaji Srinivasan, the investor and author of “The Network State,” a book about social networks with “a sense of national consciousness” replacing the nation state. He once outlined an early version of the Objection.ai model in an email to the far right theorist Curtis Yarvin about dealing with critical coverage. "If things get hot,” he suggested “it may be interesting to sic the Dark Enlightenment audience on a single vulnerable hostile reporter to dox them and turn them inside out with hostile reporting sent to *their* advertisers/friends/contacts."
These men understand the limits of the Gawker verdict’s impact. It bankrupted the company, a personal victory for Thiel, but perhaps the least important outcome of the case. At a more systemic level, it struck fear into the hearts of media insurers and newsroom counsel, focusing attention on third party litigation finance as potential threat.
If people with limitless resources could sponsor litigation against news organizations they disliked, constitutional protections would be no match for the sheer cost and complexity of defense.
Now, they’ve found an AI-assisted way to supercharge those effects.
The Gawker case routed around the First Amendment by relying on a privacy claim. Objection.ai does so by building a hallucination of the legal process. Any journalist foolish enough to agree to binding arbitration by the company probably deserves what they get, but that will be a vanishingly small minority. For those who don’t, a phone call, or a knock on the door from a former FBI agent, or defense intelligence operative, will be chilling, and an ex-parte verdict rendered by Thiel’s custom-tuned AI will act as a cudgel on social media and via traditional PR. Journalists will be assigned a “trust score” to act as an additional goad.
In an environment of less peril for press freedom, it might be easy to laugh off Objection.ai as the confection of a thin-skinned millenarian. Right now, with the crony capture of broadcast news far advanced, swathes of the tech community openly hostile to journalism, and the White House onside, it would be wise to take it seriously. That starts with seeing it for what it is, and refusing to engage with a process which, unlike the real courts, Peter Thiel has no legal power to compel.
Natalia Antelava
Isobel Cockerell
The post Peter Thiel is building a parallel justice system — Powered by AI appeared first on Coda Story.
Viktor Orbán, Hungary’s prime minister since 2010, faces an election dogfight. Behind in the polls, he has been effectively endorsed by both the Kremlin and the White House, and a host of conservative world leaders. As wars in Iran and Ukraine exacerbate the fissures that have weakened NATO, as well as the U.S.’s relationship with the European Union, this is an election that is being followed with bated breath in Washington, Moscow, Kyiv and Brussels.
Before the elections on April 12, a scandal engulfed the Hungarian government. On leaked recordings, foreign minister Péter Szijjártó can be heard deferentially acquiescing to his Russian counterpart Sergey Lavrov and passing on information from EU meetings. Szijjártó appeared willing to help the Kremlin’s cause in Brussels, to remove oligarchs and their relatives from the EU blacklist, and to block efforts to aid Ukraine. Hungary’s advocacy for the Kremlin’s agenda culminated in its recent veto of fresh sanctions on Russia and over $100 billion in loans to Ukraine. On X, Polish prime minister Donald Tusk wrote that while “Hungary is and will be in the European Union, Victor Orbán and his foreign minister left Europe long ago.” And the Irish taoiseach Micheál Martin described Szijjárto’s calls with Lavrov as both “sinister” and “alarming.”
Szijjárto alleged that “foreign intelligence services, with the active involvement of Hungarian journalists, have been intercepting my phone calls.” It is a plot, the Hungarian government claims, to influence the upcoming polls. Orbán directly blames Ukraine for seeking to unseat his government. The opposition, led by Peter Magyar, has a healthy lead in the polls and describes the Hungarian government’s closeness to the Kremlin as “treason.” According to European intelligence reports, Moscow sent a three-person team to Hungary, overseen by Putin confidant Sergei Kiriyenko who ran an operation to interfere in the Moldovan election back in September. His tactics encompassed “vote-buying networks, troll farms, and on-the-ground influence campaigns.” A Kremlin-linked media consultancy, facing EU sanctions, was hired to dismiss Magyar as a Brussels stooge and portray Orbán as the only candidate strong enough to to be treated as an equal by world leaders, as evidenced by the strength of his relationship with Trump.
Despite a war with Iran that doesn’t appear to be going entirely to plan, the U.S. president took time out to back Orbán with enthusiasm and at considerable length on Truth Social. Trump said Orbán was “a true friend, fighter, and WINNER.” JD Vance, the vice president, is scheduled to visit Hungary on April 7, just five days before the election. And secretary of state Marco Rubio went to Hungary in February. It is now part of the U.S. National Security Strategy to work towards “cultivating resistance to Europe’s current trajectory within European nations.” To that end, notes the U.S. government, “the growing influence of patriotic European parties indeed gives cause for great optimism.” Orbán speaks MAGA’s language on immigration, traditional values and the Christian essence of Western societies. He is, like Putin and Trump, in MAGA’s view, an implacable opponent of secular, progressive, globalist politics as symbolised by Brussels.
Orbán, the longest serving current head of government in the EU, has become a figurehead for populist, nationalist movements across the world. The recent CPAC Hungary summit was attended by several of these leaders including France’s Marine Le Pen, Italian deputy prime minister Matteo Salvini, and the Netherlands’ Geert Wilders,who called Orbán “a lion on a continent led by sheep.” Latin American leaders close to Trump , including Javier Milei of Argentina and Jose Antonio Kast of Chile, also attended. Milei, who gave the longest speech at the summit, said Orbán was “a beacon for all… who refuse to accept that the West's destiny is one of managed decline.” This international network, with the United States and Russia included, has a vested ideological interest in seeing Orban continue to remain a thorn in the EU's side.
But what can Brussels do? The answer, it appears, is not much. The EU is consensus driven; it needs all its parts to act in concert, giving holdouts like Orbán considerable power to hold the whole bloc hostage. But given Orbán’s prominence as an ideologue, when Hungary blocks sanctions or delays support for Ukraine, it is more than a single nation going rogue. Alice Weidler, co-chair of the far-right AfD, the largest opposition party in the German Bundestag, was among those who spoke at the CPAC Hungary conference last month. Robert Fico, prime minister of Slovakia, is an Orbán ally. On April 19, Bulgaria will have its eighth general election in just five years. Former president Rumen Radev’s new Progressive Party leads the polls and shares Orbán’s pro-Kremlin, anti-EU inclinations.
So polarized is the Hungarian election, that right wing groups are deploying their own observers from Argentina, Austria, the Czech Republic, Kenya, Poland, Germany, Italy, Spain, Serbia, Tanzania and the United States to monitor proceedings. EU observers have said the Hungarian government controls the national media and a recent documentary alleges that a desperate government is resorting to vote-buying, gerrymandering and intimidation tactics. It’s hard to see how either Orbán or Magyar will accept the election result without protest, unless the margin is crushing. But, given Trump’s disdain for NATO allies and the EU, an Orbán election defeat would be a much-needed victory for European unity.
A version of this story was published in this week’s Coda Currents newsletter. Sign up here.
John Shattuck
Phineas Rueckert
Katia Patin
The post How much longer will Orbán be Putin and Trump’s man in Brussels? appeared first on Coda Story.
A funny thing happened on the day OpenAI announced it was shutting down Sora, its video generation app: Iran went all in on synthetic propaganda and very quickly started winning the global meme war. The timing is a coincidence, no doubt, but it is the kind of coincidence that illuminates.
Watching the explosive virality of the clips offers a powerful lesson in asymmetric media operations. They deploy cultural sophistication, an understanding of online communities and the enormously powerful creation tools made available by American tech companies, tools that give everyone on the internet access to a personal reality distortion field — drones, but for your feed.
On Wednesday, as Donald Trump was trying desperately to talk down the oil markets with hints of a deal, a stream of videos, carefully calibrated for U.S., regional and third country audiences rolled out on X via embassy accounts, Russia Today, and disaffected Maga influencers. The clips, by broad social media consensus, are good. Some lean heavily on the extremely online grammar of the U.S. right. Some remix Hollywood characters and likenesses in exactly the way that OpenAI’s now nixed billion-dollar deal with Disney was supposed to sanction. Others lean more heavily into Islamic iconography, featuring Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu as worshippers of Baal, the foreign demon god who figures in both the Quran and the Hebrew Bible. The Lego movie is an especially rich resource, but so are TikTok formats, and the kind of idealized AI figures beloved of Trump administration meme makers. You can watch a few of them here.
Notably, faked war footage is far from the dominant format. All of these clips foreground and celebrate their own artificiality: some are sentimental, some triumphal, many are full of the gleeful adolescent wit of gamers on discord forums.
Researchers have long been warning that generative tools will undercut the authority of visual evidence, compounding and accelerating the damage created by slower, cruder forms of fakery: photoshop, selective editing, even gaming clips passed off as combat footage. Of course, we are already there, and have been for a while. Russia has been the paramount master of this game, in Ukraine and in its ongoing influence operations around the world. But others have learned quickly. Last year, when India and Pakistan were engaged in a brief aerial battle, social media bullshit overwhelmed and compromised traditional coverage. More recently, Israel’s obliteration of Gaza was accompanied by a sustained and comprehensive blizzard of visually compelling misinformation, propaganda, and official lies.
That continues. On March 28, Israel killed three journalists in a targeted strike in Southern Lebanon, claiming without evidence that one of them, Ali Shoaib, was a member of Hezbollah’s Radwan forces. They later distributed a photograph of him in military fatigues to reinforce the point, but explained to Fox news that in fact, they’d had to photoshop the uniform in because no such picture existed.
Meanwhile, in the Trump administration’s domestic war on immigrants and political opponents, we’ve seen a complete resetting of norms around the tone of official communication and any expectation that it is rooted in fact. Nowhere was that more evident than in the altered footage posted by the White House of the arrest of the prominent Minneapolis activist Nekima Levy Armstrong in January. In the video, shared by the official White House handle, a handcuffed Levy Armstrong is sobbing, her skin visibly darkened. In fact, she had faced arrest calmly.
Questioned by reporters about this blatant falsification, deputy White House communications director Kaelan Dorr responded: "Enforcement of the law will continue. The memes will continue.” Collapsing the distinction between a meme and the factual record with the aid of AI is the final step in this administration's insistence that its preferred narrative simply is reality.
The problem for the White House and its allies is that their choices in tech policy, official communication, and press freedom level the playing field for information war in ways that Tehran’s media strategists understand and they, for all their immersion in online worlds, do not.
Iranian propagandists know that the currency of visual information online has already been completely debased. They’ve dealt with it plenty, and no doubt practiced it themselves in regional battles for narrative dominance. Their insight is that as cheap and easy as it is to create and distribute fakes, returns on the effort of mobilizing what disinformation researchers call “coordinated inauthentic action” are diminishing. They still do it, but it isn’t where the action is.
Sam Altman, Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg have, in a very practical sense, wrought this moment in concert with Peter Thiel, Alex Karp, JD Vance and Donald Trump. At their urging, the U.S. has surrendered unrivaled dominance in scarce, expensive information and cultural assets in exchange for a political economy of media that widely distributes cheap, abundant ones.
Tech leaders and conservative politicians have worked consistently for a decade to deprecate the trustworthiness of American journalism and constrain its liberties. They have smeared its practitioners as “enemies of the people”; they have captured the commanding heights of the broadcast and culture industries through crony deals, and they have launched an assault on both press freedom and standards, two assets that once made American news outlets the envy of the world. Needless to say, the economic collapse of traditional media companies fostered by Google’s and Meta’s advertising duopoly only served to deepen the damage. Jeff Bezos’s Washington Post shuttered its Middle East bureaus just days before the war began.
Meanwhile, lying from agency podiums and the Oval Office, makes Karoline Leavitt barely distinguishable from Baghdad Bob, Iraq’s minister of information in 2003 whose surreal, truth-dodging press conferences during the U.S.-led invasion made him a global laughingstock. And the DOGEing of both the nominally independent Voice of America, as well as the state department’s Global Engagement Center leaves the administration with neither broadcast nor digital counter-propaganda assets.
When no one can be trusted with the actual truth, we are left with the AI equivalent of 19th-century editorial cartoons, produced at industrial scale and distributed globally. America has little advantage in that war, particularly when it is at a moral, political and legal nadir.
If anything, Iran, which combines repression with an enormously rich literary culture, film scene and advertising market brings serious capabilities to the fight.
Of course, the ebbing of information power was already under way during the first Trump administration, and during Joe Biden’s term in ways that are indissociable from broader democratic decline. The “trust and safety” architecture adopted by big platform companies was designed — implicitly if not always visibly — to conserve information authority, and ensure that it functioned in broadly pro-democratic ways.
After the disastrous failures of the Rohingya genocide — which rights groups and UN investigators blamed Facebook for facilitating — and the fears surrounding the manipulation of the U.S. electoral environment in 2016, there was a clear threat to the commercial and political health of Twitter, Facebook and YouTube. Tech companies, governments, researchers and human rights experts devised rules and norms for content moderation grounded in existing standards, tools for detecting coordinated inauthentic behavior, and a framework for crisis response.
The community of practitioners and institutions that sprung up to combat the flesh-eating virus attacking the body politic were working with bandaids in the battlefield hospital even before Covid, a coordinated attack from the right, and the second Trump victory hit them, but they succeeded in imposing some limits. That project now lies in ruins.
The Stanford Information Laboratory has been shut down. Trust and Safety teams at Meta and X have been disbanded. The national security arm of the project, centered around the State Department is gone, and private funding for countering misinformation has largely dried up.
Where are the hyperscalers, the AI titans, whose tools are being so effectively deployed, in all of this?
The trust and safety people who do work at OpenAI are dutifully putting out reports every few months. They are detailing how they foiled efforts to use ChatGPT for a Chinese influence campaign aimed at Sanae Takaichi, the Japanese prime minister, and exposing a Russian content mill feeding African newspapers. “Pro-tip for governments,” wrote Head of National Security policy Sasha Baker on LinkedIn of the February report. “Please don’t use our products to spread lies online.”
Governments, in the world of Sam Altman’s “democratic AI” do not include that of the United States. OpenAI has not mentioned a single U.S. ally — let alone the administration itself — in these reports.
OpenAI has hired multiple ex-Clinton, Obama and Biden officials, and in their work a weird, attenuated piece of the old national security approach to information integrity lives on, alongside the project of selling products to the Pentagon. The company’s leaders clearly treat these issues as a complement to messaging around Western AI, or a picayune adjunct to the bigger questions of AI risk, which are handled way up in the organizational stratosphere, as they are at Anthropic.
Perhaps the larger lesson is that you can’t really shut down Sora, or put AI-generated video back in its box. If you choose to prosecute an illegal war of choice after surrendering the hard-won high ground of a robust, democratic information environment, high tech weaponry will not offset the deficit. On the contrary, you will have compounded the risk of both tactical failure and strategic geopolitical defeat. When that happens, and in some ways it already has, those who made this war, and their enablers in Silicon Valley, will have only themselves to blame.
Simon Allison
Irina Matchavariani
Victoria Jensen
The post Memeification and digital slop: AI and the fog of war appeared first on Coda Story.
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