The Rip Current with Jacob Ward

This is a massive week for anyone who’s been watching Big Tech’s impact on kids. Internal documents from Meta, Google, YouTube, Snapchat, and TikTok are being made public as part of major lawsuits, and what they reveal is damning.
Two themes emerge. First: the business value of kids. A 2020 Google presentation literally says “solving kids is a massive opportunity.” An internal Facebook email from 2016 identifies the company’s top priority as “total teen time spent.” These companies clearly saw children as a pipeline of new users to be captured.
Second: they knew about the harm. An Instagram internal study from 2018 documented that “teens weaponize Instagram features to torment each other” and that “most participants regret engaging in conflicts.” TikTok’s own strategy documents admit the platform “is particularly popular with younger users who are particularly sensitive to reinforcement and have minimal ability to self-regulate.” YouTube identified “late night use, heavy habitual use, and problematic content” as root causes of harm.
They knew.
As I discuss here, I want this moment to establish a new legal framework in America — one that recognizes behavioral harm the same way we recognize physical and financial harm. We’ve done it before with tobacco. We can do it again with social media. And this might be the beginning.

I spent this week talking to bank tellers at Wells Fargo for a special report over at Hard Reset, and what they told me should alarm anyone who thinks their job is safe from AI.
The bank has cut 65,000 jobs since 2019. CEO Charles Scharf just told investors more cuts are coming — permanently. Meanwhile, profits are soaring. Credit card accounts up 20 percent, auto lending up 19 percent, investment banking fees up 14 percent. Fewer people, more money.
Branch employees describe what’s happening on the ground: three tellers became two, then one. Lines getting longer. Pressure mounting. Work that used to require human judgment now gets handled by an app, with AI guiding and surveilling every interaction. The jobs aren’t disappearing — they’re just getting piled onto fewer bodies, all of them working “at-will” with zero protection.
And that’s why, for the first time in American history, bank tellers at a national institution are unionizing. Twenty-eight Wells Fargo branches across 14 states have voted to join the Communications Workers of America. Banking was always the stable, boring job that didn’t need a union. That deal is broken.
Here’s what gutted me: the workers getting hit hardest are women without college degrees, especially women from Black and brown communities. Retail banking was a reliable path to middle-class stability for those folks. Now those jobs are being automated away, and as one banker pointed out, the money saved flows straight up to an overwhelmingly white, male executive class.
This is the forecast. AI isn’t coming for jobs in some distant future. It’s here. It’s seeping into white-collar work that we assumed to be safe. And the only people who know it are the ones already being forced out the door.
Read the full investigation at Hard Reset.

Every January, the world’s wealthiest decision-makers descend on the World Economic Forum in Davos, and we’re told this is where the future gets negotiated. This year, while the world talks of Greenland, geopolitics, tariffs, and other surreal headlines coming out of the Alps — I’m thinking about the social dynamics on the literal streets of that mountain town.
Like any professional convening that draws the powerful, Davos functions less like a sober policy conference and more like a global high-school reunion, complete with insecurity, status anxiety, and a desperate fear of missing out. And nowhere is that clearer than in the party scene. Big tech and AI companies are throwing the most lavish, impossible-to-get-into events, and global leaders and their staffers are lining up — literally — to get inside.
A sharp New York Times piece captures this perfectly: initiatives focused on gender equity and public good sit empty, while neon-lit crypto lounges and AI cocktail hours pulse with attention. That imbalance matters. Parties shape conversations. Conversations shape priorities. Priorities shape policy.
I’ve seen this dynamic before at places like Aspen, SXSW, CES — and it always works the same way. The room that feels important becomes the room that is important, regardless of what’s actually being said inside it.
The unsettling part is this: these companies now wield the resources and influence of nation-states. When they dominate Davos socially, they dominate it politically. And that should worry anyone who still believes that regulation, caution, or democratic deliberation might matter in the age of AI.

I’ve been watching robots fall over for a long time.
About a decade ago, I stood on a Florida speedway covering a DARPA robotics competition where machines failed spectacularly at things like opening doors and climbing stairs. It was funny, a little sad, and a reminder of just how hard it is to automate human behavior.
Fast-forward to CES this week, and the joke’s over.
Humanoid robots are no longer pitching sideways into the dirt. They’re lifting, carrying, improvising, and — according to companies like Hyundai — heading onto American factory floors by 2028. These machines aren’t just pre-programmed arms anymore. Thanks to AI, they can understand general instructions, adapt on the fly, and perform tasks that once required human judgment.
The pitch from executives like Hyundai’s CEO is reassuring: robots won’t replace humans, they’ll “work for humans.” They’ll handle the dangerous, repetitive jobs so people can move into higher-skilled roles.
Labor unions hear something else entirely.
For many workers, especially in manufacturing, these are some of the last stable, well-paying jobs that don’t require a college degree. And no one is voting on whether those jobs disappear. There’s no democratic process weighing the tradeoffs. We’re just sliding, quietly, toward a future where efficiency outruns consent.
What troubles me most isn’t the technology itself. It’s the assumption baked into it — that if people are being worked like robots, the solution isn’t to make work more humane, but to replace the people.
That’s not inevitability. That’s a choice. And right now, it’s being made without us.

It’s a very weird Monday back from the holidays. While most of us were shaking off jet lag and reminding ourselves who we are when we’re not sleeping late and hanging with family, the world woke up to a piece of news this weekend that showed no one in power learned a goddamn thing in history class: the United States has rendered Venezuela’s president to New York, and powerful people are openly fantasizing about “fixing” a broken country by taking control of its oil.
This isn’t a defense of Nicolás Maduro. He presided over the destruction of a nation sitting on the world’s largest proven oil reserves. Venezuela’s state now barely functions beyond preserving its own power. The Venezuelans I’ve spoken with have a wide variety of feelings about an incompetent dictator being arrested by the United States.
But what’s clear is that anyone who has read anything knows that the history of oil grabs is a history of financial disaster. So when I hear confident talk about oil revenues flowing back to the U.S., I don’t hear a plan. I hear the opening chapter of a time-honored financial tragedy that’s been repeated again and again, even in our lifetimes.
Let’s put aside the moral horror of military invasion and colonial brutality, and just focus on whether the money ever actually flows back to the invader. Example after example shows it doesn’t: Iraq was supposed to stabilize energy markets. Instead, it delivered trillions in war costs, higher deficits, and zero leverage over oil prices. Britain’s attempt to hang onto the Suez Canal ended with a humiliating retreat, an IMF bailout, and the end of its time as a superpower. France’s war in Algeria collapsed its government. Dutch oil extraction in Nigeria boomeranged back home as lawsuits, environmental liability, and reputational ruin.
Oil empires all make the same mistake: they think they can nationalize the upside while outsourcing the risk. In reality, profits stay local or corporate. Costs always come home. And we’re about to learn it all over again.

Read more at TheRipCurrent.com.