Once again, Sam Altman wants to show you the future. The CEO of OpenAI is standing on a sparse stage in San Francisco, preparing to reveal his next move to an attentive crowd. “We needed some way for identifying, authenticating humans in the age of AGI,” Altman explains, referring to artificial general intelligence. “We wanted a way to make sure that humans stayed special and central.” The solution Altman came up with is looming behind him. It’s a white sphere about the size of a beach ball, with a camera at its center. The company that makes it, known as Tools for Humanity, calls this mysterious device the Orb. Stare into the heart of the plastic-and-silicon globe and it will map the unique furrows and ciliary zones of your iris. Seconds later, you’ll receive inviolable proof of your humanity: a 12,800-digit binary number, known as an iris code, sent to an app on your phone. At the same time, a packet of cryptocurrency called Worldcoin, worth approximately $42, will be transferred to your digital wallet—your reward for becoming a “verified human.” Altman co-founded Tools for Humanity in 2019 as part of a suite of companies he believed would reshape the world. Once the tech he was developing at OpenAI passed a certain level of intelligence, he reasoned, it would mark the end of one era on the Internet and the beginning of another, in which AI became so advanced, so human-like, that you would no longer be able to tell whether what you read, saw, or heard online came from a real person. When that happened, Altman imagined, we would need a new kind of online infrastructure: a human-verification layer for the Internet, to distinguish real people from the proliferating number of bots and AI “agents.”And so Tools for Humanity set out to build a global “proof-of-humanity” network. It aims to verify 50 million people by the end of 2025; ultimately its goal is to sign up every single human being on the planet. The free crypto serves as both an incentive for users to sign up, and also an entry point into what the company hopes will become the world’s largest financial network, through which it believes “double-digit percentages of the global economy” will eventually flow. Even for Altman, these missions are audacious. “If this really works, it’s like a fundamental piece of infrastructure for the world,” Altman tells TIME in a video interview from the passenger seat of a car a few days before his April 30 keynote address.Internal hardware of the Orb in mid-assembly in March. Davide Monteleone for TIMEThe project’s goal is to solve a problem partly of Altman’s own making. In the near future, he and other tech leaders say, advanced AIs will be imbued with agency: the ability to not just respond to human prompting, but to take actions independently in the world. This will enable the creation of AI coworkers that can drop into your company and begin solving problems; AI tutors that can adapt their teaching style to students’ preferences; even AI doctors that can diagnose routine cases and handle scheduling or logistics. The arrival of these virtual agents, their venture capitalist backers predict, will turbocharge our productivity and unleash an age of material abundance.But AI agents will also have cascading consequences for the human experience online. “As AI systems become harder to distinguish from people, websites may face difficult trade-offs,” says a recent paper by researchers from 25 different universities, nonprofits, and tech companies, including OpenAI. “There is a significant risk that digital institutions will be unprepared for a time when AI-powered agents, including those leveraged by malicious actors, overwhelm other activity online.” On social-media platforms like X and Facebook, bot-driven accounts are amassing billions of views on AI-generated content. In April, the foundation that runs Wikipedia disclosed that AI bots scraping their site were making the encyclopedia too costly to sustainably run. Later the same month, researchers from the University of Zurich found that AI-generated comments on the subreddit /r/ChangeMyView were up to six times more successful than human-written ones at persuading unknowing users to change their minds.  Photograph by Davide Monteleone for TIMEBuy a copy of the Orb issue hereThe arrival of agents won’t only threaten our ability to distinguish between authentic and AI content online. It will also challenge the Internet’s core business model, online advertising, which relies on the assumption that ads are being viewed by humans. “The Internet will change very drastically sometime in the next 12 to 24 months,” says Tools for Humanity CEO Alex Blania. “So we have to succeed, or I’m not sure what else would happen.”For four years, Blania’s team has been testing the Orb’s hardware abroad. Now the U.S. rollout has arrived. Over the next 12 months, 7,500 Orbs will be arriving in dozens of American cities, in locations like gas stations, bodegas, and flagship stores in Los Angeles, Austin, and Miami. The project’s founders and fans hope the Orb’s U.S. debut will kickstart a new phase of growth. The San Francisco keynote was titled: “At Last.” It’s not clear the public appetite matches the exultant branding. Tools for Humanity has “verified” just 12 million humans since mid 2023, a pace Blania concedes is well behind schedule. Few online platforms currently support the so-called “World ID” that the Orb bestows upon its visitors, leaving little to entice users to give up their biometrics beyond the lure of free crypto. Even Altman isn’t sure whether the whole thing can work. “I can see [how] this becomes a fairly mainstream thing in a few years,” he says. “Or I can see that it’s still only used by a small subset of people who think about the world in a certain way.” Blania (left) and Altman debut the Orb at World’s U.S. launch in San Francisco on April 30, 2025. Jason Henry—The New York Times/ReduxYet as the Internet becomes overrun with AI, the creators of this strange new piece of hardware are betting that everybody in the world will soon want—or need—to visit an Orb. The biometric code it creates, they predict, will become a new type of digital passport, without which you might be denied passage to the Internet of the future, from dating apps to government services. In a best-case scenario, World ID could be a privacy-preserving way to fortify the Internet against an AI-driven deluge of fake or deceptive content. It could also enable the distribution of universal basic income (UBI)—a policy that Altman has previously touted—as AI automation transforms the global economy. To examine what this new technology might mean, I reported from three continents, interviewed 10 Tools for Humanity executives and investors, reviewed hundreds of pages of company documents, and “verified” my own humanity. The Internet will inevitably need some kind of proof-of-humanity system in the near future, says Divya Siddarth, founder of the nonprofit Collective Intelligence Project. The real question, she argues, is whether such a system will be centralized—“a big security nightmare that enables a lot of surveillance”—or privacy-preserving, as the Orb claims to be. Questions remain about Tools for Humanity’s corporate structure, its yoking to an unstable cryptocurrency, and what power it would concentrate in the hands of its owners if successful. Yet it’s also one of the only attempts to solve what many see as an increasingly urgent problem. “There are some issues with it,” Siddarth says of World ID. “But you can’t preserve the Internet in amber. Something in this direction is necessary.”In March, I met Blania at Tools for Humanity’s San Francisco headquarters, where a large screen displays the number of weekly “Orb verifications” by country. A few days earlier, the CEO had attended a $1 million-per-head dinner at Mar-a-Lago with President Donald Trump, whom he credits with clearing the way for the company’s U.S. launch by relaxing crypto regulations. “Given Sam is a very high profile target,” Blania says, “we just decided that we would let other companies fight that fight, and enter the U.S. once the air is clear.” As a kid growing up in Germany, Blania was a little different than his peers. “Other kids were, like, drinking a lot, or doing a lot of parties, and I was just building a lot of things that could potentially blow up,” he recalls. At the California Institute of Technology, where he was pursuing research for a masters degree, he spent many evenings reading the blogs of startup gurus like Paul Graham and Altman. Then, in 2019, Blania received an email from Max Novendstern, an entrepreneur who had been kicking around a concept with Altman to build a global cryptocurrency network. They were looking for technical minds to help with the project. Over cappuccinos, Altman told Blania he was certain about three things. First, smarter-than-human AI was not only possible, but inevitable—and it would soon mean you could no longer assume that anything you read, saw, or heard on the Internet was human-created. Second, cryptocurrency and other decentralized technologies would be a massive force for change in the world. And third, scale was essential to any crypto network’s value. The Orb is tested on a calibration rig, surrounded by checkerboard targets to ensure precision in iris detection. Davide Monteleone for TIMEThe goal of Worldcoin, as the project was initially called, was to combine those three insights. Altman took a lesson from PayPal, the company co-founded by his mentor Peter Thiel. Of its initial funding, PayPal spent less than $10 million actually building its app—but pumped an additional $70 million or so into a referral program, whereby new users and the person who invited them would each receive $10 in credit. The referral program helped make PayPal a leading payment platform. Altman thought a version of that strategy would propel Worldcoin to similar heights. He wanted to create a new cryptocurrency and give it to users as a reward for signing up. The more people who joined the system, the higher the token’s value would theoretically rise. Since 2019, the project has raised $244 million from investors like Coinbase and the venture capital firm Andreessen Horowitz. That money paid for the $50 million cost of designing the Orb, plus maintaining the software it runs on. The total market value of all Worldcoins in existence, however, is far higher—around $12 billion. That number is a bit misleading: most of those coins are not in circulation and Worldcoin’s price has fluctuated wildly. Still, it allows the company to reward users for signing up at no cost to itself. The main lure for investors is the crypto upside. Some 75% of all Worldcoins are set aside for humans to claim when they sign up, or as referral bonuses. The remaining 25% are split between Tools for Humanity’s backers and staff, including Blania and Altman. “I’m really excited to make a lot of money,” ” Blania says.From the beginning, Altman was thinking about the consequences of the AI revolution he intended to unleash. (On May 21, he announced plans to team up with famed former Apple designer Jony Ive on a new AI personal device.) A future in which advanced AI could perform most tasks more effectively than humans would bring a wave of unemployment and economic dislocation, he reasoned. Some kind of wealth redistribution might be necessary. In 2016, he partially funded a study of basic income, which gave $1,000 per-month handouts to low-income individuals in Illinois and Texas. But there was no single financial system that would allow money to be sent to everybody in the world. Nor was there a way to stop an individual human from claiming their share twice—or to identify a sophisticated AI pretending to be human and pocketing some cash of its own. In 2023, Tools for Humanity raised the possibility of using the network to redistribute the profits of AI labs that were able to automate human labor. “As AI advances,” it said, “fairly distributing access and some of the created value through UBI will play an increasingly vital role in counteracting the concentration of economic power.”Blania was taken by the pitch, and agreed to join the project as a co-founder. “Most people told us we were very stupid or crazy or insane, including Silicon Valley investors,” Blania says. At least until ChatGPT came out in 2022, transforming OpenAI into one of the world’s most famous tech companies and kickstarting a market bull-run. “Things suddenly started to make more and more sense to the external world,” Blania says of the vision to develop a global “proof-of-humanity” network. “You have to imagine a world in which you will have very smart and competent systems somehow flying through the Internet with different goals and ideas of what they want to do, and us having no idea anymore what we’re dealing with.”After our interview, Blania’s head of communications ushers me over to a circular wooden structure where eight Orbs face one another. The scene feels like a cross between an Apple Store and a ceremonial altar. “Do you want to get verified?” she asks. Putting aside my reservations for the purposes of research, I download the World App and follow its prompts. I flash a QR code at the Orb, then gaze into it. A minute or so later, my phone buzzes with confirmation: I’ve been issued my own personal World ID and some Worldcoin.The first thing the Orb does is check if you’re human, using a neural network that takes input from various sensors, including an infrared camera and a thermometer. Davide Monteleone for TIMEWhile I stared into the Orb, several complex procedures had taken place at once. A neural network took inputs from multiple sensors—an infrared camera, a thermometer—to confirm I was a living human. Simultaneously, a telephoto lens zoomed in on my iris, capturing the physical traits within that distinguish me from every other human on Earth. It then converted that image into an iris code: a numerical abstraction of my unique biometric data. Then the Orb checked to see if my iris code matched any it had seen before, using a technique allowing encrypted data to be compared without revealing the underlying information. Before the Orb deleted my data, it turned my iris code into several derivative codes—none of which on its own can be linked back to the original—encrypted them, deleted the only copies of the decryption keys, and sent each one to a different secure server, so that future users’ iris codes can be checked for uniqueness against mine. If I were to use my World ID to access a website, that site would learn nothing about me except that I’m human. The Orb is open-source, so outside experts can examine its code and verify the company’s privacy claims. “I did a colonoscopy on this company and these technologies before I agreed to join,” says Trevor Traina, a Trump donor and former U.S. ambassador to Austria who now serves as Tools for Humanity’s chief business officer. “It is the most privacy-preserving technology on the planet.”Only weeks later, when researching what would happen if I wanted to delete my data, do I discover that Tools for Humanity’s privacy claims rest on what feels like a sleight of hand. The company argues that in modifying your iris code, it has “effectively anonymized” your biometric data. If you ask Tools for Humanity to delete your iris codes, they will delete the one stored on your phone, but not the derivatives. Those, they argue, are no longer your personal data at all. But if I were to return to an Orb after deleting my data, it would still recognize those codes as uniquely mine. Once you look into the Orb, a piece of your identity remains in the system forever. If users could truly delete that data, the premise of one ID per human would collapse, Tools for Humanity’s chief privacy officer Damien Kieran tells me when I call seeking an explanation. People could delete and sign up for new World IDs after being suspended from a platform. Or claim their Worldcoin tokens, sell them, delete their data, and cash in again. This argument fell flat with European Union regulators in Germany, who recently declared that the Orb posed “fundamental data protection issues” and ordered the company to allow European users to fully delete even their anonymized data. (Tools for Humanity has appealed; the regulator is now reassessing the decision.) “Just like any other technology service, users cannot delete data that is not personal data,” Kieran said in a statement. “If a person could delete anonymized data that can’t be linked to them by World or any third party, it would allow bad actors to circumvent the security and safety that World ID is working to bring to every human.”On a balmy afternoon this spring, I climb a flight of stairs up to a room above a restaurant in an outer suburb of Seoul. Five elderly South Koreans tap on their phones as they wait to be “verified” by the two Orbs in the center of the room. “We don’t really know how to distinguish between AI and humans anymore,” an attendant in a company t-shirt explains in Korean, gesturing toward the spheres. “We need a way to verify that we’re human and not AI. So how do we do that? Well, humans have irises, but AI doesn’t.”The attendant ushers an elderly woman over to an Orb. It bleeps. “Open your eyes,” a disembodied voice says in English. The woman stares into the camera. Seconds later, she checks her phone and sees that a packet of Worldcoin worth 75,000 Korean won (about $54) has landed in her digital wallet. Congratulations, the app tells her. You are now a verified human.A visitor views the Orbs in Seoul on April 14, 2025. Taemin Ha for TIMETools for Humanity aims to “verify” 1 million Koreans over the next year. Taemin Ha for TIMEA couple dozen Orbs have been available in South Korea since 2023, verifying roughly 55,000 people. Now Tools for Humanity is redoubling its efforts there. At an event in a traditional wooden hanok house in central Seoul, an executive announces that 250 Orbs will soon be dispersed around the country—with the aim of verifying 1 million Koreans in the next 12 months. South Korea has high levels of smartphone usage, crypto and AI adoption, and Internet access, while average wages are modest enough for the free Worldcoin on offer to still be an enticing draw—all of which makes it fertile testing ground for the company’s ambitious global expansion. Yet things seem off to a slow start. In a retail space I visited in central Seoul, Tools for Humanity had constructed a wooden structure with eight Orbs facing each other. Locals and tourists wander past looking bemused; few volunteer themselves up. Most who do tell me they are crypto enthusiasts who came intentionally, driven more by the spirit of early adoption than the free coins. The next day, I visit a coffee shop in central Seoul where a chrome Orb sits unassumingly in one corner. Wu Ruijun, a 20-year-old student from China, strikes up a conversation with the barista, who doubles as the Orb’s operator. Wu was invited here by a friend who said both could claim free cryptocurrency if he signed up. The barista speeds him through the process. Wu accepts the privacy disclosure without reading it, and widens his eyes for the Orb. Soon he’s verified. “I wasn’t told anything about the privacy policy,” he says on his way out. “I just came for the money.”As Altman’s car winds through San Francisco, I ask about the vision he laid out in 2019: that AI would make it harder for us to trust each other online. To my surprise, he rejects the framing. “I’m much more [about] like: what is the good we can create, rather than the bad we can stop?” he says. “It’s not like, ‘Oh, we’ve got to avoid the bot overrun’ or whatever. It’s just that we can do a lot of special things for humans.” It’s an answer that may reflect how his role has changed over the years. Altman is now the chief public cheerleader of a $300 billion company that’s touting the transformative utility of AI agents. The rise of agents, he and others say, will be a boon for our quality of life—like having an assistant on hand who can answer your most pressing questions, carry out mundane tasks, and help you develop new skills. It’s an optimistic vision that may well pan out. But it doesn’t quite fit with the prophecies of AI-enabled infopocalypse that Tools for Humanity was founded upon.Altman waves away a question about the influence he and other investors stand to gain if their vision is realized. Most holders, he assumes, will have already started selling their tokens—too early, he adds. “What I think would be bad is if an early crew had a lot of control over the protocol,” he says, “and that’s where I think the commitment to decentralization is so cool.” Altman is referring to the World Protocol, the underlying technology upon which the Orb, Worldcoin, and World ID all rely. Tools for Humanity is developing it, but has committed to giving control to its users over time—a process they say will prevent power from being concentrated in the hands of a few executives or investors. Tools for Humanity would remain a for-profit company, and could levy fees on platforms that use World ID, but other companies would be able to compete for customers by building alternative apps—or even alternative Orbs. The plan draws on ideas that animated the crypto ecosystem in the late 2010s and early 2020s, when evangelists for emerging blockchain technologies argued that the centralization of power—especially in large so-called “Web 2.0” tech companies—was responsible for many of the problems plaguing the modern Internet. Just as decentralized cryptocurrencies could reform a financial system controlled by economic elites, so too would it be possible to create decentralized organizations, run by their members instead of CEOs. How such a system might work in practice remains unclear. “Building a community-based governance system,” Tools for Humanity says in a 2023 white paper, “represents perhaps the most formidable challenge of the entire project.”Altman has a pattern of making idealistic promises that shift over time. He founded OpenAI as a nonprofit in 2015, with a mission to develop AGI safely and for the benefit of all humanity. To raise money, OpenAI restructured itself as a for-profit company in 2019, but with overall control still in the hands of its nonprofit board. Last year, Altman proposed yet another restructure—one which would dilute the board’s control and allow more profits to flow to shareholders. Why, I ask, should the public trust Tools for Humanity’s commitment to freely surrender influence and power? “I think you will just see the continued decentralization via the protocol,” he says. “The value here is going to live in the network, and the network will be owned and governed by a lot of people.” Altman talks less about universal basic income these days. He recently mused about an alternative, which he called “universal basic compute.” Instead of AI companies redistributing their profits, he seemed to suggest, they could instead give everyone in the world fair access to super-powerful AI. Blania tells me he recently “made the decision to stop talking” about UBI at Tools for Humanity. “UBI is one potential answer,” he says. “Just giving [people] access to the latest [AI] models and having them learn faster and better is another.” Says Altman: “I still don’t know what the right answer is. I believe we should do a better job of distribution of resources than we currently do.” When I probe the question of why people should trust him, Altman gets irritated. “I understand that you hate AI, and that’s fine,” he says. “If you want to frame it as the downside of AI is that there’s going to be a proliferation of very convincing AI systems that are pretending to be human, and we need ways to know what is really human-authorized versus not, then yeah, I think you can call that a downside of AI. It’s not how I would naturally frame it.” The phrase human-authorized hints at a tension between World ID and OpenAI’s plans for AI agents. An Internet where a World ID is required to access most services might impede the usefulness of the agents that OpenAI and others are developing. So Tools for Humanity is building a system that would allow users to delegate their World ID to an agent, allowing the bot to take actions online on their behalf, according to Tiago Sada, the company’s chief product officer. “We’ve built everything in a way that can be very easily delegatable to an agent,” Sada says. It’s a measure that would allow humans to be held accountable for the actions of their AIs. But it suggests that Tools for Humanity’s mission may be shifting beyond simply proving humanity, and toward becoming the infrastructure that enables AI agents to proliferate with human authorization. World ID doesn’t tell you whether a piece of content is AI-generated or human-generated; all it tells you is whether the account that posted it is a human or a bot. Even in a world where everybody had a World ID, our online spaces might still be filled with AI-generated text, images, and videos.As I say goodbye to Altman, I’m left feeling conflicted about his project. If the Internet is going to be transformed by AI agents, then some kind of proof-of-humanity system will almost certainly be necessary. Yet if the Orb becomes a piece of Internet infrastructure, it could give Altman—a beneficiary of the proliferation of AI content—significant influence over a leading defense mechanism against it. People might have no choice but to participate in the network in order to access social media or online services.I thought of an encounter I witnessed in Seoul. In the room above the restaurant, Cho Jeong-yeon, 75, watched her friend get verified by an Orb. Cho had been invited to do the same, but demurred. The reward wasn’t enough for her to surrender a part of her identity. “Your iris is uniquely yours, and we don’t really know how it might be used,” she says. “Seeing the machine made me think: are we becoming machines instead of humans now? Everything is changing, and we don’t know how it’ll all turn out.”—With reporting by Stephen Kim/Seoul. This story was supported by Tarbell Grants.Correction, May 30The original version of this story misstated the market capitalization of Worldcoin if all coins were in circulation. It is $12 billion, not $1.2 billion.

The housing crisis in Canada’s North, which has particularly affected the majority Indigenous population in northern communities, has been of ongoing concern to firms such as Taylor Architecture Group (TAG). Formerly known as Pin/Taylor, the firm was established in Yellowknife in 1983. TAG’s Principal, Simon Taylor, says that despite recent political gains for First Nations, “by and large, life is not improving up here.” Taylor and his colleagues have designed many different types of housing across the North. But the problems exceed the normal scope of architectural practice. TAG’s Manager of Research and Development, Kristel Derkowski, says, “We can design the units well, but it doesn’t solve many of the underlying problems.” To respond, she says, “we’ve backed up the process to look at the root causes more.” As a result, “the design challenges are informed by much broader systemic research.”  We spoke to Derkowski about her research, and the work that Taylor Architecture Group is doing to act on it. Here’s what she has to say. Inadequate housing from the start The Northwest Territories is about 51% Indigenous. Most non-Indigenous people are concentrated in the capital city of Yellowknife. Outside of Yellowknife, the territory is very much majority Indigenous.  The federal government got involved in delivering housing to the far North in 1959. There were problems with this program right from the beginning. One issue was that when the houses were first delivered, they were designed and fabricated down south, and they were completely inadequate for the climate. The houses from that initial program were called “Matchbox houses” because they were so small. These early stages of housing delivery helped establish the precedent that a lower standard of housing was acceptable for northern Indigenous residents compared to Euro-Canadian residents elsewhere. In many cases, that double-standard persists to this day. The houses were also inappropriately designed for northern cultures. It’s been said in the research that the way that these houses were delivered to northern settlements was a significant factor in people being divorced from their traditional lifestyles, their traditional hierarchies, the way that they understood home. It was imposing a Euro-Canadian model on Indigenous communities and their ways of life.  Part of what the federal government was trying to do was to impose a cash economy and stimulate a market. They were delivering houses and asking for rent. But there weren’t a lot of opportunities to earn cash. This housing was delivered around the sites of former fur trading posts—but the fur trade had collapsed by 1930. There weren’t a lot of jobs. There wasn’t a lot of wage-based employment. And yet, rental payments were being collected in cash, and the rental payments increased significantly over the span of a couple decades.  The imposition of a cash economy created problems culturally. It’s been said that public housing delivery, in combination with other social policies, served to introduce the concept of poverty in the far North, where it hadn’t existed before. These policies created a situation where Indigenous northerners couldn’t afford to be adequately housed, because housing demanded cash, and cash wasn’t always available. That’s a big theme that continues to persist today. Most of the territory’s communities remain “non-market”: there is no housing market. There are different kinds of economies in the North—and not all of them revolve wholly around cash. And yet government policies do. The governments’ ideas about housing do, too. So there’s a conflict there.  The federal exit from social housing After 1969, the federal government devolved housing to the territorial government. The Government of Northwest Territories created the Northwest Territories Housing Corporation. By 1974, the housing corporation took over all the stock of federal housing and started to administer it, in addition to building their own. The housing corporation was rapidly building new housing stock from 1975 up until the mid-1990s. But beginning in the early 1990s, the federal government terminated federal spending on new social housing across the whole country. A couple of years after that, they also decided to allow operational agreements with social housing providers to expire. It didn’t happen that quickly—and maybe not everybody noticed, because it wasn’t a drastic change where all operational funding disappeared immediately. But at that time, the federal government was in 25- to 50-year operational agreements with various housing providers across the country. After 1995, these long-term operating agreements were no longer being renewed—not just in the North, but everywhere in Canada.  With the housing corporation up here, that change started in 1996, and we have until 2038 before the federal contribution of operational funding reaches zero. As a result, beginning in 1996, the number of units owned by the NWT Housing Corporation plateaued. There was a little bump in housing stock after that—another 200 units or so in the early 2000s. But basically, the Northwest Territories was stuck for 25 years, from 1996 to 2021, with the same number of public housing units. In 1990, there was a report on housing in the NWT that was funded by the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC). That report noted that housing was already in a crisis state. At that time, in 1990, researchers said it would take 30 more years to meet existing housing need, if housing production continued at the current rate. The other problem is that houses were so inadequately constructed to begin with, that they generally needed replacement after 15 years. So housing in the Northwest Territories already had serious problems in 1990. Then in 1996, the housing corporation stopped building more. So if you compare the total number of social housing units with the total need for subsidized housing in the territory, you can see a severely widening gap in recent decades. We’ve seen a serious escalation in housing need. The Northwest Territories has a very, very small tax base, and it’s extremely expensive to provide services here. Most of our funding for public services comes from the federal government. The NWT on its own does not have a lot of buying power. So ever since the federal government stopped providing operational funding for housing, the territorial government has been hard-pressed to replace that funding with its own internal resources. I should probably note that this wasn’t only a problem for the Northwest Territories. Across Canada, we have seen mass homelessness visibly emerge since the ’90s. This is related, at least in part, to the federal government’s decisions to terminate funding for social housing at that time. Today’s housing crisis Getting to present-day conditions in the NWT, we now have some “market” communities and some “non-market” communities. There are 33 communities total in the NWT, and at least 27 of these don’t have a housing market: there’s no private rental market and there’s no resale market. This relates back to the conflict I mentioned before: the cash economy did not entirely take root. In simple terms, there isn’t enough local employment or income opportunity for a housing market—in conventional terms—to work.  Yellowknife is an outlier in the territory. Economic opportunity is concentrated in the capital city. We also have five other “market” communities that are regional centres for the territorial government, where more employment and economic activity take place. Across the non-market communities, on average, the rate of unsuitable or inadequate housing is about five times what it is elsewhere in Canada. Rates of unemployment are about five times what they are in Yellowknife. On top of this, the communities with the highest concentration of Indigenous residents also have the highest rates of unsuitable or inadequate housing, and also have the lowest income opportunity. These statistics clearly show that the inequalities in the territory are highly racialized.  Given the situation in non-market communities, there is a severe affordability crisis in terms of the cost to deliver housing. It’s very, very expensive to build housing here. A single detached home costs over a million dollars to build in a place like Fort Good Hope (Rádeyı̨lı̨kóé). We’re talking about a very modest three-bedroom house, smaller than what you’d typically build in the South. The million-dollar price tag on each house is a serious issue. Meanwhile, in a non-market community, the potential resale value is extremely low. So there’s a massive gap between the cost of construction and the value of the home once built—and that’s why you have no housing market. It means that private development is impossible. That’s why, until recently, only the federal and territorial governments have been building new homes in non-market communities. It’s so expensive to do, and as soon as the house is built, its value plummets.  The costs of living are also very high. According to the NWT Bureau of Statistics, the estimated living costs for an individual in Fort Good Hope are about 1.8 times what it costs to live in Edmonton. Then when it comes to housing specifically, there are further issues with operations and maintenance. The NWT is not tied into the North American hydro grid, and in most communities, electricity is produced by a diesel generator. This is extremely expensive. Everything needs to be shipped in, including fuel. So costs for heating fuel are high as well, as are the heating loads. Then, maintenance and repairs can be very difficult, and of course, very costly. If you need any specialized parts or specialized labour, you are flying those parts and those people in from down South. So to take on the costs of homeownership, on top of the costs of living—in a place where income opportunity is limited to begin with—this is extremely challenging. And from a statistical or systemic perspective, this is simply not in reach for most community members. In 2021, the NWT Housing Corporation underwent a strategic renewal and became Housing Northwest Territories. Their mandate went into a kind of flux. They started to pivot from being the primary landlord in the territory towards being a partner to other third-party housing providers, which might be Indigenous governments, community housing providers, nonprofits, municipalities. But those other organisations, in most cases, aren’t equipped or haven’t stepped forward to take on social housing. Even though the federal government is releasing capital funding for affordable housing again, northern communities can’t always capitalize on that, because the source of funding for operations remains in question. Housing in non-market communities essentially needs to be subsidized—not just in terms of construction, but also in terms of operations. But that operational funding is no longer available. I can’t stress enough how critical this issue is for the North. Fort Good Hope and “one thing that (kind of) worked” I’ll talk a bit about Fort Good Hope. I don’t want to be speaking on behalf of the community here, but I will share a bit about the realities on the ground, as a way of putting things into context.  Fort Good Hope, or Rádeyı̨lı̨kóé, is on the Mackenzie River, close to the Arctic Circle. There’s a winter road that’s open at best from January until March—the window is getting narrower because of climate change. There were also barges running each summer for material transportation, but those have been cancelled for the past two years because of droughts linked to climate change. Aside from that, it’s a fly-in community. It’s very remote. It has about 500-600 people. According to census data, less than half of those people live in what’s considered acceptable housing.  The biggest problem is housing adequacy. That’s CMHC’s term for housing in need of major repairs. This applies to about 36% of households in Fort Good Hope. In terms of ownership, almost 40% of the community’s housing stock is managed by Housing NWT. That’s a combination of public housing units and market housing units—which are for professionals like teachers and nurses. There’s also a pretty high percentage of owner-occupied units—about 46%.  The story told by the community is that when public housing arrived in the 1960s, the people were living in owner-built log homes. Federal agents arrived and they considered some of those homes to be inadequate or unacceptable, and they bulldozed those homes, then replaced some of them—but maybe not all—with public housing units. Then residents had no choice but to rent from the people who took their homes away. This was not a good way to start up a public housing system. The state of housing in Fort Good Hope Then there was an issue with the rental rates, which drastically increased over time. During a presentation to a government committee in the ’80s, a community member explained that they had initially accepted a place in public housing for a rental fee of $2 a month in 1971. By 1984, the same community member was expected to pay $267 a month. That might not sound like much in today’s terms, but it was roughly a 13,000% increase for that same tenant—and it’s not like they had any other housing options to choose from. So by that point, they’re stuck with paying whatever is asked.  On top of that, the housing units were poorly built and rapidly deteriorated. One description from that era said the walls were four inches thick, with windows oriented north, and water tanks that froze in the winter and fell through the floor. The single heating source was right next to the only door—residents were concerned about the fire hazard that obviously created. Ultimately the community said: “We don’t actually want any more public housing units. We want to go back to homeownership, which was what we had before.”  So Fort Good Hope was a leader in housing at that time and continues to be to this day. The community approached the territorial government and made a proposal: “Give us the block funding for home construction, we’ll administer it ourselves, we’ll help people build houses, and they can keep them.” That actually worked really well. That was the start of the Homeownership Assistance Program (HAP) that ran for about ten years, beginning in 1982. The program expanded across the whole territory after it was piloted in Fort Good Hope. The HAP is still spoken about and written about as the one thing that kind of worked.  Self-built log cabins remain from Fort Good Hope’s 1980s Homeownership Program (HAP). Funding was cost-shared between the federal and territorial governments. Through the program, material packages were purchased for clients who were deemed eligible. The client would then contribute their own sweat equity in the form of hauling logs and putting in time on site. They had two years to finish building the house. Then, as long as they lived in that home for five more years, the loan would be forgiven, and they would continue owning the house with no ongoing loan payments. In some cases, there were no mechanical systems provided as part of this package, but the residents would add to the house over the years. A lot of these units are still standing and still lived in today. Many of them are comparatively well-maintained in contrast with other types of housing—for example, public housing units. It’s also worth noting that the one-time cost of the materials package was—from the government’s perspective—only a fraction of the cost to build and maintain a public housing unit over its lifespan. At the time, it cost about $50,000 to $80,000 to build a HAP home, whereas the lifetime cost of a public housing unit is in the order of $2,000,000. This program was considered very successful in many places, especially in Fort Good Hope. It created about 40% of their local housing stock at that time, which went from about 100 units to about 140. It’s a small community, so that’s quite significant.  What were the successful principles? The community-based decision-making power to allocate the funding. The sweat equity component, which brought homeownership within the range of being attainable for people—because there wasn’t cash needing to be transferred, when the cash wasn’t available. Local materials—they harvested the logs from the land, and the fact that residents could maintain the homes themselves. The Fort Good Hope Construction Centre. Rendering by Taylor Architecture Group The Fort Good Hope Construction Centre The HAP ended the same year that the federal government terminated new spending on social housing. By the late 1990s, the creation of new public housing stock or new homeownership units had gone down to negligible levels. But more recently, things started to change. The federal government started to release money to build affordable housing. Simultaneously, Indigenous governments are working towards Self-Government and settling their Land Claims. Federal funds have started to flow directly to Indigenous groups. Given these changes, the landscape of Northern housing has started to evolve. In 2016, Fort Good Hope created the K’asho Got’ine Housing Society, based on the precedent of the 1980s Fort Good Hope Housing Society. They said: “We did this before, maybe we can do it again.” The community incorporated a non-profit and came up with a five-year plan to meet housing need in their community. One thing the community did right away was start up a crew to deliver housing maintenance and repairs. This is being run by Ne’Rahten Developments Ltd., which is the business arm of Yamoga Land Corporation (the local Indigenous Government). Over the span of a few years, they built up a crew of skilled workers. Then Ne’Rahten started thinking, “Why can’t we do more? Why can’t we build our own housing?” They identified a need for a space where people could work year-round, and first get training, then employment, in a stable all-season environment. This was the initial vision for the Fort Good Hope Construction Centre, and this is where TAG got involved. We had some seed funding through the CMHC Housing Supply Challenge when we partnered with Fort Good Hope. We worked with the community for over a year to get the capital funding lined up for the project. This process required us to take on a different role than the one you typically would as an architect. It wasn’t just schematic-design-to-construction-administration. One thing we did pretty early on was a housing design workshop that was open to the whole community, to start understanding what type of housing people would really want to see. Another piece was a lot of outreach and advocacy to build up support for the project and partnerships—for example, with Housing Northwest Territories and Aurora College. We also reached out to our federal MP, the NWT Legislative Assembly and different MLAs, and we talked to a lot of different people about the link between employment and housing. The idea was that the Fort Good Hope Construction Centre would be a demonstration project. Ultimately, funding did come through for the project—from both CMHC and National Indigenous Housing Collaborative Inc. The facility itself will not be architecturally spectacular. It’s basically a big shed where you could build a modular house. But the idea is that the construction of those houses is combined with training, and it creates year-round indoor jobs. It intends to combat the short construction seasons, and the fact that people would otherwise be laid off between projects—which makes it very hard to progress with your training or your career. At the same time, the Construction Centre will build up a skilled labour force that otherwise wouldn’t exist—because when there’s no work, skilled people tend to leave the community. And, importantly, the idea is to keep capital funding in the community. So when there’s a new arena that needs to get built, when there’s a new school that needs to get built, you have a crew of people who are ready to take that on. Rather than flying in skilled labourers, you actually have the community doing it themselves. It’s working towards self-determination in housing too, because if those modular housing units are being built in the community, by community members, then eventually they’re taking over design decisions and decisions about maintenance—in a way that hasn’t really happened for decades. Transitional homeownership My research also looked at a transitional homeownership model that adapts some of the successful principles of the 1980s HAP. Right now, in non-market communities, there are serious gaps in the housing continuum—that is, the different types of housing options available to people. For the most part, you have public housing, and you have homelessness—mostly in the form of hidden homelessness, where people are sleeping on the couches of relatives. Then, in some cases, you have inherited homeownership—where people got homes through the HAP or some other government program. But for the most part, not a lot of people in non-market communities are actually moving into homeownership anymore. I asked the local housing manager in Fort Good Hope: “When’s the last time someone built a house in the community?” She said, “I can only think of one person. It was probably about 20 years ago, and that person actually went to the bank and got a mortgage. If people have a home, it’s usually inherited from their parents or from relatives.” And that situation is a bit of a problem in itself, because it means that people can’t move out of public housing. Public housing traps you in a lot of ways. For example, it punishes employment, because rent is geared to income. It’s been said many times that this model disincentivizes employment. I was in a workshop last year where an Indigenous person spoke up and said, “Actually, it’s not disincentivizing, it punishes employment. It takes things away from you.” Somebody at the territorial housing corporation in Yellowknife told me, “We have clients who are over the income threshold for public housing, but there’s nowhere else they can go.” Theoretically, they would go to the private housing market, they would go to market housing, or they would go to homeownership, but those options don’t exist or they aren’t within reach.  So the idea with the transitional homeownership model is to create an option that could allow the highest income earners in a non-market community to move towards homeownership. This could take some pressure off the public housing system. And it would almost be like a wealth distribution measure: people who are able to afford the cost of operating and maintaining a home then have that option, instead of remaining in government-subsidized housing. For those who cannot, the public housing system is still an option—and maybe a few more public housing units are freed up.  I’ve developed about 36 recommendations for a transitional homeownership model in northern non-market communities. The recommendations are meant to be actioned at various scales: at the scale of the individual household, the scale of the housing provider, and the scale of the whole community. The idea is that if you look at housing as part of a whole system, then there are certain moves that might make sense here—in a non-market context especially—that wouldn’t make sense elsewhere. So for example, we’re in a situation where a house doesn’t appreciate in value. It’s not a financial asset, it’s actually a financial liability, and it’s something that costs a lot to maintain over the years. Giving someone a house in a non-market community is actually giving them a burden, but some residents would be quite willing to take this on, just to have an option of getting out of public housing. It just takes a shift in mindset to start considering solutions for that kind of context. One particularly interesting feature of non-market communities is that they’re still functioning with a mixed economy: partially a subsistence-based or traditional economy, and partially a cash economy. I think that’s actually a strength that hasn’t been tapped into by territorial and federal policies. In the far North, in-kind and traditional economies are still very much a way of life. People subsidize their groceries with “country food,” which means food that was harvested from the land. And instead of paying for fuel tank refills in cash, many households in non-market communities are burning wood as their primary heat source. In communities south of the treeline, like Fort Good Hope, that wood is also harvested from the land. Despite there being no exchange of cash involved, these are critical economic activities—and they are also part of a sustainable, resilient economy grounded in local resources and traditional skills. This concept of the mixed economy could be tapped into as part of a housing model, by bringing back the idea of a ‘sweat equity’ contribution instead of a down payment—just like in the HAP. Contributing time and labour is still an economic exchange, but it bypasses the ‘cash’ part—the part that’s still hard to come by in a non-market community. Labour doesn’t have to be manual labour, either. There are all kinds of work that need to take place in a community: maybe taking training courses and working on projects at the Construction Centre, maybe helping out at the Band Office, or providing childcare services for other working parents—and so on. So it could be more inclusive than a model that focuses on manual labour. Another thing to highlight is a rent-to-own trial period. Not every client will be equipped to take on the burdens of homeownership. So you can give people a trial period. If it doesn’t work out and they can’t pay for operations and maintenance, they could continue renting without losing their home. Then it’s worth touching on some basic design principles for the homeownership units. In the North, the solutions that work are often the simplest—not the most technologically innovative. When you’re in a remote location, specialized replacement parts and specialized labour are both difficult to come by. And new technologies aren’t always designed for extreme climates—especially as we trend towards the digital. So rather than installing technologically complex, high-efficiency systems, it actually makes more sense to build something that people are comfortable with, familiar with, and willing to maintain. In a southern context, people suggest solutions like solar panels to manage energy loads. But in the North, the best thing you can do for energy is put a woodstove in the house. That’s something we’ve heard loud and clear in many communities. Even if people can’t afford to fill their fuel tank, they’re still able to keep chopping wood—or their neighbour is, or their brother, or their kid, and so on. It’s just a different way of looking at things and a way of bringing things back down to earth, back within reach of community members.  Regulatory barriers to housing access: Revisiting the National Building Code On that note, there’s one more project I’ll touch on briefly. TAG is working on a research study, funded by Housing, Infrastructure and Communities Canada, which looks at regulatory barriers to housing access in the North. The National Building Code (NBC) has evolved largely to serve the southern market context, where constraints and resources are both very different than they are up here. Technical solutions in the NBC are based on assumptions that, in some cases, simply don’t apply in northern communities. Here’s a very simple example: minimum distance to a fire hydrant. Most of our communities don’t have fire hydrants at all. We don’t have municipal services. The closest hydrant might be thousands of kilometres away. So what do we do instead? We just have different constraints to consider. That’s just one example but there are many more. We are looking closely at the NBC, and we are also working with a couple of different communities in different situations. The idea is to identify where there are conflicts between what’s regulated and what’s actually feasible, viable, and practical when it comes to on-the-ground realities. Then we’ll look at some alternative solutions for housing. The idea is to meet the intent of the NBC, but arrive at some technical solutions that are more practical to build, easier to maintain, and more appropriate for northern communities.  All of the projects I’ve just described are fairly recent, and very much still ongoing. We’ll see how it all plays out. I’m sure we’re going to run into a lot of new barriers and learn a lot more on the way, but it’s an incremental trial-and-error process. Even with the Construction Centre, we’re saying that this is a demonstration project, but how—or if—it rolls out in other communities would be totally community-dependent, and it could look very, very different from place to place.  In doing any research on Northern housing, one of the consistent findings is that there is no one-size-fits-all solution. Northern communities are not all the same. There are all kinds of different governance structures, different climates, ground conditions, transportation routes, different population sizes, different people, different cultures. Communities are Dene, Métis, Inuvialuit, as well as non-Indigenous, all with different ways of being. One-size-fits-all solutions don’t work—they never have. And the housing crisis is complex, and it’s difficult to unravel. So we’re trying to move forward with a few different approaches, maybe in a few different places, and we’re hoping that some communities, some organizations, or even some individual people, will see some positive impacts.  As appeared in the June 2025 issue of Canadian Architect magazine  The post Insites: Addressing the Northern housing crisis appeared first on Canadian Architect.

Earlier this month, the father of a wealthy cryptocurrency entrepreneur was abducted in Paris while walking his dog. The attackers, wearing balaclavas, forced him into a van, later severing one of his fingers and sending a video of the mutilation to his son alongside a demand for millions of euros in ransom. The incident joined a growing list of violent crimes in France linked to crypto wealth. Victims have included a prominent entrepreneur and his wife who were held hostage, a man doused in petrol, and a child targeted in an attempted abduction. As fear spreads within France’s crypto community, some industry figures are accusing the EU’s landmark digital asset regulations of exposing holders to greater risk. Their concerns centre on the transparency requirements, which could make it easier to track down crypto owners. However, other insiders argue that the EU rules make a convenient scapegoat. Stanislas Barthélemi, president of the French crypto lobbying group ADAN, told the New York Times this week that the rules may inadvertently have put holders in danger. By creating a traceable digital footprint, he said, criminals could potentially monitor blockchain activity to identify wealthy targets. Register Now Alexandre Stachchenko, director of strategy at French crypto exchange Paymium, echoed the concern. He said the industry “wants to be discrete and anonymous,” but EU law “tells us it’s criminal.” Yet others in the industry dispute the claim that the EU’s regulations have played a role in the surge in attacks. ‘Strategic deflection’ Marit Rødevand, CEO & co-founder of Norwegian anti-money laundering firm Strise, said there was “little evidence” of a connection between the union’s rules and crypto kidnappings.  “While it is easy for champions of crypto to postulate that the increased physical attacks on those operating in the space are a product of regulations, this is both reductive and a strategic deflection away from legitimate security concerns,” she said. According to Rødevand, it is just as likely that information about potential targets was accessed through hacks, social media exposure, or publicity. Many crypto entrepreneurs are also prominent influencers.  Christopher Whitehouse, a crypto expert and solicitor at London-based law firm RPC, also made no connection. Instead, he said those holding high amounts of cryptocurrency were “obvious targets.” “The recent surge in crypto-motivated kidnappings in France is alarming but not surprising,” Whitehouse told TNW.  He noted that cryptocurrencies have several features that make them attractive for ransom. They can be transferred instantly, are difficult to trace if moved by sophisticated criminals, and lack the safeguards of traditional bank accounts. Traditional currency, in contrast, can be tracked via serial numbers.  Exploiting human vulnerability The recent violence in France, while brutal, is also not anything new. According to data compiled by crypto security advocate Jameson Lopp, over 200 physical attacks against Bitcoin and cryptocurrency holders have been reported since 2014. Some have been fatal.   Matt Green, head of blockchain technology disputes at London law firm Lawrence Stephens, contends that the violence boils down to criminals exploiting the weakest link in the crypto chain: people.    “The only thing stopping criminals [from] gaining access is human error or force, so kidnapping aims to break down the integrity of that human-led security,” he told TNW. To protect themselves, some high-wealth crypto holders have beefed up their personal security, including hiring bodyguards.  Green suggests another layer of protection: multisignature wallets, a type of crypto wallet that requires multiple users to perform certain tasks, such as making transfers.  Just as some shops display signs saying no cash is kept on premises, crypto holders would do well to make it clear that a single individual cannot access funds, Green said. Story by Siôn Geschwindt Siôn is a freelance science and technology reporter, specialising in climate and energy. From nuclear fusion breakthroughs to electric vehic (show all) Siôn is a freelance science and technology reporter, specialising in climate and energy. From nuclear fusion breakthroughs to electric vehicles, he's happiest sourcing a scoop, investigating the impact of emerging technologies, and even putting them to the test. He has five years of journalism experience and holds a dual degree in media and environmental science from the University of Cape Town, South Africa. When he's not writing, you can probably find Siôn out hiking, surfing, playing the drums or catering to his moderate caffeine addiction. You can contact him at: sion.geschwindt [at] protonmail [dot] com Get the TNW newsletter Get the most important tech news in your inbox each week.

The Swiss Federal Railways’ repair works in Zürich are being lightly transformed for new commercial uses Workers at the Swiss Federal Railways’ (SBB) central repair works in Zürich used to climb the roof of its halls and practise handstands. It was as good a place as any to do gymnastics: out in the open air, with a view to the Käferberg rising across from a tangle of railway tracks and the river Limmat. A photograph from 1947 survives in the SBB archives, showing a light turf growing on the roof – most of the buildings that make up the works had been constructed about 30 years earlier, between 1906 and 1910 – and a group of young apprentices exercising under the stern supervision of a foreman. The photograph captures the beginning of the repair works’ heyday. SBB was formed in 1902, the result of an 1898 referendum to nationalise the nine major private railway companies operating in Switzerland at the time. The construction of the Zürich repair works began soon after, with an office building, a workers’ canteen, shower rooms, workshops, stores and carriage halls laid out across a 42,000m2 site flanked by Hohlstrasse to the south‑west and the railway tracks connecting Zürich Central and Altstetten stations to the north‑east. Here, rolling stock could easily be redirected to the works, and transferred into its functional, skylit brick halls with the use of a lateral transfer platform.  In the postwar decades, the works came to employ upwards of 800 staff, and served as the SBB’s main repair works, or Hauptwerkstätte – there were smaller ones in Bellinzona, Chur, Yverdon-les-Bains and other locations, established by the private railway firms before nationalisation. In the same period, SBB gained international fame for its early electrification drive – the landlocked confederation lacks fossil fuel deposits but has hydropower aplenty – and modern industrial design. The Swiss railway clock, designed in 1944 by SBB employee Hans Hilfiker, is now used in transit systems around the world, and the network’s adoption of Helvetica for its graphic identity in 1978 contributed to the widespread popularisation of the typeface – long before the first iPhone.  At the turn of the millennium, SBB was turned into a joint‑stock company. All shares are owned by the state and the Swiss cantons, but the new company structure allowed the network to behave more like a private enterprise. Part of this restructuring was an appraisal of the network’s sizable real-estate holdings, which a new division, SBB Immobilien, was set up to manage in 2003. Around the same time, the Hauptwerkstätte in Zürich was downgraded to a ‘repair centre’, and plans were drawn up to develop the site, which was vast, central and fashionably post‑industrial – and so ripe for profitable exploitation. The revenue generated by SBB Immobilien has only become more important to the network since then, as its pension fund – long beset by market volatility and continuous restructurings – relies heavily on it. When, in 2017, SBB and the city and canton of Zürich organised a competition for the redevelopment of the old repair works, Swiss architecture practice Baubüro In Situ was selected as winner ‘for its expertise in adaptive reuse, sustainable circular practices and participatory approach’, says an SBB Immobilien spokesperson. For SBB, it was important that the redevelopment, now dubbed Werkstadt Zürich, made use of the railways’ enormous catalogue of existing materials and components. (SBB even has its own online resale platform, where, for example, four tonnes of gravel, a disused train carriage or a stud welding machine can be acquired for a reasonable sum.) For the canton, it was imperative that the scheme make room for local manufacturing in line with a broader drive to bring production back into a city dominated by services.  Founded in Basel by Barbara Buser and Eric Honegger in 1998, Baubüro In Situ (previously Baubüro Mitte) was in a unique position to meet such a brief, as it operates alongside what it terms its three ‘sister companies’: Unterdessen (founded in 2004, to organise ‘meanwhile’ uses for buildings and sites), Zirkular (established in 2020, focusing on materials and circular construction), and Denkstatt Sàrl, an urban think tank run by Buser and Honegger together with Tabea Michaelis and Pascal Biedermann. All informed the masterplan for Werkstadt Zürich, which will complete its first phase this year.  The Zürich offices of the four companies have been housed in various spaces on the repair works site since 2017, while the project has been ongoing. For the past year, they have had a permanent home on a new mezzanine level constructed around the internal perimeter of the works’ cathedral‑like carriage hall. This level is accessed via two central staircases composed of reused components from SBB’s network – I‑beams of various profiles, timber, metal tube railings – which, as has become a trademark of Baubüro In Situ’s work, come together in an artfully mismatched whole. ‘The main thing this office does is as little as possible,’ says Vanessa Gerotto, an interior architect at the firm. SBB still uses parts of the site, as is evident from train tracks that crisscross it. ‘They do repairs in some of the halls,’ explains Gerotto. ‘But they have reorganised, relocated and compacted their repair sites,’ so that approximately 18,450m2 have been freed up for commercial use at Werkstadt Zürich, including a swathe of units in the carriage hall. Here, as in other areas where they are no longer needed, SBB’s tracks have been retained but filled in with concrete and smoothed over.  Businesses have slowly filled Werkstadt Zürich as new units have been completed, and are mostly rarefied, small‑scale producers of luxury consumables: there is a chocolatier, a granola‑maker, a micro‑brewery, a gin distillery and a coffee roastery, as well as a manufacturer of coffee machines. The first commercial tenant, however, was somewhat more in keeping with the original programme of the site: the Swiss outdoor equipment brand Transa moved its repair workshop into one of the spaces in Werkstadt Zürich’s magazine building, to the south of the site, in 2023. Here, a team of 13 craftspeople repair and waterproof Gore-Tex clothing, backpacks, tents and sleeping bags that individual customers either drop off or mail to them, or that official partnering brands send directly to the centre.  ‘The Transa team is currently working on a new set of curtains for the Baubüro In Situ’s offices across the yard’ This part of Werkstadt Zürich was also the first to be renovated. Baubüro In Situ, working closely with colleagues at Zirkular, undertook a substantial interior fit‑out of the triple-height space, located in the western part of the magazine wing. A new timber mezzanine was added to maximise use of the space for the client, who did not require a double-height ground floor space. This was designed to be structurally independent from the shell of the building, so that the listed structure was not impacted.  However, the weight of the mezzanine necessitated new foundations, which needed to support a load of 100kN per timber support. There were not any suitable concrete elements available on site at Werkstadt Zürich, so the teams opted for what Zirkular architect Blanca Gardelegui admits was an ‘experimental’ move, reusing concrete from a demolition site in Winterthur. Here, slabs were cut using a diamond blade saw and stacked on site using a crane. ‘Additional work,’ explains Pascal Angehrn, architect at Baubüro In Situ, ‘came from the temporary storage of the blocks,’ and their transport. Once the blocks had been fitted into place, new concrete nevertheless had to be poured around the timber supports. This meant that, although efforts were made to reuse a wide variety of components and fittings – heaters, doors, plumbing fixtures, lights and stone windowsills – the fit‑out did not meet the architects’ own best‑case scenario of 50 per cent greenhouse gas savings, compared with using new materials and components for the renovation. Instead, they calculated the savings to sit at around 17 per cent. ‘Concrete is one of the most challenging materials to recycle,’ says Gardelegui. ‘The idea is not to do something perfectly, but to learn from the process.’ Finally, the teams introduced a wide staircase into the centre of the space, using the timber from the cut-out mezzanine flooring to make up its steps. Upon moving in, the staff at Transa’s repair centre embraced the architects’ spirit of reuse, creating their own furniture from pallets, and uplholstering with insulation cut‑offs. Tobias Stump, a member of staff at the centre, explains that their team is currently working on a new set of curtains for Baubüro In Situ’s offices across the yard.  ‘The idea is not to do something perfectly, but to learn from the process’ Werkstadt Zürich has the atmosphere of a creative testing ground, where materials get shifted around and reconfigured as needs and uses change. There is genuine camaraderie among the new commercial tenants: they make curtains for each other; organise monthly ‘open factory’ days; and have even recreated the 1947 photograph of the gymnasts on the roof. But antics on the roof may not be viable much longer. The next phase of Werkstadt Zürich involves the construction of vertical extensions atop the halls and magazine wing, densifying the site for further financial gain. Bland, brand new residential towers loom just off site, a little further up Hohlstrasse. Altstetten is gentrifying rapidly, part of the city’s continual remaking of itself.

Earlier this month, the father of a wealthy cryptocurrency entrepreneur was abducted in Paris while walking his dog. The attackers, wearing balaclavas, forced him into a van, later severing one of his fingers and sending a video of the mutilation to his son alongside a demand for millions of euros in ransom. The incident joined a growing list of violent crimes in France linked to crypto wealth. Victims have included a prominent entrepreneur and his wife who were held hostage, a man doused in petrol, and a child targeted in an attempted abduction. As fear spreads within France’s crypto community, some industry figures are accusing the EU’s landmark digital asset regulations of exposing holders to greater risk. Their concerns centre on the transparency requirements, which could make it easier to track down crypto owners. However, other insiders argue that the EU rules make a convenient scapegoat. Stanislas Barthélemi, president of the French crypto lobbying group ADAN, told the New York Times this week that the rules may inadvertently have put holders in danger. By creating a traceable digital footprint, he said, criminals could potentially monitor blockchain activity to identify wealthy targets. Alexandre Stachchenko, director of strategy at French crypto exchange Paymium, echoed the concern. He said the industry “wants to be discrete and anonymous,” but EU law “tells us it’s criminal.” Register Now Yet others in the industry dispute the claim that the EU’s regulations have played a role in the surge in attacks. ‘Strategic deflection’ Marit Rødevand, CEO & co-founder of Norwegian anti-money laundering firm Strise, said there was “little evidence” of a connection between the union’s rules and crypto kidnappings.  “While it is easy for champions of crypto to postulate that the increased physical attacks on those operating in the space are a product of regulations, this is both reductive and a strategic deflection away from legitimate security concerns,” she said. According to Rødevand, it is just as likely that information about potential targets was accessed through hacks, social media exposure, or publicity. Many crypto entrepreneurs are also prominent influencers.  Christopher Whitehouse, a crypto expert and solicitor at London-based law firm RPC, also made no connection. Instead, he said those holding high amounts of cryptocurrency were “obvious targets.” “The recent surge in crypto-motivated kidnappings in France is alarming but not surprising,” Whitehouse told TNW.  He noted that cryptocurrencies have several features that make them attractive for ransom. They can be transferred instantly, are difficult to trace if moved by sophisticated criminals, and lack the safeguards of traditional bank accounts. Traditional currency, in contrast, can be tracked via serial numbers.  Exploiting human vulnerability The recent violence in France, while brutal, is also not anything new. According to data compiled by crypto security advocate Jameson Lopp, over 200 physical attacks against Bitcoin and cryptocurrency holders have been reported since 2014. Some have been fatal.   Matt Green, head of blockchain technology disputes at London law firm Lawrence Stephens, contends that the violence boils down to criminals exploiting the weakest link in the crypto chain: people.    “The only thing stopping criminals [from] gaining access is human error or force, so kidnapping aims to break down the integrity of that human-led security,” he told TNW. To protect themselves, some high-wealth crypto holders have beefed up their personal security, including hiring bodyguards.  Green suggests another layer of protection: multisignature wallets, a type of crypto wallet that requires multiple users to perform certain tasks, such as making transfers.  Just as some shops display signs saying no cash is kept on premises, crypto holders would do well to make it clear that a single individual cannot access funds, Green said. Story by Siôn Geschwindt Siôn is a freelance science and technology reporter, specialising in climate and energy. From nuclear fusion breakthroughs to electric vehic (show all) Siôn is a freelance science and technology reporter, specialising in climate and energy. From nuclear fusion breakthroughs to electric vehicles, he's happiest sourcing a scoop, investigating the impact of emerging technologies, and even putting them to the test. He has five years of journalism experience and holds a dual degree in media and environmental science from the University of Cape Town, South Africa. When he's not writing, you can probably find Siôn out hiking, surfing, playing the drums or catering to his moderate caffeine addiction. You can contact him at: sion.geschwindt [at] protonmail [dot] com Get the TNW newsletter Get the most important tech news in your inbox each week.

All images courtesy of the artists, shared with permission Paper Sculptures Encounter Otherworldly Happenings in This Uncanny Animated Short Film A day like any other takes an unexpected turn for the paper characters of Shotaro Kitada and Hoji Tsuchiya’s new animation. The filmmakers collaborated on a music video for a track called “Prime” from Japanese saxophonist Tamoaki Baba’s 2024 album, Electric Rider. Constructing a world of paper cutouts and sculptures, Kitada and Tsuchiya worked remotely to make the experimental short film, never meeting in person due to their geographic distance. Tsuchiya would often provide backgrounds by using stop-motion, then Kitada would bring his sculptures to life through live-action techniques. The process required some initial trial and error and eventually came together through improvisation, which the artists liken to a musical jam session. “My three-dimensional works convey a sense of ‘reality’ that drawings or computer graphics cannot replicate,” Kitada says, “yet they evoke a sense of dissonance due to their awkward movements, unique scale, and homogeneous world.” Relatable scenes of a gas station, a sheriff on patrol, or a duo playing chess on a bench are met with a tinge of nostalgia and stilted movements, but as the film carries on, people begin disappearing by way of inexplicable phenomena. An enigmatic, high-strung character and a mysterious beverage may have something to do with it. Filmed digitally, the video was transferred to film to enhance the work’s “tactile quality,” Kitada says. In some scenes, we can see a piece of fishing line lifting a limb, while in others, stop-motion allows figures to move on their own. Get carried away with more projects on Kitada’s website, and see more from Tsuchiya on his site. Next article

We may earn a commission from links on this page.For a property owner, paint is an incredibly powerful tool. It’s a cheap and effective renovation in a can, a fun way to add some personality to your home, and a project that can be wrapped up in a weekend. Best of all, if you mess up your paint job, you can just paint over your mistakes.But the power of paint goes way beyond aesthetics. Paint can be formulated in different ways, with different effects, making it an easy, low-cost solution to a host of problems you might experience in your home—and I'm not talking about covering them up to pretend they aren't there. Choosing the right kind of paint can often be the most affordable solution, and is worth considering before you start taking out home equity loans to pay for a more invasive, disruptive fix. Here are eight problems that you might be able to take care of with the right paint.Slippery floors and stairsWhen I first moved into my current home, I slipped on our narrow, steep old stairs. I didn’t get seriously hurt, unless humiliation and emotional damage counts—but I could easily imagine a different outcome. Since changing the rise of the stairs was out of the question and my wife and I weren’t into carpeting, we decided to paint them with anti-slip paint. The stairs that tried to kill me, now coated in anti-slip paint. Credit: Jeff Somers It worked perfectly. Not only did the paint job turn out great, making the stairs look new, the slight grit the paint added to the surface means I haven’t slipped on those stairs in years. Anti-slip paint can be used indoors or outdoors (on slippery deck planks, for example), and on just about any surface—companies even make additives you can mix into any exterior or interior paint to transform it into anti-slip paint. If there are places in your home where you constantly worry about slipping and falling, a coat of anti-slip paint can take care of them.Cosmetic imperfectionsYou might think that covering imperfections like minor scratches, stains, or that hideous green color the previous owner used is the whole point of paint, and you would be right. But if the wall in question is especially problematic and you want to avoid re-doing the drywall or plaster or the tedious work of adding a skim coat, you might be able to hide those imperfections with a high-opacity trade paint. A trade paint is a professional formulation of paint that’s designed to be thicker and more opaque while offering better coverage and durability (you might see this referred to as “obliterating paint,” especially outside the U.S.). The paint you buy in the store is retail paint, and it’s usually formulated to keep costs down. Trade paint is for the professionals, and it costs more, but will do a much better job of covering up the sins on your walls because of its thickness, matte finish, and opacity.NoiseIf the problem in your house is noise—whether from inconsiderate neighbors or roommates from hell—a sound-deadening acoustic paint will definitely help. These paints are formulated to be thick and spongy when they cure, absorbing sound and reducing echo—no need to attach all kinds of foam baffles to every surface.Sound deadening paint won’t block all sound, especially if it’s only applied on one side of a wall. But it will reduce the level of noise that makes it through, and if you apply it to both sides of shared walls in sufficient thickness (you usually need at least three coats for maximum effectiveness) it will make an audible difference.Fire riskYour house burning down would definitely fall under the category of a “house problem.” Believe it or not, paint can help with that. Choosing a fire-retardant paint for your next interior paint project can turn your walls into firebreaks that will slow down a house fire. When these paints encounter fire, they quickly char over, forming a protective layer that resists the flames. It won’t completely stop the spread of a fire in your house, but it will buy you time to get your family to safety and call in the firefighters—and in a house fire, time is the most important factor.High utility billsIf your house is crazy expensive to heat or cool (or, if you’re really lucky, crazy expensive to heat and cool), you can make the situation a little better with paint in two ways:Paint your roof. Painting your flat roof with an appropriate roof coating can not only extend the lifespan of your roof, it can help bounce the sun’s rays away, lowering the temperature of your roof and reducing the heat that’s transferred to your home as a result. (Choosing a white paint for this job will be the most effective in cooling things down.)Use an insulating interior paint. Insulating paint is designed to augment existing insulation in your home—you can’t just slap a coat of it on an uninsulated wall or ceiling and get results. But it can help reduce temperature transfer and fluctuation inside your home if it’s applied correctly and in multiple coats (the more coats, the better it will work). If you’ve tried everything else to get your utility bills under control, throwing some insulating paint on the walls might help.Too-small roomsIt happens: You buy a house with loads of charm, and once you’re living in it you realize that the rooms are actually small and dark, because the people who built it were short and afraid of the Sun. Or something. If that’s your problem, you can try a bunch of different strategies to get more natural light into a room (or fake it), and one of the tricks you can try is paint: By choosing the right color intensity, saturation, and finish for your walls and ceilings, you can turn a small, dark space into a brighter one that at least seems larger. No, paint won’t suddenly make that huge armoire fit into your tiny bedroom, but it will at least make it feel possible.Moisture and moldIf you’re worried about a damp room and mold, or have a bathroom that isn’t well-ventilated and is thus susceptible to mold infestations, paint can help you out in two ways:Waterproofing paint or primer can help block moisture from seeping into the room in the first place. This isn’t magic—it’s not going to stop flowing water, and if you don’t take steps to mitigate flooding or poor drainage in or around your house no amount of waterproofing paint is going to help. But it can be very effective at reducing moisture in a room if applied correctly.Mold-resistant paint in damp areas like bathrooms, basements, or any room where the humidity is a concern can then help prevent mold from taking root. These paints have antimicrobial properties, so if you start off with a mold-free room and take steps to reduce moisture, using a mold-resistant paint will make a huge difference going forward.

Fantasy Life i: The Girl Who Steals Time is out, and it's already quite popular. In light of this, Level-5 has announced some free DLC is on the way, in recognition of the new Fantasy Life's positive reception.Announced on the Level-5 site, the developer has confirmed free DLC is coming to Fantasy Life i. While no release date is set yet, the team is teasing some new recipes, as well as new content to "update the world" (via Gematsu). It will also apparently allow players to utilize high-rarity weapons obtained from Treasure Groves and other sources.Fantasy Life i: The Girl Who Steals Time went live for early access on May 18, with its full launch on May 21. It quickly climbed the Steam charts and started drawing players in, whether they were on the look-out for a new life-sim game or just eager for a new Fantasy Life game.PlayLevel-5's latest sits at a 'Very Positive' user review rating on Steam at the moment with over 3,000 reviews, and given the early confirmation of free DLC, it seems like the new game has certainly taken off.It feels like a solid win for Level-5, even after the departure of Keiji Inafune last year to "reassess and restructure" the project. Business operations of Level-5 Comcept were transferred to the parent company after Inafune left. In a post from March 2025, Level-5 boss Akihiro Hino described Inafune's departure as an "unexpected challenge."Fantasy Life i has taken off though, which hopefully bodes well for the rest of Level-5's roster of upcoming games. The studio announced a slew of games in a February 2023 Nintendo Direct, and while some have released, others are still in development. The yet-to-be-released games include some heavy hitters, like futuristic detective RPG DecaPolice and the next installment in the Professor Layton series, Professor Layton and the New World of Steam.While we wait to see when and how those games land, at least Fantasy Life i: The Girl Who Steals Time players have some more chill life updates to look forward to. If you're currently playing Fantasy Life i, make sure to head over to our Fantasy Life i Gift Codes hub, where we're cataloguing all the Gift Codes and how to redeem them for some in-game goodies.Eric is a freelance writer for IGN.

The Smithsonian Transfers Rare 2,300-Year-Old Silk Manuscripts to China The Zidanku Silk Manuscripts were smuggled into the United States in the 1940s. Scholars say they provide remarkable insights into ancient Chinese philosophy and religion Newly transferred fragments of the Zidanku Silk Manuscripts on view in Beijing on May 18 Fu Tian / China News Service / VCG via Getty Images In the early hours of May 18, an airplane touched down in Beijing carrying precious cargo: fragile fragments of 2,300-year-old philosophical texts, which were making a long-awaited homecoming. The Zidanku Silk Manuscripts arrived from Washington, D.C., where the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Asian Art (NMAA) had formally deaccessioned them several days earlier during a ceremony at the Chinese Embassy. The museum transferred the artifacts to China’s National Cultural Heritage Administration, ending their 79-year voyage overseas. “As a museum of Asian art, much of our work engages with cultures around the globe,” Chase F. Robinson, the director of the museum, tells Smithsonian magazine in an email. “We value the work that we do with our international partners. These relationships allow us to serve as a global and national resource for understanding the arts and cultures of Asia and their interaction with America, past and present.” The museum acquired the manuscripts in 1992, when it received fragments known as Volumes II and III in a bamboo basket as a gift from an anonymous donor. Volume I is privately owned and was not included in the recent transfer. Dating to around 300 B.C.E., the Zidanku Manuscripts are the oldest known silk manuscripts found in China and the only ones from the Warring States period. They’re thought to be a divination guide that offers rare insights into ancient Chinese philosophy and religion. Fragments of Volumes II and III of the Zidanku Silk Manuscripts National Museum of Asian Art, Smithsonian Institution Volume II, also known as “Wuxing Ling,” contains lunar calendar illustrations and accompanying text that explains “seasonal taboos and auspicious practices,” per the Chinese news agency Xinhua. The texts in Volume III, or “Gongshou Zhan,” are arranged in a rare circular pattern and are read clockwise. They may offer guidance for attacking and defending cities. “The Dead Sea Scrolls are foundational to understanding the religious roots of Judaism and Christianity,” Li Ling, a scholar of Chinese studies at Peking University, tells the Chinese broadcaster CCTV, per South China Morning Post’s Luna Sun. “The Zidanku manuscripts are no less vital to Chinese civilization. They speak to our ancient knowledge systems, our understanding of the cosmos and the details of everyday life.” In the 1940s, the manuscript fragments were looted from a tomb near the city of Changsha in China’s Hunan Province. A Chinese collector gave them to John Hadley Cox, an American collector who brought them back to the United States. Arthur M. Sackler, a pharmaceutical marketer and art collector, bought Volume I, the most complete portion of the manuscript, in 1965. Questions surrounding how the other two volumes arrived at the Smithsonian remain largely “unsettled,” Robinson tells the Art Newspaper’s Gabriella Angeleti. “In the case of these particular manuscripts, there are gaps,” he adds. “Our colleagues in China have done an excellent job of piecing together whatever evidence there is.” Museum officials say the transfer resulted from a collaboration with China’s National Cultural Heritage Administration. Because the decision wasn’t based on provenance research, it was processed through the museum’s standard deaccession protocols.While the fragments never went on display at the museum, they have been “documented, researched, diligently preserved and undergone scientific analysis,” according to a statement from the museum. They have also been the subject of scholarship, including Li’s two-volume monograph The Chu Silk Manuscripts from Zidanku, Changsha (Hunan Province), published in 2020 and 2025. Efforts to secure the transfer of the manuscript fragments began in 2022, after the Smithsonian issued a new ethical returns policy that detailed how to handle objects in its collections that it “would not have acquired under present-day ethical and professional standards.” “This transfer reflects a carefully considered decision, grounded in our focus on sound stewardship and the belief that these materials belong in dialogue with their cultural and archaeological context,” Robinson says in the statement. While the physical manuscripts have returned to China and will go on view at the National Museum of China in July, the Smithsonian will retain digital versions of the documents for further research. At last week’s ceremony, Xie Feng, China’s ambassador to the U.S., noted that more than 40 artifacts had been returned to China from the U.S. since the beginning of this year, per the South China Morning Post. “The return of the Zidanku manuscripts reflects a national revival as lost treasures of Chinese civilization make their way home,” he said. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.