Jamie Dimon's JPMorgan Chase pledged $750 billion to housing projects this week, notably in San Francisco.
Getty Images
JPMorgan Chase announced it will direct $750 billion to US housing projects through 2035.
Big banks, like Citi and Bank of America, have made similar investments in affordable housing.
Public-private partnerships could help boost housing supply — and banks get a tax break.
JPMorgan Chase announced plans to shell out $750 billion to boost America's home supply — and it isn't the only big bank in the housing development game.
The Jamie Dimon-led financial giant said this week that it will finance 1 million affordable housing units and help 500,000 buyers purchase homes over the next decade through its "American Dream Initiative," which focuses on local-level economic development. While the firm is already among the US' top multifamily and residential mortgage lenders, this is the biggest investment it has ever made in homebuilding initiatives.
"Housing, you have two issues: One is affordable, so we're doing a lot of affordable housing," Dimon told CNBC on August 5. "The other one is supply. Supply is mostly around permitting, approvals, local zoning requirements."
It's part of a larger phenomenon. Banks arepartnering with developers to help cities build multifamily developments — like apartment buildings — from the very beginning. And it could benefit both banks, which are encouraged through various government programs to make these kinds of community investments, and residents in expensive cities seeking an affordable home.
A slew of banks have committed to affordable housing financing
Building enough houses and apartments to meet America's demand isn't cheap. In New York City, for example,Mayor Zohran Mamdani's pledge to build 200,000 new affordable homes is slated to cost $22 billion in capital investment over five years. Governments and independent developers in NYC, San Francisco, Atlanta, and more have called on banks to help fund housing projects.
Wall Street giants often back affordable housing ventures, alongside philanthropists and local governments. Business Insider recently toured a Midtown Manhattan hotel-to-apartment conversion that's being partially funded by Wells Fargo and JPMorgan Chase, as well as an affordable housing development for seniors in Brooklyn that was partially backed by TD Bank.
Local property developer David Schwartz previously told Business Insider that this support is especially necessary for affordable housing. Land, construction, and architecture costs are the same as any other space, but long-term tenant returns are lower than in market-rate or luxury buildings. "That's the challenge," he said.
While banks have long had a hand in real estate, their investment in affordable housing developments is gaining momentum. Bank of America provided upwards of $42 billion in financing for affordable housing efforts between 2020 and 2025, and Citi committed $60 billion to housing affordability efforts between 2026 and the early 2030s. This comes as the US' affordable housing supply continues to lag demand, and the rental vacancy rate is climbing because many lower- and middle-income households can't afford to pay the market rate.
For residents, bank investment in housing could be good news. JPMorgan said roughly $200 million of its multibillion-dollar investment will be directed toward affordable developments in San Francisco, which Dimon has expressed specific concern about as one of America's priciest markets.
Olivia Barrow Strauss, vice president of housing at the JPMorgan Chase Policy Center, told Business Insider that funding must go hand in hand with strong policy. "That includes modernizing zoning and permitting, unlocking underused land, and strengthening public-private partnerships so more housing can move from concept to construction," she said. Because "capital alone won't solve the country's housing affordability challenges."
Banks and cities could both benefit
What's in it for the banks? Investing in affordable homes is a potential path to tax breaks and economic development.
The federal government offers a low-income housing tax credit to investors and developers who build or rehabilitate affordable housing, and a new markets tax credit to incentivize investment in low-income and distressed communities. Parties can then claim an annual tax break — so long as a portion of the apartments is set aside for low- and middle-income residents or materially improves residents' lives in eligible areas. Credits like this are sometimes distributed at the state and local level, and banks might be able to write off their assistance for first-time homebuyers.
Citi has published disclosures that it "may employ a combination of taxable and tax-exempt loans or bonds, a combination of taxable and tax-exempt loans or bonds; Low Income, Historic or New Markets Tax Credits; and government and private subsidies," as part of its housing plan. Bank of America made similar statements in regulatory filings. It's unclear exactly which subsidies JPMorgan Chase qualifies for, and how much the bank's annual tax break will be, but government credits are likely a factor in its $750 billion investment.
"Tax credits and subsidies are important tools to encourage public and private investments that create or preserve affordable housing because they can help close financing gaps," Karen Purcell, head of Community Development Banking at JPMorgan Chase, told Business Insider. Still, these credits aren't a cure-all, she said, "and often don't reach the 'missing middle,' which is why moderate-income housing remains chronically undersupplied."
Passed in the 1970s, the Community Reinvestment Act also requires banks to provide financial support to the communities where they operate, including low- and moderate-income neighborhoods. Backing affordable housing developments and providing resources to homebuyers are ways banks can comply with this law. CRA requires banks to publish their performance review. Between 2020 and 2023, JPMorgan Chase's disclosures show the bank scored "outstanding" in 31 of the 56 lending areas — criteria that's based on both the bank's lending behavior and the demographics it served.
The public sector is making big bets on affordable housing, too. Congress passed a bipartisan housing bill in July. The law is set to loosen zoning restrictions, boost resources for communities impacted by natural disasters, and make it harder for major corporations to buy residential real estate. Big bank investment won't be capped by this law, and it may create more opportunities for public-private affordable housing ventures in the future.
As Dimon put it to CNBC, "The bill the House passed is a very good bill, and then we have to do complements to it locally."
In early May 2025, Toru Tokushige was alone in his Tokyo office when the general came knocking. It was the Golden Week, Japan's biggest holiday, and everyone else was on vacation.
Manabu Shimamoto, a retired major general, had come to implore the 56-year-old CEO of Terra Drone to help secure Japan's future. Their country desperately lacked drones, Shimamoto explained. Small drones. Cheap drones. Drones that could literally fly off the production line. Drones that could swarm and kill.
Tokushige, whose publicly listed drone company has been entirely civilian since its inception in 2016, had spent years researching the military side of the industry. Thrice he'd looked into the market, and thrice had chosen not to pursue. It was too complex, too archaic, with too much red tape. But now the defense ministry was calling for new companies to enter the fray. Japan had Russia, North Korea, and China to contend with. The military needed someone who could work faster than the traditional big defense firms like Mitsubishi and Kawasaki, Shimamoto told him — someone willing to take the risk.
By the end of their three-hour meeting, Tokushige tells me, he'd decided he was going to become a defense contractor. He just had to figure out how.
"It's dramatically changed in terms of the landscape of engagement, the landscape of opportunities, compared to 10 years ago," says Jerry McGinn, director of the Center for the Industrial Base for the think tank Center for Strategic and International Studies. A decade ago, he says, most defense startups could only get a foot in the door through a select few grants and programs. Now, military agencies are setting up offices in Silicon Valley and other tech hubs, hosting pitch days for entrepreneurs, and offering incubator programs for promising startups. In December 2024, the Department of Defense launched the Expedited Research Innovation System, an initiative that invites startups to submit 7-minute pitch videos to the military. At least 153 companies have since been vetted and introduced to the government, says Jennifer Thabet, director for the Defense Advanced Related Projects Agency's small business programs office.
Tokushige says his startup's "minimum goal" is to become the top interceptor drone maker in Japan.
Noriko Hayashi for BI
"If you don't cast a wide net and take a bunch of small bets to figure out what's going to pay off, you are going to be missing opportunities," Thabet says. "No longer can we afford to take calculated risks. We have to swing big."
Attitudes toward working in the defense industry have also dramatically shifted.
Before the Ukraine War broke out, it was more acceptable for a tech entrepreneur "to run a porn site than to work in defense."
"If you asked me 10 years ago what I thought of when I heard 'defense contractor,' I'd have pictured a shady arms dealer," says Anastasis Leonidou, a former tea shop owner who now sells portable batteries to the UK military.
Before the Ukraine War broke out, it was more acceptable for a tech entrepreneur in Sweden "to run a porn site than to work in defense," says the Stockholm-based Karl Rosander, who previously founded a podcasting platform and now sells interceptor drones. "Now, actually, when you tell people you work in defense, you get a hug."
I spoke to five veteran business owners in Europe, Asia, and the US with no prior experience in military contracting who are now pivoting their careers to build defense firms. They say the industry is slow and plodding, and believe they can still make it big, banking on the move-fast-and-break-things ethos that led to their success in previous ventures.
Tokushige describes himself as a born rebel against traditional Japan. The son of a steelworker from the rural town of Yanai, he spent his early life studying to become an engineer at the local chemical plant — then defied his father's wishes upon graduating in 1996 to start a finance career in Osaka. Five years later, he moved to Arizona in 2001 to pursue an MBA.
That choice turned out to be his biggest regret. The internet began its meteoric rise just then, and Tokushige still grieves over having missed it while in school. He became obsessed with avoiding the same FOMO sting, and worked for several years at a Silicon Valley startup, then returned to Japan to found the electric-bike company Terra Motors in 2010. Then, predicting a coming age of robotics, he launched Terra Drone in 2016; it's now listed on the Tokyo Stock Exchange with 650 employees and a market capitalization of $800 million. To catch the electric car craze, he founded Terra Charge after the COVID-19 pandemic.
Now, he's confident that the business of war is the next world-changing trend.
But he also knew that waiting a year for tender requirements from the Japanese military would kill any chance of momentum for Terra Drone. "Such a passive way of doing business," Tokushige tells me of the bureaucracy he faced. "It's not good."
Drone warfare evolves in months, if not weeks. A nation at peace builds its defense industry on theory, he surmised. He needed one that was built on war.
"Japan needs its own Elon Musk," reads a slide in Tokushige's corporate deck, "and I intend to be that person."
Noriko Hayashi for BI
Tokushige first arrived in Lviv in Western Ukraine under a gloomy mid-September sky. His aim was to attend a defense conference at the local soccer stadium, run by Ukraine's Brave1 startup incubator. For security reasons, he was told the location on the day the conference started.
"I was the only Asian guy there," he says. On his own — none of his staff would risk entering a wartorn country at the time — the CEO set up a booth and swapped business cards with 136 companies. He was amazed at the blistering pace of Ukraine's drone industry compared to back home. The locals produced millions of drones a year, while Japan aimed to make 80,000 annually. More importantly, drone tech there was adapting so quickly that Ukrainian engineers were contending with a new phase of innovation every few months.
What I'm offering is not a theory. I've got product proven, bodies stacked.Troy Smothers, a real estate entrepreneur who now sells drone tech
Tokushige's plan was to first build a drone under Ukraine's lightning-fast industry, then deliver a working, proven product ready for the Japanese defense ministry to see.
With Ukraine's battlefield now the Holy Grail of weapons testing, startups arrive by the horde, hoping to put their tech in the hands of fighters. Last year, Ukraine said at least 500 foreign startups opened offices in its territory.
Troy Smothers, a Utah real estate entrepreneur and Marine veteran, has traveled to Ukraine nine times since 2022. First, he visited as a medical and IT volunteer, then as a defense tech advocate, helping deliver US-made fiber-optic cables to Ukraine's workshops and front lines to help attack drones fly through jammed areas. Months of testing with the Ukrainians helped him build his own design for a fiber-optic attack drone.
Smothers now thinks he can use his extensive experience "putting warheads to foreheads" in Ukraine to sell cheap drone tech to the Pentagon. "What I'm offering is not a theory. I've got product proven, bodies stacked. This works," he says. He's started a 501(c)(3) called American Made Freedom, and is fishing for around $30,000 in funding to build manufacturing for drone parts and fiber-optic kits.
Troy Smothers, who was a sergeant with the USMC, still travels regularly to Ukraine while seeking to build his startup in Utah.
Troy Smothers
"Financially, it's been difficult because I'm all in," Smothers tells me on a video call from his office in Salt Lake City. A stout Mormon with laugh lines etched into his cheeks, he showed me his collection of AR-15s, and on the wall behind him were a pair of attack quadcopters beside his 7-year-old's drawing of an insect. He's been sleeping there since his wife of 14 years divorced him last year, over what he says was too much time and money spent in Ukraine.
To keep his drone dream going, Smothers says, he's burned through life savings and precious metals investments. He's sold six collector's cars worth about $10,000 each, and much of his work now relies on donations. This year, he secured a partnership with Brave1.
He believes that his crusade for fiber-optic drones was given to him by God. He's been called, as he says, to be a "sword to defend the innocent."
"I'm not smart enough or capable enough to have done what I've done. Who walks away from my 19-year career to do what I was inspired to do? I wouldn't have left my kids, it was crazy to leave my kids," he says. "You only get one chance, brother, to be on the right side of history."
Thriving on the right side of history when competition is tight, however, is another story.
In Lviv, Tokushige saw that dozens of manufacturers were already making light attack drones: the type seen destroying tanks and killing men every day on the front lines. Anyone could assemble one, Tokushige thought.
What caught his eye, instead, were interceptors, which were more expensive and harder to make. The Ukrainians built them faster and nimbler, engineered to chase down and catch Russian Shahed attack drones in the air. Born out of a desperation for an affordable way to protect Ukraine's skies, the tech had cut the cost of anti-drone defense — traditionally reliant on high-end missiles — by orders of magnitude.
If one of Japan's neighbors wanted to attack from across the ocean, waves of cheap drones like Shaheds would probably be a top choice, Tokushige surmises. His country, and the rest of the world, needed a cheap counter.
The fit seemed natural for Tokushige. Most Ukrainian interceptors were still piloted by humans, meaning that a crew still had to drive out to deploy them. Terra Drone sold software for managing drone traffic. The Ukrainians could provide the hardware, and Tokushige wanted to provide its brains: software that turned the drones into autonomous swarms. He plans to invest an initial $10 million from his firms to build the code, which he hopes will be finished by 2027.
If he's fast enough, he says, a Ukrainian drone with autonomous Japanese software would give him more than an edge in the market.
"In terms of interceptors, we would become the No. 1 in market share," he tells me. "That is our minimum goal."
For six months, Tokushige shuttled in and out of Ukraine nine times, meeting with interceptor drone companies in Lviv and Kyiv. Back home, he estimates he's visited the Japanese defense ministry's headquarters in Ichigaya more than 50 times.
He plans to eventually expand from interceptors to an entire fleet of products: jet-powered drones, drone boats, reconnaissance drones. Tokushige's corporate deck is telling of his ambition. "Japan needs its own Elon Musk," Slide 91 says, captioning a photo of the SpaceX and Tesla owner. "And I intend to be that person."
This world-changing boldness is shared among many upstart founders angling to win over the defense industry.
Rosander, the Swedish entrepreneur, who previously ran the podcasting company Acast (which posted a revenue of $273 million last year) and the monetization platform Sesamy, started Nordic Air Defense in March 2024. He was inspired by the war in Ukraine, after following it on Twitter for hours after work every night and fretting the same could happen in his own country.
Sweden's Nordic Air Defense tests its interceptor drones. Cofounder Karl Rosander previously ran a podcasting platform.
Courtesy of Karl Rosander
Like his Japanese competitor, he's started with a low-cost interceptor (made mostly of carbon fiber), and plans to expand dramatically from there. Rosander's long game is to eventually compete with the likes of Raytheon and Lockheed Martin and become the next defense prime. This is a bit like saying someone who just launched a flag football league saying they'll build the next NFL dynasty. He remains undaunted.
"I get things done," he tells me. "You can give me anything. You give me the best idea you can come up with. I promise I will make it successful."
Whenever Rosander has met with defense executives, he's found them unnervingly comfortable with working at what he considers a glacial pace. "I presented what I was doing," he says. "And they told me: 'Karl, you don't have anything to do with this industry. It works like this. We eat dinners and have long-term relationships.'"
"I understood then," he adds. "They were afraid of me."
"You can give me anything. You give me the best idea you can come up with. I promise I will make it successful," says Rosander.
Courtesy of Karl Rosander
Rosander does admit he didn't understand how difficult it is to break into defense. It's something the entrepreneurs I spoke to repeatedly brought up: the maze of bureaucracy and trust-building far more complicated than their previous careers.
Leonidou, who ran a chain of tea shops in London before leaving the business amid the COVID pandemic, now sells large, portable batteries to the UK military through his new firm, Solus Power. His team, he says, initially had to learn how to navigate the industry's many restrictions and regulations from the ground up. Simply getting meetings with the defense ministry required them to get through a mountain of protocols.
"It's been such a learning curve that I don't think we really had any expectations apart from people in a lot of camo turning up for meetings," says Leonidou.
Joakim Sjöblom, a Swedish entrepreneur who sold his fintech firm in 2024, pivoted to defense that same year, just as Sweden joined NATO. His startup, Sweden Ballistics, or Swebal, is building a manufacturing plant to supply Europe the TNT he says the continent desperately needs (China controls most of the world's TNT sales). But the process to break ground has dragged on for more than a year, as Sjöblom has navigated a litany of regulations: surveying the ground for ancient remains and geological deposits, building a new road, measuring the impact of an accidental explosion, and checking for endangered species. He was granted an environmental permit in December, but had to wait until late summer to cut down the nearby trees in case of nesting birds. He's also unable to plug water holes, to protect local frogs.
Sjöblom, pictured here in the center, and his team are building their TNT factory on this patch of forest in Sweden.
Åsa Sjöström for BI
But Sjöblom, unfazed, tells me he feels a sense of urgency to help secure Europe's future. "My son just turned three, and my daughter 10 months. I don't ever want them to experience an armed conflict," he says. His plant is on track for production in 2028, he says.
In Japan, Tokushige worries that even after manufacturing in Ukraine, traditional government processes would remain painfully slow. After his dozens of visits to the defense ministry and a year's wait for the military's specifications, officials would still have to settle on a budget, then take at least one or two more months to deliberate on a contract winner. Only after securing a contract would Terra Defense be expected to deliver a product — six months later.
"It would be a very, very long history," he says.
In late March, Tokushige beamed before a crush of reporters in Kyiv, as he announced Terra Drone's partnership with a Ukrainian interceptor drone company, Amazing Drones.
"In Japanese mentality, I am a crazy guy," Tokushige says.
Noriko Hayashi for BI
"A friend in need is a friend indeed," Tokushige told the crowd. In the months since, he's consolidated Amazing Drones and another Ukrainian interceptor startup, WinnyLab, buying 50% stakes in each firm. Terra Drone is now working on three different drones.
Tokushige has now settled into a more comfortable pace in Ukraine, learning to stop taking shelter every time his phone alerts him of a drone attack, though he stays in hotel rooms on lower floors to reduce the chance of a Shahed crashing through his window. His wife and two adult daughters no longer fret constantly about his safety, he says.
The defense bet is already starting to pay off. Terra Drone's share price was 12,670 yen when the market opened on Thursday, surging 499% year to date. It's also secured a small order of 300 general-purpose training drones for Japan's defense ministry, to be delivered in September for about $732,000.
Meanwhile, Tokushige is leaving much of the work at his other companies in the hands of his staff. As he buses in and out of Ukraine, his two private companies, Terra Motors and Terra Charge, are both preparing for an initial public offering.
"In Japanese mentality, I am a crazy guy," he tells me.
For Japan's would-be Elon Musk, crazy has gotten him this far.
Matthew Loh is a senior reporter at Business Insider's Singapore bureau, primarily covering defense and how the war in Ukraine is rapidly changing battle technology and tactics.
When you buy through our links, Business Insider may earn an affiliate commission. Learn more
Ted Lasso returns for a fourth season on Apple TV.
Apple TV
More than three years since its last season, Ted Lasso returns with brand-new episodes. We've compiled everything you need to know about the new season, including where to watch Ted Lasso, which cast members are returning, and a look at the trailer.
Season 4 of Ted Lasso will see Ted back in Richmond to tackle a brand-new challenge: coaching a women's football (soccer) team. He'll be joined by several fan favorites in the latest season of the Emmy Award-winning comedy. New episodes are available to stream globally on Apple TV.
Where to watch Ted Lasso in the US
Like the first three seasons, Ted Lasso is an Apple TV exclusive. New episodes drop Wednesdays, beginning August 5. US subscriptions cost $13 a month, but new users can get a one-week free trial. The streaming service carries other comedy series, including Shrinking and The Studio (which won last year's Emmy Award for Best Comedy).
Where to watch Ted Lasso in the UK, Canada, and other countries
The new season of Ted Lasso is available through Apple TV in over 100 regions, including the UK and Canada. Subscription prices vary by region, but Apple TV offers a free trial to new customers in most countries.
How to watch Ted Lasso from anywhere
Due to Apple TV's widespread availability, there's a pretty good chance you'll be able to watch Ted Lasso no matter where you are. That said, if you happen to be traveling through a region where you can't access your usual viewing options, it might be time to try a VPN.
Short for virtual private networks, VPNs are handy cybersecurity tools that allow people to temporarily alter their virtual locations. This way, their favorite websites and apps work just like they would back home.
NordVPN is one of the best VPNs on the market and our top recommendation right now. It offers a massive selection of global services, a user-friendly experience, and a 30-day money-back guarantee.
Ted Lasso Season 4 cast
Ted Lasso Season 4 will see many familiar faces, including the return of Jason Sudeikis, Hannah Waddingham, Brendan Hunt, Jeremy Swift, Juno Temple, and Brett Goldstein.
The new season will also feature a few new cast members, including Tanya Reynolds, Jude Mack, Faye Marsay, Rex Hayes, Aisling Sharkey, Abbie Hern, and Grant Feely.
Ted Lasso release schedule
There will be 10 episodes in Season 4 of Ted Lasso. New episodes drop on Wednesdays globally (which sometimes means Tuesday evening in the US).
Episode 1: Wednesday, August 5
Episode 2: Wednesday, August 12
Episode 3: Wednesday, August 19
Episode 4: Wednesday, August 26
Episode 5: Wednesday, September 2
Episode 6: Wednesday, September 9
Episode 7: Wednesday, September 16
Episode 8: Wednesday, September 23
Episode 9: Wednesday, September 30
Episode 10: Wednesday, October 7
Ted Lasso Season 4 trailer
Apple TV dropped an official teaser for Season 4 at the end of April. In it, fans get a first glimpse at Ted and the rest of the AFC Richmond crew as they tackle their latest challenge. Check out the full trailer below:
Note: VPN use is illegal in certain countries, and using VPNs to access region-locked streaming content may constitute a breach of the terms of use for some services. Business Insider does not endorse or condone the illegal use of VPNs.
Elon Musk says SpaceX is going all in on Nvidia's GPUs.
Bloomberg/Getty Images
Elon Musk said that SpaceX will only buy GPUs from Nvidia.
"We think it's the best AI computer," Musk said.
Musk and SpaceX have received those compliments from Jensen Huang in return.
SpaceX says it's ready to be a one-chip supplier company.
On SpaceX's highly anticipated earnings call on Wednesday, CEO Elon Musk said his company was committed to buying graphics processing units from only one place.
"Going forward, we've decided to build exclusively on Nvidia because we think the Vera Rubin architecture is the best architecture," Musk said on the call, talking about his company's compute capacity. "We think it's the best AI computer, and we greatly value our close cooperation and partnership on many levels with Nvidia. So we're exclusive to Nvidia."
He added that SpaceX will receive a significant percentage of Nvidia's GPUs next year, indicating that the space company could make up a notable share of Nvidia's revenue.
Nvidia has been a key technology partner for both of Musk's public companies, Tesla and SpaceX, supplying GPU platforms that support AI model training, simulation, and advanced computing. Although Tesla has invested heavily in custom AI chips, it continues to use Nvidia GPUs for various AI and data center workloads.
Following the call, Musk reiterated his commitment to Nvidia, announcing it again on X.
In a post on Wednesday night, he wrote: "SpaceX has committed to using Nvidia GPUs exclusively because they are the best."
An exclusive contract with Nvidia cuts out rival chipmakers like Intel, AMD, and Broadcom. The exclusive announcement also runs counter to the diversification strategy that large tech companies often employ to reduce the risk of supply bottlenecks and other challenges stemming from dependence on a single company.
'World class' products
Musk and his companies have received similar compliments from Nvidia in return.
Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang has repeatedly praised Musk as an "extraordinary engineer," and said that Nvidia does significant business with Tesla and SpaceX's xAI. He has also called Musk's work on xAI's Grok and Tesla products "world-class."
On Wednesday, the space company reported its first quarterly earnings as a listed company, topping revenue expectations. It reported that second-quarter sales rose 92% year on year to $7.8 billion, driven by growth in AI infrastructure and Starlink, its satellite internet network.
On the call, Musk said the company aims to reach a $100 billion annual revenue run rate by year-end, but Wall Street remained cautious over the pace of spending and its impact on near-term profitability.
"I think it may be higher than that," Musk said, adding that the $100 billion ARR is "if we did nothing."
Despite revenue, investors focused on the company's high AI spending anda $541 million loss, sending shares down more than 7% after hours.
Tarek Mansour, the cofounder of Kalshi, says the litigation his company is facing is just part of a cycle.
Such litigation happens to market players that disrupt industries, he said.
Mansour compared Kalshi to players like Uber and Airbnb, which also disrupted the transport and hotel industries.
Kalshi's CEO says the scrutiny his company is facing is just part of a cycle that most disruptive startups must go through.
Tarek Mansour, the prediction market's cofounder, spoke on CNBC on Monday about the lawsuits Kalshi is facing from multiple states.
"I think the more interesting thing that's at play here is that you have an industry, the prediction market industry, that is disruptive, that is growing fast, consumers are adopting it, and it's threatening a legacy incumbent industry that is unhappy about that," Mansour said.
"That has played out over and over. It's played out with taxis and Uber. It's played out with hotels and Airbnb," Mansour said.
He added that these industries have "large lobbies" that are "effective at getting actions" filed against new market players.
"The playbook is very simple. It's: Litigate. Then you try to legislate. And then finally, when you realize that consumer demand is not going to go away, you try to compete and innovate," Mansour said. "That's the cycle that we're going through right now."
Uber was hit with lawsuits from taxi companies and regulators in dozens of cities worldwide. Some early lawsuits included allegations that the company was operating an illegal, unlicensed taxi business.
Airbnb also faced regulatory crackdowns in cities including New York, Paris, and San Francisco. Some imposed fines for illegal listings, while others introduced registration or licensing requirements.
Representatives for Kalshi, Airbnb, and Uber did not respond to a request for comment from Business Insider.
State-level oversight
Multiple states have initiated legal or regulatory enforcement — ranging from charges to cease-and-desist orders — against Kalshi, the US's key prediction market, in an attempt to restrict its operations. New York joined the list last week with a lawsuit alleging that the company's offerings are a form of gambling.
"New York's gambling laws protect children from underage betting and help combat gambling addiction," said New York Attorney General Letitia James on Friday. "No matter what they call themselves, prediction markets like Kalshi are gambling platforms, plain and simple. By ignoring our laws, Kalshi is running an illegal operation and harming New Yorkers in the process."
Prediction markets like Kalshi say they operate differently from traditional gambling platforms and abide by the Commodity Futures Trading Commission (CFTC) regulations.
In the New York case, the CFTC has sought a temporary restraining order to block state-level regulation of prediction markets.
"Rather than seek reasoned answers from the courts, Letitia James and New York seek to force an unprecedented, sudden shutdown of prediction markets nationwide. The CFTC has already sued to stop this and will continue to defend its jurisdiction," CFTC chief Michael Selig wrote in an X post on Friday.
Billionaire Stephen Deckoff purchased a pair of islands from Jeffrey Epstein's estate. Things haven't gone as planned.
SideQuest Drew/Youtube; Reuters; U.S. Department of Justice; Alyssa Powell/BI
When billionaire Stephen Deckoff purchased a pair of Caribbean islands that once belonged to Jeffrey Epstein, he saw it as a potential paradise. In a press release, Deckoff said he planned to open a world-class destination resort befitting the territory's "natural grace and beauty."
Over four years since the purchase, no resort has been built, but the islands are still attracting visitors from around the world — unwelcome ones.
Deckoff, the CEO of asset management firm Black Diamond Capital Management, has sued nine social-media influencers, content creators, and conspiracy theorists, accusing them of trespassing on the property to capitalize on the islands' notoriety.
Epstein used one of the islands, Little St. James, to build a sprawling compound, a site where accusers say he made them feel trapped and raped them. On one end of the island is a temple-like building that has been the subject of numerous conspiracy theories. Epstein painted it with blue and white stripes and topped it with a golden dome.
Through his lawsuits, filed in US Virgin Islands court through a limited liability company, Deckoff is seeking damages from YouTubers who have undertaken what they describe as quests to unravel the islands' mysteries. Over the past year, influencers have taken videos of themselves renting jet skis, climbing onto shore, and unfurling banners demanding that the Trump administration release the Epstein files.
Deckoff's staff has, at times, responded to the camera-wielding interlopers with violence, law-enforcement agencies have said in court filings.
Ann Rodriquez, whom Epstein employed to manage the property — and who continued to manage it for Deckoff — was arrested on false imprisonment and assault charges in April after law enforcement officials found one content creator "hog-tied and totally naked" on a boat, according to a sworn statement filed to court. Another interloper said in a podcast interview that employees detained him and put him in what he said Rodriquez called the island's "dungeon." Deckoff's employees also destroyed two rental jet skis while they apprehended content creators, a US Virgin Islands-based rental company alleged.
On one end of the island is a temple-like building that has been the subject of conspiracy theories.
REUTERS/Marco Bello
A spokesperson for Deckoff told Business Insider that the presence of "intruders" on Little St. James has been "dangerous for the people who live and work on the island."
"We are concerned when those criminally trespassing on private property and endangering our staff are given a platform for their misconduct," the spokesperson said.
In their videos, the influencers have cast themselves as truth-seeking warriors. Andrew Petersen, one of the YouTubers whom Deckoff accused of trespassing, said it was absurd that he's facing legal consequences while the Justice Department continues to take no law enforcement action against friends of Epstein who may also have abused girls or women.
"Trespassing is illegal, and we definitely trespassed," Petersen told Business Insider. "It's like, what's the bigger story here?"
Petersen and other interlopers haven't responded to the lawsuits in court. Petersen told Business Insider he and the friends and influencers he traveled with never meant to "mess up" Deckoff's property or damage his reputation — only to seek the truth about what was going on at "one of the most horrific islands in human existence, in our opinion."
"For me, that's like buying a concentration camp from the Holocaust and like, 'Yeah, we're going to turn this into a resort.' What are you talking about?" he said.
At the time Epstein purchased Little St. James in 1998, Ghislaine Maxwell was both his girlfriend and estate manager.
Epstein built a sprawling compound on Little St. James.
REUTERS/Marco Bello
Epstein tasked Maxwell with making the island habitable. It was an enormous undertaking, one of her former assistants testified in Maxwell's 2021 Manhattan criminal trial in which she was convicted of trafficking girls to Epstein for sex.
Maxwell arranged to ship not only home furnishings, but also sand and palm trees. ("He wanted more sand on the beach," the assistant testified.) Maxwell, along with Epstein's private jet pilots, took helicopter lessons so they could ferry passengers between Little St. James and nearby St. Thomas, where Epstein's planes landed at the airport.
Over the years, Epstein used the island to draw powerful friends, nicknaming it "Little St. Jeff's." One accuser, Virginia Giuffre, wrote in her memoir that then-Prince Andrew had sex with her there. (He settled a lawsuit with Giuffre without admitting wrongdoing.) Records from the Epstein files show he hosted Google co-founder Sergey Brin, LinkedIn co-founder Reid Hoffman, and now-Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick. Elon Musk emailed Epstein about visiting the island to "party," though he later said he never went there. Emails show Epstein used his connections with local politicians to cut red tape and make it easier to obtain visas for young women he wanted to fly in.
Brin, Hoffman, Lutnick, and Musk haven't been accused of wrongdoing related to Epstein. Brin hasn't publicly commented on visiting the island. Hoffman has said his visit was part of a fundraising trip for MIT. Lutnick told members of Congress he and his family had lunch on Little St. James while sailing by on a vacation.
After Epstein killed himself in 2019, while in jail awaiting trial on sex-trafficking charges, the executors of his estate hired Randall Bell to evaluate Little St. James and Great St. James, the neighboring island Epstein purchased in 2016. Bell specializes in appraising real estate locations where atrocities have occurred, such as the 9/11 terrorist attacks and the Sandy Hook school shooting.
Over the years, Epstein used the island to draw powerful friends, nicknaming it "Little St. Jeff's."
THE US JUSTICE DEPARTMENT / Getty Images
Epstein's estate put the two islands on the market in 2022 for $125 million. Deckoff, a resident of the US Virgin Islands, bought them about a year later for $60 million. The estate used some of the funds to pay creditors, including victims and their attorneys who brought lawsuits against the estate. Deckoff and Epstein never met, and the two had no preexisting relationship, a spokesperson for Deckoff told Business Insider.
Since Deckoff bought the islands in 2023, his plans to build a resort seem to have gone nowhere. The only construction permit Deckoff has requested is for a warehouse, a spokesperson for the US Virgin Islands Department of Planning and Natural Resources told Business Insider. One visible change is that the temple-like building — where Epstein played music, according to a piano tuner — was repainted and lost its distinctive blue stripes.
A Category 5 hurricane was pummeling the US Virgin Islands. The high waves and wind gusts of up to 30 miles per hour had foiled their previous plan to use air mattresses as rafts with pool noodles tied around their waists in case they capsized. Petersen and his crew believed the worst of Hurricane Erin was over and decided to make another attempt, this time with kayaks and life vests.
Andrew Petersen, one of the YouTubers whom Deckoff accused of trespassing, kayaked to the island in a hurricane.
Courtesy of SideQuest Drew
Petersen told Business Insider he was dead-set on landing on Little St. James because he wanted to seek the truth about the island once owned by a famous pedophile who kept company with royalty, heads of state, and billionaires. Conspiracy theories about underground tunnels and child sacrifices proliferated online. Deckoff's announcement that he wanted to build a resort didn't make sense to him. The Trump administration, at the time, was refusing to release the Epstein files. The Justice Department has since released millions of Epstein-related records.
"The main thing we were really kind of after is, let's just make noise with this," Petersen said. "Let's put up this 'Release the Files' flag on the island since the government's trying to hold back all the Epstein files and they're still holding it back to this day."
Petersen said that the group anticipated potential legal consequences, including possibly jail time for misdemeanor trespassing. He viewed it as necessary for his work as a self-described independent journalist.
"If we end up going to jail for 30 days, that would be pretty insane," Petersen said. "But we just thought this is something that we don't think anyone else would want to do."
Petersen and his group then realized they made a "huge miscalculation," he told Business Insider. The storm was getting worse again. They decided to stay the night.
Videos the group posted to YouTube and Patreon show them poking through rooms, staring aghast at a statue of a suffering woman, and lamenting the lack of snacks in the kitchen cabinets.
Petersen said he found no underground tunnel system on Little St. James.
"We checked out all these little structures that people claimed were the entrance, and they definitely were not that," he told Business Insider. "So our conclusion on that end is: I don't think there's any crazy underground tunnels."
When morning came, they took videos of themselves tying a "Release the Files" banner to a palm tree outside the temple. As they paddled away from the island, members of the island's security team yelled at them from the shore.
Other influencers followed. In February, YouTuber Ashton Hall, who goes by "Ash Alk," rented a jet ski and swam ashore with a camera.
Influencers called for the Justice Department to release its Epstein files. The DOJ has since released millions of Epstein-related records.
Courtesy of SideQuest Drew
On Little St. James, Hall staged what he called a "protest" to ask "whoever to unredact the files." Much of the video was spent complaining that he didn't have the proper footwear for the rocky beach. He urged Deckoff not to sue him.
"I'm not anyone special or important," Hall said in the video. "I'm just a YouTuber, bro. Please don't sue me. I'm not that important."
This year, Little St. James's caretakers began taking more aggressive tactics against unwelcome visitors.
On March 1, two YouTuber brothers, Eloi and Marcel Gil Sancho, approached the island on rented jet skis. Marcel Gil Sancho has nearly a million subscribers to his YouTube channel, which has titles like "I spent 24 hours with the MOST DANGEROUS TRIBE in AFRICA" and "2 HEADS and 1 BODY! How do they live? Who's in charge?"
The brothers flew a drone over the island to take footage for a documentary, Eloi Gil Sancho later told law enforcement officials. It landed on the island's beach, and Marcel swam ashore to retrieve it, then returned to his jet ski, Eloi Gil Sancho told US Virgin Islands police, according to a sworn statement filed to court.
According to Eloi Gil Sancho's account, they were then intercepted by a boat piloted by Rodriquez, the island's caretaker. She pulled out what looked like a Glock handgun, pointed it at Marcel, and ordered him to swim to her boat, according to Eloi.
"E. Gil Sancho stated that Ann Rodriquez was operating the boat and repeatedly yelled 'I will kill you' at them," a US Virgin Islands detective wrote in a sworn statement.
A coast guard member who responded to the scene found Eloi "hog-tied and totally naked" in the back of the boat, according to the sworn statement. Marcel was taken back to one of the islands, Eloi told him.
The weapon turned out to be a BB gun "designed to resemble a Glock 19-style handgun," according to another sworn statement. Rodriquez said she threw the Gils' memory cards with the drone footage into the ocean, according to the affidavit.
In May, the US Virgin Islands Attorney General's office brought false imprisonment, assault, and destruction of property charges against Rodriquez. She hasn't entered a plea. Reached by phone, Rodriquez declined to comment.
Deckoff's staff has, at times, responded to interlopers with violence, law-enforcement agencies have said in court filings.
Bloomberg/Getty Images
"Hell no, have a good day," she told Business Insider.
On April 25 — weeks after the Sancho brothers' expedition to the island — a similar scene played out with two other men, Benjamin Owen and Ryan Dalton.
Dalton is the founder of Closed Horizon, a sort of GoFundMe for solving conspiracy theories. Its website says 160 users have contributed $54,112.90 toward a $100,000 goal for an investigation to prove that Epstein is still alive. He told Business Insider he took the trip to bring attention to the campaign.
"It's ground zero for the Epstein Criminal Network, and it's iconic," Dalton said. "And it's a place where we felt that it'd be really powerful to announce the reward program for proof of life."
The two rented a boat, and Owen and Dalton swam ashore. Owen planned to plant a flag bearing the logo of his organization, We Fight Monsters, which assists victims of human trafficking and opioid addiction, he said in a June podcast interview.
When they saw the temple-like building on the island, they "got a little excited" and "kind of forgot that you're not allowed to go beyond the beach," Owen said in the interview.
A group approached on all-terrain vehicles. Owen and Dalton ran back to the water to swim to their boat, Dalton told Business Insider. Dalton made it, but when he turned around in the water to look, Owen was surrounded, Dalton said.
One of the people on the island, Emery Poleon, called her mother, Rodriquez, Owen said on the podcast.
"Mom tells her to duct tape me and put me in the dungeon," Owen said. "And I'm thinking in my head, 'What an awful choice of words for somebody who works for a billionaire trying to rebrand this island from what it used to be. Why would you call it the dungeon? That is a strange thing to say."
US Virgin Islands prosecutors brought a trespassing charge against Owen and an assault charge against Poleon's boyfriend, Paul J. Arnold III, who prosecutors allege struck Owen. Arnold hasn't entered a plea. His attorney, David Cattie, declined to comment. Poleon declined to comment.
Deckoff's holding company, LSJVI, LLC, has filed lawsuits against Owen and Dalton, Eloi and Marcel Gil Sancho, Hall, and Petersen and the passel of influencers he traveled with.
In their videos, the influencers have cast themselves as truth-seeking warriors.
Courtesy of SideQuest Drew
Deckoff's lawsuits seek to disgorge the influencers and content creators of any money they made from their videos. Petersen told Business Insider his group had already donated $30,000 of revenue from the videos to Polaris, an organization that fights human trafficking. Hall and Eloi and Marcel Gil Sancho haven't publicly responded to the lawsuits and didn't respond to Business Insider's requests for comment.
The suit against Owen and Dalton, filed in May, accused them of trespassing and called them delusional fame-seekers.
"Defendants believe that they are entitled to trespass and burglarize property in their search for evidence that a man who died seven (7) years ago is alive and (maybe) living on Little St. James," the lawsuit says.
The LLC is represented by Cattie, the attorney who represents Rodriquez and Arnold in their criminal cases. Cattie referred questions about the lawsuits to a spokesperson for Deckoff.
Deckoff "will continue to pursue every legal remedy, particularly for people who film themselves trespassing and make money off subsequent videos," his spokesperson said.
Deckoff's lawsuits seek to disgorge any money influencers have made from their videos.
THE US JUSTICE DEPARTMENT/ Getty Images
The office of US Virgin Islands Attorney General Gordon Rhea declined to comment on the prosecutions.
Owen told CBS News he found it "scary" that there's "a billionaire coming after me." He declined to comment for this story.
"My attorney got pretty upset with me for talking to media while my criminal case is still pending," Owen told Business Insider.
Owen's attorney declined to comment. Dalton declined to comment on the lawsuit.
Dalton said Little St. James will remain "a lightning rod for truth-seekers."
"Our federal government has abdicated their duty to show the American people what happened there and prosecute the people involved," he said. "And so in absence of that, I think that there are a lot of people who are willing to go there and try to understand it."
As a group of Isabel Haneder's colleagues sat down for lunch, the conversation quickly turned to saggy breasts and shrinking butts.
One person was marveling at how celebrities were able to drop large amounts of weight — due, they assumed, to GLP-1 use. Then, the commentator turned to the 52-year-old Haneder and asked: "You lost a lot of weight. What about you? What happened to your body?"
Haneder tells me she was "flabbergasted." She knows her body has noticeably changed since she started on a GLP-1 a year and a half ago. Even so, she didn't think her loose skin would become a water-cooler conversation at her job in TV production in Germany. She ended up stuffing her mouth with as much food as she could, simply so that she wouldn't physically be able to talk further.
"Discussing my boobs over lunchtime?" Haneder says. "Sorry, I don't feel like it."
The prevalence of GLP-1s has opened a Pandora's box of conversations around bodies and what we put in them. Body talk has always popped up at the office. Maybe you've encountered the coworker who remarks that they could never eat a lunch that rich, or subjects unwilling victims to conversations about their new diet. Still, there's been at least some cultural (and, occasionally, legal) understanding that explicit comments about bodies and their sizes are a no-go. In the era of GLP-1s, those boundaries have become murkier: Nobody knows where the red line is, and it's created a no-win situation for everyone involved. The new age of miracle weight loss drugs is creating workplace nightmares.
Emotions and health insurance
On its face, discussing a medication at work shouldn't create too many complications. From a legal standpoint, David Holt, an employment lawyer, tells me, "an individual is always allowed to share whatever they want about themselves — that's the superseding of all employment law." The issue arises in the social and financial contexts of jobs. GLP-1s are inextricably intertwined with two very emotional aspects of our work lives: Health insurance costs and social relations.
One snag is money. Americans are uniquely tied to their coworkers through the cost of health insurance. If someone in your company has a costly ailment, that could push up premiums for everyone. A study by the Employee Benefit Research Institute found that health insurance premiums could increase by 10.4% when plans expand coverage to include overweight individuals. Even when a $90 copay is added to offset costs, premiums would rise 9%. The competing desires of cost and coverage can create tension between employees. Some want access to the drugs for their own weight loss, while others chafe at having to pay for what they perceive as someone else's lifestyle choices. For employers and the HR specialists tasked with deciding on these benefits, it also means making what's akin to a medical decision for their fellow workers, says Amit Shah, the president of metabolic health and benefits manager Virta Health. Benefits managers are often torn between the two warring groups, Shah says. One of the managers he works with has been making these kinds of calls for two decades, but recently said that the push and pull over GLP-1s made the last two years the most stressful and difficult of their career.
"From the employer side of the house, philosophically, a lot of clients are trying to balance empathy with economics," Caroline Susie, a senior principal at healthcare consultancy MercerWell, tells me. GLP-1s aren't the sole medications driving up costs for workers — new cancer treatments, Susie points out, have made a huge difference in outcomes and pushed up costs, as they've done for obesity treatments. But GLP-1s and their coverage end up eliciting more debate than those other treatments, something that can cause further discomfort in workplaces bound by premiums and plans.
"I do think there's some of that — you make a comment about somebody living overweight, but you don't make a comment about somebody living with cancer," Susie says.
The second workplace issue is how we perceive our colleagues. Weight stigma can have tangible impacts on everything from mental health to getting passed over for a promotion. Research has found that women who have lost weight with GLP-1s are more likely to be hired or to find a partner. It's no secret that the societal pendulum has swung from nominally featuring or acknowledging larger bodies to erasing them in favor of smaller ones. The ubiquity of GLP-1s in everyday life has "put a thinner ideal of appearance back on the agenda," Alka Menon, a sociologist at Yale who's working on a book about the social effects of GLP-1s, says. Those conversations are seeping into the workplace, and while they might have the sheen of a medical discussion, their impact is different from someone saying they started a new prescription drug.
After Melissa, a Gen X attorney, lost weight on a GLP-1, she moved abroad to pursue a new postgraduate degree. In the back of her mind, she wonders whether her changed body is the reason for what feels like a newfound deference in the classroom, as she walks among peers who never knew her as larger. "I certainly feel like I'm being accorded more expertise than I deserve," she says.
The boundaries around how she talks about her body in professional contexts are multi-layered. Questions about her body often fall along the lines of "Are you happy?" With folks she knows, she's more likely to be willing to talk about the underlying emotion, but for those she doesn't know as well, her approach is more akin to "Oh, I know that you would never be asking to monitor my body shape."
Coworkers may try to have conversations about diets and body issues as "a way of relating and connecting to others," says Charlotte Markey, a professor of psychology at Rutgers and the author of several books on body image, even as research shows that doing so productively is nearly impossible.
"It's hard to have them in any kind of a way that's actually going to serve anyone," Markey says. "We think we're connecting, but really it's more that we're perpetuating concerns about eating in really specific ways or the size or shape of our bodies."
What's happening at work
When I speak with people about this topic, one thing is clear: Everyone feels bad.
That's true in workplaces where folks are uniquely equipped to know exactly what GLP-1s do. Dr. Jessie Sims, a surgical resident in Chicago, has an acute understanding of the drugs' benefits. She also grew up figure skating and saw firsthand the impact that an excessive focus on the body can have, especially in leading to eating disorders. She worries about how the prevalence of the drugs might further fuel disordered eating and a return to the thin-is-in culture — and feels uneasy with how accessible the drugs have become.
"I definitely know some people in healthcare who know the clinical indications that are still on the medication, despite not needing it," Sims says. Sims also understands the almost "morbid curiosity" that folks have after noticing someone else's profound weight loss.
"Because it's a popular weight loss drug, people feel like it's a more acceptable conversation point," Sims says, "which I don't think it is."
Shah, the benefits provider, also chafes at the amount of direct-to-consumer marketing for GLP-1s — it's easier for coworkers to discuss the prescription they quickly snagged from a telehealth provider than the in-depth conversations they had with their doctor.
All of these factors have pushed more coworkers to wade into the weight-loss conversation waters. One New York-based millennial told me she only sees her boss in person about once a quarter. The millennial, who works in a creative field, was prescribed a GLP-1 two years ago for various medical issues, and lost about 50-60 pounds. At their last meeting, her boss pointedly said how good she looked. When the millennial replied that she had gotten a haircut — hoping to deflect from body discussions — the boss doubled down and instead asked how she had lost weight. It felt like GLP-1 fishing.
On the flip side, one Gen Z man in media told me radical lifestyle changes — completely modifying his diet and starting an intensive exercise regimen — have helped him lose about 50 pounds over the past three years. His weight loss came right as Ozempic hit the mainstream, and coworkers kept insistently asking if he was on a GLP-1. When he said no, he heard whispers that some thought he was lying. The situation became so frustrating that he went to higher-ups to discuss his discomfort with the continual questioning.
Conversations like those can leave everyone on edge, not just the person whose body is being discussed, according to Maggie Unruh, a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign who has researched the cultural discourse surrounding GLP-1s. "Simply hearing coworkers speculate about another person's body can create anxiety for people," Unruh tells me.
What's unclear is where those conversations cross the line. Holt, the employment lawyer, says it can be hard to tell when the conversation tips into a hostile work environment. If someone speaks persistently about their own drug usage, for instance, and it makes another worker uncomfortable enough to speak to HR, it could become an employer's responsibility.
"You'd certainly want to at least consider, are we creating a hostile work environment by not redirecting that individual's talk?" Holt says. "Just as we would redirect if they were talking about porn or something ... it's not illegal to talk about porn, but it's very weird to talk about that in the workplace."
GLP-1s are already reshaping the workplace. A common set of HR policies or a new social framework could eventually tamp down the talk, but for now, we're in the Wild West, with every worker left to fend for themselves.
Molly, a millennial who works in tech, has long lived in a bigger body. She feels that, subconsciously, her coworkers define hard work through exercise, with the expectation that it will yield body-shrinking results. She worries that her colleagues may view her as lesser because her body has remained larger. Many on her team have disclosed that they're on some form of GLP-1. Molly has attempted to go on some form of the drug three separate times, but she had such extreme side effects — especially nausea — that, after all of that, she was so tired she couldn't work.
"It's incredibly paradoxical to be so exhausted from what you're trying to do to fit in the workplace that you can't fit in in the workplace," she says.
