I have lived through the harrowing experience of being bitten by a snake, facing a life-threatening situation. I remember the sensation of complete paralysis and panic; I could hear the doctors discussing my case, questioning whether it was a suicide attempt. No, it wasn’t. I simply made a mistake.
My journey began in 2001 when I started injecting myself with snake venom to pioneer a new treatment. Annually, 5 million people are bitten by snakes, leading to 138,000 deaths and over 400,000 amputations and serious complications—these numbers are staggering.
Fortunately, there are organizations dedicated to combatting this issue. Strike Out Snakebite is a global initiative that raises awareness about the dangers of snake venom. The concept of snake antivenom, which dates back 125 years, was introduced by Albert Calmette. However, antivenoms have not evolved significantly and carry risks, such as causing anaphylactic shock due to the presence of foreign horse proteins.
I was determined to eliminate the horse from this equation without causing harm to it while also safeguarding my own health and livelihood.
My initial training in venom extraction from spiders, scorpions, and centipedes began in 1999, making the task of extracting snake venom feasible. I started by diluting cobra venom to 1:10,000 for injections. The initial doses felt mild, akin to a bee sting, but over time, I escalated the concentrations to potentially lethal levels.
After extensive research, I was ready to test myself against a live snake. Anxiety surged through me as I questioned my immune response. There were no manuals, no guidance—it was entirely self-taught experimentation.
My first attempt was disastrous. On September 12, 2001, at precisely 11:02 p.m., I was bitten by a cobra and then again by another cobra only an hour later. The first bite seemed manageable, but the second overwhelmed my antibodies. I flatlined at midnight and awoke four days later in the ICU, dependent on antivenom from a local zoo. Ironically, antivenom was available at home, but paramedics were unaware of it.
Upon my discharge, I faced a choice: give up or learn from this experience. I chose the latter, enduring over 200 stings, never relying on antivenom again.
I became increasingly serious about my mission, engaging with scientists and exploring the rich history of self-experimentation in medicine. I even secured a signed letter from Nobel laureate Barry Marshall, who famously treated himself and received the Nobel Prize in return. Conversations with other esteemed scientists, including immunologist Peter Doherty, fueled my academic curiosity and commitment to researching toxins.
Snake venom varies enormously, even within the same species. A prime example is the brown snake, Shudnaja textile, which exhibits differing venom effects from northern to southern Queensland. This variation complicates the effectiveness of antivenoms, which are region-specific.
My aim was to cultivate broad-spectrum antibodies capable of neutralizing various venoms. With around 650 species of venomous snakes worldwide, I could not test them all. Therefore, I focused on the most dangerous, such as Taipans—the world’s most venomous snakes, along with cobras, coral snakes, and rattlesnakes.
Throughout the past 25 years, I have participated in six studies, which have been instrumental to my journey. Without participation, I wouldn’t advance antivenom development. Recently, Jacob Granville from Sentivax reached out after viewing a YouTube video of me being bitten by a black mamba followed closely by a Taipan. They extracted DNA from my B cells to clone my IgG antibodies for further in vivo research with mice.
The research yielded stunning discoveries, revealing that I could neutralize the venom of a king cobra, Ophiophagus hannah, even without having previously tested the venom itself. This offers hope for the development of a broad-spectrum, universal antivenom.
Our findings were recently published in Cell Press— a culmination of 25 years of work. Despite my name not being on the authorship list due to academic pushback against self-experimenters, I prioritize the collective impact over personal recognition.
Although human application of the antivenom is still a distant goal, I find solace in knowing that I have contributed all I can towards making a positive difference in this field.
New Scientist Book Club’s February selection: Tim Winton’s novel ‘Juice’
The New Scientist Book Club transitioned from exploring the implications of sex robots in January to discussing Sierra Greer’s impactful work, Anniebot, in February, alongside Tim Winton’s vivid portrayal of an Australian future in Juice.
Winton’s narrative is conveyed through an anonymous protagonist detailing life in a dangerously heated world, gradually revealing his role in administering punishment to those whose actions exacerbated climate change and exploring the depths of survival.
I found Juice to be a captivating read—utterly gripping and profoundly unsettling. But what were the book club’s impressions? The novel spurred lively discussions on our platform. In a positive review, Glen Johnson expressed his admiration, noting Winton’s adept descriptions of adaptations in a familiar climate zone, referring to the narrative as a “natural evolution of the resourceful Australian landscape.”
Victor Churchill echoed this sentiment: “Despite the harsh circumstances, it offers a surprisingly optimistic tone. While the plot presented some hurdles, it was overall exceptionally engaging.” He appreciated how the author allows readers intimate moments of discovery through the protagonist’s journey.
Kim Woodhams Crawford shared similar thoughts, commending the novel’s forecasts about potential climate disasters. “Regardless of political narratives, there’s no escaping the reality of severe temperature rises,” she cautioned.
However, not all responses were overwhelmingly positive. “Admittedly, I struggled with the novel’s initial chapters and nearly stopped reading,” Linda Jones confessed. “But once the backstory unfolded, my interest spiked dramatically.” Phil Gurski also remarked on the slow start of the book.
Opinions diverged on Winton’s narrative style. While some appreciated the unique voice of the imprisoned protagonist, others found it less convincing. “The writing evokes a sense of magical realism,” Gosia Furmanik suggested, although Jacqueline Ferrand posed a critical question: “In a dystopian reality, would a stranger truly want to know the complete history of your past?” Steve Swann, on the other hand, expressed frustration, stating he’d likely have taken drastic action if placed in the protagonist’s shoes.
A major topic of debate was the novel’s status as a dystopia. Winton himself wrote in an essay for us, “Dystopia is sometimes a word that desensitizes us to reality, and we can’t afford that.” Members engaged deeply with this theme.
Victor expressed, “This doesn’t feel like a dystopia per se; I perceive it more as a post-dystopian narrative where society has adapted to its harsh realities.” Margaret Buchanan added, “We won’t ascertain if this narrative is truly dystopian until future generations reflect on it amidst current climatic challenges.”
Conversely, Niall Leighton argued that the real-world experiences of many people mirror the novel’s depiction of dystopia. “It’s a semantic debate: can the essence of living in a dystopian nightmare be recognized as living in a dystopia?” he wrote. He emphasized that for him, Winton’s work unmistakably inhabits that genre.
Niall further posited the provocative idea: Can envisioning a dystopian future deter its actualization? “I agree with Tim Winton that we need to confront our reality instead of relating through dystopian narratives. What we truly require are stories that inspire us to build better, inclusive worlds,” he stated. This encourages reflection for many of us, myself included.
Meanwhile, Gosia raised concerns about the plausibility of Winton’s narrative choices, questioning whether killing descendants of the fossil fuel elite was a logical response to climate crises. She lamented that such actions seemed futile against the continuous decline of our environment.
As for the novel’s conclusion, I personally cherished the nuances of hope and ambiguous endings, which resonate with me. Samantha de Vaux shared her perspective, acknowledging that while a more positive outcome could have been possible, she respects the author’s narrative course. “This complex book and its conclusion challenged me profoundly,” she remarked.
As we conclude our discussion of Winton’s profound works, we pivot to our March selections—whether dystopian or not. Up next, I’ll delve into Daisy Fancourt’s insightful non-fiction, Art Cure: The Science of How Art Changes Our Health. As a Professor of Psychobiology and Epidemiology at University College London, she explores how art can elevate our mental and physical well-being, identifying it as the ‘forgotten fifth pillar of health’ alongside diet, sleep, and exercise. A captivating excerpt detailing how an art class transformed someone’s recovery post-stroke awaits readers. Join us in the New Scientist Book Club by signing up or connecting on our Facebook group here.
“Hour after hour we pass over a country as black as the night sky, across a fallen heaven adorning the stars with jets of white ash and smears of milky soot.” Tim Winton’s Juice
Shutterstock / Denis Tolkhov
As dawn breaks, I drive relentlessly, halting only when the plains turn black, with nothing but clinker and ash stretching to the horizon.
I stop, lower the side screen, and breathe in the calm southerly air—a fleeting stroke of luck in recent days. I know firsthand the danger wind poses to old fireplaces. In strong gusts, ash can suffocate in moments, and I’ve watched comrades succumb.
Wrap your scarf around your mouth and nose. Hang your glasses around your neck. Break the door. Please step out. Test the surface gently—ankle deep, or worse, to the shins. Silence looms, except for the hum of the rig’s motor.
Stay there; I’m calling.
I know she’s awake, but the child remains slumped in the cab, unmoving. I cautiously check the trailer—everything is secure: manufacturer, water, pods, equipment—but my greens lie disheveled from long, hard days. Some leaves have been windburned, but the overall damage appears manageable. I tap the reservoir to fill the flask, then don my glasses and scan the western approach—clear, with no smoke or movement.
I attempt to wipe the dust off the panels, but it’s futile; they’ll be covered with ash again within minutes. The turbine must release enough fluid to cross.
Back in the cab, I slam my boot heel on the step and climb in. She still doesn’t move. I can’t quite decide if this is a relief or an annoyance.
We’re okay, I reassure her. I’ll handle this.
She gazes out at the scorched earth.
This land, I reminisce, was once all woods. I flew over it when I was younger.
She blinks, her expression perplexed.
Trees stretched endlessly beneath us. The air was ripe, almost tangible.
She stays silent.
Have you ever flown?
No response.
I know your experiences at sea. I wondered if my status changed.
She shifts, resting her head against the side screen.
That’s quite something.
No sign of interest from her. After sitting, sun stains remain on the glass.
Yet, for once, I wish my flight had been for the sake of adventure, not heading to a dangerous place.
The sun rises, molten, tilting before us like a soaring airship before it vanishes. Break free from all comparisons and become your true self. A comforting yet terrifying thought.
I talk excessively, I admit. You too? You never utter a word. For once, I feel I’ve said too little.
She offers nothing in response.
I know you hear me—you’re following my words.
She scrapes the glass, spreading more grease than she removes.
Listen, I say. Those we lost—none will come for us. We must cross through these ashes. It’s crucial. There’s a fresh land waiting for us on the other side. We’ll move and set camp, understood? I hope it’s out there. It’ll be fine.
The child shifts away, and I tear a piece from my scarf, catching her attention. Pull the remaining fabric over your face and wrap it around your hat’s brim. She flinches but doesn’t resist. Dried blood from her forehead incident glints in her pale blue eyes, which appear even brighter now.
So, I say, the smell might lessen a bit. I’ll clean this rig later. You’re not merely looking, trust me. So, are you ready? Water’s here. We’ll eat on the other side.
Lift the side screen and move the rig. Walk swiftly to get through, but slowly enough to avoid an ash blizzard.
For hours, we cross a land as dark as the night, over fallen heavens adorned with jets of ash and milky soot.
The vehicle jolts but perseveres until my energy wanes. As midday sunlight pierces through, I witness colors emerge—tans, silvers, khakis, and bone hues—and the relief I feel is almost overwhelming.
Upon touching solid ground, I let the child out into the secret space. She appears invigorated by newfound freedom, yet hesitates to return to the rig. I won’t pamper her, but I must guide her firmly. My fatigue is palpable, and we need distance from that fireplace. When we finally start moving again, the atmosphere in the cab dims, disappointing—but soon we have reason to celebrate. As the bat finally flexes its power, a mighty gust from the south shakes the entire rig.
I will descend steadily. The child goes outside. I point to a dirty column rising into the sky in the distance behind us.
Look, I say. We could have been enveloped. But we are positioned upwind, right? It’s not mere luck. That’s our cleverness.
I close the shade and set the array.
She observes the ash cloud swirling north. As winds intensify, they intertwine. She follows me to the trailer, where I distribute the mash—she accepts Dixie and Spoon. With her back turned from the wind, she devours her meal eagerly.
Luck alone won’t suffice, I explain. You and I must remain composed.
She’s already licking the dirty container clean. I take it, hand her mine, and while she eats, I pull out the swag and roll it to the car’s side. Then, I lower the makeshift nightgown I crafted for her. Spread it beside me—close enough to keep watch, but not too close for comfort.
We’re all exhausted. Machines and living beings alike. Let’s sleep.
She finishes the last of her mash, licking my clean spoon as well. I rise, stow them in the trailer, then settle cross-legged on my swag again. She gazes east, her hat’s tail swaying in the breeze.
Be yourself, I urge.
And then I step outside.
——-
Later in the afternoon, I awaken to a slight ache. For a moment, I mistake it for home. A sick chicken downstairs threatens the whole flock. A disaster at my property. I know I should rise and head to the grow house, but as I open my eyes, the swaying shade above me grounds me to the dirt, far from my home. The child’s tear-stained face reminds me I’m not alone. I yearn to reach out, but she recoils. I leave her be and drift back to sleep.
When I wake again, shadows of the car and trailer stretch long, like lifelines. The rig stirs awake. I gingerly climb out, feeling sore and stiff, and attempt to resume our journey.
This is an excerpt from Juice by Tim Winton (Picador), part of the New Scientist Book Club’s February 2026 reading. You can purchase a copy here. Sign up to join the reading community here.
Tim Berners-Lee in a rack at the CERN computer center
Maximilian Bryce/CERN
Tim Berners-Lee holds a comprehensive map of the internet on a single page, featuring around 100 blocks linked by various arrows. These blocks encompass blogs, podcasts, group messages, and abstract themes like creativity, collaboration, and clickbait, providing a unique depiction of the digital realm from the innovator of the World Wide Web.
“Most of them are good,” he remarked during our conversation at New Scientist‘s London office, reflecting on the web’s successes and failures. This map serves as a guide for others and a reminder that only a small fraction of the Internet is deemed detrimental to society. The top-left quadrant illustrates Berners-Lee’s concerns, with six blocks marked “Harmful,” including names like Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, TikTok, X, and YouTube.
In the last 35 years, Berners-Lee’s creation has evolved from just one user (himself) to approximately 5.5 billion users, constituting about 70% of the global population. It has transformed communication and shopping, making modern life unimaginable without it. However, the list of emerging challenges continues to expand.
Issues like misinformation, polarization, and election interference have become staples of online discourse, contrasting sharply with Berners-Lee’s vision of a collaborative utopia. In his memoir, This is for Everyone, he reflects, “In the early days of the web, joy and wonder were abundant, but today’s online experience can induce just as much anxiety.”
It’s natural for the web’s architect to feel a sense of disappointment regarding humanity’s use of his creation, yet he remains hopeful for the future of the internet. As one of the foremost technology visionaries (with a plethora of accolades and honors), he shares insights on what went awry and how he envisions solutions.
Invention of the Web
The World Wide Web’s origin story hinges on being at the right place and time. In the late 1980s, Berners-Lee was part of the computing and networking sector at a U.S. company. At CERN, the particle physics lab near Geneva, Switzerland, he pondered over better document management methods.
Most systems forced users into rigid organizational structures and strict hierarchies. Berners-Lee envisioned a more flexible approach, permitting users to link documents freely. Hyperlinks existed for internal references, and the Internet was already available for file sharing—why not merge the two concepts? This simple yet transformative idea birthed the World Wide Web.
Although Berners-Lee had harbored the idea since 1989, he ultimately convinced his supportive supervisors to let him pursue it fully. Within months, he created a surge of developments that led to HTML—a programming language for web pages, HTTP—the protocol for transferring them, and the URL, the means to locate them. The final code consisted of just 9,555 lines, marking the web’s emergence by year’s end.The web was born.
“CERN was an extraordinary place to innovate the web,” he states. “Individuals from around the world, driven by a genuine need to communicate and document their experiences, came together there.”
The inaugural website was hosted on Berners-Lee’s work computer, adorned with a “Do Not Turn Off” sign and instructions for engaging with the web. More web servers emerged, leading to exponential growth: “In the first year, it grew tenfold; in the second year, another tenfold; and by the third, yet another tenfold.” He recalls, “Even then, I sensed we were onto something significant.”
Initially, most web pages were crafted by academics and developers, but soon, everyone began using them to share a wide array of content. Within a decade, the landscape blossomed into millions of websites, hundreds of millions of users, and the inevitable rise of dot-com ventures.
The Spice Girls with their website in 1997.
David Corio/Redferns
Despite the web’s immense potential for profit, Berners-Lee believed it should remain free and open to realize its full capabilities. This was a challenge, as CERN had legitimate grounds to claim royalties on the software being developed. Berners-Lee advocated for his superiors to release this technology openly, and by 1993, after much negotiation, the comprehensive source code of the Web was made available, complete with a disclaimer: CERN relinquishes all intellectual property rights to this code—the web will be royalty-free forever.
Early Days
For its initial years, the web flourished. Although there was a notorious stock market crash at the turn of the millennium, largely driven by speculative venture capital rather than the web itself, piracy was rampant, and malware was ever-present, the web was fundamentally open, free, and enjoyable. “People loved the web; they were simply happy,” Berners-Lee recounted in his memoir.
He captured the essence of this era, believing the web held the potential to foster new forms of collaboration among people. He coined the term “intercreativity” to describe the creative synergy of groups rather than individuals. Wikipedia, with around 65 million English pages edited by 15 million contributors, exemplifies what he envisioned for the web. He notably positions it on his map and describes it as “probably the best single example” of his aspirations.
However, the optimistic phase of the web was not to extend indefinitely. For Berners-Lee, the turning point came in 2016, marked by the Brexit vote and the election of Donald Trump. “At that moment, discussions arose about how social media could be manipulated to influence voters against their interests. In essence, the web became an instrument of manipulation driven by larger entities,” he shared.
Traditionally, political movements communicated their messages to the public openly, allowing for critique and discussion. However, by the mid-2010s, social media enabled “narrowcasting,” as Berners-Lee describes it, allowing political messages to be tailored into numerous versions for various audiences. This complicates tracking who communicated what and makes it harder to counter misinformation.
The extent of this microtargeting’s impact on elections remains debated. Numerous studies have tried to quantify how such messaging alters public opinion and voting behavior, generally uncovering only modest effects. Regardless, these trends contribute to Berners-Lee’s broader concerns about social media.
He emphasized that social media platforms are incentivized to maintain user engagement, which leads to the creation of “addictive” algorithms. “People are naturally drawn to things that evoke anger,” he states. “When social media feeds users misinformation, it’s more likely to garner clicks and ensnare users longer.”
Quoting author Yuval Noah Harari, he stipulated that creators of “harmful” algorithms should likewise be held accountable for their recommendations. “It’s particularly essential to undermine systems designed to be addictive,” Berners-Lee argues. He admits that imposing restrictions contradicts his usual free and open philosophy, viewing it as a last resort. Social media can unify individuals and disseminate ideas, yet it also poses unique risks that warrant change, as he specifies in his latest book. “This must evolve somehow.”
Nonetheless, he harbors an optimistic view of the web’s potential trajectory. While social media, despite its captivating nature, represents merely a fragment of the internet landscape, Berners-Lee contends that addressing these issues should be part of a broader strategy aimed at enhancing the web overall, with a focus on reclaiming digital sovereignty.
A Plan for Universal Web Access
To further this goal, Berners-Lee has dedicated the last decade to developing a new framework reinstating control with the individual. Presently, disparate internet platforms manage personal data. For instance, it’s challenging to share a video from Snapchat on Facebook or a post from LinkedIn to Instagram—the user can create this content, yet each company retains ownership.
Berners-Lee’s concept advocates for consolidating data into a singular data repository known as a pod (short for “personal online data store”), which the user controls, rather than having information dispersed across various platforms. This pod can hold everything from family images to medical records, with users determining what to share. This isn’t merely theoretical; he co-founded a company, Inrupt, that aims to bring this vision to life.
Berners-Lee using an early version of website and web browser invented at CERN in 1994
CERN
He is particularly enthusiastic about merging data wallets with artificial intelligence. For example, when searching for running shoes, current AI chatbots require detailed guidance to offer suitable recommendations. However, if an AI accesses a user’s data wallet, it can understand all past measurements, training history, and potentially spending behavior, leading to more accurate suggestions.
Berners-Lee advocates that AI should serve users, not large tech corporations. His goal isn’t to create individual AIs but to establish safeguards within software. Data wallets are part of the solution, along with an idea that AI should adhere to a kind of digital Hippocratic oath to avoid causing harm. He envisions AI acting as “your personal assistant,” providing tailored support.
While recommending appropriate running shoes may not address the web’s most pressing challenges, Berners-Lee possesses an exceptional ability to envision potential before others. Data wallets might seem mundane today, yet just decades ago, hyperlink-based document management systems were equally obscure. His passion for bettering the world drives him, as he believes enhancing the data ecosystem is crucial to achieving that goal.
All these developments suggest Berners-Lee envisions a fundamental shift for the web. He believes we must transition from an “attention economy,” dominated by competing clicks, to an “intention economy,” where users express their needs and companies—and AI—strive to fulfill them. “This is more empowering for the individual,” he asserts.
Such a transformation could redistribute power from tech giants to users. Some might think such a reversal unlikely, especially with the ongoing trends of tech dominance and the pervasive “doomscrolling” culture. However, Berners-Lee has a proven history of spotting opportunities others miss, and ultimately, he is the architect of the roadmap.
Fermented foods like kimchi can support your body and brain
Anthony Wallace/AFP via Getty Images
fermentation Tim Spector (Jonathan Cape (UK); US publication date TBC)
Humans are drawn to fermentation for two primary reasons: preservation and pleasure. Before the advent of refrigeration, fermentation allowed beverages like meads to be stored for months when untreated water could pose dangers. Additionally, milk that would spoil within a day could be transformed into yogurt or cheese, lasting for weeks. This evolution led us to develop a taste for these tangy flavors. The microorganisms responsible for creating these delights not only produced unique drinks but also offered numerous health advantages.
Today, foods like kimchi and sauerkraut are mostly solid. However, Dr. Tim Spector asserts in his upcoming book Fermentation: The Power of Microorganisms to Change Your Life that this trend is not novel; we have evolved to incorporate these items into our diets.
He begins with the fundamentals, explaining that fermentation is essentially the transformation of food by microorganisms. This process is complex, affecting not only the taste and durability of food but also our health. Even inactive microbes can influence our bodies and minds.
Fermentation closely ties to our microbiota. Fermented foods provide substrates for intestinal microorganisms, transforming into nutrients and active compounds like short-chain fatty acids that assist in regulating nutrition and immune responses. These foods bolster the beneficial microbes that uphold the gut’s mucosal barrier and reduce inflammation.
Fermented foods also introduce millions of probiotics to our bodies. Spector notes that a diverse microbiota correlates with better health, supported by numerous studies. He suggests that enhancing this diversity through fermented foods could even influence the efficacy of cancer treatments.
“
Improving gut microbiota diversity may even play a role in how well cancer treatments work “
The most compelling aspect of Fermentation is its exploration of this “microbial pharmacy,” with preliminary studies indicating that fermented products are tied to improvements in everything from irritable bowel syndrome to anxiety and immune health.
Spector’s own investigations, reflecting trends in nutritional studies, suggest that those who consume fermented products regularly report approximately 14% less severe symptoms compared to individuals taking other supplements.
This book includes fascinating information. For instance, despite attempts to cultivate around 30 distinct microorganisms found in natural kefir grains (ideal for making kefir), laboratories haven’t successfully replicated them.
Throughout Fermentation, it becomes apparent how crucial microorganisms are to our lives, merely scratching the surface of their interactions with us. Access to Spector’s health data often supports further research, although his company’s gut supplements are mentioned, potentially hinting at marketing motivations.
At its best, the book strikes a balance between science, medical anecdotes, and Spector’s personal fermentation journey, offering practical advice. During these moments, the writing appears genuine and accessible, especially when guiding readers on food choices, like opting for kefir made from whole milk grains, which include numerous microorganisms and yeast.
Nevertheless, Fermentation can occasionally feel repetitive, and knowledge sometimes overshadows storytelling. Despite Spector’s caution against overgeneralizing animal studies, the infancy of research in this area means he often relies heavily on his own conclusions. Still, this is a compelling and meticulously researched work. The final chapter is particularly intriguing, and I eagerly anticipate a future rich with understanding individual microorganisms— for instance, how cheese or yogurt might aid in alleviating depression or managing menopause.
Initially hesitant to ferment at home, I was encouraged to embark on my own experiments by around page 40. By the book’s conclusion, I had a jar of kombucha and some sauerkraut stashed away in my pantry.
Helen Thomson is a London-based author
New Scientist Book Club
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Donald Trump has expressed concerns to Apple and its executives regarding a plan that encourages high-tech companies to relocate cell phone manufacturing from India back to the US.
The US President mentioned a “minor issue” with Tim Cook from Apple after reports surfaced indicating that the company is considering shifting mobile phone assembly operations from China to India targeting the US market.
“I encountered a small issue with Tim Cook yesterday,” Trump stated while in Qatar on Thursday. He referred to Apple’s recent commitment of investing $500 million (£37.5 billion) in the US, adding:
The intricate manufacturing process of the iPhone involves over 1,000 components sourced globally, mainly assembled in China. Although Apple keeps its production details under wraps, analysts suggest that approximately 90% of iPhones are assembled domestically.
Nevertheless, rising trade tensions between Washington and Beijing have reportedly led to increased production in India.
“I told Tim… we have supported you well, and we’ve tolerated all the facilities you’ve established in China for years, and now we expect you to build [for] us. We said, “We are not interested in you building in India. India can manage on its own… We want you to construct here.”
Trump also mentioned that Apple would “aid in enhancing production in the US,” but he did not elaborate further on this claim.
Currently, no iPhones are manufactured in the US, and experts have cautioned that relocating assembly of Apple’s best-selling products to the home country may be impractical and costly. US financial firm Wedbush Securities predicts that iPhone expenses would rise if production moves to the US.
Apple has been approached for comments.
Additionally, the US President noted on Thursday that India had extended a trade agreement offering “no tariffs” on American goods.
New Delhi aims to finalize its trade deal with the US amidst a 90-day suspension that Trump announced on April 9th concerning a tariff increase for its trading partners.
“Selling in India is quite challenging. They essentially offer a deal where they do not impose any customs duties on us,” Trump remarked.
Over the years, India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi has been positioning his country as a hub for smartphone manufacturing.
In March, Apple’s primary Indian suppliers, Foxconn and Tata, exported a record high of nearly $20 billion worth of iPhones to the US to avoid Trump’s imminent tariffs.
Vice presidential candidates Tim Walz and Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez announced on Sunday that they will be playing American football as part of their efforts to secure votes from young people, just nine days before the White House election. The game was streamed live on Twitch.
Ocasio-Cortez and Walz will compete in the latest Madden game series as Democrats aim to regain control of the House of Representatives, maintain a Senate majority, and challenge Donald Trump in the upcoming presidential election. They also emphasized the importance of Kamala Harris’s victory.
“While we may not all share the same beliefs, defeating Trump this year is our main priority,” said Ocasio-Cortez.
Ocasio-Cortez criticized President Trump as an authoritarian ruler and a facist supported by special interests who are exacerbating the ongoing climate crisis. She also condemned the billionaire owners of the Los Angeles Times and Washington Post for not allowing their editorial teams to endorse Harris over Trump.
During the broadcast, Ocasio-Cortez also called out comedian Tony Hinchcliffe for making derogatory comments about Puerto Rico at a Trump rally.
Ocasio-Cortez and Walz decided to play Madden together a few weeks ago, as Walz had previous experience with the game and had worked as a football coach.
Following a recent NBC news investigation, Democratic candidate Kamala Harris is leading Donald Trump among young male registered voters.
Despite their lead, Democrats have historically struggled with public opinion during past election cycles. The Trump campaign recently criticized the former president during a three-hour appearance on Joe Rogan’s podcast, which primarily attracts young male viewers.
Sunday’s event with Ocasio-Cortez followed her initial appearance on Twitch, which was one of the platform’s most-watched events at the time.
Harris’s campaign strategy also focuses on targeting young people, with ads on sports gambling platforms such as DraftKings and Yahoo Sports.
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