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Volvo is coming for its competitors with more efficient production and newer tech.

While the numbers are modest, the crackdown on cybercrime involved 13 countries in the MENA region, the largest law enforcement collaboration to date.

Nan Ransohoff / Nan's Substack: An analysis based on current valuations of OpenAI and Anthropic suggests ~$370B of philanthropic assets tied to the two AI companies are poised to become liquid  —  AI is about to generate hundreds of billions in new philanthropic funding.  We have a huge amount of work to do to make the most of it.

and_machines / Unsplash Many of the most exciting discoveries in science involve highly specialised knowledge and making connections between far-flung facts. Scientists must combine deep analysis with broad reasoning strategies. As in many information-rich tasks, researchers are looking to artificial intelligence (AI) systems to speed up their work. AI tools may be able to support key steps such as generating ideas, reviewing existing work and analysing data. The latest systems use large language models (LLMs) to allow scientists to interact naturally and directly with the vast body of knowledge captured in words in the scientific literature. But as two new systems described in papers just published in Nature show, when it comes to science, language alone can only go so far. What AI is doing to science A number of organisations, such as Sakana AI, are trying to automate the entire scientific process. To date, these efforts have largely focused on computer science, where “experiments” mainly involved designing and writing code. However, the Agents4Science conference organised at Stanford last October showcased a broader range of AI-generated papers. They covered topics from mechanical engineering and protein design to a system called BadScientist which deliberately produced “convincing but unsound” research. I have previously raised concerns about the impacts of AI scientists on the scientific ecosystem. Recent work validates these concerns, showing increased quantity but lower quality of both papers and peer reviews, identifying fabricated references in published works, finding fabricated and misleading images, and more. What scientists are doing with AI AI systems clearly can’t be trusted to conduct the full process of science on their own. But how about using AI to help scientists get more done more quickly? This is the intent of the two new systems described in Nature: Robin, made by non-profit Future House, and Co-Scientist, from Google DeepMind. Both systems aim to accelerate scientific discovery, working in collaboration with a scientist. Both are also “multi-agent” AI systems, meaning they are built as a collection of specialised agents each targeting specific steps of the scientific discovery process, coordinated by a “supervisor” agent. The agents that comprise Co-Scientist aim to mirror abstract cognitive tasks, such as a “reflection agent” that acts as a critical scientific peer reviewer assessing the quality of a hypothesis. “Ranking agents” debate research hypotheses in “tournaments”, using multiple interacting LLMs to simulate a discussion about the relative merits of two hypotheses. Robin’s agents, on the other hand, are more tuned to specific tasks relevant to drug repurposing, aiming to identify new drugs for a given disease. One agent focuses on selecting experimental tests, while another analyses complex biomedical data. How do the results stack up? Co-Scientist can assess the quality of its generated proposals, using a method called the Elo rating which is best known for ranking chess players. Co-Scientist’s self-ratings of the novelty and impact of its outputs align quite well with the preferences of human experts and judgements by other LLM systems. In a drug repurposing experiment, Co-Scientist selected 30 drug candidates as promising treatments for a kind of cancer called acute myeloid leukemia. Expert (human) oncologists refined the list, and five drugs were tested in the lab. Of these, three showed some positive results and one seemed to show particular promise. Other experiments showed the potential of Co-Scientist to explore combinations of multiple drugs. Notably, the predictions of Co-Scientist were not compared with the plethora of targeted computational and machine learning methods for drug repurposing that have been developed over decades of computational biology research. This means we don’t know whether the new general-purpose tool outperforms more specific AI approaches. Both systems stop short of validating their hypotheses directly, which would involve real physical experiments. Both also rely heavily on human input to define the key scientific question, sense-check predictions, and prioritise predictions for further investigation. Co-Scientist focuses primarily on generating hypotheses through elaborate reasoning agents, leaving validation and interpretation to subsequent steps. Robin also uses an agent to analyse data produced from real-world experiments. Robin was used to propose 30 drug candidates for a condition called dry age-related macular degeneration. The top five were selected for testing. Robin also made proposals for the experiments, with several suggestions overridden by the human scientists. Through several rounds of brainstorming and analysis, two drugs were identified as promising. Testing of Robin’s individual agents showed those that dug through earlier research were better at the task than general-purpose LLMs. The analytical agent did less well on questions about statistics and bioinformatics, and relied heavily on human-supplied prompts. The limits of language alone AI can help scientists to navigate the vast amount of documented knowledge humans have acquired over the millennia. Use of computation to find patterns in large datasets, to integrate dispersed information, and to drive new discoveries from existing literature has already contributed to scientific progress for decades. New models such as Robin and Co-Scientist represent a shift towards working directly in the realm of the language of science, rather than the realm of raw data. This allows more natural collaborations between scientist and machine, through language-based “discussions”. However, more natural doesn’t necessarily mean more effective. Language-based communication can be imprecise and ambiguous, where science must be specific. Models that combine the best of these worlds are on the horizon. These aim to link structured quantitative data to the concepts and relationships that describe the core facts beneath it. Such models ground scientific reasoning in the structure of knowledge. They allow scientific evidence ranging from genomic sequences and protein structures to cellular imaging to be connected. Words are how science is communicated. AI tools that facilitate making sense of the information that is hidden in all of those words are surely valuable. But the complexity of the natural world means that AI (co-) scientists will only be truly effective when they can go beyond connecting words together, to modelling the full complexity of the systems those words describe. Karin Verspoor receives funding from the Australian Research Council, the National Health and Medical Research Council, and the Medical Research Future Fund for development of AI-based approaches for biomedical data analysis and clinical decision support. She is a Director of BioGrid Australia, a Technical Advisor to Voral.ai, a member of the Technical Reference group for Software as a Medical Device at the Therapeutic Goods Administration, and a member of Standards Australia Committee IT-014-21, AI in Healthcare. She is a co-founder of the Australian Alliance for Artificial Intelligence in Healthcare. She owns Google stock.

George Hammond / Financial Times: Q&A with Harvey CEO Winston Weinberg on launching the legal AI startup in 2022, how AI could shake up law firm business models, legal AI competition, and more  —  The co-founder of the legal start-up talks about how AI could shake up law firms' business models and how he plans to stay ahead of rivals

John Timmer / Ars Technica: Two research papers describe how Google's Co-Scientist and nonprofit FutureHouse's AI tools can succeed at drug-retargeting tasks by forming hypotheses  —  Both tools generate hypotheses; one goes on to analyze some of the data.  —  On Tuesday, Nature released two papers describing AI systems intended …

Minnesota is trying to ban prediction markets, but the CFTC is putting up a fight. Bloomberg/Getty Images Minnesota is the first state to sign off on a ban on prediction markets like Kalshi and Polymarket. But a government agency is fighting the ban, suing Gov. Tim Walz for signing the bill. Prediction markets have faced backlash from lawmakers who say they enable insider trading and gambling. Minnesota has become the first state to ban prediction markets, but the fight over these platforms' right to operate is far from over. On Tuesday, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz signed and approved a state ban on prediction markets. Per the bill, any person who creates, operates, or advertises a prediction market that involves wagers on events such as sports, elections, and government actions will be guilty of a felony. The ban is set to go into effect on August 1. Hours after the bill was passed, the US Commodity Futures Trading Commission, or CFTC, filed a lawsuit against Minnesota and Walz to block the ban. The agency said it regulates trades in prediction markets, such as Kalshi and Polymarket, and Minnesota cannot criminalize them under state law. It added in a Tuesday press release that Walz's legislation will "undermine the federal regulatory regime set up by Congress more than 50 years ago." "This Minnesota law turns lawful operators and participants in prediction markets into felons overnight," said Michael Selig, the CFTC's chairman. He added that Minnesota farmers have relied on hedges against weather and crop events for decades to mitigate their risks. "Governor Walz chose to put special interests first and American farmers and innovators last," Selig said. Prediction markets allow users to place "yes" or "no" wagers on events, and hinge upon speculation in sports, politics, pop culture, and other fields. They have seen strong criticism from several lawmakers in recent months, who warn that the markets enable insider trading. In response, Kalshi said in March that it would preemptively block politicians and sportspeople from placing bets on its markets. Polymarket has also put in guardrails prohibiting trades on illegal tips and confidential information and ensuring that traders cannot influence the outcome of the event. If allowed to go through, Minnesota's outright ban will be the toughest prediction-market legislation in the country. Several lawmakers have introduced bills, such as California Sen. Adam Schiff and Utah Sen. John Curtis' "Prediction Markets Are Gambling Act," but none have been passed yet. Representatives for Walz and the CFTC did not respond to requests for comment from Business Insider. Read the original article on Business Insider

Catie Edmondson / New York Times: Three precedent-setting court rulings in China have said that employers replacing workers with AI is voluntary cost-cutting that does not justify mass layoffs  —  A series of precedent-setting rulings signals that Chinese courts are being enlisted to shield workers from displacement by artificial intelligence.

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Ukrainian troops posted drone-camera footage of rockets appearing to fly from the wings of the uncrewed aircraft toward a Russian naval base. Unmanned Systems Forces and Magyar Birds Ukraine has been mounting rocket pods on its one-way attack drones to strike Russia's rear. The combo lets the drone launch up to eight rockets while reserving its warhead for primary threats. One unit said it carried out the attacks about 300 miles deep. Ukraine has been fitting long-range attack drones with cheap unguided rockets, using them in the Russian rear to bombard strategic assets and suppress air defenses. The Unmanned Systems Forces, or USF, said on Monday that units had equipped fixed-wing exploding drones with up to eight rockets each. The military branch posted several drone-camera clips that appear to show pairs of rockets flying toward ground targets in quick succession, indicating that the eight munitions were split into two pods, with one under each wing. According to the video, at least one of these attacks was carried out on Sunday by the USF's 1st Separate Center against a naval installation belonging to Russia's Black Sea Fleet in Crimea. The drone-mounted rockets were also used to harass air defense crews over fields and forests in the Russian rear area, per the video. "The task is set — zero out these machine gunners and MANPADS crews," read a caption on the montage, referring to Man-Portable Air-Defense Systems, which are typically shoulder-mounted missile launchers. "From now on, UAVs will be equipped with rocket pods for engaging different types of targets," the USF added, using a term frequently said by Ukrainians to describe Russian soldiers. Because of all the Moscow news yesterday, you might've missed this one — but we’ve been working on it for a while, so please appreciate it: we strapped missiles to drones. We now have drones with missiles. That’s right. Missile drones. 🛩️🚀 Pew pew, mfs. 😈 pic.twitter.com/Xu3cNBAnY9 — 🇺🇦 Unmanned Systems Forces (@usf_army) May 18, 2026 The 414 Magyar's Birds, a drone unit founded by the commander of the USF, Robert Brovdi, said some of the rocket strikes were launched at "operational depth up to 500 km," or 310 miles. That's about the distance between Ukraine's border and Moscow. The Ukrainians said that, besides the rocket strikes, they still deployed the drone's original 132-pound explosive warhead. Doubling up on attack missions Fitting unguided rockets to long-range drones gives Kyiv's forces an expendable way to deploy them deep in enemy territory, without risking attack helicopters or strike aircraft that have traditionally launched the munitions. These rockets also provide a more cost-effective way of fighting at such a range. Simpler unguided rockets, such as the Ukrainian or Russian S-8, can cost a few thousand dollars each. A more expensive fixed-wing drone, typically priced in the tens of thousands, could use the cheaper rockets to attack secondary threats while reserving its more powerful warhead for a primary, valuable target. The tactic could also benefit the drone's original mission. As the montage suggests, the rockets might suppress or destroy Russian air defenses seeking to disrupt the drone mid-flight. Ukraine has launched hundreds of long-range drones at Russia, but many are brought down by a layered network of surface-to-air missile systems, electronic warfare, and gun crews. Magyar's Birds and USF didn't name the exact drone model used, but published a clip of a drone shaped like a small airplane firing rockets from its wings. The video emerged last week among open-source intelligence social media accounts, which said the drone was attacking a Russian mobile air defense unit in Crimea. Business Insider could not independently verify when or where the clip was filmed. The drone's design closely resembles that of the FP-1 or FP-2, made by local manufacturer Fire Point. They were built to fly nearly 1,000 miles with a 132-pound warhead. Each is reported to cost about $50,000 to $55,000. Fire Point builds two long-range drones, the FP-1 and FP-2. It also builds a long-range missile called the Flamingo, which Ukraine has touted as one of its main weapons for deep strikes into Russia. Serhii Okunev / AFP via Getty Images Magyar's Birds and the 1st Separate Center did not immediately respond to requests for comment sent outside regular business hours by Business Insider. Russia, too, has deployed missiles and rockets on its long-range drones before. In December, Ukraine's intelligence agency said the Kremlin had been firing R60 air-to-air missiles from its Shahed-type drones. The agency said the R60s were used against Ukrainian helicopters and aircraft trying to destroy the delta-wing drones. Read the original article on Business Insider

Financial Times: Sources: Nvidia's business development group, not its VC arm NVentures, has led much of its ~$90B dealmaking push across 145+ companies over the past 16 months  —  Chipmaker's spending rivals Big Tech's biggest venture operations, tying customers and start-ups to its technology

Alexander Martin / The Record: Sources: an attack exploiting a previously unknown vulnerability in Huawei router software caused a three-hour nationwide telecoms outage in Luxembourg in 2025  —  An attack exploiting a previously unknown vulnerability in Huawei enterprise router software caused a nationwide telecoms outage …

Mindy Kaling says having kids made her rethink her health. Chad Salvador/WWD via Getty Images Mindy Kaling says having kids made her more conscious about her health. She said her motivation to be fit is no longer vanity, but wanting to "live at least 20 more years" for her kids. Even so, Kaling said she understands why her weight loss can spark strong public reactions. Mindy Kaling says becoming a mom changed the way she thinks about her health. Speaking to Bustle in an interview published on Tuesday, Kaling reflected on her weight-loss journey and the public scrutiny that comes with it. "It's sometimes no fun when one of your favorite actors loses weight. You have an idea of what they were like when you grew attached to them, and it made them endear themselves to you," Kaling said. "Of course, it's never a joy to be scrutinized, but also I truly understand it, as someone who consumes pop culture." Although Kaling has long been open about not fitting Hollywood's traditional beauty ideals, she said her fitness journey is now driven by the need to "live at least 20 more years" for her kids. "Do I wake up every day being like, 'I look amazing and I'm so gorgeous'? No, unsurprisingly, but I truly feel so healthy," she said. Kaling has two daughters and one son, but has never publicly revealed the identity of the children's father. The actor added her goals around weight and fitness look very different now than they did earlier in her life. "When I was younger, I would want to lose weight because of vanity reasons. Now I want to lose weight or have lost weight because I want to stave off things like diabetes. I had it on both sides of my family, and trying to avoid those kinds of things will, I think, help longevity for me, and that's my goal," she said. In 2022, Kaling told People that she was trying to build a healthier relationship with exercise, after years of viewing it as something that needed to feel punishing to be effective. "I've really been mixing it up and knowing that if a workout doesn't necessarily make me soak my clothes with sweat, that it still was a good workout… It does not have to be punishing," she said. In 2024, she told Prevention that she stays active through strength training and walking 15 to 20 miles a week. "If I have any phone call, I just pick up the phone and I just go for a walk. Sometimes I listen to music, but it's been such an easy way to get three to five miles a day of walking and movement, which I think is really important," Kaling said. Read the original article on Business Insider

Dunia Innovations today announced plans for Berlin GigaLab: a 6,000 m², €280 million facility designed to discover and develop advanced materials at industrial scale. Siemens, ABB Robotics, NVIDIA, AW...

Prosecutors say Andrew Left was working with hedge funds and concealing it from the public. Eric Thayer/Bloomberg/Getty Images Prosecutors say Andrew Left worked with hedge funds but didn't disclose it to the public. They said Left was paid from the profits earned by a hedge fund based on his trade recommendations. Left's defense said his work with hedge funds was legal and his reports reflected his own views. Prosecutors in Andrew Left's securities fraud trial say the prominent short-seller wasn't always working alone in the tweet-and-trade tango he's been accused of. The Citron Research founder is accused of manipulating the market and deceiving retail investors with a plan that earned him more than $20 million. Prosecutors said Left was working with hedge funds and sharing in some of their trading profits. They've accused him of concealing those relationships in order to "maintain the illusion of Citron's independence." Eliza Goldberg, a chief compliance officer at Atom, a Texas-based hedge fund, testified in a Los Angeles federal court on Tuesday that Left was paid more than $2.6 million by the fund for providing trading recommendations. Prosecutors, who say Left hid that work from retail investors, said some of those payments were made weeks before Left published a report criticizing another activist short seller's work with a hedge fund. In August 2019, Harry Markopolos, the famous whistleblower of the Bernie Madoff scandal, issued a short report on General Electric, accusing it of fraud "bigger than Enron." Left issued a rebuttal tweet and report, calling Markopolos' credibility into question. "As noted in the disclaimer on his site, Harry is being paid a % of profits from an unnamed hedge fund that is short GE," Left wrote in the report. "No credible hedge fund or short seller would ever do this." Left's report also said regarding his own activity, that Citron had never been paid to publish research and that "compensation tied to the 'success of a trade' would not pass internal compliance nor would it pass compliance of any fund that Citron would collaborate with on ideas." Left's defense suggested his claims about Markopolos' work with a hedge fund were not a one-to-one comparison with Left's. They've argued that there was no rule or law preventing Left from working with a hedge fund. They also said the agreements with Atom had a confidentiality clause that would've prevented Left from publicly disclosing he was working with the fund. Prosecutors have also accused Left of coordinating with at least one hedge fund, Anson Funds, to draft Citron reports and tweets, and that Anson would make trades tied to those reports, sharing a portion of the profits with Left. Text messages showed in court included exchanges between Left and a portfolio manager at Anson. "the best shorts are retail shorts no doubt," Left wrote in a text, referring to stocks that are owned by a lot of retail investors. "we can DESTROY CRON," Left said in another text message, which prosecutors said was a reference to Cronos Group, a cannabis stock. After the report on Cronos was released, Left wrote in a text to the portfolio manager that once he realized who owned the stock, it was like taking "candy from a baby." Prosecutors said Left was paid over $1.1 million from Anson related to trades on two other cannabis stocks, Namaste Technologies and India Globalization Capital. They also said he got the money through a third party that Left invoiced for "consulting services." The defense said Left may have consulted industry experts, like Anson, which was in the cannabis space, but that reports put out by Citron were his honest views. They said Anson, based in Canada, had better access to the stocks Left was interested in trading. They also said Left's "candy from a baby" comment referred not to retail investors broadly but to the "hundreds" of people who sent him vile emails after he published the short report. Read the original article on Business Insider

The author said that having lunch with her kids during the school day meant so much to her. Courtesy of Isobella Jade. The elementary school my children attended allowed parents to have lunch with their kids. I cherished these lunches, which allowed me to spend extra time with my kids. My youngest is moving on to middle school, and I'm going to miss these special moments together. Elementary school is filled with so many monumental moments that parents try to capture. There are the kids standing by the balloons in front of the school on the first day, the holiday concert, Field Day, or a hundred other school activities that we're lucky to join in on. For me, the best and most meaningful moments happened at lunch. Now that my youngest child is set to finish the school year and her time in elementary school, I'm realizing that these special moments we had together at lunch are in the rear-view mirror for me. My heart aches. The lunches are easy to set up Every year, when I received an email reminder via the school newsletter about parent-student lunches, I'd start planning the days — around two times each month — when I could have lunch with each of my kids. The school makes it fairly easy to go in for a lunch date. All I had to do was check in at the front desk before lunch begins, get a visitor sticker, and then wait for my child's grade to enter the cafeteria. Once the kids arrive, I could sit with my child at the reserved tables for parents, or we could head outside to the tables, benches, or lawn chairs. The author said she enjoyed connecting with her kids at lunch during weeks that they were with their father, whom she is divorced from. Courtesy of Isobella Jade. The lunches meant a lot to me Having lunch with my kids was never just lunch. As a newly divorced mom, having lunch together meant so much to me as I adjusted to splitting time with my kids. It was excruciating to say goodbye to them every other Sunday. To me, having lunch meant our week apart could include some extra smiles, laughs, a check-in, a chat, and a hug, all in the span of a 36-minute lunch in the school cafeteria or in the green area outside. My divorce had wrecked my nervous system and broken my heart to pieces, so surprising my kids with their favorite meal and a quick hello was more than having sandwiches or chicken nuggets together to me. It was a comfort, it was a connection, a chance to look into their eyes. I know my kids looked forward to these brief moments together as well. I tried to bring their favorite foods Before my kids got phones, I would often surprise them at lunch, wing it, and bring whatever I thought they'd like to eat. For my son, a Chick-fil-A sandwich with no pickles and fries, and Starbucks treats. Then there was the grilled cheese sandwich my daughter loved, along with Whataburger chicken baskets, Subway sandwiches, Raising Cane's chicken fingers with extra sauces, and toast. Once they had phones, I would text them that I would be coming the next day for lunch and ask them what meal they wanted me to bring. The author poses for a selfie on a sunny with her daughter. Courtesy of Isobella Jade. At our lunches, we would talk about what was coming up, a test, a school activity, a soccer or volleyball game that weekend. Between bites of a salad or chicken wrap, I'd listen to their long stories about recess, specials, and their lives. I could grasp a sense of their emotions and how they were feeling. Sometimes I brought Uno, a squishy toy or marker, and a coloring pad. It was a time to relax, sit back, and just chill with my children, whom I missed so much. It wasn't easy, but I prioritized these lunches Having lunch took some coordination to time everything correctly, to leave my work projects, to pick up the food, to get to the school on time. Since my kids are a few grades apart, I would either take turns on different days or, if I had extra time, I would see them both for lunch on the same day. As my kids got older, I thought maybe they'd be embarrassed to sit with their mom at lunch while their classmates looked on, but our lunches lived on through 5th grade. My daughter will be in middle school next year, so this phase is coming to an end. It was just lunch, but it was a way to say I love you and I'm always here — and I'm really going to miss that. Read the original article on Business Insider

Chatrine Siswoyo moved to Hong Kong for her husband's job opportunity. Provided by Chatrine Siswoyo Chatrine Siswoyo, now 40, has built a career across companies including Philips, Uber, Netflix, and ByteDance. Ten years ago, she left her dream job at Twitter to relocate to Hong Kong for her husband's role. Starting anew without a job forced her to confront who she was beyond her career. This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Chatrine Siswoyo, a communications leader. Her words have been edited for length and clarity. I turned 40 this year, and I still think about the moment I almost forgot how to define myself. It happened 10 years ago on a plane. We were flying from Singapore to Hong Kong. My husband had accepted a new role there, and after a long stretch of conversations about timing, family, and careers, I decided to pause my career to follow him. I'd spent about 6 years working in journalism, public relations, and marketing across Indonesia, the US, and Singapore, for companies like Philips and Twitter. So when the immigration form arrived on that flight, and I reached the line asking for "Occupation," I expected my instincts to take over. Instead, I froze. I stared at the page for a long time. Then I wrote nothing. It forced me to confront a question I had never really faced before: Who am I without my career? It sounds small, but for someone who had always tied my identity so closely to my work, it felt like a quiet existential crisis. I grew up in Indonesia I was raised in Central Java by parents who used a simple philosophy — if you work hard enough, very little is out of reach. I studied international relations at Arcadia University in Pennsylvania. Back then, my plan had been to become a war journalist. My first job, a broadcast journalist at Voice of America in Washington, DC, brought me close to that dream. Then, almost unexpectedly, everything shifted. While interviewing Indonesia's trade minister, I met someone in her delegation who suggested I consider a career in communications. That conversation led me to Jakarta and quietly rerouted my whole career. I joined a global communications agency and quickly moved across accounts and industries, learning fast. From there, I stepped into a leadership role at Philips Indonesia, becoming a young female manager in a large, male-dominated organization. Later, I moved to Singapore, continued in communications, and eventually transitioned into tech, accepting a job at Twitter. The pace was intense, and the learning curve steep — especially navigating how differently business culture and communication styles play out across markets. Leaving Twitter in 2015 because of my husband's job opportunity wasn't easy — I had finally found my professional footing. But when my husband was offered a role in Hong Kong, we chose to move together, especially as we were thinking about starting a family. Then, life shifted again The first three months in Hong Kong were disorienting in ways I hadn't anticipated. I had always been defined by motion — teams, deadlines, decisions, output. Suddenly, I had none of that structure. I still remember a conversation with a headhunter who, after hearing my background, bluntly told me I would likely struggle to find work in Hong Kong — I was neither a native English nor a Cantonese speaker. I had come from environments where my voice was recognized, and my perspective carried weight, but in Hong Kong, I was starting again from nothing. Socially, I noticed a shift in myself, too When people asked, "What do you do?", I reached for my past. I would say "I used to work for this company" or "I did this role". I was constantly translating myself into something legible. Almost instinctively, I found myself leaning on past titles as a way to justify my place in the room. Looking back, it made me realize how quickly we can reduce people to their credentials — and how easily that shapes who we choose to listen to. But being on the other side of that experience changed something in me. It reminded me that value isn't tied to status or company names, and that everyone carries a story far richer than what appears on paper. Siswoyo's took on roles at Uber, USAID, ByteDance (pictured), and Netflix. Provided by Chatrine Siswoyo Through volunteering, I met women whose lives were not defined by corporate structures. On paper, some might have been described simply as "housewives." Their dedication reminded me that a person's worth can never be measured by their title alone. During my time in Hong Kong, I took a short break — about three months — before returning to marketing. I quickly realized I needed to keep myself busy and engaged. I later moved between Jakarta and Singapore, further building my career through roles at Uber, USAID, ByteDance, and Netflix over 10 years. These days, I wear multiple hats I left Netflix after two years, and in 2024, I became the senior advisor for ASEAN at Vero, a board member, and founder of several charities. Do I miss corporate life? I miss the depth — being inside one organization long enough to see its long arc unfold — the politics, the culture, the slow evolution of ideas into reality. In the end, it wasn't the pause itself that changed me; it was everything around it. Letting go of what I thought was my dream role at Twitter, then arriving somewhere new where no one knew who I was, forced a kind of reset I hadn't expected. Read the original article on Business Insider