Adam Piore

The Internet of Things (IoT) is not just a security problem. It's also a privacy nightmare.

There's a dark side to this wireless-driven revolution in convenience. The danger goes beyond hacking.

We just might be on the cusp of a mental health treatment revolution as researchers find that anxiety is a whole-brain phenomenon and proceed in identifying the complex neuronal circuits involved.

In an interview with Newsweek's Adam Piore, former White House Cybersecurity Chief expresses his concern for the U.S. during the 2020 Presidential Election because of previous Russian cyber interference.

Cyberhacking has become more prevalent in today's society due to the alleged infiltration of our voting systems by Russian Intelligence in the 2016 Presidential Election. Expert Richard Clarke explains how the U.S. will fare against cyberhacking in next year's election.

Gen Zs look for meaning

This year's college graduating class, raised by brooding cynics and witnesses to the economic collapse of 2008, are clear-eyed pragmatists.

Hudson Yards, the new Manhattan mega-development, has become the poster child for urban projects that critics say harm the middle class. Is it time to change course?

In the days before and after Parkland massacre survivors took their own lives, the father of a Sandy Hook victim gave a talk about brain health. He ended his own life a week later. Can brain imaging help identify people at risk for suicide?

Hackers steal our data. Tech firms abuse it. Can blockchain fix our privacy woes?

The 'next internet' isn't just for crypto-anarchists anymore. Thanks to a 24-year-old math savant, mainstream businesses like IBM are partying like it's 1993. Next up? You.

Even Remote Patches Of Oil Are Starting To Look More And More Attractive

Its approach echoes across the desolate plains of northern Alberta like the Tyrannosaurus rex that ruled here 265 million years ago. But even a three-story carnivore would have been no match for the Caterpillar 797 dump trucks that dominate the area now.

Driving through the streets of Jerusalem for the first time, Karen Armstrong felt as if she had stepped into a myth. "Jesus had probably walked up those steps leading to the Temple Mount.

HEALTHSUMMER SLIMIn the dead of winter, who can be blamed for settling into the couch with a six-pack of beer and a plate of those brownies from the holiday party?

There is little subtlety in the desolate opening pages of Yasmina Khadra's new novel, "The Swallows of Kabul" (195 pages. Doubleday). In lyrical, heartbreaking prose Algerian-born Army officer Mohammed Moulessehoul, writing under a feminine pen name to evade censors, warns his readers that the apocalyptic world they are about to enter will not be a pretty one. "The Afghan countryside is nothing but battlefields, expanses of sand, and cemeteries," he writes. "The cratered roads, the scabrous...

Jemma Gunning's first drink seemed harmless enough. It was a Chocolate Mudpie, a delectable mix of Bailey's Irish and ice cream. A dozen cocktails followed, chased by "fish bowls" filled to the brim with vodka and fruit juice.

Paul van Hoorn, 71, suffers from chronic glaucoma. His wife, Jo, 70, has painful arthritis. So every few days, the two septuagenarians shuffle to their local "coffee shop," ever watchful for robbers, to buy a little marijuana.

Usually those nominated for Golden Raspberry Awards, the "anti-Oscars," stew in silence and hope nobody will notice. (Sylvester Stallone, winner of more Razzies than anyone, has never commented on his notoriety.) But this year's top nominee has a different reaction.

John Wilson was halfway to a screening at Disney Studios when his colleagues discovered his secret identity. It was his license plate, which spelled out the word "R-A-Z-Z-I-E," which gave him away.

The sun had set more than seven hours earlier over the desolate main drag of Mosfellsbaer, Iceland. But inside the town's tiny one-room tavern at about 10 p.m., the entertainment was just beginning.

The hundred or so boats anchored in a fishing port of Penglai in China's Shandong province have seen better days. Their blue paint is chipped, their equipment rusty.

Cindy Gallop didn't need market research to see the mood of the country had changed. The week of September 11, her advertising agency, Bartle, Bogle, Hegarty, was putting the finishing touches on a campaign for the bond firm Cantor Fitzgerald.

He was, one witness recalls, like a football coach delivering a pep talk in the final minutes of a hopeless game. It was Dec. 3, 1999, the last day of the doomed global summit in Seattle.

In the era before Sept. 11, people could say with a straight face that businessmen like Bill Gates were more important than presidents. Not now. George W.

I hadn't even gotten out of the car, but already I was having grave doubts. A pack of fat, naked, middle-aged men in body paint had just cruised by on bicycles.

In ancient times, to eat an olive was to touch the gods. The Greeks believed it was Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, who gave mankind the divine fruit. They used it to anoint their bodies.

It used to be that Nicolas Bielma could hardly give away a tortilla. When he opened his store in Hunts Point in the early 1990s, the South Bronx was a burned-out wasteland.

The "no nukes" buttons dated from the 1970s and the audience consisted of curious locals, including a 9-year-old boy and his puppy. But when Kevin Kamps brought the anti-nuke campaign to tiny Moberly, Mo., last week, he loudly sounded the alarm.

Prach Ly seems an unlikely voice for Cambodia's lost generation. The skinny 22-year-old spends his days hawking karaoke videos to middle-aged Cambodian women out of a closet-size shop on a gritty street in Long Beach, California.