TheChek News Flow

Tech stocks zip about on the latest AI expectations. Plus: A Financial Flashback to 55 years ago, when Nixon dropped the gold standard.

July was a good lesson for long-term fund investors: Don’t sweat the day-to-day moves.

Tech stocks were hammered one day, then celebrated the next, on the latest hints about the impact of artificial intelligence. International Business Machines stock dropped 25% on July 14, its worst day in the company’s century-old history; Apple shares fell a bracing 7.4% on July 31, the same day that Amazon.com rocketed 15%.

But in the end, it wasn’t a big setback for fund investors overall. After a strong second quarter led by tech stocks, the average U.S.-stock mutual fund or exchange-traded fund posted a negative total return of 2.1% for July. That leaves the category with a year-to-date gain of 10.6%, according to statistics from LSEG. (See Mutual-Fund Yardsticks table.)

“As we head into the fall, within a midterm election year, there is typically volatility and so we would be cautious for the next couple of months,” said Chris Zaccarelli, chief investment officer for Northlight Asset Management. “The stock market returns in the third quarter of midterm election years are much less than the average third-quarter returns” in the other three non-midterm years, he said.

International-stock funds were up 0.6% on average for the month, to increase their year-to-date gain to 11.1%.

Bond funds fell. Funds focused on investment-grade debt (the most common type of fixed-income fund) posted a negative total return of 1.3%, to leave them with a 0.6% decline so far in 2026.

FINANCIAL FLASHBACK

A look back at Wall Street Journal news from this month in history

• 55 YEARS AGO: End of the Gold Standard

For years after the end of World War II, the Bretton Woods system of fixed exchange rates pegged the U.S. dollar to gold at a rate of $35 an ounce. Then came the “Nixon shock.”

Beset by inflation and a weak job market, President Richard Nixon on Aug. 15, 1971, held a “suddenly scheduled television broadcast” to the nation in which he ordered a series of economic moves to promote price stability, boost job growth and stoke American competitiveness. Perhaps his most stunning move: ending the gold standard for international exchange.

“Formally, the U.S. notified the 118-country International Monetary Fund that it ‘no longer freely buys and sells gold for the settlement of international transactions,’ ” the Journal wrote. This meant that the U.S. had decided to “completely close the gold window” and to “let the dollar float” according to supply and demand.

“The range of actions I have taken and proposed tonight on the job front, on the inflation front, on the monetary front is the most comprehensive new economic policy to be undertaken in this nation in four decades,” Nixon told the TV audience. He also expressed belief in Americans’ ability to meet the challenge of foreign peacetime competition.

President Nixon admitted, in effect, that he was gutting the international monetary system by cutting loose the dollar from the gold-price peg, the Journal wrote. Under that system, set up at Bretton Woods, N.H., at the end of the war, the U.S. renewed its promise to peg the dollar to the fixed gold price and other countries agreed to peg their currencies to the dollar. But Canada, Germany and the Netherlands had already been defying the rules by letting their currencies float.

Still, despite the drastic actions, the Nixon administration declined to describe the end of the gold peg as a “devaluation of the dollar.” Officials did acknowledge that the move would “shake things up” as governments wishing to exchange excess dollars for gold would no longer be paid at the $35-an-ounce price.

“I wouldn’t use the word devaluation simply because I don’t know what is going to happen,” said Treasury Secretary John B. Connally, adding that Nixon’s move “permits us to negotiate new rates of exchange.” In 1973, the U.S. devalued the dollar, and less than two years later, a new gold-ownership law allowed Americans to hold gold other than jewelry for the first time since 1933—and trade it on futures exchanges.

• 60 YEARS AGO: Bear-Market Honey: A Few Investors Make Profits Even as Most Stock Prices Plunge

• 100 YEARS AGO: Another Week of Dulness in Bonds

‘What About Garmin?’ I Tested the Company’s Answer to Whoop

The Cirqa health tracker offers lots of data with no distractions

If you ever want to experience the wrath of passionate tech-column readers, write a review of wearables and don’t mention Garmin GRMN 2.99%increase; up pointing triangle.

My inbox was full of fans wondering where their favorite wrist-computer was in my testing. As it turns out, Garmin users are an enthusiastic, and occasionally menacing, bunch. Message received.

But I have a good excuse for not including Garmin the first time around: Their take on a screenless device wasn’t available yet. After my initial piece was published, the company unveiled the $200 Cirqa, a no-display health band. There’s no subscription needed to view metrics, which made it an immediate threat to the membership-mandatory Oura ring and Whoop band.

I ran, swam, biked, worked, showered and slept with the Cirqa over the past few weeks, and was impressed by its value. It was not, however, subtle.

The good

Heart-rate accuracy: Several studies show wearables excel at capturing resting heart rate during sleep, a finding that matched my own clinical sleep-lab tests. Reliable data becomes trickier, however, once you start moving.

I compared Cirqa’s workout logs with recordings from a chest strap, the gold standard for heart rate accuracy. On a run, the band took 30 seconds to catch the right pulse, but matched the chest strap closely over the next half-hour.

Wrist-based tracking during cycling and Pilates lagged behind the Whoop and Apple Watch. But moving the Cirqa to my biceps improved readings significantly. While that data was more reliable, the $60 upcharge for the upper arm band is a bummer.

No subscription: I tested the Cirqa without Garmin’s optional $7-a-month Connect+ membership for coaching and other features—and didn’t miss them. Unlike Oura ($6 a month) and Whoop ($199 a year and up), you can access every metric without a recurring fee.

The data feels like yours. Both Garmin and Google’s Fitbit Air let you export raw files of activities to other platforms, whereas other wearables require clunky workarounds.

Long battery life: With an Apple Watch that needs daily charges, perhaps my bar is a bit…low. But I was genuinely impressed when the Cirqa ran for 11 days on a single charge. That tops Oura and Fitbit Air’s weeklong battery life—but falls short of Whoop’s two-week rating.

Smartwatch swapping: Existing Garmin owners may get the most upside. I regularly wore a Garmin Venu 4 smartwatch during the day and swapped to the distraction-free Cirqa at night without losing a beat of data.

The not-so-good

Chunky pod: Let’s be honest, the device is substantial. It’s roughly the same size as my 2011-era car key fob and it sticks out, especially on small wrists.

Whoop is relatively beefy too, but you can hide its sensors in compatible clothing. (Seriously, I have one embedded in a bra right now.)

Auto-tracking: Screenless trackers log workouts automatically using movement and pulse readings. Oura leads the pack here, picking up everything from housework to brief stroller jaunts. For Cirqa, Garmin set a much higher threshold.

While half-hour runs and swims registered fine, it consistently failed to recognize short but vigorous 20-minute walks and my 40-minute, hilly bike commute to work. After I gave Garmin’s team permission to dig into my account, a company spokeswoman said that on one ride, the device picked up an elevated heart rate for just 10 minutes—not enough to register as an activity.

I simply didn’t bike hard enough to “earn” the activity, and perhaps that’s a motivational tool for Garmin’s fitness-focused audience.

Garmin built in a single side button to trigger manual tracking—but if the band misses a session, you can’t log it retroactively as you can on rival devices. The main benefit of these no-display wearables is that you don’t have to think about them. And with the Cirqa, I was constantly wondering whether my workout was worthy of being tracked.

Software labyrinth: Garmin’s app is a bit like a puzzle. I spent 10 hair-pulling minutes just figuring out how to change the Cirqa’s wearing location from “wrist” to “arm.” Meanwhile, Garmin-specific stats such as “Body Battery” and “Intensity Minutes” come with minimal explanation. (The first is like your car’s gas gauge, representing how much energy you have left in the tank. The second signifies how much time you’ve spent in moderate activity—vigorous movement earns double.)

It’s the kind of tech that offers deep customization and a lot of features—but you need to read the manual.

What’s the point?

Another frequently-asked question: Why wear one of these devices at all? After many months of intensive testing, I better understand their benefits and limits.

Will a tracker turn you into a workout-loving, vegetable-craving health fanatic overnight? Unlikely.

What they do offer is a window into subtle shifts you can’t necessarily feel. Elevated resting heart rate, for example, can indicate something’s off, such as overtraining, illness onset or too much wine last night. Trackers can also spot broader trends, such as sleep debt or accumulated stress that can affect long-term health.

Do I sometimes feel like the numbers are overkill—and a little judgmental? Yes. But there are also vital uses. My smart ring captures nightly skin-temperature data for Natural Cycles, an FDA-cleared digital contraceptive. Millions of women use the app with health trackers to prevent or plan for a pregnancy. Compatible devices include the Oura, Apple Watch, Cirqa and other Garmin models and, most recently, Whoop.

Both functions require you to wear the device pretty much 24/7, and at the very least overnight. That explains the rise of screenless options like Cirqa, which gather data without glowing on your wrist.

Sales, including of models made by Honda, Hyundai and Toyota, jump by a fifth in July

Asian carmakers Toyota and Hyundai have benefited from surging US demand for hybrid models as the Iran conflict keeps petrol prices elevated.

The popularity of hybrids has caught out Detroit’s Big Three carmakers, who offer few such models in the US market and are enduring a plunge in domestic sales of electric vehicles.

Sales of hybrid models rose by almost 20 per cent in July compared with the same month last year, even as overall US car sales fell by 1.5 per cent, according to RBC Capital Markets.

Korean auto group Hyundai, which has repurposed part of its vast new EV plant in the state of Georgia to build hybrids as well as pure EVs, sold 43,727 hybrids in July, a 62 per cent increase on the year before. Segment leader Toyota’s US hybrid sales rose 22 per cent, while Japanese counterpart Honda saw a 15 per cent increase.

The three Asian carmakers hold 86 per cent of hybrid market share in the US, according to auto consultancy Baum & Associates, with Ford pick-ups accounting for the bulk of the rest of the market.

Traditional hybrids, such as Toyota’s Prius, use a battery-powered motor to give an internal-combustion vehicle greater fuel efficiency while so-called plug-in hybrids (PHEVs) have larger batteries and can be driven for dozens of miles on battery power alone.

While PHEVs — including luxury models on offer from German carmakers — have been largely rejected by US consumers, accounting for less than 2 per cent of the overall auto market, traditional hybrids offer relief from higher petrol prices without requiring any change to driving or fuelling behaviour.

“Hybrids are delivering the sweet spot consumers are looking for,” said Jessica Caldwell, head of insights at Edmunds.

The average price of petrol in the US is sitting at just over $4.06 a gallon, according to the American Automobile Association. That is up by a third from a year ago but has not translated into a meaningful recovery in EV sales since the Trump administration withdrew a $7,500 consumer tax credit for such vehicles last year.

According to Edmunds, Tesla owners are trading in their vehicles in exchange for non-electric models at higher rates than owners of any other EVs, with a record 21 per cent exchanging their Teslas for hybrid models. Toyota is the most popular alternative, accounting for more than 17 per cent of Tesla replacements.

Meanwhile, Detroit carmakers that largely eschewed hybrid models have seen their EV sales plunge. General Motors, which only has two hybrid models on the market, sold 33 per cent fewer electric models in the second quarter than the same period last year. Ford’s July EV sales collapsed by 75 per cent as it phases out models in anticipation of launching a new low-cost EV architecture next year.

Having largely missed out on the hybrid boom, GM is exploring options for re-introducing hybrid models into its line-up. Ford, which has found more success in the segment with hybrid versions of its Maverick and F-150 pick-up trucks, is planning to offer hybrid options across its entire petrol-powered line-up by 2030.

Along with European auto group Stellantis, which owns the Jeep, Dodge and Ram brands, Ford and GM are rushing to offer so-called extended range EVs, which have a small engine that acts only as a generator to top up the battery.

The technology is regarded as particularly suitable for the pick-up trucks that increasingly dominate the US market, as it offers extra pulling power in addition to greater range.

The Trump administration’s slashing of emissions standards has provided relief for Detroit automakers that have lost tens of billions of dollars in writedowns as a result of their stalled EV transition, with Ford and GM both raising their full-year profit forecasts last month thanks to robust demand for large trucks and SUVs.

Analysts say US new car sales have remained relatively resilient despite economic pressures on consumers, with Cox Automotive forecasting that full-year sales are on course to hit 16mn — slightly ahead of its prediction of 15.8mn before the start of 2026.

Charlie Chesbrough, senior economist at Cox, said “stubbornly high gas prices — with no relief in sight — and historically weak consumer confidence have not discouraged new-vehicle buyers, as might be expected”.

But he added that “the market today is being driven by more affluent buyers, so they may be less impacted by inflationary pressures and economic uncertainty”.

The West Seattle hillside home of Richard Rhodes, with views overlooking Puget Sound, is a good place to ponder the end of the world. Walk up a series of steps, through the front door and enter Rhodes’ home office, where his Pulitzer Prize hangs. He won it for his 1986 book “The Making of the Atomic Bomb,” a sprawling, 900-page account of the scientific discoveries that led to one of the greatest weapons ever created.

I made the trip to Rhodes’ house because his 40-year-old tome has become essential reading for employees at Anthropic and their leader, Dario Amodei, who counts it as one of his favorite books. Amodei has said he identifies with a central character in Rhodes’ book: Leo Szilard, the physicist who first conceived of the nuclear chain reaction and then aggressively advocated to keep it under human control.

The Anthropic CEO’s affinity for the historic account isn’t surprising if you read the profile of Amodei that my colleagues and I wrote this week. It traces how Amodei has long grappled with the weight of the technology he was building. He used air-gapped computers, machines disconnected from the internet, to compose early OpenAI memos to prevent remote hacking.

He worried about getting kidnapped in China, a U.S. adversary he feared was after key AI research secrets. These days he concerns himself with the security of the data centers that house the clusters of chips training Anthropic’s next frontier-chasing model. He and his sister, Daniela, another Anthropic cofounder, grew up wanting “to save the world together,” Dario has said.

Rhodes, 89, has never met Amodei. But he and his wife traveled to downtown San Francisco late last year to speak to Anthropic’s employee book club, which had ordered 100 copies of his book. Rhodes said he gave them a perspective that appears to cut against the “once-in-a-civilization” technology moment that Amodei and employees think they are building. Rhodes, who has also written about the history of technology changes, said he has watched the AI wave with a sense of déjà vu.

“The first thing that struck me most of all was what always strikes me with new technologies: the moral panic side. The general sense that this is going to destroy the world. It’s come up every time,” he told me. He went back in history. When 17th century Brits started using coal as fuel for the first time, preachers called it the “devil’s excrement,” he recalled. The rise of the automobile, last century, also stirred protests, he said.

“We get a new technology. It has its dark side and its bright side, and we slowly surround it with social, legal, moral, cultural controls until we turn it into a human artifact,” he said.

That might not be a stance that Amodei and his employees agree with. Amodei has pegged a 25% chance of AI going “really, really badly” for civilization. A big part of Anthropic’s technological and commercial success stems from the employees’ and Amodei’s deep belief that they are important, historic actors in an existential scientific historical moment. Its sensitive safety culture is an essential part of it.

Maybe they’re right, particularly as a series of cybersecurity attacks from AI agents are raising alarm bells recently, and the rest of us will be glad we had such responsible (and newly wealthy) stewards along the way.

Rhodes, meanwhile, has a different, perhaps more optimistic perspective. Rhodes is now working on a work of fiction about robots who take over the world, and all that’s left on Earth is a group of children. But the book is a comedy. “The robots are so stupid and the children are so bright,” he said.