At the World Humanoid Robot Games in Beijing, a humanoid robot named Tiangong Ultra ran the 100-metre sprint in a staggering 8.64 seconds, shattering Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt’s legendary human world record of 9.58 seconds.

The internet laughed at the robots’ awkward, lurching finishes and spectacular falls – but the laughter masked a chilling reality.

Just two days after the games concluded the official newspaper of China’s People’s Liberation Army (PLA) called for researchers to accelerate moving these cutting-edge machines from the laboratory to military training grounds. They referred to them not as experiments, but as “combatants”.

As a robotics researcher myself, working daily with robot simulation, reinforcement learning, and the foundational software and simulation tools that power them (such as ROS 2 and Gazebo), I watch these developments with a mix of awe and deep concern.

The public often views humanoid robots as clunky sci-fi novelties. The reality is far different: the hardware is already highly capable, and the software is advancing at an unprecedented pace.

But the real story is not just that a robot can beat a human on a running track. It’s what that performance reveals: China’s ability to integrate motors, reducers (gears used in precise joint movement), sensors, control software, testing infrastructure and manufacturing capacity into one unified industrial system.

A sprinting humanoid is not just a stunt. At high speeds, every foot strike creates violent ground reaction forces. Balance corrections must happen in milliseconds, as a single small error can send the machine crashing into the barrier.

For decades, the physical mechanics of humanoid robots, including the actuators (a component, such as a motor, that converts energy into physical movement), sensors, and the sheer physics of bipedal balance, were the main hurdles. Today, those mechanical problems are largely solved.

Carbon fibre and aluminium bodies keep mass and inertia (how a robot’s mass resists change) low. Advancements in actuator technology deliver torque capacities of up to 400Nm (Newton-metres – a unit of torque, or twisting force) in humanoid joints, providing the ultimate combination of power and agility.

What you saw on the track in Beijing was not just a triumph of motors, but a triumph of coding. A real breakthrough is happening in software.

Robots are trained in virtual simulation environments, running millions of trial-and-error scenarios through reinforcement learning before the robot ever takes a physical step. Reinforcement learning is an area of artificial intelligence (AI) where robots make decisions based on the results of their actions.

This allows them to learn how to recover from trips, adjust to uneven ground, and process chaotic environments in real time. Humanoid robots are rapidly bridging the gap between controlled laboratory conditions and the unpredictable real world.

Tracks vs legs

But all this leads to an inevitable question: why would a military want a complex, expensive humanoid when they could use vastly cheaper, rugged, tracked or wheeled drones? In open-field combat, tracked vehicles are absolutely superior. They heave bigger payloads, carry thick ballistic armour, and are far more energy efficient.

However, the nature of conflict is changing – and urban environments play an increasing role in military thinking. Cities are built exclusively for humans. A tracked robot cannot easily climb a vertical fire escape ladder, turn a standard door handle, squeeze through a narrow, debris filled stairwell, or sit in the driver’s seat of a captured supply truck.

A humanoid robot acts as a “drop-in replacement” for a human soldier. If a building is designed for a human to navigate, a humanoid robot can navigate it without requiring custom redesigns or specialised ramps.

This brings us to a profound ethical crossroads. Many of us in the robotics field do not endorse offensive warfare. But these machines have an undeniable utility in defensive scenarios and those concerned with neutralising threats to military personnel and civilians.

Sending a humanoid into a building to rescue hostages, neutralising an active threat such as hostage-takers, or clearing a booby trapped room saves human lives.

Dual-use tech

In fact, the modern surge in humanoid robotics was largely kickstarted by the US government’s Darpa Robotics Challenge, which funded bipedal robots specifically to respond to disasters such as the Fukushima nuclear meltdown where human responders could not survive.

The dilemma is that the technology is agnostic to intent. The baseline capabilities required to navigate a ruined building and extract a casualty are the same capabilities needed to enter a building and kill enemy soldiers. If the technology is ready for defence, it is also ready for offensive use.

Perhaps the most alarming aspect of this rapid advancement is how accessible it is. Unlike nuclear technology or stealth aircraft, modern robotics thrives on open-source frameworks. For example, a military specific software ecosystem (a network of apps and other services that work together) known as ROS-M, along with simulation tools and training datasets, are largely public and shared across global academic communities.

With enough skill, a dedicated adversary can replicate advanced robotic behaviour with relative ease. We can no longer afford to treat humanoid robotics purely as an academic pursuit or a commercial novelty. We need an urgent international conversation about how to control these advances.

Just as we regulate the export of certain microchips and aerospace components, we must begin protecting the software architecture and training pipelines that give these machines their minds. The hardware is walking out of the lab – it is time our policies caught up.

Kartikeya Walia does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

It turns out that one of the smallest dog breeds, the chihuahua, is part wild coyote, according to recently published genetic research. The chihuahua breed originated in Mexico but is now a popular canine companion worldwide.

Coyote genes may have been introduced into ancestors of the chihuahua accidentally. It may also be a result of deliberate attempts to cross the two animals – perhaps many generations ago.

Coyotes are a wild canine species, slightly smaller than the grey wolf and native to North America. The presence of coyote genes in the much smaller chihuahua – among the most popular dogs in the UK and the US – highlights the incredible diversity of domestic dogs and their varied histories.

Coyotes are untamed and territorial, while anyone who has lived with a chihuahua knows that their small bodies house big canine personalities.

Chihuahuas are the archetypal “small but mighty” dogs: bold, independent, agile, but also capable of obedience. Small, sedentary lapdogs they are not. These findings might partly explain why.

The recent study explored ancient genetic signatures in dog and human genomes to validate the effectiveness of new genetic techniques. The genome is the full complement of DNA in living cells.

The researchers demonstrated their methods on dog breeds with links to the Americas, such as the chihuahua and another Mexican breed, the xoloitzcuintli (often shortened to xolo). The xolo is typically characterised by a lack of hair and an often aloof personality.

Many dogs in the Americas today are descended from European breeds, an outcome of colonisation from the 15th century onwards. However, previous research showed that the chihuahua and xolo preserve a small amount of ancestry – 4% in the chihuahua and 3% in the xolo – from pre-contact dogs, those that lived in the Americas before Europeans arrived.

Genetic analysis of the xolo in the recent study suggests that European and pre-Columbian dogs were mixing around 1700. This aligns with evidence suggesting that Europeans and Indigenous populations mixed around the same time in early Mexico.

Reconstructing origins

Researchers previously found evidence of coyote ancestry in DNA from the remains of ancient domestic dogs from the Americas. It’s a reminder that dogs are not that far removed from other canid species, and can breed with them successfully.

Wild coyotes and wolves have been found to hybridise naturally, especially in geographical areas where “wolf-like” behavioural traits are beneficial. There was even a recent report of a dog-fox hybrid being identified in Brazil.

It remains unclear when exactly the coyote genes entered the chihuahua lineage. The precise histories of different dog breeds are hard to reconstruct because detailed documentary evidence is often lacking.

So how did the chihuahua end up being so small, despite those coyote genes? This question should be seen through the lens of selective breeding, where humans choose different dogs to breed from based on characteristics they prefer.

Genetic analysis reveals that almost all small dog breeds share a mutation in the insulin like growth factor 1 (IGF1) gene, which affects cell growth and thus body size. Selection for small dogs with this mutation appears to have occurred very early in dog domestication.

There is some evidence for the presence of diminutive dogs among pre-contact Mesoamerican cultures, but how these relate to chihuahuas is unknown.

Extreme variation

Some dogs such as the Czechoslovakian wolfdog look visibly more like their wild and ancestral canid counterparts, such as the grey wolf. They have pricked ears, muscular, athletic bodies and coats that provide camouflage and protection from environmental extremes.

Other dogs show extreme variation: exaggerations such as long backs or short legs. In some cases, these physical characteristics come with significant consequences for health and wellbeing.

Overall body size is particularly variable in dogs, with a 40-fold difference across different breeds and types. Imagine the diminutive chihuahua standing next to an imposing Great Dane, for example.

There are also important differences in behaviour. If you want to live harmoniously with a dog, or train or work a dog in a specific activity, this is important to acknowledge. Indeed, meeting an individual dog’s physical, psychological and emotional needs is essential for both dog and human wellbeing, as well as training success.

As with appearance, natural and human-driven selection have combined to influence these traits. This has produced generations of dogs with specific behavioural characteristics.

The dog was one of the earliest animals to be domesticated by humans – the earliest examples are more than 15,000 years old. They are also one of the most successful domesticated species.

Dogs are found on every continent except for Antarctica, and the global dog population is thought to number between 700 million and 1 billion. They exist either embedded within human society, or living on the fringes of it.

Throughout history, natural selection on dogs with characteristics that confer survival advantages will have occurred. At the same time, humans will have selected individual dogs based for desired attributes, leading to the breed development and classifications that we see across the world.

As well as furthering our capacity to explore genetic ancestry of species, the latest study adds detail to our understanding of how and when the domestic dog evolved, and became so diverse.

It might also mean we think less about the “wolf in our living rooms”, and more about the “coyote in our chihuahuas”.

In addition to her academic affiliation at Nottingham Trent University (NTU) and support from the Institute for Knowledge Exchange Practice (IKEP) at NTU, Jacqueline Boyd is affiliated with The Royal Kennel Club (UK) through membership, as advisor to the Health Advisory Group and member of the Activities Committee. Jacqueline is a full member of the Association of Pet Dog Trainers (APDT #01583). She also writes, consults and coaches on canine matters on an independent basis.

Pelicans have resided in St James’s Park, London for 360 years. But the current flock have been a summer sensation due to the first hatching of chicks in the park’s history.

Pelican breeding in zoos is demanding for these birds, because the right environmental and social conditions need to come together. Rather than simply being comfortable, the birds need to encounter and respond to cues that stimulate courtship, nesting and reproduction.

This unusual nesting at St James’s Park provides an interesting example of how responding to biologically relevant stressors is a positive part of an animal’s life. Multiple factors are likely to have contributed to the pelican nesting. The heatwave, the flock’s dynamics and the compatibility of the individual birds seem to have created the right conditions for the first time in centuries.

In my recent research, I evaluated the importance of positive stress to zoo and aquarium animal welfare and found it is crucial for the wellbeing of captive animals.

Researchers call the beneficial response to a stressor, “eustress” – eu being the Greek prefix for good.

Courtship, reproduction and chick-rearing are all natural stressors. Priorities change, energetic and physical needs alter, and adults spend more time on offspring. This stress, however, is not necessarily bad. For example it can provide learning opportunities and enhance the animals’ behavioural repertoire.

As we learn more about what good animal welfare is, it is becoming clear that meaningful challenges which reflect an animal’s natural ecology help them have more autonomy over how they live. Eustress also helps animals cope better with averse situations.

Zoos do not need dramatic changes to provide these experiences. Small challenges can be built into everyday care: food can be hidden in different locations, or new scents and natural materials introduced. Animals can encounter new ground materials and surfaces (such as soil, bark and sand), changes to ropes or branches, or vegetation that naturally changes with the seasons. Enrichment can also encourage animals to explore different parts of their existing enclosure or use familiar resources in new ways.

Variation is key. If food always appears in the same place, at the same time and in the same way, there is little need for an animal to make decisions or adapt.

Many zoos already provide these opportunities. The next step is to think more deliberately about the challenge itself: is it meaningful, does the animal have a choice about engaging, and can it successfully overcome it? The aim is not to make life unnecessarily difficult but for animals encounter novelty or problems they can solve.

Rather than simply giving an animal what it needs to survive, we should provide opportunities for the animal to use their skills and make decisions.

What might this look like at your local zoo then? Meerkats (Suricata suricatta) are one example. Wild meerkats do not encounter their food neatly presented in a bowl. They need to sniff, dig and investigate their surroundings, while members of the mob keeps watch for danger.

Finding food is also a social challenge for these animals. Young meerkats learn about unfamiliar foods by observing and interacting with more experienced adults. Older meerkats help youngsters acquire important food handling skills.

Zoos can recreate elements of these challenges by scattering or hiding food, providing a sandy floor that encourages digging and creating elevated lookout points. Likewise, zoos can encourage social opportunities by providing complex feeding experiences where animals forage together. A 2021 study found that zoo meerkats retain the sentinel behaviour seen in their wild counterparts, suggesting that opportunities to perform these sort of activity remains important even when predators are absent.

The same principles apply underwater. Common clownfish (Amphiprion ocellaris) also encounter environmental and social challenges. On coral reefs, clownfish forage in a complex three-dimensional environment and depend on a host anemone for protection. They live in a strict social hierarchy. The largest fish is the dominant female, followed by the breeding male and then smaller, non-breeding fish. This social group is known as as a “queue”, as subordinate fish can move up through the hierarchy. In the aquarium, recreating this social group by housing a shoal of clownfish around the correct host anemone species allows for more choice and for fish to express a richer behavioural repertoire.

This brings us back to St James’s Park’s pelicans. Successful breeding has introduced perhaps the most natural challenge of all. Finding a partner and rearing young to maturity requires animals to change how they spend their time and respond to altered demands. When animals work for a reward, scientists call this contrafreeloading.

However, zoo animals can experience negative stress when a stressor is prolonged, overwhelming, unnatural or beyond their control. Examples can be excessive noise, incorrect climate conditions or being unable to retreat from something they find threatening.

The lesson for zoos is a good life should not necessarily be an entirely effortless one. Welfare is enhanced when animals can express behaviour their evolutionary history has equipped them to perform. Eustress is not giving every zoo animal the same kind of “challenging enrichment”. The challenge needs to make biological sense for that particular species.

Paul Rose works for WWT.

At the recent World Humanoid Robot Games 2026 in Beijing, robots sprinted, boxed, played football and tackled tasks inspired by factories, restaurants and emergency situations. The robot Tiangong Ultra even completed the 100 metres in 8.64 seconds, quicker than Usain Bolt’s 9.58-second world record.

But if we really want to know whether humanoid robots are ready for everyday life, a far less glamorous challenge may tell us more: doing the laundry. Can a robot take a crumpled T-shirt from a laundry basket, work out which way round it is, fold it neatly and recover when the sleeve slips from its hand?

No robot system can yet reliably handle the whole laundry process, from carrying a basket to the washing machine and sorting clothes for different programmes to taking them out, hanging them to dry, folding and ironing them. Even folding remains a challenge: robots need to cope with clothes of different shapes, sizes, materials and levels of creasing.

Running fast is difficult, of course. A humanoid has to coordinate many joints, keep its balance and generate powerful movements without falling over. The task itself, however, is fairly clear. The robot knows where to go, the track is predictable and the finish line does not suddenly change shape.

Laundry is a very different problem. A shirt may be inside out. One sleeve may be hidden underneath another garment. A pair of trousers may be twisted around a towel. Fabric is also soft and constantly changing shape. Pick up one corner of a T-shirt and the rest of it moves.

Humans deal with this without giving it much thought. We shake a shirt out, notice where the sleeves are, feel when the fabric slips and adjust our grip almost automatically. For a robot, every one of those little actions is a problem to solve. This is why an everyday chore can reveal more about robot intelligence than a spectacular athletic feat.

A useful household robot cannot simply replay the same movement again and again. It has to notice when reality is different from what it expected and adapt. That’s important to consider because humanoid robots are increasingly discussed as future helpers in homes and care settings, as well as factories and warehouses.

A factory production line can often be arranged so that parts arrive in predictable positions. A family home is not like that: clothes, toys and furniture move around constantly, while people, children and pets make the environment even less predictable.

Why one robot cannot simply copy another

There is another difficulty. Once one robot learns how to fold a shirt, it might seem obvious that we should simply transfer that skill to every other robot. Unfortunately, physical skills do not work like an app that can be installed on any machine.

Imagine a specialist laundry robot with rigid arms, overhead cameras and grippers designed specifically for fabric. A humanoid may have cameras in its head, five-fingered hands and different joints and balance constraints. The same movement could therefore produce a very different result.

A fixed robot arm can reach forward without worrying about falling over. A humanoid may have to move its hips, legs and feet just to keep itself stable while reaching across a table.

Sensors are important too. One robot may have sensitive touch sensors in its fingers. Another may rely mainly on cameras.

Some knowledge can still transfer. One robot can teach another something about what a shirt looks like, where its shoulders are likely to be, what a good fold looks like or how to recognise when a sleeve is trapped underneath. The receiving robot still has to work out how to carry out those ideas with its own hands, joints, cameras and body.

Research projects such as Open X-Embodiment are exploring exactly this problem by pooling experience from many different robots. The project has brought together more than one million real robot trajectories from 22 different robot types. The hope is that robots can learn useful patterns from one another rather than starting from zero every time.

What should count as progress?

The Humanoid Robot Games are valuable because they make robotics visible and show how quickly the technology is moving.

We should simply be careful about what those demonstrations prove. For robots intended to live and work alongside us, better questions might be: can the robot deal with an unfamiliar object? Can it notice that it has made a mistake and recover without human intervention? How long can it keep working before someone has to step in?

---

Read more: Could robots help tackle loneliness? BBC’s Ann Droid raises questions about the future of care

---

These measures are unlikely to produce viral videos. They are, however, much closer to the abilities that will determine whether humanoid robots become genuinely useful.

A robot that can run 100 metres faster than the human world record time is impressive. A robot that can take a messy basket of laundry, sort it, fold it and recognise when things have gone wrong may tell us far more about whether general purpose robot intelligence has really arrived.

The most important race for humanoid robots may not be against the clock. It may be against the laundry pile.

Wai-keung Fung does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

This summer you may have wondered why you are seeing so few insects squished on your car’s windscreen, compared to a road trip several years ago.

This is because insects are declining globally at an alarming rate.

One extensive citizen science survey looked at insects numbers over several years by looking at insect deaths on car number plates. They asked people to clean their number plates before a journey and then photograph it afterwards, and count the number of bugs killed.

The survey was conducted from 2021 to 2025. It found the number of flying insects sampled on vehicle number plates across the UK had fallen by 60% in five years. Analysis of records from more than 25,000 journeys showed an annual average decline in bug splats of 19% since the survey began in 2021.

Some people may look at these statistics and wonder why they should care. But the decline of insect life is a significant cause for concern. It’s also not just in the UK where we are seeing declines, but also across Europe and in our tropical rainforests, including some of the most biodiverse spots on the planet. Agricultural land is seeing some of the worst effects.

There’s an estimated 10 quintillion (10,000,000,000,000,000,000) insects alive on this planet, over a million described species, and estimates of millions more yet to be discovered. But we are losing insects far faster than other animals, and at an unprecedented rate.

A review in 2019 suggested 40% of insect species are thought to be threatened with extinction. Ants, bees and wasps (Hymenoptera) the butterflies and moths (Lepidoptera) and dung beetles are thought to be the most affected. More recent reviews show similar declining trends on a global scale.

Why are insects disappearing?

The reasons for losing our insects range from habitat loss, disease pollution and pesticides. Agriculture is a major concern as land is turned over to farming as it may remove existing habitats – essentially removing some insects homes – but agrichemicals such as pesticides, designed to kill agricultural pest outbreaks, are also negatively affecting those non target insects that we want.

Climate change is as a major concern, and one that potentially exacerbates other factors. When it’s hotter water availability becomes harder, plants become more stressed and food availability becomes tricky for insects. In the same way that humans struggle in the heat, this is the same case for other animals. Insects can try to cope with extremes in temperature by using water to cool, fanning their wings or simply going somewhere where it is less warm.

The summer of 2026 saw record temperatures and is expected to be the hottest year on record for the UK. Coupled with intense droughts, wildfires and a changing landscape, this is a tricky world for insects to navigate.

This changing climate is affecting whole communities of insects, where they live and what they do.

With places like the UK seeing a shift from its typical cooler climate to a more Mediterranean one, we are seeing species move from southern Europe to northern Europe. We also see insects changing their seasonal life-cycles, with effects on other species that are dependent upon them. They are even carrying diseases to new populations of humans or animals as climates become more amenable to certain species that may carry diseases or other pathogens .

This loss of biodiversity is often referred to as the sixth mass extinction, or the sixth time in history that we know of that we have lost such a vast number of species in rapid succession.

Why should we care?

Insects have evolved in large numbers because of the extent of what they do in the natural world.

They keep pests under control, they pollinate our plants by transporting pollen from one flower to another, recycle our waste by feeding on and shredding material and generally keep our planet in a good state.

American naturalist E.O Wilson said: “If insects were to vanish, the environment would collapse into chaos.”

However, insect populations can recover. Appreciating how fundamental they are is the first step in conserving and restoring what we are losing.

Alex Dittrich does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

I’ll admit it, I’m a Trekkie. I blame my mother.

It was on her insistence that my brother and I watched endless re-runs of the original Star Trek series, which is now celebrating its 60th anniversary. She took us further into the unknown with The Next Generation – and I’ve stayed loyal to the franchise ever since.

I’m also a chemist. Was my career choice inspired by Star Trek? Indubitably. What other television series has put the “central science” at the heart of so many episodes? These are four of my favourite storylines.

1. Crude chemistry

Arena (first screened in January 1967) was a formative episode from the original series, based on a 1944 short story by US science fiction writer Fredric Brown.

When Captain James T. Kirk is forced to battle the captain of a Gorn spacecraft on a rocky asteroid, he mixes up a crude form of gunpowder – having remembered a rough recipe and conveniently found piles of sulfur, potassium nitrate and coal to hand.

Despite the flaws in Kirk’s manufacturing process (and my disappointment as a child when I looked in vain for similar mineral deposits in the local park), this episode gave me my first taste of the possibilities offered by chemistry. Kirk uses the gunpowder to shoot tennis-ball sized diamonds at his reptilian-humanoid opponent, severely wounding it.

With the chemistry knowledge I have now, I’d warn the captain that his approach will most likely result in him losing a limb or two. But in the episode, Kirk prevails – and his subsequent decision to show mercy to his defeated opponent is rewarded by god-like Metron observers telling him: “You are still half-savage, but there is hope.”

2. Polywater puzzle

A curious substance known as “polywater” has featured in three different series of Star Trek. It is based on a compound proposed by Soviet scientists Nikolai Fedyakin and Boris Deryagin in the 1960s, with water molecules linked together to form repeating six-sided rings and a higher boiling point than regular water.

Any chemists reading this will hear alarm bells ringing. These properties would imply that polywater is more stable than the regular water in our rivers, oceans and blood, contradicting the laws of thermodynamics.

Even Richard Feynman, who won the 1965 Nobel prize in physics, waded into the theoretical polywaters to discredit its possible existence. Thankfully, the research was eventually debunked: polywater was shown to be nothing more than contaminated regular water.

Nevertheless, it remains immortalised on the small screen, having first appeared in episode four of the original Star Trek series, entitled The Naked Time (September 1966). Polywater causes both hilarity and more than a whiff of danger when the Enterprise crew are accidentally exposed to it during a mission.

The reason is its propensity to remove someone’s inhibitions after reaching their central nervous system. Its most significant achievement? Making the legendarily unemotional Mr Spock cry (after which, actor Leonard Nimoy’s fan mail is reported to have increased dramatically).

3. Heartfelt hydrocarbons

Season four of the franchise’s most recent incarnation, Star Trek: Discovery (2017-24), featured a new alien species, 10-C, with a novel method of communication: a combination of light patterns for context, and a puff of complex hydrocarbons to convey detailed information about their emotional state.

While wincing at the risk that Starfleet captain Michael Burnham took in plunging her hand into an unknown bowl of dust (no chemist would, hopefully, ever do this), I even was more surprised by the premise that the crew of Discovery all share the same receptors as 10-C, and experience the same emotions.

To throw more petrol on this storyline, the fact that the hydrocarbons are depicted as a dust rather than a gas brings into question how easy it would be for the giant jellyfish-esque 10-C (who float amid the dense layers of their gas-giant homeworld) to actually communicate before these hydrocarbons simply drifted away or sank.

There again, chemical communication does exist in a simple form on Earth. The humble fruit fly, for example, is coated in a complex hydrocarbon wax which acts either as an aphrodisiac or deterrent to other fruit flies that come into contact with it.

4. Hellfire and hatred

The chemistry lesson flame test is a right of passage for many schoolchildren – and also, it seems, students at Star Trek: Starfleet Academy taking the “exochemistry” class (which focuses on chemical compounds and properties beyond Earth).

The principle of the flame test is the same as that of modern fireworks. A metal salt is heated, generating an unstable gas radical that may then adopt an excited state due to the heat, before dropping back down to its ground state and releasing energy in the form of light.

The colour of this light depends on the difference in energy between the two states. For strontium salts, this is relatively small, resulting in a red colour. Sadly for the first season’s recurring villain, space pirate Nus Braka, this piece of chemical trivia has passed him by.

If he had known the “red hellfire” that destroyed his mining colony when he was a child was actually caused by strontium burning, rather than Federation weaponry, then a lifetime of hatred of Starfleet and eventual humiliation by Starfleet cadet Caleb Mir in the episode Rubincon (March 2026) might never have happened.

Over the 60 years this groundbreaking franchise has been on our screens, Star Trek has helped to inspire chemistry-related breakthroughs with technology such as handheld tricorder scanners, metamaterials that mimic cloaking devices, and the needle-free hypospray medical device. Writing as both a committed Trekkie and chemist, long may Star Trek fiction continue to become fact.

Gemma Shearman does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Since Star Trek began sending its crews out to explore strange new worlds 60 years ago, the franchise has both imagined and inspired new concepts for travel across the vast distances of space.

Among the most intriguing are “wormholes”: mysterious tunnels through spacetime that connect otherwise distant places.

Star Trek always has a difficult balance to strike in making its portrayals both accessible and scientifically accurate. With wormholes, it generally favoured the former on their occasional appearances.

On screen, one end of the wormhole will often appear as a swirling vortex or tunnel. In fact, computer simulations of these theoretical space shortcuts suggest that the opening would look more like soap bubbles or crystal balls, with their surfaces showing distorted and multiplied images of whatever lies on the other side.

You could fly all around this opening and enter it from any direction, and rather than reaching the centre of the bubble, you would emerge from another similar bubble (the other end of the wormhole) somewhere totally different.

Of course, the most important question for both Starfleet captains and theoretical physicists is: should you fly into a wormhole? The job of a starship captain may be to boldly go, but as a very risk-averse physicist, I’m not so sure.

The first Star Trek wormhole

“Wormhole distortion has overloaded the main power systems!” These words, spoken by Commander Willard Decker in Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979), marked the first appearance of a wormhole in Star Trek.

A warp drive malfunction leads to the creation of a distorted region of spacetime that sucks in the Starship Enterprise, leading to a breakdown of the ship’s systems and a potentially deadly collision with a random asteroid.

It is a typically pioneering reference to what was, at the time, a niche research topic. John Wheeler, professor of gravitational physics at Princeton University, had first coined the term with Charles Misner in their 1957 paper Classical Physics as Geometry, which aimed to describe electric charges like electrons as the ends of tunnels in space.

The first descriptions of traversable wormholes that satisfied Einstein’s equations of general relativity – configurations of matter that balance the spacetime curvature of the tunnel – were then independently published by H.G. Ellis and K. A. Bronnikov in 1973, although they didn’t use Wheeler’s moniker.

Six years later, the first Star Trek wormhole wasn’t an accurate depiction of what scientists and science fiction enthusiasts now understand by the term. For one thing, the wormhole doesn’t appear to lead anywhere, and it dissipates once the crew regain control of the ship and drop out of warp speed.

Nevertheless, as a researcher studying black holes and the early universe, I am rather fond of this scene – in part because it is actually possible to imagine warp drives (engines that bend spacetime to move the ship at faster-than-light speeds) distorting spacetime in this way.

If you put exotic matter (one with a negative pressure) into a small region of spacetime, Einstein’s equations of general relativity tell us that region can expand exponentially fast. And if the space around it is not expanding in the same way, where can all that new space go?

The answer, at least in this hypothetical scenario, is that it must balloon out into an entirely new universe, creating a wormhole in the process – a narrow passage that links the two regions.

If you’re thinking this sounds implausible, Einstein’s theory of general relativity is actually perfectly ok with things being larger on the inside. Indeed, such scenarios may (speculatively) have arisen from rare fluctuations in the early universe.

No slow-mo

Star Trek’s first depiction of a wormhole gets one aspect precisely wrong, though. In the film, the wormhole’s “temporal distortion” makes the crew move and speak in slow motion, struggling to fire the photon torpedoes that will save them from asteroid-impact obliteration.

While the gravitational time dilation predicted by Einstein could be a feature of wormhole spacetimes, it would not be experienced as slow motion by those who fly in. For them, time would pass completely normally, with their watch ticking at one second per second.

They might, however, emerge to find that their friends had aged far more than they had. But these friends wouldn’t have experienced time in fast-forward either. Both sides think time has passed normally, they just disagree about the amount.

Again, this seems like it shouldn’t really be allowed – but the same effect is experienced by clocks on GPS satellites put into orbit around the Earth. When brought back to Earth again, they are found to have experienced more time than an equivalent clock left on the Earth’s surface, due to having spent time in a weaker gravitational field.

Next Generation wormholes

By the late 1980s, Star Trek wormholes had achieved the ultimate sign of technological maturity – somebody was trying to sell one.

This depiction, in the series Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987-94), more closely resembled the traversable wormhole framework co-developed by Kip Thorne in 1988. The US astrophysicist and future Nobel laureate had begun exploring the theoretical requirements for the existence of wormholes as portals connecting distant regions of space in the same universe.

Thorne showed that for a wormhole to be held open in a way that makes it traversable would require an exotic form of matter, violating certain energy conditions that physicists think ought to be respected at large scales.

As the Next Generation crew find out, you don’t just want to buy any old traversable wormhole – you need it to be a stable one. The original Ellis-Bronnikov wormhole uses the right kind of exotic matter as scaffolding to hold it open. But even tiny disturbances will cause it to rapidly collapse – as has been demonstrated in many numerical simulations.

A spinning version of the Ellis-Bronnikov wormhole appears potentially more robust, but its so-called “nonlinear stability” is yet to be established. Flying a starship through one of these would be a useful, if rather risky, test.

The space between what is mathematically possible and physically realistic has always been a key part of the magic of Star Trek, inspiring several generations of scientists to explore strange new spacetimes. But if a soap-bubble wormhole ever appears in front of my spacecraft, I would always let Starfleet go first.

Katy Clough receives funding from the Science and Technology Facilities Council (STFC) and the Simons Foundation. She will be speaking at the Star Trek Lates event at the Science Museum in London on Tuesday, September 8.

In recent years, archaeologists from around the world have marked the centenaries of some of Iraq’s most influential archaeological discoveries.

The excavation of the ancient city of Ur, for example, transformed understanding of early urban life, long-distance trade, royal tombs and burial customs. There has also been a century of research into the Jemdet Nasr period – pivotal in the development of some of the world’s earliest administrative systems and forms of writing.

These milestones are reminders of the profound influence of the archaeology of ancient Mesopotamia. It continues to inspire generations of researchers around the world, including recent work led by the University of Glasgow at the archaeological site of Shakhi Kora in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.

This has brought new insights into the nature of the first public institutions, their development and demise. Other surveys in southern Iraq seek to understand long-term human relationships with Iraq’s rapidly disappearing marshlands.

But these milestone celebrations and fresh discoveries also invite reflection about the role of Iraq’s scientists and institutions in this developing story of human civilisation.

Changing the narrative of loss and rescue

International discussions of Iraqi heritage have long been dominated by stories of catastrophe. These range from looting after the 2003 US-led invasion and the destruction wrought by Islamic State, to endangered archaeological sites and emergency efforts to save what remains.

Many of these represent genuine crises. But they also frame Iraqi archaeology as a narrative of loss and rescue, with international institutions as providers of expertise. Local archaeologists are often portrayed as recipients of support, rather than equal partners in shaping future research.

Today, Iraqi archaeologists are still underrepresented in the bodies that decide research priorities and interpretations. Many institutions generating archaeological knowledge about Iraq are disproportionately directed from outside the country.

So, when 20 archaeologists and heritage professionals from Iraq and the Kurdistan Region of Iraq gathered in Glasgow alongside international colleagues in May 2025, they seized the opportunity to shift this narrative. Their discussions ranged from social media misinformation to women’s participation in archaeological fieldwork and the challenges that climate change poses, both to heritage and local communities.

Such conversations often came back to one key question: who gets to decide what archaeology in Iraq should focus on today?

Attempts to decolonise archaeology

Discussions about the future of archaeology often focus on participation: who receives funding, who directs projects, and who is included as a collaborator or author. These questions are important.

But meaningful attempts to decolonise this field of study also need to address how archaeological problems are defined, whose expertise is recognised, and who gets to shape research priorities.

At the Glasgow workshop, Iraqi and Kurdish archaeologists, heritage professionals, government officials and university leaders were asked to identify the issues they regarded as most urgent. Creating space for them to articulate priorities marked an important shift away from externally imposed agendas.

The discussion on gender highlighted a striking contradiction in Iraq. At the University of Al-Qadisiyah in the city of Al Diwaniyah, women account for around 70% of archaeology students – yet only around 2% of Iraqi excavation team members and approximately 15% of academic leaders are women.

This raised the question: is increasing women’s participation just a demographic goal – or will it influence the breadth of knowledge produced through archaeology? For example, a wider range of participants may encourage more archaeological attention to labour, care, social relationships and community life in the ancient past, complementing the traditional focus on kings, temples and powerful states.

Redefining what heritage means

Iraq is among the countries most vulnerable to environmental change. The workshop also highlighted rising temperatures, extreme dust storms, water scarcity, soil salination and environmental degradation, stressing their impact on archaeological sites and the communities who depend on wetlands, springs and marshlands.

It became clear that “heritage” meant more than just preservation. Traditional relationships between communities and landscapes offer valuable lessons for adapting to environmental uncertainty. Archaeology becomes less about recovering the past, more about helping to imagine sustainable futures.

According to Rozhen Mohammed-Amin, president of the Cultural Heritage Organisation in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, one of the most significant achievements was bringing together people who are often “disconnected due to political and institutional divisions”.

Within months of the event, two women were promoted to senior positions at the University of Al-Qadisiyah. Participants also reported stronger engagement between Iraqi universities and the country’s State Board of Antiquities and Heritage.

These changes may seem modest – such developments rarely attract headlines in the way of a spectacular discovery or heritage emergency. But they may prove just as important to the future of archaeology – for Iraq and the wider world.

Claudia Glatz received funding from the British Institute for the Study of Iraq, which supported the workshop discussed in this article. Her research and heritage initiatives in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq have been supported by the British Academy, the British Institute for the Study of Iraq, the G.A. Wainwright Fund, the Cultural Protection Fund-British Council, the Royal Society of Edinburgh, the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation, the Gerda Henkel Foundation, and the National Science Foundation.

Daniel Calderbank works for the University of Glasgow. He has received funding from the Glasgow Centre for International Development and the British Institute for the Study of Iraq, which supported the workshop discussed in this article. He has also received research funding from the British Academy, UK Research and Innovation (UKRI), and the Royal Society of Edinburgh for research and heritage initiatives in Iraq.

Jaafar Jotheri does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Nasa has named its latest flagship space telescope after the American scientist Nancy Grace Roman. Roman’s contributions to astrophysics should have made her famous, yet many people will never have heard of her.

For decades, astronomers have been spoiled with stunning data and imagery from the Hubble Space Telescope, which was launched into Earth orbit in 1990. In 2021, the James Webb space telescope (JWST) was sent into space as Hubble’s successor. Since then, JWST has identified some of the earliest stars and galaxies to form after the Big Bang and has made a host of other amazing discoveries.

JWST is designed to look at individual objects in extraordinary detail, but the Roman telescope is designed to survey the sky at scale. By monitoring vast areas of the cosmos, astronomers can piece together a broader picture of how the universe changes. The capabilities of the two telescopes are therefore complementary.

The new observatory’s name honours a scientist who battled discrimination in a male-dominated field, eventually becoming Nasa’s first chief astronomer.

Roman was born in Nashville, Tennessee, to a music teacher mother and a father who was a mathematician and physicist. She earned a bachelor’s degree in astronomy from Swarthmore College, Pennsylvania, in 1946.

She gained her PhD at the University of Chicago, completing her graduate studies at the university’s Yerkes Observatory, where she worked on mapping the motions of stars.

In her early research, Roman compared the way that stars moved in the sky with what they were made of. This led to the finding that there were different populations of stars within the Milky Way.

Roman also found that the quantities of “heavy” chemical elements (in astronomy, those elements that are heavier than helium) in these stars were linked to the speed and direction at which they were moving away.

This allowed a mathematical model to be produced that essentially reversed time, to look at how stars were born from the same nebula. Roman had discovered that all the stars in a given area are not the same age, leading to observational evidence about how our galaxy is structured.

Roman collected large quantities of astronomical observations at a time when the process for doing so – which was based around photographic plates rather than digital cameras – was much more time-consuming than it is today.

For the identification of the stars, Roman made use of a method called UV excess, which is still used today as a fast way to identify different star types.

During her time as a faculty member at the the University of Chicago’s Yerkes Observatory, Roman was subjected to wage inequality. She once estimated that she made no more than 60% of what her male colleagues earned. She also felt that she would never get tenure due to her gender.

In a 2017 interview, Roman said she brought her salary concerns to her department chair at the time, the Nobel prize-winning physicist Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar. He told her: “We don’t discriminate against women. We can just get them for less.”

This contributed to Roman leaving for a more secure position at the Naval Research Laboratory, in Washington DC. In this new role, the head of microwave spectroscopy, she used radio waves to increase the accuracy of the measured distance from the Earth to the Moon. She also mapped large sections of the Milky Way in radio waves.

A new role model

When Nasa was formed in 1958, most of the science section was recruited from the Naval Research Laboratory. The leadership of this group sounded Roman out about setting up an astronomy programme at the new agency.

In 1959, she moved to Nasa, as the head of observational astronomy. Her title was changed to chief of astronomy after a year. Roman was the first woman to hold any executive position at Nasa at a time when the gender pay gap in the US was 60 cents to the dollar and women were subjected to serious discriminatory practices in the workplace – as elsewhere.

During this time, Roman was solely responsible for deciding which astronomers’ projects would or would not get funding from Nasa. Today, the process is carried out by peer review panels who whittle candidates down through shortlisting rounds.

Roman oversaw the development and launch of some of the first space telescopes. The idea of putting a telescope in orbit had first been suggested by the American physicist and astronomer Lyman Spitzer in 1946.

This was before the first satellite had even been launched into orbit. Space telescopes have many advantages: they avoid the distorting effects of Earth’s atmosphere, allowing observatories to gather clearer, sharper images.

Roman initially worked on launching several smaller space telescopes that observed the sky at ultraviolet and X-ray wavelengths. She also helped launch the Kuiper Aircraft Observatory, which enabled observations of stars at infrared wavelengths (those slightly longer than visible red light).

These missions offered proof of concept for what were, at the time, cutting edge observation techniques. They also justified larger amounts of money being spent on subsequent missions. Roman worked in a skilful way to gather support for the Hubble Space Telescope (initially known as the Large Space Telescope) by giving public talks and canvassing astronomers.

Nasa’s science chief Ed Weiler would later dub Roman the “mother of Hubble” based on these efforts. She remained an enthusiastic advocate for women in science, and astronomy in general, up until her death in 2018.

The naming of this new telescope finally recognises an exceptional astronomer and architect of the era of space-based observatories. Hopefully it will also raise awareness of her life and achievements.

Ian Whittaker does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Perhaps the most evocative windows into the minds of our ancient ancestors are the images they painted on the walls of caves – renderings known simply as rock art or cave paintings.

Rock art, which is found across the world, offers snapshots of human history, preserving representations of cultural traditions, symbolic communication and social identity. Common subjects include animals, hunting scenes and hand stencils – thought to have been made by blowing pigment over the artist’s hand.

Scientists have wrestled with basic questions about the origins of rock art such as: what was used to produce it, when was it made, and who made it?

Now, a recent study of cave art from Spain and Portugal has shown that ancient human DNA can be recovered directly from the cave walls. We may therefore be edging closer to answering “who made it?”

Using this technique to link a specific painting to an ancient artist may be a step too far. But there are still important things it can tell us about the past.

Previously, researchers had made considerable progress in answering the “what” and “when” questions. Scientists can analyse what pigments are preserved in rock art using techniques such as X-ray fluorescence spectroscopy, which allows them to identify materials such as red ochre and charcoal.

Scientists can also estimate the age of the art using techniques such as carbon-14 dating, carried out on minute quantities of organic material, to determine when rock art was created.

For example, in 2026, researchers reported that a stencil of a human hand had been found in Southeast Sulawesi, Indonesia. The researchers used a laser to bore a microscopic hole and collect samples from a fine layer of calcium carbonate that had formed over the painting.

The research team then measured the degradation of radioactive uranium contained in these mineral deposits to assign a minimum age to the painting of 67,800 years – making it the world’s oldest known minimum date for cave art.

The age of this art fits within a period when modern humans (Homo sapiens) are thought to have migrated through the area. But the wider Indonesian archipelago was previously home to other human species, such as Homo erectus and Homo floresiensis (nicknamed “the Hobbits”), which complicates matters significantly.

While the stylistic and technical complexity of the art suggests authorship by Homo sapiens, we have no way to be certain who made it.

Identifying a human linked to a prehistoric item has an established methodology. For example, in 2023, researchers recovered ancient DNA from a deer-tooth pendant found in Denisova cave, southern Siberia.

Analysis of the genetic sequence showed that the pendant was probably worn by a 25,000-year-old woman belonging to an ancient population known as Ancient North Eurasians, who lived across Siberia in Palaeolithic times.

Such discoveries transform otherwise anonymous objects into evidence of real people, giving us an intriguing glimpse into the lives of our prehistoric ancestors.

New genetic reservoirs

In the latest cave art study, scientists systematically sampled both painted and unpainted surfaces of cave walls at 11 sites across Spain and Portugal. Remarkably, they recovered ancient human DNA directly from the walls, demonstrating for the first time that these surfaces can act as reservoirs for genetic information.

Some of these cave wall samples were shown, through both genetic analysis and the archaeological context, to be at least 4,000 years old.

In two of the samples from Covarón cave in northern Spain, human DNA was sufficiently preserved to be identified as belonging to ancient western hunter-gatherers. These were populations that lived across much of Europe during Late Palaeolithic and Mesolithic times.

One of the samples from a pigmented part of a cave wall, in Escoural cave, Portugal, also yielded traces of ancient DNA, but it was not as well preserved as other samples.

Nevertheless, the research establishes a powerful new methodological framework and proof of concept. It raises the tantalising prospect of studying not only the images left behind, but also the communities of people who made them.

However, applying this technique successfully to identify the artist of specific ancient rock art is incredibly unlikely.

This research could, though, potentially resolve one of the most contentious debates in archaeology. This concerns a 66,700-year-old hand stencil discovered within Maltravieso cave in Extremadura, western Spain.

This controversial stencil appears to predate the arrival of modern humans in Europe. Some researchers have therefore argued that Neanderthals, not Homo sapiens, made the art.

Finding DNA from either species in this location, at similar times to the creation of the rock art, could offer a potential route for resolving the debate. But this too is much more difficult than it might seem.

Easy transfer

The presence of human DNA does not prove who created the rock art. DNA is easily transferred – actions as simple as breathing can transfer someone’s genetic material to a location or object. This is why DNA recovered from a knife cannot definitively conclude who committed a stabbing in a forensic case.

DNA establishes the association of someone with an item or location, not the actions they carried out during the deposition of their genetic material. Environmental activities such as rain can also transfer human DNA to these spaces, making it extremely difficult to identify a single person at a location.

Additional DNA can be deposited at very different times to when the painting was produced – by both modern and ancient humans. The potential for contamination is incredibly high, making it difficult to establish who may have been at a given location at a specific time.

Nonetheless, scientists can use this new research to explore important prehistoric questions such as the hominin species, population groups and sexes of those who entered specific cave systems, and their migration routes across landscapes.

In the general sense, we can also begin to connect prehistoric art with the people who created and lived with it.

Behind each rock-art hand stencil or hunting scene is evidence of a real person who, while separated from us by tens of thousands of years, felt the need to communicate their creativity – as we do today. Techniques such as this offer a vital opportunity to understand more thoroughly the human experience via our similarities with ancient people.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The UK is building a next generation fighter jet in collaboration with Italy and Japan. The Global Combat Air Programme (GCAP) has taken on even greater significance since the collapse of a rival project called the Future Combat Air System (FCAS), a collaboration between France, Germany and Spain.

The GCAP aircraft, which will be known in Britain as Tempest, should enter service by 2035. For Britain and Italy, the project fulfils a need to replace their Eurofighter Typhoon fleets with a cutting edge combat jet capable of protecting national borders.

The plane could also participate in Nato-led missions, including protecting European skies against capable and determined adversaries. Japan too needs a fighter jet up to the task of protecting a large maritime region against incursions of its airspace.

So can these three partner nations succeed where FCAS failed and build a truly state-of-the-art combat aircraft?

The most advanced fighter jets in the world are known as “fifth generation”. Tempest will be classed as a sixth generation fighter jet. China and Russia have fifth generation aircraft and are working on their own sixth generation combat jets.

Many European nations have been replacing their ageing fleets with America’s fifth generation F-35 aircraft. But the Trump administration’s wavering levels of support for Nato have made some governments rethink their reliance on American hardware.

This underlines the importance of sovereign capability for the nations behind GCAP, which was established in 2022. On July 3 2026, the UK, Italy and Japan signed a £4.6 billion deal to move the project into its next design phase.

The contract was awarded to Edgewing, a joint venture between three aerospace companies: the UK’s BAE Systems, Italy’s Leonardo and the Japan Aircraft Industrial Enhancement Company (which is jointly funded by Mitsubishi Heavy Industries and the Society of Japanese Aerospace Companies).

The award followed nine months of delay as the UK worked to finalise its defence spending plans.

What will distinguish sixth generation fighter jets from their predecessors is their ability to act as a “system of systems”. They will be packed with sensors to gather information about the battlespace. This will be combined in real time, along with data from satellites, naval assets and ground stations, to aid pilots in their missions.

Advanced jets like Tempest will be able to control drone aircraft, including a type called “loyal wingmen”. These drones assist missions by, for example, protecting the crewed fighter jet.

Meanwhile, stealth technology – which helps fighter jets reduce their chances of being detected by infrared and radar sensors – will be just as vital as it has been for fifth generation aircraft like the F-35.

So do GCAP partner nations have the technological capability to build such an aircraft? Yes, with a couple of caveats. In 2016, Japan became only the fourth country to test-fly a homegrown stealth demonstrator aircraft.

The Mitsubishi-built X-2 prototype demonstrated the success of Japan’s domestic stealth design and engineering techniques, its radar-absorbent materials and thrust vectoring (an aircraft’s ability to steer by changing the direction of its engine exhaust).

The UK flew its own stealth demonstrator, BAE Systems’ Taranis drone, in 2013. It showed the success of British-developed stealth technology and autonomous systems technology. Both stealth programmes have fed directly into GCAP; BAE Systems and Mitsubishi Heavy Industries are the same companies designing Tempest.

Italy and Japan also host F-35 final assembly lines, the only such facilities outside the US. This has created a workforce already experienced in the assembly of a fifth generation stealth jet, along with the production of full wings for the F-35. These skills transfer directly to building Tempest.

What remains unproven by the GCAP partners is the ability to integrate stealth, combined data from multiple aircraft sensors, and artificial intelligence into a single aircraft. Another uncertainty is the ability to sustain a production line of aircraft destined for national fleets. This is a harder engineering problem than it might seem and deserves closer scrutiny than it currently receives.

Equal terms

The FCAS project succumbed to disputes between the industrial partners, France’s Dassault and Airbus, representing Germany and Spain. Sticking points included which company led the design, the distribution of work and intellectual property issues.

Do the GCAP partners have the industrial and organisational discipline to avoid the same fate? GCAP’s Edgewing industrial venture reflects in its structure key principles that could prove vital for the project’s success.

The Edgewing partners each hold an equal 33.3% stake, with no single nation designated as lead. They have freedom to act on and modify the technology. This is a far cry from the F-35, where partner nations fly the aircraft with no control over changes to modernise the jet’s hardware or software, which is overseen by the US.

GCAP is not immune to future problems, but it settled its industrial leadership question before cutting metal, a distinction that may matter more than any single technological choice.

Inaccurate budgeting could yet prove a stumbling block for GCAP. Historically, multinational fighter jet programmes have underestimated the true costs.

Even after the Defence Investment Plan’s £8.6 billion commitment, the total cost of GCAP remains unquantified, since neither the unit price of each aircraft nor the size of the UK’s order has been fixed.

History tells us that pilot training is another thing combat air programmes get wrong. As a pilot myself, I know that moving experienced crews onto a new aircraft, even a mature one, takes months of study in ground school, extensive simulator time and supervised flying before it is trusted for operational use.

GCAP crews must be trained not just to fly the jet, but to direct other uncrewed aircraft such as loyal wingmen.

Nevertheless, the evidence suggests that Britain, Italy and Japan possess the technology to build a genuinely cutting-edge sixth generation fighter. Do they possess the industrial and organisational discipline to deliver it? Probably, but it remains conditional on funding and training keeping pace with ambition over the next nine years.

Marco Chan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Larry, the Downing Street cat, has had to adapt to seven different prime ministers moving into No 10 over the past decade. Yet while the nation’s attention is fixed on the departing and incoming political leaders, who is thinking about the effect these upheavals might have on one of the property’s most enduring residents?

Cats thrive on predictability and the consistency of their environment is important for their welfare. On the whole cats prefer an unchanging environment. Some cats cope with change better than others. Many cats are distressed by disturbances such as moving house, changes in familiar routines, people moving into or leaving the household, or even changes to the scent of their home environment.

Unlike dogs, cats aren’t obligate social species, therefore may not have such a strong proclivity to form social attachments. However, in certain situations domestic cats can be found living in social groups, particularly in environments with a plentiful food supply.

Some cats enjoy the company of people, while others prefer a more solitary life. This is determined partly by their early experiences. A young kitten that learns in the early weeks of their life that contact with people is associated with nice experiences is more likely to seek social interactions with people as an adult. Kittens raised by mothers who show friendly behaviour towards people can learn to value human company through the process of social learning.

Genetics also influence a cats friendliness towards people. Researchers in a 1995 study found that the kittens of friendlier fathers were more likely to show friendly behaviour towards unfamiliar people even if they weren’t socialised as a new kitten.

Some cats appear to suffer when separated from their caregivers, although some researchers question whether this can be described as a secure attachment (one that is necessary to maintain feelings of safety and security in threatening situations).

Researchers have identified five different forms of cat-owner relationship, based on the level of emotional investment of the owner, the way the cat relates to others, their aloofness and their need to be in close proximity to their owner. These types range from open relationships (characterised by a lightly emotionally invested owner and an avoidant cat) to casual relationships, co-dependence and friendship.

Although the Starmer family has moved out and the Burnhams have taken up residence, Larry’s main caretakers are civil servants, so his day-to-day care won’t change. Larry’s behaviour in recent days (strutting along Downing Street, nonplussed by the comings and goings and embarking on a successful hunting expedition) suggests that he takes such changes in cohabitants in his stride.

Other animals

The new prime minister has a dog called Axel, and although cats and dogs can live together harmoniously and even form close bonds, integrating Axel into Larry’s home might cause tensions if not handled well. However, not even the prime minster would dare to disturb Larry’s position as chief mouser. Andy Burnham has told the BBC he’s not bringing Axel to London with him because he doesn’t think the two animals will get on.

If he changes his mind there are a few things he could do to help Axel and Larry get along. Introducing a dog into a household with a cat should be done gradually, with the aim to prevent any chasing or aggression between the pets.

Before the dog arrives, settle the cat into a safe space, which the dog won’t have access to. This might be a bedroom, bathroom or any part of the house that the cat likes to relax in, ensuring the cat has access to everything they need such as places to hide, litter trays, food and water.

Scent is incredibly important to both cats and dogs, so getting them accustomed to each other’s aroma in the home helps to smooth the introduction. This can be done by introducing bedding or toys used by the other pet, or gently wiping a damp cloth across the body of the pet to pick up their scent.

It’s vital that the first meeting goes well and there are a few things that will help to ensure they get off on the right foot. Make sure the dog isn’t full of energy by exercising them before the meeting. Start with a barrier such as a baby gate between them.

When they first meet give both pets plenty of their favourite food treats, to reward calm behaviour and so that they associate the presence of other with something nice happening.

Signs of stress

Cats can be difficult to read but there are known warning signs of stress in cats. More obvious stress behaviour includes hissing, growling, swiping or puffed up fur. But indicators also include the cat running away or hiding and refusing treats they normally avoid. Flattened ears, dilated pupils, tense body posture and a flicking tail are all signals a cat is feeling tense.

Larry seems like quite an independent confident cat if reports “he has the run of the house” are anything to go by, so it’s likely that he will soon teach the new inhabitants of No 10 how he likes things done.

Emily Blackwell does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The European Commission’s decision to fine Google €890 million (US$1 billion) for failing to comply with the EU Digital Markets Act sounds like a significant financial and political intervention against one of the world’s largest technology companies.

The ruling is certainly further evidence of Europe’s desire to regulate US big tech platforms more strictly.

But can such fines really change the behaviour of companies like Google, whose global resources and technical capabilities substantially exceed those of the institutions responsible for regulating them?

Alphabet, Google’s parent company, reported revenues of approximately US$402.8 billion (£302bn) for 2025, and a net income of US$132.2 billion. The EU fine represents less than 0.3% of one year’s revenue.

This makes it, simultaneously, one of the largest penalties imposed under the Digital Markets Act (DMA) and a financially manageable cost for the company receiving it. But that does not mean the penalty is irrelevant. Fines can also carry reputational costs, establish legal boundaries, and create a basis for more serious sanctions.

Europe has been here before

The European Commission has been here before. In 2004, after a five-year investigation, it fined Microsoft more than €497 million for using its position in PC operating systems to restrict competition in adjacent software markets.

Just under a decade later, the same company was fined a further €561 million, after it failed to provide the browser-choice screen it had committed to making available to European Windows users. This judgment was significant, as it showed the initial legal decision was only one stage of the commission’s enforcement process.

Google has since become the principal focus of EU technology concerns. The commission opened proceedings over the company’s comparison-shopping practices in November 2010, finally imposing a €2.42 billion fine in June 2017. A separate three-year investigation into restrictions associated with Google’s mobile operating system, Android, resulted in a €4.34 billion fine in July 2018.

Brussels has used the DMA against other big tech gatekeepers too. In April 2025, it fined Apple €500 million for breaching its anti-steering obligation – which forbids online platforms from blocking out cheaper rival deals – and Meta €200 million in connection with the choices it offered users about their personal data.

While these decisions demonstrated the commission’s willingness to intervene, they also established a recurring pattern: an investigation is opened and a substantial fine is imposed. Then, the company in question introduces a series of technical or contractual changes, only for a further dispute to emerge over whether those changes amount to effective compliance.

In short, the central difficulty is not the absence of legal authority. It is the translation of that authority into timely, measurable changes in market behaviour.

Do fines change big tech behaviour?

There are three main ways in which the effectiveness of a fine such as this can be assessed:

1. Formal compliance: has the company amended its contracts, interfaces or internal policies in response to the decision?

2. Market effectiveness: have the changes given competitors a meaningful opportunity to reach customers, enabled app developers to offer lower prices, or increased consumer choice?

3. Deterrence: has the penalty made Google – and other gatekeepers – less likely to engage in equivalent conduct through future services, product designs or contractual arrangements?

A 2025 study examined the implementation and effectiveness of company responses in 12 major EU antitrust cases. Although most of the imposed remedies had been implemented, fewer than half were found to have been fully effective.

So, it’s not enough to ask whether Google will change the appearance of a search page or amend the wording of its developer terms in response to this latest fine. The commission must assess whether, after Google’s 60-day compliance period, competing services receive meaningful visibility, rival companies can communicate with customers without excessive friction or fees, and consumers are genuinely able to exercise greater choice.

A criticism levelled at regulators in many jurisdictions is that investigations are too slow to curb anti-competitive behaviour. Article 29 of the DMA states that the European Commission should adopt a non-compliance decision within 12 months of opening proceedings.

This is an aspirational timetable, rather than an absolute legal deadline. Nevertheless, the present Google investigations were opened on March 25, 2024 and concluded on July 23, 2026 – approximately 28 months later.

A January 2026 consultation highlighted complaints about the DMA’s slow processes and limited transparency, as well as circumvention and delaying tactics on the part of big tech companies. Suggested changes included binding procedural timelines, independent audits, and public testing of the remedies imposed by the European Commission.

The speed of technological change

When the EU’s latest proceedings against Google began in March 2024, much of the digital competition debate concerned the ordering and presentation of conventional search results. During the investigation, however, Google continued to develop AI Overviews and AI Mode, which offer users AI-generated answers, summaries and recommendations rather than a traditional page of ranked links.

This creates a significant enforcement problem. Self-preferencing can occur not only through the vertical ranking of links, but through the selection of sources, the framing of an answer, the services through which a transaction is completed and the options presented to the user by an AI agent.

Accordingly, the issue should not be whether a rival service has been given a particular box on a search page. It should be whether competing services have a fair and effective opportunity to be discovered, selected and used, irrespective of whether the interaction takes place through a conventional search result, an AI-generated answer, or an automated purchasing agent.

The commission’s ruling announcement recognised this rapid technological development. It also noted that Google had submitted proposals concerning how the principles of the decision should apply to AI Overviews and AI Mode, and that discussions on these services would continue.

Ultimately, the fine represents an early test of whether the DMA can remain relevant as the technology changes. It is this, not the size of the initial fine, that will decide whether Europe really can keep big tech in check.

Iain Nash does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Elon Musk has promised that before the year is out, his AI tool Grok Imagine will produce a full-length film of Homer’s Odyssey that is, in his words, “historically accurate and true to the art of Homer”.

The claim, posted on X in July alongside a three-minute AI-generated scene, arrived days after Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster version reached cinemas worldwide – a film Musk has spent months attacking for being “woke”.

Set aside, for a moment, that The Odyssey is a 2,800-year-old poem that includes a witch who turns men into pigs and a one-eyed giant shepherd, to ask a simpler question: accurate to what?

There are no photographs of ancient Ithaca. There is no footage of the Trojan shore. What we have is stories, poems, pottery and paint, and, more recently, a century of films that imagined the ancient world for us. That is the only material a generative model has ever seen.

So when Grok Imagine – the AI image generator developed by Musk’s xAI company – renders antiquity, it is not reaching back into history. It is reaching for the centre of every image already made about it – the most probable ancient warrior, assembled from Gladiator, Troy and 300 and a hundred years of sword-and-sandal cinema. The result will not look like the past. It will look like other films about the past, averaged out by AI.

And here is the part that should give anyone bandying about the word “accurate” pause. A machine that reaches for the most probable image does not correct our clichés about antiquity. It concentrates them. Ask it for a classical statue and it will hand you gleaming white marble, because that is how we picture the ancient world.

Except the ancient world did not look like that. Greek and Roman sculpture was painted in strong colours – the pristine white marble in our heads is a later idealisation, not the thing itself. An AI model trained on our pictures of the past will reproduce our mistakes about the past – confidently – and give them back to us labelled as truth. That is the opposite of accuracy. It is our own error, upscaled.

The real problem

This is why “historically accurate” is not really a script problem. It is an image problem. Accuracy on screen is delivered through light, lens, skin, texture, cloth and grain – the hundred deliberate decisions a director of photography agonises over in every frame.

A machine makes those decisions too, but it makes them by consensus, by defaulting to the most probable choice. Research on generative AI has already found that it makes individual work feel more creative while making the whole field more similar, everything drifting toward the same middle. The same regression to the mean that flattens prose will flatten the picture. You do not get the accurate past, and you do not get the thrilling lie. You get the average, and the average is where nothing memorable lives.

Which brings me to escapism, and to a tension in my own work I am happy to admit. I research and teach sustainable, naturalistic image-making – stripping away artifice, working with available light. But I have also argued, including in a TED talk, that escapism matters, and that realism is often its enemy.

Take everything excessive and dangerous out of James Bond and you remove the reason anyone watches. Nolan’s Odyssey is not trying to be accurate. It is trying to be exciting – and excitement is a decision. It is a point of view, a piece of the filmmaker put deliberately on the screen.

Heightening is a choice about what to exaggerate, and a choice is exactly what an average cannot make. A machine that lives at the mean can smooth, but it cannot heighten. So the “exciting” AI blockbuster arrives with the one quality excitement depends on already removed.

There is a reason the AI clips flooding our feeds feel flavourless even when they are technically clean. It is not that the tools are young and will improve. It is that averaging is what they do. Watch a real performer and you are watching a human being decide – take a risk, make a choice you might not have made – in front of you.

That is the thing we actually go to films for, and it is precisely the thing an average has no way to contain. Whether audiences keep noticing is the open question. The appetite to make this work is real, because it is cheap. The appetite to watch it is the thing nobody has tested yet. And the unease many people already feel watching AI slop and struggling to say why it repels them, is not naivety. It is a correct response to work that no one made decisions about.

So what is the endgame? Not, I think, simply proving it can be done. If you only wanted to prove a technical point you would not reach for the word accurate – least of all for a poem, where accuracy means nothing. Reaching for accurate is reaching for authority: the right to say what is true.

Musk is a man who publicly objected to the casting of a black actor as Helen of Troy and a trans actor as a Greek warrior. A man who operates within a wider political project about who gets to tell the national story, now claiming that a tool he owns can portray the past as it truly was. Follow that to its end. If his machine decides what is historically accurate, then he decides what the past looked like. And whoever is trusted to author the past is well placed to author the future.

So watch this one with scepticism – not because AI cannot make images, it plainly can, but because “historically accurate” is a claim about truth. And truth is exactly what a machine trained on the average of everything cannot give you. It is also exactly, in this case, what its owner would most like to define.

Jack Shelbourn has received funding from the British Film Institute; the National Lottery; HEIF/University of Lincoln; CoASSH Scholarship, Professional Practice & Research Resources Allocation Fund; and College of Arts Teaching and Learning Fund.

On Good Friday, April 11 1952, a Pan American Douglas DC-4 named Clipper Endeavor took off from San Juan in Puerto Rico, bound for New York. On board were 64 passengers including six infants, plus five crew.

The flight lasted less than nine minutes before two engines lost power. Unable to make it back to the airport, the captain ditched the plane in the Atlantic Ocean, roughly 11 miles northwest of San Juan’s Isla Grande Airport.

Remarkably, all 69 people on board survived the impact. What killed 52 of them was what happened afterwards.

The airframe broke apart and began to sink, and in the ensuing chaos, many passengers refused the captain’s order to get out, remaining buckled into their seats. Investigators recorded drowning as the cause for almost all of the deaths.

The pilot told air crash investigators that he had forced some of the passengers into the water. However, the language barrier between the crew and the mostly Puerto Rican passengers had made communication harder – as did their reported fear of sharks in the water.

For 74 years, the wreckage remained hidden under 2,000 feet of water off Puerto Rico’s coast – until an uncrewed underwater vehicle owned by marine survey company Deep Sea Vision located it in June 2026.

As a former commercial airline pilot, the story of this tragedy holds particular interest for me – in particular, the enormous impact it had on how airline safety procedures are still done today. According to Josh Gates, a Discovery Channel presenter who was part of the search team: “It is an accident that fundamentally reshaped aviation as we know it.”

The critical 90 seconds

The US Civil Aeronautics Board’s investigation found that Clipper Endeavor should probably never have taken off. One engine that later failed had shown abnormal fuel readings and metal fragments in its oil the day before.

But the report placed greater weight on what happened after the ditching. There had been no requirement for passengers to be briefed on the plane’s emergency exits, nor to be shown how to use a life vest before a flight over water.

In short, nothing had prepared 64 people for the critical 90 seconds they had to escape the plane before it sank.

As a result of these findings, regulators soon required airlines to keep life vests and rafts accessible to passengers rather than locked away, and to give passengers on extended overwater flights a verbal briefing on life vests, emergency exits and rafts – including demonstrating how to put on a life vest.

The aim was to make sure passengers had already walked through the actions in their minds before panic could override them. A 2018 review of aviation safety research highlighted that many historical air accidents would have resulted in significantly higher survival rates, had every passenger involved read the safety card or watched the crew’s demonstration beforehand.

One apparent example of the importance of passenger safety briefings occurred in January 2009, when Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger ditched US Airways flight 1549 into New York’s Hudson River after a bird strike disabled both engines. All 155 people aboard survived.

However, the official investigation into the incident told a more complicated story than the “Miracle on the Hudson” headlines suggested. About 70% of passengers had not watched any part of the pre-flight briefing, and only around ten had retrieved a life vest themselves.

The evacuation was nonetheless orderly, which investigators credited to the flight crew’s professionalism, the flotation equipment the aircraft was carrying, and ferries reaching survivors within about seven minutes. Clipper Endeavor’s passengers faced almost the same situation decades earlier, with none of that preparation and no one reaching them in time.

Not every incident since the 1952 Pan Am tragedy has ended so fortuitously. Knowing the safety drill is one thing – following it under real pressure is another.

When a hijacked Ethiopian Airlines jet ditched in the Indian Ocean in 1996, killing 125 of the 175 people aboard, the official investigation found that passengers in the economy cabin had inflated their life vests before the aircraft went down.

Crew members had to quickly deflate them and re-brief passengers on the brace position under extraordinary stress. Their instructions were found to have only been given in English, so investigators concluded that some passengers probably hadn’t understood them.

Passenger compliance in an emergency

During my ten years flying Airbus A320s and A330s as a commercial pilot, giving the safety briefing was never my job. That role falls to cabin crew whose professionalism rarely gets the credit it deserves.

The seatbelt sign was mine, though. My voice was the one on the PA reminding passengers to stay buckled in whenever seated – another critical piece of safety advice for as long as the plane is in the air, which Clipper Endeavor’s passengers never received. (If you are not convinced of the seatbelt sign’s importance, read this interview with the passenger who was nearly sucked out of a Ryanair flight recently.)

After each flight, pilots and crew have a debrief that may include discussion of passenger behaviour, particularly if something went wrong during boarding or an emergency. The recurring complaint among cabin crew was about what passengers do the moment an emergency actually starts: reaching for hand luggage instead of leaving it behind.

When an Aeroflot Sukhoi Superjet caught fire after a hard landing in Moscow in 2019, investigators found that passengers retrieving bags from the overhead lockers had probably slowed the evacuation of the burning cabin, contributing to the deaths of 41 people.

A separate study of real emergency evacuations found that half of those involved admitted to attempting to grab a carry-on bag on their way out, making it the most commonly reported obstruction to a fast evacuation.

A 2014 study by aviation safety scientist Brett Molesworth showed that passengers’ recall of safety messages was better if they watched more entertaining demonstrations that used humour or celebrities.

As a result, some airlines now make safety videos both entertaining and informative – such as British Airways dressing more than 40 staff in period costumes for a Regency-style safety film, and Qatar Airways using the American comedian and actor Kevin Hart.

But recall and compliance during a terrifying emergency, when passengers are prone to panic, are two different problems. This is the gap the air travel industry is still striving to solve.

Marco Chan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Nasa is about to launch a space observatory that could help settle some of the biggest mysteries in modern astronomy. The Nancy Grace Roman space telescope will study how the universe began, what it is made of and how it has evolved over time.

The observatory is named after Nasa’s first chief of astronomy and its first female executive. Nancy Grace Roman, who died in 2018 aged 93, made important contributions to our understanding of stars and played a crucial role in shaping Nasa’s space-based astronomy programme.

The telescope is undergoing final preparations ahead of a launch set to take place from Florida’s Kennedy Space Center in late August. It is eight months ahead of its original schedule, and under budget – a rare feat for a Nasa flagship mission.

Unlike the James Webb space telescope, which is designed to look at individual objects in extraordinary detail, Roman is built to survey the sky at scale. It will take in vast areas of the cosmos, allowing astronomers to build up a much broader picture of the universe and how it changes.

Roman has an unusual history. It began life as a “spare” spy satellite, donated to Nasa by the US government agency responsible for gathering intelligence from space.

Roman carries two main instruments, added by Nasa. These are the wide field instrument and the coronagraph. The wide field instrument will detect infrared light coming from the universe. Infrared light has wavelengths that are slightly longer than those of visible light. This allows the instrument to see through cosmic dust and look deeper into the cosmos.

Its field of view – how much sky it sees when pointed in a given direction – is about 100 times that of the Hubble space telescope’s infrared camera, but with similar sharpness. The wide field instrument’s capabilities also mean it can survey the cosmos about 1,000 times faster than Hubble. Observations that would take Hubble centuries could be completed by Roman in a fraction of the time.

The coronagraph is designed to block the overwhelming glare of nearby stars. The idea is a bit like placing a hand in front of the Sun to make it easier to see something faint beside it.

By suppressing starlight, the coronagraph will allow astronomers to test methods for directly imaging faint planets and discs of dust and gas around other stars.

Over the course of its mission, Roman is expected to detect billions of galaxies and tens of billions of stars. Roman’s combination of scale and precision gives the telescope its power. It will see enough of the sky to reveal broad cosmic patterns, while measuring galaxies and stars accurately enough to detect small but important effects.

Cosmic evolution

Modern cosmology – the study of how the universe originated and evolved – rests on a remarkably successful model. According to this model of the universe, ordinary matter – the stuff that makes up stars, planets and people — accounts for just a small fraction of everything out there. The rest of the cosmos is made up of two unseen, mysterious components.

The first is dark matter, which makes up about 25% of the universe. This form of matter neither reflects nor absorbs light, yet its gravitational pull helps hold galaxies together. The mission could help shed light on the nature of dark matter by tracking how it has shaped the formation of galaxies across different epochs of cosmic history.

The second unseen component is dark energy, which makes up around 70% of the universe. Its exact nature remains elusive, but dark energy is causing the expansion of the universe to accelerate. For decades, astronomers assumed that it is constant, or uniform. However, recent results hint that dark energy could be changing over time. Roman will put these competing ideas to the test.

If dark energy is constant, it points to a universe that keeps expanding forever. If dark energy changes, it could point to new physics beyond our current theories.

Roman may help address a longstanding puzzle: why we observe the universe at a moment when the densities of matter and dark energy are roughly comparable. In the early universe, matter dominated.

In the far future, dark energy is expected to dominate completely. The present era appears to be a transition between the two – a cosmic intermission lasting billions of years, but brief in the lifespan of the universe.

This could be a simple coincidence or a clue to new insights about the cosmos. For example, it could be that dark energy is changing over time, that gravity behaves differently on cosmic scales or that some ingredient is missing from our model of the universe. Distinguishing between these scenarios would require observations across huge spans of cosmic time – exactly the kind of data that Roman will provide.

---

Read more: Dark energy: could the mysterious force seen as constant actually vary over cosmic time?

---

Beyond cosmology

Roman’s science extends well beyond dark energy. It will carry out the largest survey yet of planets beyond our solar system, detecting thousands of new worlds using a technique called gravitational microlensing.

Microlensing happens when the gravity of a foreground star briefly bends and magnifies the light from a more distant background star – acting like a natural magnifying lens passing between us and a distant object. If the foreground star has a planet, that planet can create a small extra brightening in the signal, revealing its presence.

Many of these exoplanets would be difficult to find with the two most widely used techniques to discover exoplanets – the transit and radial velocity methods. Using microlensing, Roman could find planets in wide orbits, low mass planets and even free floating worlds that are not bound to any star.

Roman is also part of a new era of survey astronomy. Its wide-field capabilities place it alongside other major missions. The European Space Agency’s Euclid space mission is mapping billions of galaxies to study dark matter and dark energy. The Vera C. Rubin Observatory, built on a mountaintop in Chile, will repeatedly scan the southern sky.

Together, these observatories will help astronomers map the universe across different wavelengths, distances and timescales.

Roman will also work together with the James Webb space telescope, identifying large-scale patterns and unusual objects across the sky, which Webb can then study in detail. This combination of breadth and depth is increasingly important in modern astronomy.

Roman’s greatest impact may come from the unexpected. With repeated observations of large areas of sky, it will detect rare events and previously unseen phenomena. For astronomers, this is one of the mission’s most exciting aspects.

By mapping the universe in unprecedented detail, the Roman telescope will provide a powerful test of our current understanding of cosmology – and potentially point the way to new physics.

Noelia Noël does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Many of the biggest online platforms have long argued they aren’t publishers of the content their users upload, merely hosts. The likes of Google, YouTube, Meta and TikTok claim they simply store and display information created by others, so should not be seen as legally responsible for it.

But a recent ruling by the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) makes that argument harder to maintain – at least in cases where the platform’s algorithm is deciding which content gets pushed, ranked or amplified.

The case relates to Coyote, a French driving assistance company which stores traffic reports submitted by users and redistributes them to the wider network. The question being tested was whether Coyote merely hosts its users’ information, or also controls (and benefits from) how that information is circulated.

The significance of this case – brought by the Conseil d’État, France’s highest administrative court and the government’s chief legal adviser – extends far beyond driving apps. It clarifies when a provider may lose the legal right of “intermediary immunity” for the user information it stores and circulates.

Traditional book, newspaper and magazine publishers have always been held responsible for their content. A defamatory article generally exposes the publisher to liability, since it chose to make the material available.

In contrast, technology companies have been treated as neutral intermediaries – closer to a corner shop stocking newspapers than a publisher producing content, with clear limits to their liability.

For these companies, the Coyote judgment is significant because it sharpens the boundary between neutral hosting and algorithmic control. A platform that merely stores user content is likely to remain legally protected. But one that decides, in its own interest, how that content is disseminated may no longer be.

One important caveat: as this case is from the CJEU, it does not apply to users in the UK and elsewhere outside the EU. However, it will affect British and international companies that have a significant audience within the EU. So, no technology platform can dismiss the issue simply because it is headquartered outside Europe.

What the court decided

A hosting provider is protected under Article 6 of the EU Digital Services Act (DSA) if it lacks actual knowledge of illegal content – and then acts expeditiously once notified about it.

The question in the Coyote case was whether a service that stores and retransmits user-generated information still counts as a neutral host when its algorithm decides how that information circulates.

The court concluded that a platform can have no knowledge of a specific message’s content, yet can still have legal responsibility for its dissemination. Where a platform’s algorithm determines – in its own interest – the conditions, manner or priority with which information is disseminated, then the “safe harbour” of being a neutral host falls away.

This outcome was anticipated in 2019 by technology law experts Jennifer Cobbe and Jatinder Singh, who argued that algorithmic curation complicated the assumption that platforms are passive, neutral hosts.

The ruling does not doom every algorithm. Simple categorisation, such as showing all posts by one user or from the past 24 hours, remains close to traditional hosting. But ranking or promoting content in the platform’s own interest does not.

None of this makes these platforms automatically liable. Losing the exemption only opens the door to being sued – claimants must still prove the platform’s conduct actually caused harm.

Potential impacts of the Coyote ruling

1. For social media content

A social media company may remain protected when it stores user content or displays it in ways that are largely user-directed or chronological. But algorithmic feeds are different.

“For You” pages, recommendation systems, trending modules and paid amplification systems all decide what content is shown to which users and in what priority. When that decision is made in the platform’s commercial or service interest, Coyote makes it harder to describe the platform as merely hosting the content.

The same reasoning may matter for extreme or graphic material. If a platform simply stores content uploaded by a user, the hosting exemption could still apply. But where a recommender system repeatedly pushes that material to users because it drives engagement, Coyote gives claimants a stronger argument that the platform was not passive.

The content does not always need to be unlawful in itself. But claimants would still need to demonstrate both liability and harm.

2. For paid search

When a platform sells priority, decides how a sponsored result is displayed, and presents that result to users because doing so serves its own commercial interest, it becomes harder to argue that the platform is merely storing or neutrally indexing third-party information.

This matters because online advertising has become a major route for fraud and consumer harm. Following the Coyote ruling, claimants harmed by paid advertisements may have a stronger argument that the harm arose at least in part because the provider sold, ranked and prioritised that information.

But they would still need to prove the advert was unlawful, that the platform’s role fell outside immunity, that the promotion caused their financial loss or other harm.

3. In libel cases

A newspaper that publishes a defamatory allegation can be liable because it has chosen to publish it. In contrast, a hosting platform where a user makes and uploads such an allegation has not been treated in this way.

However, if the platform’s recommender system promotes that post or pushes it into feeds, the CJEU ruling gives claimants a clearer argument that the platform should be held responsible for increasing the audience reach of the allegedly defamatory content.

Changing the terrain

The Coyote judgment does not abolish hosting immunity – but it does change the terrain. It makes clear that the “safe harbour” argument depends not only on where information came from, but what the provider does with it.

The more a platform determines dissemination in its own interest, the harder it is to maintain that it is merely hosting, according to this groundbreaking ruling. And this, remember, holds for international as well as European technology companies.

Iain Nash does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

You may be spotting bodies of dead bumblebees lying across pavements near you in the summer months.

There are several reasons for this, some to do with the weather and some very much due to humans.

Bumblebees are social, living in colonies that are maintained by very active workers with a relatively short lifespan of 4-6 weeks. This means, that in a relatively short space of time, older bees die off and to prevent disease making it’s way through the colony, the healthy young workers bring out their dead, moving them far away from their colony.

Another factor is the weather. It was the warmest June on record in England (and the second hottest for the whole UK) in 2026 and other high temperatures are expected this summer.

Thermal stress in bees is caused by this kind of extreme heat. Prolonged heat exposure alters development and threatens long-term population stability.

Heatwaves also severely disrupt reproduction, flight capacity and ability to forage. Social insects including bees rely on cooling behaviour for example fanning their wings when things get too hot to buffer the hive but there are limits as to how effective this is in extreme heat.

As it gets hotter bee foraging activity may increase, and they may cover greater distances. Bees can thermoregulate themselves by moving heat around their body while in flight, but extremes of temperature can affect their health.

Don’t kill your dandelions

Other elements play a part in bee deaths. Pesticide and herbicide use is commonplace and these chemicals affect the fitness of bees, causing them to die off. However, not only do these chemicals affect the bees directly, they can also remove important plants that they rely on for food causing them to starve. Dandelions for example, are a massively important nectar source for bees, but also a plant commonly controlled with herbicides. So don’t weed your garden and pull them out.

Pesticide use is one of the historical key causes for loss of bees. Pesticides applied to reduce the insects feeding on crops – is some what ironically – responsible for harming a group of animals responsible for their pollination.

The EU and the UK have banned the use of the most harmful neonictinoids, however pesticides are still routinely used, with harmful knock-on effects on pollinators. Insecticides such as organophosphates, synthetic pyrethroids and phenylpyrazoles cause paralysis and death of these insects, as well as disrupting the bees ability to navigate.

Habitat loss is another key issue for bees, with land use changing for housing developments, intensive agriculture and other human structures such as roads. Without these habitats to support the bees, their populations suffer.

Climate change is causing other problems.

---

Read more: A common soil pesticide cut wild bee reproduction by 89% – here’s why scientists are worried

---

Phenological mismatch is when two organisms that are dependent upon each other appear at the wrong time. With a changing climate this is happening. An example of this is that plants that the bees are dependent upon being in flower when the bees aren’t around. Essentially they are flowering at a time of year when the bees aren’t there. They could come out of hibernation too early and not have any nectar to feed on, or conversely the flowers could come out before the bees appear. This, of course, is a disaster for both flower and the bees.

Bees under threat

Insects are the most diverse and abundant group of animals on the planet, but in spite of this dominance they are the most threatened.

We are losing our bees at an alarming rate. In Europe, the number of wild bee species considered at risk of extinction has more than doubled from 77 in 2014 to at least 172 today (around 10% of assessed species).

But we really need them. They provide so much support for our planet, as decomposers, pest controllers, food for other animals and generally for keeping our systems clean and tidy. Scientists call these these roles ecosystem services. However, one such service they provide is directly very important for us, and disproportionately carried out by one group of insects, the bees, and that is pollination of our crops.

Bees are one of the most diverse insect groups. They support an estimated 75% of global crop pollination, and nearly 90% of all flowering plants. The rest can be pollinated by other animals, or by the wind and weather.

If we lose that food security afforded by our pollinators we could have a global food crisis on our hands.

Anything that can be done?

When it comes to pesticide use, be a thoughtful and informed consumer. Support local, sustainably produced food where possible and, if feasible, buy from farmers who use nature-friendly practices. This does not necessarily mean choosing organic products, but rather considering how food is produced and the environmental impact of different farming systems. As a homeowner, explore non-chemical alternatives first, and apply any treatments sparingly and responsibly to minimise harm to beneficial insects and other wildlife.

One of the simplest ways to address habitat loss for bees is to make room for native species. Plant a diverse range of native flowering species, and leave some areas of lawn unmown. This can help create safe havens for bees.

In the short term there is one thing that people can do to help bees in distress. Providing sugary water to a bee you see struggling on the pavement on a hot summer’s day can help revive it. A mixture of sugar and water will do the trick at a two-to-one ratio of sugar to water..

Moving the bee, if safe to do so, to a flower or a shady spot too is also advised. But please do not do this if you have allergies, or are likely to get stung.

Alex Dittrich does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The US AI research company Anthropic has become known for building powerful AI models while simultaneously warning about their dangers.

Most recently, its executives wrote about the threat posed by “recursive self-improvement”. This is the point when AI systems can improve themselves by themselves, potentially leading to “superintelligence” far beyond human control.

“We are not there yet, and recursive self-improvement is not inevitable,” the Anthropic blogpost declared. “But it could come sooner than most institutions are prepared for.”

In fact, the idea of recursive self-improvement dates back decades. The British mathematician Irving John Good, who worked with Alan Turing at British codebreaking HQ Bletchley Park, warned in the mid-1960s of the “intelligence explosion” that would follow when a machine could design even better machines without human assistance. Good suggested “the first ultra-intelligent machine is the last invention man need ever make”.

In the 2000s, researcher Eliezer Yudowsky began building a community on the premise that recursive self-improvement and loss of human control could have catastrophic results, up to total human extinction (known as “x-risk”).

Yudkowsky discussed the idea of a “seed AI” that, while not very powerful, is designed for self-modification and able to read its own source code. This means it could generate new, better versions of itself which, in turn, would keep doing the same – researching improvements and writing code, creating a chain reaction of rapid new developments.

Two decades later, the question of recursive self-improvement is looming larger. Here’s why.

An AI coding revolution

It is not an overstatement to say that large language models (LLMs) are revolutionising computer programming. These AI models are well-suited to the job because computer code is highly structured and much simpler than human language. It is also easy to test and verify, and training data is abundant.

Each year, the University of Galway hosts the AtlanTec conference for Ireland’s tech industry. Two years ago, we saw IT companies mainly strategising about AI coding. Last year, they were experimenting. Now, they are incorporating it into engineering workflows.

Since LLMs are made using computer code, it is possible to program them to improve themselves. They can inspect, edit and improve the code, and can combine that with almost all relevant human knowledge gleaned from websites, books and academic publications.

This means we have the pieces in place for recursive self-improvement to become a reality – and we are starting to see it happen.

Despite Anthropic’s statement that “we are not there yet”, the same blogpost revealed that 80% of all code added to the company’s production codebase in May 2026 was generated by its Claude Code AI programming system, under direct human supervision. In February 2025, when Claude Code was launched, this figure was less than 5%.

The number of research papers published in the field of AI has also exploded, tripling over the past decade. Most use some AI systems in their production – whether in experimental design, coding, plotting graphs, or polishing prose.

This form of recursive self-improvement is slow – improvement cycles are in the order of months or years, because each is in some way gated by human approval and requires a lengthy training period. But it is still concerning.

LLMs have already been caught deceiving their overseers. In 2025, for example, the US AI research company OpenAI created a test. An LLM was told if it scored over 50% in a set of questions, it would be considered too powerful and would no longer be used for that task. So the LLM answered only four of the ten questions correctly, even though it had reliably scored better outside this particular test.

Why it’s so hard to ‘pause’ AI

This is not the first time there have been calls for caution. In March 2023, an open letter to AI labs called for a pause on large-scale AI development. It was signed by some of the most notable people in AI, such as deep-learning pioneer Yoshua Bengio and leading AI textbook author Stuart Russell.

Soon after, Yudkowsky suggested those who understood the risks of superintelligent AI should even be “willing to destroy a rogue datacenter by airstrike if necessary”. But such calls did not lead to a pause, and investment in AI training has only increased.

Anthropic’s leaders have now called for a globally coordinated pause mechanism regarding the issue of recursive self-improvement – stressing that people outside AI companies should be involved in open deliberation. Pope Leo XIV recently weighed in with a thoughtful and well-informed encyclical, urging for the pace of AI development to be slowed.

The trouble is, we face a coordination problem. Pausing only works if everyone pauses.

In the short- to medium-term, we believe world leaders will need to reckon with recursive self-improvement by collaborating across borders to curtail some forms of AI research and development.

Yet the EU’s AI Act does not mention this issue explicitly, and is strictly concerned with risks where humans misuse AI. This is important, but not the only issue. To date, Chinese regulation has taken a similar approach.

Meanwhile, the US government has created a chaotic and unclear regulatory environment. For the next few months at least, this means the most advanced AI models will require authorisation before release. This may be a case of doing the right thing for the wrong reasons.

But globally connected, long-term thinking is needed. Perhaps controversially, this should include the right to inspections inside AI tech companies, because a model which is quickly recursively self-improving – even if unreleased to the public – could still be out of human control.

One of us (James McDermott) is now leading a project for Research Ireland’s newly established Rinn network which will explore how to use debate among multiple AIs as a kind of self-check which can be monitored by a human overseer.

This is the kind of response to the issue – and potential threat – of recursive self-improvement that we believe is now urgently required.

Michael G. Madden is the Chair of the Artificial Intelligence Association of Ireland, and a researcher funded by the Rinn AI National Centre for Research and Innovation in Data Science and AI.

James McDermott is a researcher funded by the Rinn AI National Centre for Research and Innovation in Data Science and AI.

Young people in low- and middle-income countries appear generally more optimistic about how AI can enhance their work prospects and social lives than their western peers, according to our new survey of people in ten countries in Africa and South Asia.

While debates in higher-income countries often focus on job losses, misinformation and mental health risks, many of the 1,864 young adults we surveyed (all aged 18-35) placed more emphasis on the opportunities artificial intelligence tools present for them. In particular, nearly 80% of our participants expect AI to deliver improved education and learning for them.

Until now, there has been little evidence of how young people in middle- and low-income countries use AI, and how they feel about this technology – for good and bad. The 2026 youth AI survey – run by global charity Restless Development and academics from the universities of Makerere in Uganda and Cambridge in the UK – seeks to correct this imbalance.

It comes immediately after the UN Independent International Scientific Panel released its preliminary report on AI. Commenting on the need for more science about AI’s use around the world, the UN’s secretary general, António Guterres, admitted: “The world cannot govern what it cannot understand.”

Our responses were collected in Angola, Kenya, India, Nepal, Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Tanzania, Uganda, Zambia and Zimbabwe – with the UK included for comparison. Two-thirds of respondents said they use AI every day, with Meta AI the most common tool, followed by Claude.

The extent of AI use is striking given the obstacles many young people encounter. In every African country surveyed except Nigeria, more than half said high data costs limit their access. Weak internet connections and a lack of digital skills were also raised, with many relying on basic-feature phones. By contrast, UK participants said ethical concerns played a stronger role in limiting their AI usage.

AI work opportunities

While few respondents (14%) said they earn income directly from AI tools yet, half expected AI to improve their employment and economic opportunities within the next five years.

Currently, AI’s main work-related uses among our respondents are learning new skills and job searches. In almost every lower-income country, young people held broadly positive attitudes about AI’s future role in their working lives – although many (32%-50% per country) expressed concerned about its impact on their future income.

How will your income be affected by AI?

Among those from lower-income countries, more than seven in ten thought AI would bring them better education and learning opportunities in the near future. A 28-year-old self-employed man in Nepal commented: “AI has the potential to empower young people in developing countries like Nepal by improving access to knowledge, digital skills, and economic opportunities.”

Our sentiment analysis found respondents to be most positive in Tanzania and Zambia, with young women there even more upbeat than young men. In the UK, young men diverged from their international peers in feeling more negative towards AI and work.

Biggest AI concerns

Some respondents described AI tools as “Americanised”, built around western norms and unable to grasp local nuance. They worried this could lead to their languages being further marginalised.

“These AI tools are fed major languages that are spoken worldwide, unlike Shona,” said a 25-year-old student in urban Zimbabwe. Shona is spoken by around 14 million people mainly in southern Africa, but is severely underserved by AI and other technology tools.

A Ugandan respondent was similarly critical about provision for her native language, Luganda – the country’s most widely spoken Indigenous language. “AI barely knows the spellings, grammar and how to interpret sentences. It’s not even familiar with our culture at all, which increases mistakes when we get to things concerning our own world.”

What most concerns you about AI?

Despite the widespread belief that AI would improve education and training, some held strong reservations. A 21-year-old female student in rural Uganda said: “Slowly by slowly, AI is making us dumb. We can no longer think for ourselves.”

The more often these young people use AI, the more worried they appear to be about it. The biggest concerns highlighted by daily users were around who owns their data and the power of AI companies.

Concern about AI’s environmental impact and the welfare of AI workers followed a similar pattern of higher usage co-existing with higher concern. Mental health is the only domain where non-users worry slightly more than daily users.

Gender differences

Significantly more young men (38%) than women (23%) reported having “a lot” of AI knowledge. This probably reflects a combination of diverging gender self-confidence, which tends to emerge from school age, and different levels of AI use. “AI is scary but helpful too,” said one female homemaker in urban Nepal.

Almost twice as many men than women use AI to search for work (33% vs. 17%). This difference is probably rooted in gendered access to data and technology, as well as differing social roles – such as the tendency for women to do more care work.

What have you used AI for in the past month?

In most of the ten lower-income countries surveyed, young women expressed greater concern about AI than men – with their biggest concern being over who owns their data. In the UK, 68% of young women were strongly concerned about data ownership, compared with 29% of men.

What young people want from AI

Many of our participants stressed the need for cheaper data and internet connections that work well. But they also want AI tools that fit their lives and culture – and speak their language. Until then, most recognise that talk of AI “leapfrogging” traditional stages of economic and social development is just that – talk.

Some efforts to make AI more inclusive and relevant for lower-income countries are underway. These include initiatives for “frugal AI”, as well as regional collaborations such as Masakhane for African languages and QuechuaBase in Peru.

How can AI be made safer?

Most of our participants framed AI safety as much more of a governance problem than a technical one. Many countries are establishing new AI policies, shaped in part by global forums such as the UN-led AI for Good summits. Overwhelmingly, our respondents agreed that governments, not tech companies, should be setting the rules when it comes to AI regulation and privacy protection.

Anna Barford receives funding from UKRI. She has previously been funded by the British Academy, Leverhulme Trust, ESRC, the Asian Development Bank, the Mastercard Foundation, and a philanthropic gift to the University from Unilever. She is a co-director of the Business Fights Poverty Institute and does consultancy work for the International Labour Organization.

Anthony Mugeere works as a Research Fellow for the Advocates Coalition for Development, Uganda's leading thinktank specialising in advocacy and analysis on climate change. He has received funding from the British Academy and the Mastercard Foundation to conduct research on climate change and young people.

Giulia Occhini does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.