Robots are bringing new life to extinct species

Paleontologists aren’t easily deterred by evolutionary dead ends or a sparse fossil record. But in the last few years, they’ve developed a new trick for turning back time and studying prehistoric animals: building experimental robotic models of them. In the absence of a living specimen, scientists say, an ambling, flying, swimming, or slithering automaton is the next best thing for studying the behavior of extinct organisms. Learning more about how they moved can in turn shed light on aspects of their lives, such as their historic ranges and feeding habits. 

Digital models already do a decent job of predicting animal biomechanics, but modeling complex environments like uneven surfaces, loose terrain, and turbulent water is challenging. With a robot, scientists can simply sit back and watch its behavior in different environments. “We can look at its performance without having to think of every detail, [as] in the simulation,” says John Nyakatura, an evolutionary biologist at Humboldt University in Berlin. 

The union of paleontology and robots has its roots in the more established field of bio-inspired robotics, in which scientists fashion robots based on modern animals. Paleo-roboticists, however, face the added complication of designing robotic systems for which there is no living reference. They work around this limitation by abstracting from the next best option, such as a modern descendant or an incomplete fossil record. To help make sure they’re on the right track, they might try to derive general features from modern fauna that radiated from a common ancestor on the evolutionary tree. Or they might turn to good ol’ physics to home in on the most plausible ways an animal moved. Biology might have changed over millions of years; the fundamental laws of nature, not so much. 

Modern technological advances are pulling paleo-inspired robotics into a golden age. Computer-aided design and leading-­edge fabrication techniques such as 3D printing allow researchers to rapidly churn out prototypes. New materials expand the avenues for motion control in an automaton. And improved 3D imaging technology has enabled researchers to digitize fossils with unprecedented detail. 

All this helps paleo-roboticists spin up more realistic robots—ones that can better attain the fluid motion associated with living, breathing animals, as opposed to the stilted movements seen in older generations of robots. Now, researchers are moving closer to studying the kinds of behavioral questions that can be investigated only by bringing extinct animals back to life—or something like it. “We really think that this is such an underexplored area for robotics to really contribute to science,” says Michael Ishida, a roboticist at Cambridge University in the UK who penned a review study on the field. 

Here are four examples of robots that are shedding light on creatures of yore.

The OroBot

In the late 2010s, John Nyakatura was working to study the gait of an extinct creature called Orobates pabsti. The four-limbed animal, which prowled Earth 280 million years ago, is largely a mysteryit dates to a time before mammals and reptiles developed and was in fact related to the last common ancestor of the two groups. A breakthrough came when Nyakatura met a roboticist who had built an automaton that was inspired by a modern tetrapoda salamander. The relationship started the way many serendipitous collaborations do: “We just talked over beer,” Nyakatura says. The team adapted the existing robot blueprint, with the paleontologists feeding the anatomical specs of the fossil to the roboticists to build on. The researchers christened their brainchild OroBot. 

fossilized tracks
Fossilized footprints, and features like step length and foot rotation, offer clues to how tetrapods walked.
A fossilized skeleton of Orobates pabsti, a four-limbed creature that lived some 280 million years ago.

OroBot’s proportions are informed by CT scans of fossils. The researchers used off-the-shelf parts to assemble the automaton. The large sizes of standard actuators, devices that convert energy into motion, meant they had to scale up OroBot to about one and a half yards (1.4 meters) in length, twice the size of the original. They also equipped the bot with flexible pads for tread instead of anatomically accurate feet. Feet are complex bodily structures that are a nightmare to replicate: They have a wide range of motion and lots of connective soft tissue. 

A top view of OroBot executing a waddle.
ALESSANDRO CRESPI/EPFL LAUSANNE

Thanks to the team’s creative shortcut, OroBot looks as if it’s tromping in flip-flops. But the robot’s designers took pains to get other details just so, including its 3D-printed faux bones, which were painted a ruddy color and given an osseous texture to more closely mimic the original fossil. It was a scientifically unnecessary design choice, but a labor of love. “You can tell that the engineers really liked this robot,” Nyakatura said. “They really fell in love with it.”

Once OroBot was complete, Nyakatura’s team put it on a treadmill to see how it walked. After measuring the robot’s energy consumption, its stability in motion, and the similarity of its tracks to fossilized footprints, the researchers concluded that Orobates probably sashayed like a modern caiman, the significantly punier cousin of the crocodile. “We think we found evidence for this more advanced terrestrial locomotion, some 50 million years earlier than previously expected,” Nyakatura says. “This changes our concept of how early tetrapod evolution took place.”

Robotic ammonites

Ammonites were shell-toting cephalopodsthe animal class that encompasses modern squids and octopusesthat lived during the age of the dinosaurs. The only surviving ammonite lineage today is the nautilus. Fossils of ammonites, though, are abundant, which means there are plenty of good references for researchers interested in studying their shellsand building robotic models. 

An illustration of an
ammonite shell cut in half.
PETERMAN, D.J., RITTERBUSH, K.A., CIAMPAGLIO, C.N., JOHNSON, E.H., INOUE, S., MIKAMI, T., AND LINN, T.J. 2021. “BUOYANCY CONTROL IN AMMONOID CEPHALOPODS REFINED BY COMPLEX INTERNAL SHELL ARCHITECTURE.” SCIENTIFIC REPORTS 11:90

When David Peterman, an evolutionary biomechanist, was a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Utah from 2020 to 2022, he wanted to study how the structures of different ammonite shells influenced the underwater movement of their owners. More simply put, he wanted to confirm “whether or not [the ammonites] were capable of swimming,” he says. From the fossils alone, it’s not apparent how these ammonites fared in aquatic environmentswhether they wobbled out of control, moved sluggishly, or zipped around with ease. Peterman needed to build a robot to find out. 

A peek at the internal arrangement of the ammonite robots, which span about half a foot in diameter.
PETERMAN, D.J., AND RITTERBUSH, K.A. 2022. “RESURRECTING EXTINCT CEPHALOPODS WITH BIOMIMETIC ROBOTS TO EXPLORE HYDRODYNAMIC STABILITY, MANEUVERABILITY, AND PHYSICAL CONSTRAINTS ON LIFE HABITS.” SCIENTIFIC REPORTS 12: 11287

It’s straightforward to copy the shell size and shape from the fossils, but the real test comes when the robot hits the water. Mass distribution is everything; an unbalanced creature will flop and bob around. To avoid that problem, Peterman added internal counterweights to compensate for a battery here or the jet thruster there. At the same time, he had to account for the total mass to achieve neutral buoyancy, so that in the water the robot neither floated nor sank. 

A 3D-printed ammonite robot gets ready to hit the water for a drag race. “We were getting paid to go play with robots and swim in the middle of a work day,” Peterman says. “It was a lot of fun.”
DAVID PETERMAN

Then came the fun partrobots of different shell sizes ran drag races in the university’s Olympic-sized swimming pool, drawing the curiosity of other gym-goers. What Peterman found was that the shells had to strike a tricky balance of stability and maneuverability. There was no one best structure, the team concluded. Narrower shells were stabler and could slice through the water while staying upright. Conches that were wider were nimbler, but ammonites would need more energy to maintain their verticality. The shell an ancient ammonite adopted was the one that suited or eventually shaped its particular lifestyle and swimming form. 

This bichir-inspired robot looks nothing like a bichir, with only a segmented frame (in black) that allows it to writhe and flap like the fish. The researchers gradually tweak the robot’s features, on the hunt for the minimum physiology an ancient fish would need in order to walk on land for the first time.
MICHAEL ISHIDA, FIDJI BERIO, VALENTINA DI SANTO, NEIL H. SHUBIN AND FUMIYA IIDA

Robofish

What if roboticists have no fossil reference? This was the conundrum faced by Michael Ishida’s team, who wanted to better understand how ancient marine animals first moved from sea to land nearly 400 million years ago and learned to walk. 

Lacking transitional fossils, the researchers looked to modern ambulatory fishes. A whole variety of gaits are on display among these scaly strollersthe four-finned crawl of the epaulette shark, the terrestrial butterfly stroke of a mudskipper. Like the converging roads in Rome, multiple ancient fishes had independently arrived at different ways of walking. Ishida’s group decided to focus on one particular gait: the half step, half slither of the bichir Polypterus senegalus

Admittedly, the team’s “robofish” looks nothing like the still-extant bichir. The body consists of rigid segments instead of a soft, flexible polymer. It’s a drastically watered-down version, because the team is hunting for the minimum set of features and movements that might allow a fishlike creature to push forward with its appendages. “‘Minimum’ is a tricky word,” Ishida says. But robotic experiments can help rule out the physically implausible: “We can at least have some evidence to say, yes, with this particular bone structure, or with this particular joint morphology, [a fish] was probably able to walk on land.” Starting with the build of a modern fish, the team simplified the robot further and further until it could no longer sally forth. It was the equivalent of working backwards in the evolutionary timeline. 

The team hopes to publish its results in a journal sometime soon. Even in the rush to finalize the manuscript, Ishida still recognizes how fortunate he is to be doing something that’s simultaneously futuristic and prehistoric. “It’s every kid’s dream to build robots and to study dinosaurs,” he says. Every day, he gets to do both. 

The Rhombot

Nearly 450 million years ago, an echinoderm with the build of an oversize sperm lumbered across the seafloor. The lineage of that creature, the pleurocystitid, has long since been snuffed out, but evidence of its existence lies frozen among numerous fossils. How it moved, though, is anyone’s guess, for no modern-­day animal resembles this bulbous critter. 

A fossil of a pleurocystitid, an extinct aquatic animal that lived some 450 million years ago.
CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY

Carmel Majidi, a mechanical engineer at Carnegie Mellon University, was already building robots in the likeness of starfish and other modern-day echinoderms. Then his team decided to apply the same skills to study their pleurocystitid predecessor to untangle the mystery of its movement.

CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY

Majidi’s team borrowed a trick from previous efforts to build soft robots. “The main challenge for us was to incorporate actuation in the organism,” he says. The stem, or tail, needed to be pliable yet go rigid on command, like actual muscle. Embedding premade motors, which are usually made of stiff material, in the tail wouldn’t work. In the end, Majidi’s team fashioned the appendage out of shape-memory alloy, a kind of metal that deforms or keeps its shape, depending on the temperature. By delivering localized heating along the tail through electrical stimulation, the scientists could get it to bend and flick. 

The researchers tested the effects of different stems, or tails, on their robot’s overall movement.
CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY

Both Majidi’s resulting Rhombot and computer simulations, published in 2023, showed that pleurocystitids likely beat their tails from side to side in a sweeping fashion to propel themselves forward, and their speeds depended on the tail stiffness and body angle. The team found that having a longer stemup to two-thirds of a foot longwas advantageous, adding speed without incurring higher energy costs. Indeed, the fossil record confirms this evolutionary trend. In the future, the researchers plan to test out Rhombot on even more surface textures, such as muddy terrain.  

Shi En Kim is a freelance science writer based in Washington, DC.

Roundtables: What DeepSeek’s Breakout Success Means for AI

Recorded on February 3, 2025

What DeepSeek’s Breakout Success Means for AI

Speakers: Charlotte Jee, news editor, Will Douglas Heaven, senior AI editor, and Caiwei Chen, China reporter.

The tech world is abuzz over a new open-source reasoning AI model developed by DeepSeek, a Chinese startup. Its success is remarkable given the constraints that Chinese AI companies face due to US export controls on cutting-edge chips. DeepSeek’s approach represents a radical change in how AI gets built, and could shift the tech world’s center of gravity. Hear from MIT Technology Review news editor Charlotte Jee, senior AI editor Will Douglas Heaven, and China reporter Caiwei Chen as they discuss what DeepSeek’s breakout success means for AI and the broader tech industry.

Related Coverage

Mark Zuckerberg and the power of the media

This article first appeared in The Debrief, MIT Technology Review’s weekly newsletter from our editor in chief Mat Honan. To receive it in your inbox every Friday,  sign up here.

On Tuesday last week, Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg released a blog post and video titled “More Speech and Fewer Mistakes.”  Zuckerberg—whose previous self-acknowledged mistakes include the Cambridge Analytica data scandal, allowing a militia to put out a call to arms on Facebook that presaged two killings in Wisconsin, and helping to fuel a genocide in Myanmar—announced that Meta is done with fact checking in the US, that it will roll back “restrictions” on speech, and is going to start showing people more tailored political content in their feeds.  

“I started building social media to give people a voice,” he said while wearing a $900,000 wristwatch.

While the end of fact checking has gotten most of the attention, the changes to its hateful speech policy are also notable. Among other things, the company will now allow people to call transgender people “it,” or to argue that women are property, or to claim homosexuality is a mental illness. (This went over predictably well with LGBTQ employees at Meta.) Meanwhile, thanks to that “more personalized approach to political content,” it looks like polarization is back on the menu, boys.

Zuckerberg’s announcement was one of the most cynical displays of revisionist history I hope I’ll ever see. As very many people have pointed out, it seems to be little more than an effort to curry favor with the incoming Trump administration—complete with a roll out on Fox and Friends.

I’ll leave it to others right now to parse the specific political implications here (and many people are certainly doing so). Rather, what struck me as so cynical was the way Zuckerberg presented Facebook’s history of fact-checking and content moderation as something he was pressured into doing by the government and media. The reality, of course, is that these were his decisions. He structured Meta so that he has near total control over it. He famously calls the shots, and always has.

Yet in Tuesday’s announcement, Zuckerberg tries to blame others for the policies he himself instituted and endorsed. “Governments and legacy media have pushed to censor more and more,” he said.

He went on: “After Trump first got elected in 2016, the legacy media wrote nonstop about how misinformation was a threat to democracy. We tried in good faith to address those concerns without becoming the arbiters of truth, but the fact-checkers have just been too politically biased and have destroyed more trust than they’ve created, especially in the US.”

While I’m not here to defend Meta’s fact checking system, I never thought it was particularly useful or effective, let’s get into the claims that it was done at the behest of the government and “legacy media.”

To start: The US government has never taken any meaningful enforcement actions against Meta whatsoever, and definitely nothing meaningful related to misinformation. Full stop. End of story. Call it a day. Sure, there have been fines and settlements, but for a company the size of Meta, these were mosquitos to be slapped away. Perhaps more significantly, there is an FTC antitrust case working its way through the court, but it again has nothing to do with censorship or fact-checking.

And when it comes to the media, consider the real power dynamics at play. Meta, with a current market cap of $1.54 trillion, is worth more than the combined value of the Walt Disney Company (which owns ABC news), Comcast (NBC), Paramount (CBS), Warner Bros (CNN), the New York Times Company, and Fox Corp (Fox News). In fact, Zuckerberg’s estimated personal net worth is greater than the market cap of any of those single companies.

Meanwhile, Meta’s audience completely dwarfs that of any “legacy media” company. According to the tech giant, it enjoys some 3.29 billion daily active users. Daily! And as the company has repeatedly shown, including in this week’s announcements, it is more than willing to twiddle its knobs to control what that audience sees from the legacy media.

As a result, publishers have long bent the knee to Meta to try and get even slivers of that audience. Remember the pivot to video? Or Instant Articles? Media has spent more than a decade now trying to respond or get ahead of what Facebook says it wants to feature, only for it to change its mind and throttle traffic. The notion that publishers have any leverage whatsoever over Meta is preposterous.

I think it’s useful to go back and look at how the company got here.

Once upon a time Twitter was an actual threat to Facebook’s business. After the 2012 election, for which Twitter was central and Facebook was an afterthought, Zuckerberg and company went hard after news. It created share buttons so people could easily drop content from around the Web into their feeds. By 2014, Zuckerberg was saying he wanted it to be the “perfect personalized newspaper” for everyone in the world. But there were consequences to this. By 2015, it had a fake news epidemic on its hands, which it was well aware of. By the time the election rolled around in 2016, Macedonian teens had famously turned fake news into an arbitrage play, creating bogus pro-Trump news stories expressly to take advantage of the combination of Facebook traffic and Google AdSense dollars. Following the 2016 election, this all blew up in Facebook’s face. And in December of that year, it announced it would begin partnering with fact checkers.

A year later, Zuckerberg went on to say the issue of misinformation was “too important an issue to be dismissive.” Until, apparently, right now.

Zuckerberg elided all this inconvenient history. But let’s be real. No one forced him to hire fact checkers. No one was in a position to even truly pressure him to do so. If that were the case, he would not now be in a position to fire them from behind a desk wearing his $900,000 watch. He made the very choices which he now seeks to shirk responsibility for.

But here’s the thing, people already know Mark Zuckerberg too well for this transparent sucking up to be effective.

Republicans already hate Zuck. Sen. Lindsey Graham has accused him of having blood on his hands. Sen. Josh Hawley forced him to make an awkward apology to the families of children harmed on his platform. Sen. Ted Cruz has, on multiple occasionstorn into him. Trump famously threatened to throw him in prison. But so too do Democrats. Sen. Elizabeth WarrenSen. Bernie Sanders, and AOC have all ripped him. And among the general public, he’s both less popular than Trump and more disliked than Joe Biden. He loses on both counts to Elon Musk.

Tuesday’s announcement ultimately seems little more than pandering for an audience that will never accept him.

And while it may not be successful at winning MAGA over, at least the shamelessness and ignoring all past precedent is fully in character. After all, let’s remember what Mark Zuckerberg was busy doing in 2017:

A photo from Mark Zuckerberg's Instagram page showing the Meta CEO at the Heartland Pride Festival in Omaha Nebraska during his 2017 nationwide listening tour.
Image: Mark Zuckerberg Instagram

Now read the rest of The Debrief

The News

• NVIDIA CEO Jensen Huang’s remarks about quantum computing caused quantum stocks to plummet.

• See our predictions for what’s coming for AI in 2025.

• Here’s what the US is doing to prepare for a bird flu pandemic.

• New York state will try to pass an AI bill similar to the one that died in California.

• EVs are projected to be more than 50 percent of auto sales in China next year, 10 years ahead of targets.


The Chat

Every week, I talk to one of MIT Technology Review’s journalists to go behind the scenes of a story they are working on. But this week, I turned the tables a bit and asked some of our editors to grill me about my recent story on the rise of generative search.
Charlotte Jee: What makes you feel so sure that AI search is going to take off?

Mat: I just don’t think there’s any going back. There are definitely problems with it—it can be wild with inaccuracies when it cobbles those answers together. But I think, for the most part it is, to refer to my old colleague Rob Capps’ phenomenal essay, good enough. And I think that’s what usually wins the day. Easy answers that are good enough. Maybe that’s a sad statement, but I think it’s true.

Will Douglas Heaven: For years I’ve been asked if I think AI will take away my job and I always scoffed at the idea. Now I’m not so sure. I still don’t think AI is about to do my job exactly. But I think it might destroy the business model that makes my job exist. And that’s entirely down to this reinvention of search. As a journalist—and editor of the magazine that pays my bills—how worried are you? What can you—we—do about it?

Mat: Is this a trap? This feels like a trap, Will. I’m going to give you two answers here. I think we, as in MIT Technology Review, are relatively insulated here. We’re a subscription business. We’re less reliant on traffic than most. We’re also technology wonks, who tend to go deeper than what you might find in most tech pubs, which I think plays to our benefit.

But I am worried about it and I do think it will be a problem for us, and for others. One thing Rand Fishkin, who has long studied zero-click searches at SparkToro, said to me that wound up getting cut from my story was that brands needed to think more and more about how to build brand awareness. You can do that, for example, by being oft-cited in these models, by being seen as a reliable source. Hopefully, when people ask a question and see us as the expert the model is leaning on, that helps us build our brand and reputation. And maybe they become a readers. That’s a lot more leaps than a link out, obviously. But as he also said to me, if your business model is built on search referrals—and for a lot of publishers that is definitely the case—you’re in trouble.

Will: Is “Google” going to survive as a verb? If not, what are we going to call this new activity?

Mat: I kinda feel like it is already dying. This is anecdotal, but my kids and all their friends almost exclusively use the phrase “search up.” As in “search up George Washington” or “search up a pizza dough recipe.” Often it’s followed by a platform,  search up “Charli XCX on Spotify.” We live in California. What floored me was when I heard kids in New Hampshire and Georgia using the exact same phrase.

But also I feel like we’re just going into a more conversational mode here. Maybe we don’t call it anything.

James O’Donnell: I found myself highlighting this line from your piece: “Who wants to have to learn when you can just know?” Part of me thinks the process of finding information with AI search is pretty nice—it can allow you to just follow your own curiosity a bit more than traditional search. But I also wonder how the meaning of research may change. Doesn’t the process of “digging” do something for us and our minds that AI search will eliminate?

Mat: Oh, this occurred to me too! I asked about it in one of my conversations with Google in fact. Blake Montgomery has a fantastic essay on this very thing. He talks about how he can’t navigate without Google Maps, can’t meet guys without Grindr, and wonders what effect ChatGPT will have on him. If you have not previously, you should read it.

Niall Firth: How much do you use AI search yourself? Do you feel conflicted about it?

Mat: I use it quite a bit. I find myself crafting queries for Google that I think will generate an AI Overview in fact. And I use ChatGPT a lot as well. I like being able to ask a long, complicated question, and I find that it often does a better job of getting at the heart of what I’m looking for — especially when I’m looking for something very specific—because it can suss out the intent along with the key words and phrases.

For example, for the story above I asked “What did Mark Zuckerberg say about misinformation and harmful content in 2016 and 2017? Ignore any news articles from the previous few days and focus only on his remarks in 2016 and 2017.”  The top traditional Google result for that query was this story that I would have wanted specifically excluded. It also coughed up several others from the last few days in the top results. But ChatGPT was able to understand my intent and helped me find the older source material.

And yes, I feel conflicted. Both because I worry about its economic impact on publishers and I’m well aware that there’s a lot of junk in there. It’s also just sort of… an unpopular opinion. Sometimes it feels a bit like smoking, but I do it anyway.


The Recommendation

Most of the time, the recommendation is for something positive that I think people will enjoy. A song. A book. An app. Etc. This week though I’m going to suggest you take a look at something a little more unsettling. Nat Friedman, the former CEO of GitHub, set out to try and understand how much microplastic is in our food supply. He and a team tested hundreds of samples from foods drawn from the San Francisco Bay Area (but very many of which are nationally distributed). The results are pretty shocking. As a disclaimer on the site reads: “we have refrained from drawing high-confidence conclusions from these results, and we think that you should, too. Consider this a snapshot of our raw test results, suitable as a starting point and inspiration for further work, but not solid enough on its own to draw conclusions or make policy recommendations or even necessarily to alter your personal purchasing decisions.” With that said: check it out.

Roundtables: Unveiling the 10 Breakthrough Technologies of 2025

Recorded on January 3, 2025

Unveiling the 10 Breakthrough Technologies of 2025

Speakers: Amy Nordrum, executive editor, and Charlotte Jee, news editor.

Each year, MIT Technology Review publishes an annual list of the top ten breakthrough technologies that will have the greatest impact on how we live and work in the future. This year, the 10 Breakthrough Technologies list was unveiled live by our editors. Hear from MIT Technology Review executive editor Amy Nordrum and news editor Charlotte Jee as they share an unveiling of the list of the 10 breakthrough technologies.

Related Coverage

China wants to restore the sea with high-tech marine ranches

A short ferry ride from the port city of Yantai, on the northeast coast of China, sits Genghai No. 1, a 12,000-metric-ton ring of oil-rig-style steel platforms, advertised as a hotel and entertainment complex. On arrival, visitors step onto docks and climb up to reach a strange offshore facility—half cruise ship, half high-tech laboratory, all laid out around half a mile of floating walkways. Its highest point—the “glistening diamond” on Genghai No. 1’s necklace, according to China’s state news agency—is a seven-­story visitor center, designed to look like a cartoon starfish.  

Jack Klumpp, a YouTuber from Florida, became one of the first 20,000 tourists to explore Genghai’s visitor center following its opening in May 2023. In his series I’m in China with Jack, Klumpp strolls around a water park cutely decorated in Fisher-Price yellow and turquoise, and indoors, he is excited to spot the hull of China’s deep-sea submersible Jiaolong. In reality, the sea here is only about 10 meters deep, and the submersible is only a model. Its journey into the ocean’s depths is an immersive digital experience rather than real adventure, but the floor of the sub rocks and shakes under his feet like a theme park ride. 

Watching Klumpp lounge in Genghai’s luxe marine hotel, it’s hard to understand why anyone would build this tourist attraction on an offshore rig, nearly a mile out in the Bohai Strait. But the answer is at the other end of the walkway from Genghai’s tourist center, where on a smaller, more workmanlike platform, he’s taught how to cast a worm-baited line over the edge and reel in a hefty bream. 

Genghai is in fact an unusual tourist destination, one that breeds 200,000 “high-quality marine fish” each year, according to a recent interview in China Daily with Jin Haifeng, deputy general manager of Genghai Technology Company, a subsidiary of the state-owned shipbuilder Shandong Marine Group. Just a handful of them are caught by recreational fishers like Klumpp. The vast majority are released into the ocean as part of a process known as marine ranching. 

Since 2015, China has built 169 “national demonstration ranches”—including Genghai No. 1—and scores of smaller-scale facilities, which collectively have laid 67 million cubic meters of artificial reefs and planted an area the size of Manhattan with seagrass, while releasing at least 167 billion juvenile fish and shellfish into the ocean.

The Chinese government sees this work as an urgent and necessary response to the bleak reality that fisheries are collapsing both in China and worldwide, with catches off China’s coast declining 18% in less than a decade. In the face of that decline, marine ranches could offer an enticing win-win: a way to restore wild marine ecosystems while boosting fishery hauls. 

Marine ranches could offer an enticing win-win: a way to restore wild marine ecosystems while boosting fishery hauls. But before China invests billions more dollars into these projects, it must show it can get the basics right.

Genghai, which translates as “Sea Harvest,” sits atop what Jin calls an “undersea ecological oasis” constructed by developers. In the middle of the circular walkway, artificial marine habitats harbor shrimp, seaweed, and fish, including the boggle-eyed Korean rockfish and a fish with a parrot-like beak, known as the spotted knifejaw.

The facility is a next-generation showcase for the country’s ambitious plans, which call for 200 pilot projects by 2025. It’s a 5G-enabled, AI-equipped “ecological” ranch that features submarine robots for underwater patrols and “intelligent breeding cages” that collect environmental data in near-real time to optimize breeding by, for example, feeding fish automatically.

In an article published by the Chinese Academy of Sciences, China’s top science institute, one high-ranking fisheries expert sketches out plans for a seductive tech-driven future where production and conservation go hand in hand: Ecological ranches ring the coastline, seagrass meadows and coral reefs regrow around them, and autonomous robots sustainably harvest mature seafood. 

But now, Chinese researchers say, is the time to take stock of lessons learned from the rapid rollout of ranching to date. Before the country invests billions more dollars into similar projects in the coming years, it must show it can get the basics right.

What, exactly, is a marine ranch? 

Developing nations have historically faced a trade-off between plundering marine resources for development and protecting ecosystems for future generations, says Cao Ling, a professor at Xiamen University in eastern China. When growing countries take more than natural ecosystems can replenish, measures like seasonal fishing bans have been the traditional way to allow fisheries to recover. Marine ranching offers an alternative to restricting fishing—a way to “really synergize environmental, economic, and social development goals,” says Cao—by actively increasing the ocean’s bounty. 

It’s now a “hot topic” in China, says Cao, who grew up on her family’s fish farm before conducting research at the University of Michigan and Stanford. In fact, “marine ranching” has become such a buzzword that it can be hard to tell what it actually means, encompassing as it does flagship facilities like Genghai No. 1 (which merge scientific research with industrial-scale aquaculture pens, recreational fishing amenities, and offshore power) and a baffling array of structures including deep-sea floating wind farms with massive fish-farming cages and 100,000-ton “mobile marine ranches”—effectively fish-breeding aircraft carriers. There are even whole islands, like the butterfly-shaped Wuzhizhou on China’s tropical south coast, that have been designated as ranching areas. 

a person in a wetsuit at sunset sitting in a net
A scuba diver finishes cleaning the nets surrounding Genghai No. 1, China’s first AI-powered “ecological” marine ranch complex.
UPI/ALAMY LIVE NEWS

To understand what a marine ranch is, it’s easiest to come back to the practice’s roots. In the early 1970s, California, Oregon, Washington, and Alaska passed laws to allow construction of facilities aimed at repairing stocks of salmon after the rivers where they traditionally bred had been decimated by pollution and hydroelectric dams. The idea was essentially twofold: to breed fish in captivity and to introduce them into safe nurseries in the Pacific. Since 1974, when the first marine ranches in the US were built off the coast of California and Oregon, ranchers have constructed artificial habitats, usually concrete reef structures, that proponents hoped could provide nursery grounds where both valuable commercial stocks and endangered marine species could be restored.

Today, fish farming is a $200 billion industry that has had a catastrophic environmental impact, blighting coastal waters with streams of fish feces, pathogens, and parasites.

Marine ranching has rarely come close to fulfilling this potential. Eight of the 11 ranches that opened in the US in the 1970s were reportedly shuttered by 1990, their private investors having struggled to turn a profit. Meanwhile, European nations like Norway spent big on attempts to restock commercially valuable species like cod before abandoning the efforts because so few introduced fish survived in the wild. Japan, which has more ranches than any other country, made big profits with scallop ranching. But a long-term analysis of Japan’s policies estimated that all other schemes involving restocking the ocean were unprofitable. Worse, it found, releasing docile, lab-bred fish into the wild could introduce genetically damaging traits into the original population. 

Today, marine ranching is often considered a weird offshoot of conventional fish farming, in which fish of a single species are fed intensively in small, enclosed pens. This type of feedlot-style aquaculture has grown massively in the last half-century. Today it’s a $200 billion industry and has had a catastrophic environmental impact, blighting coastal waters with streams of fish feces, pathogens, and parasites. 

Yet coastal nations have not been discouraged by the mediocre results of marine ranching. Many governments, especially in East Asia, see releasing millions of young fish as a cheap way for governments to show their support for hard-hit fishing communities, whose livelihoods are vanishing as fisheries teeter on the edge of collapse. At least 20 countries continue to experiment with diverse combinations of restocking and habitat enhancement—including efforts to transplant coral, reforest mangroves, and sow seagrass meadows. 

Each year at least 26 billion juvenile fish and shellfish, from 180 species, are deliberately released into the world’s oceans—three for every person on the planet. Taken collectively, these efforts amount to a great, ongoing, and little-noticed experiment on the wild marine biome.

China’s big bet

China, with a population of 1.4 billion people, is the world’s undisputed fish superpower, home to the largest fishing fleet and more than half the planet’s fish farms. The country also overwhelms all others in fish consumption, using as much as the four next-largest consumers—the US, the European Union, Japan, and India—combined and then doubled. But decades of overfishing, compounded by runaway pollution from industry and marine aquaculture, have left its coastal fisheries depleted. 

Around many Chinese coastal cities like Yantai, there is a feeling that things “could not be worse,” says Yong Chen, a professor at Stony Brook University in New York. In the temperate northern fishing grounds of the Bohai and Yellow Seas, stocks of wild fish such as the large yellow croaker—a species that’s critically endangered—have collapsed since the 1980s. By the turn of the millennium, the Bohai, a densely inhabited gulf 100 miles east of Beijing, had lost most of its large sea bass and croaker, leaving fishing communities to “fish down” the food chain. Fishing nets came up 91% lighter than they did in the 1950s, in no small part because heavy industry and this region’s petrochemical plants had left the waters too dirty to support healthy fish populations.

As a result, over the past three decades China has instituted some of the world’s strictest seasonal fishing bans; recently it has even encouraged fishermen to find other jobs. But fish populations continue to decline, and fishing communities worry for their future

Marine ranching has received a big boost from the highest levels of government; it’s considered an ideal test case for President Xi Jinping’s “ecological civilization” agenda, a strategy for environmentally sustainable long-term growth. Since 2015, ranching has been enshrined in successive Five-Year Plans, the country’s top-level planning documents—and ranch construction has been backed by an initial investment of ¥11.9 billion ($1.8 billion). China is now on track to release 30 billion juvenile fish and shellfish annually by 2025. 

So far, the practice has produced an unlikely poster child: the sea cucumber. A spiky, bottom-dwelling animal that, like Japan’s scallops, doesn’t move far from release sites, it requires little effort for ranchers to recapture. Across northern China, sea cucumbers are immensely valuable. They are, in fact, one of the most expensive dishes on menus in Yantai, where they are served chopped and braised with scallions.

Some ranches have experimented with raising multiple species, including profitable fish like sea bass and shellfish like shrimp and scallops, alongside the cucumber, which thrives in the waste that other species produce. In the northern areas of China, such as the Bohai, where the top priority is helping fishing communities recover, “a very popular [mix] is sea cucumbers, abalone, and sea urchin,” says Tian Tao, chief scientific research officer of the Liaoning Center for Marine Ranching Engineering and Science Research at Dalian Ocean University. 

Designing wild ecosystems 

Today, most ranches are geared toward enhancing fishing catches and have done little to deliver on ecological promises. According to Yang Hongsheng, a leading marine scientist at the Chinese Academy of Sciences, the mix of species that has so far been introduced has been “too simple” to produce a stable ecosystem, and ranch builders have paid “inadequate attention” to that goal. 

Marine ranch construction is typically funded by grants of around ¥20 million ($2.8 million) from China’s government, but ranches are operated by private firms. These companies earn revenue by producing seafood but have increasingly cultivated other revenue streams, like tourism and recreational fishing, which has boomed in recent years. So far, this owner-­operator model has provided few incentives to look beyond proven methods that closely resemble aquaculture—like Genghai No. 1’s enclosed deep-sea fishing cages—and has done little to encourage contributions to ocean health beyond the ranch’s footprint. “Many of the companies just want to get the money from the government,” says Zhongxin Wu, an associate professor at Dalian Ocean University who works with Tian Tao. 

Making ranches more sustainable and ecologically sound will require a rapid expansion of basic knowledge about poorly studied marine species, says Stony Brook’s Yong Chen. “For a sea cucumber, the first thing you need to know is its life history, right? How they breed, how they live, how they die,” he says. “For many key marine species, we have few ideas what temperature or conditions they prefer to breed and grow in.”

A diver swims off the shore of Wuzhizhou Island, where fish populations multiplied tenfold after artificial reefs were introduced.
YANG GUANYU/XINHUA/ALAMY

Chinese universities are world leaders in applied sciences, from agricultural research to materials science. But fundamental questions aren’t always easy to answer in China’s “quite unique” research and development environment, says Neil Loneragan, president of the Malaysia-based Asian Fisheries Society and a professor emeritus of marine science at Murdoch University in Australia. 

The central government’s controlling influence on the development of ranching, Loneragan says, means researchers must walk a tightrope between their two bosses: the academic supervisor and the party chief. Marine biologists want to understand the basics, “but researchers would have to spin that so that it’s demonstrating economic returns to industry and, hence, the benefits to the government from investment,” he says. 

Many efforts aim to address known problems in the life cycles of captive-bred fish, such as inadequate breeding rates or the tough survival odds for young fish when they reach the ocean. Studies have shown that fish in these early life stages are particularly vulnerable to environmental fluctuations like storms and recent ocean heat waves. 

One of the most radical solutions, which Zhongxin Wu is testing, would improve their fitness before they’re released from breeding tanks into the wild. Currently, Wu says, fish are simply scooped up in oxygenated plastic bags and turned loose in ocean nurseries, but there it becomes apparent that many are weak or lacking in survival skills. In response, his team is developing a set of “wild training” tools. “The main method is swimming training,” he says. In effect, the juvenile fish are forced to swim against a current, on a sort of aquatic treadmill, to help acclimate them to the demands of the wild. Another technique, he says, involves changing the water temperature and introducing some other species to prepare them for seagrass and kelp forests they’ll meet in the world outside.

Wu says better methods of habitat enhancement have the greatest potential to increase the effectiveness of marine ranching. Today, most ranches create undersea environments using precast-con­crete structures that are installed under 20 meters of water, often with a rough surface to support the growth of coral or algae. The typical Chinese ranch aims for 30,000 cubic meters of artificial reefs; in the conservation-­focused ranching area around Wuzhizhou Island, for instance, 1,000 cast-concrete reef structures were dropped around the tropical island’s shores. Fish populations have multiplied tenfold in the last decade. 

This is by far the most expensive part of China’s ranching program. According to a national evaluation coauthored by Cao Ling, 87% of China’s first $1 billion investment has gone to construct artificial reefs, with a further 5% spent on seagrass and seaweed restoration. These costs have brought both questions about the effectiveness of the efforts and a drive for innovation. Across China, some initial signs suggest that the enhancements are making a difference: Sites with artificial reefs were found to have a richer mix of commercially important species and higher biomass than adjacent sites. But Tian and Wu are investigating new approaches, including custom 3D-printed structures for endangered fish. On trial are bungalow-­size steel ziggurats with wide openings for yellowtail kingfish—a large, predatory fish that’s prized for sashimi—and arcs of barrel-­vaulted concrete, about waist height, for sea cucumbers. In recent years, structures have been specifically designed in the shape of pyramids, to divert ocean currents into oceanic “upwellings.” Nutrients that typically settle on the seafloor are instead ejected back up toward the surface. “That attracts prey for high-level predators,” says Loneragan, including giant tuna-like species that fetch high prices at restaurants.

Has China found a workable model?

So will China soon be relying on marine ranches to restock the seas? We still don’t have anywhere near enough data to say. The Qingdao Marine Conservation Society, an environmental NGO, is one of the few independent organizations systematically assessing ranches’ track records and has, says founder Songlin Wang, “failed to find sufficient independent and science-based research results that can measurably verify most marine ranches’ expected or claimed environmental and social benefits.”

One answer to the data shortfall might be the kind of new tech on display at Genghai No. 1, where robotic patrols and subsea sensors feed immediately into a massive dashboard measuring water quality, changes in the ocean environment, and fish behavior. After decades as a fairly low-tech enterprise, ranching in China has been adopting such new technologies since the beginning of the latest Five-Year Plan in 2021. The innovations promise to improve efficiency, reduce costs, and make ranches more resilient to climate fluctuations and natural disasters, according to the Chinese Academy of Sciences. 

But Yong Chen, whose lab at Stony Brook partners with Chinese researchers, is skeptical that researchers are gathering and sharing the right data. “The problem is, yes, there’s this visualization. So what?” he says. “[Marine ranching companies] are willing to invest money into this kind of infrastructure, create that kind of big screen, and people will walk in and say ‘Wow, look at that!’” he adds. “Yeah, it’s beautiful. It definitely will impress the leadership. Important people will give you money for that. But as a scientist, my question to you is: How can it help you inform your decision-making process next year?” 

Will China soon be relying on marine ranches to restock the seas? We still don’t have anywhere near enough data to say.

“Data sharing is really difficult in China,” says Cao Ling. Most data produced by private companies remains in their servers. But Cao and Chen say that governments—local or central—could facilitate more open data sharing in the interest of guiding ranch design and policy. 

But China’s central government is convinced by what it has seen and plans to scale up investment. Tian, who leads the government committee on marine ranching, says he has recently learned that the next Ten-Year Plan will aim to increase the number of pilot ranches from 200 to 350 by 2035. Each one is expected to be backed by ¥200 million ($28 million)—10 times the typical current investment. Specific policies are due to be announced next year, but he expects that ranches will no longer be funded as standalone facilities. Instead, grants will likely be given to cities like Dalian and Yantai, which can plan across land and sea and find ways to link commercial fishing with power generation and tourism while cutting pollution from industry. 

Tian has an illustration that aims to visualize the coming tech-driven ecological ranching system, a sort of “marine ranching 3.0”: a sea cove monitored by satellites and restored to such good health that orcas have returned to its fish-filled waters. It’s a near-utopian image seemingly ripped from a 1960s issue of Popular Science. There’s even stranger research that aims to see if red sea bream like the one Jack Klumpp caught can be conditioned like Pavlov’s dogs—in this case to flock to the sound of a horn, so the ocean’s harvest would literally swim into nets at the press of a button. 

So far China’s marine ranching program remains far from any of this, despite the isolated signs of success. But ultimately what matters most is to find a “balance point” between commerce and sustainability, says Cao. Take Genghai No. 1: “It’s very pretty!” she says with a laugh. “And it costs a lot for the initial investment.” If such ranches are going to contribute to China’s coming “ecological civilization,” they’ll have to prove they are delivering real gains and not just sinking more resources into a dying ocean. 

Matthew Ponsford is a freelance reporter based in London.

The world’s first industrial-scale plant for green steel promises a cleaner future

As of 2023, nearly 2 billion metric tons of it were being produced annually, enough to cover Manhattan in a layer more than 13 feet thick. 

Making this metal produces a huge amount of carbon dioxide. Overall, steelmaking accounts for around 8% of the world’s carbon emissions—one of the largest industrial emitters and far more than such sources as aviation. The most common manufacturing process yields about two tons of carbon dioxide for every ton of steel.  

A handful of groups and companies are now making serious progress toward low- or zero-emission steel. Among them, the Swedish company Stegra stands out. (Originally named H2 Green Steel, the company renamed itself Stegra—which means “to elevate” in Swedish—in September.) The startup, formed in 2020, has raised close to $7 billion and is building a plant in Boden, a town in northern Sweden. It will be the first industrial-scale plant in the world to make green steel. Stegra says it is on track to begin production in 2026, initially producing 2.5 million metric tons per year and eventually making 4.5 million metric tons. 

The company uses so-called green hydrogen, which is produced using renewable energy, to process iron ore into steel. Located in a part of Sweden with abundant hydropower, Stegra’s plant will use hydro and wind power to drive a massive electrolyzer that splits water to make the hydrogen. The hydrogen gas will then be used to pull the oxygen out of iron ore to make metallic iron—a key step in steelmaking.  

This process of using hydrogen to make iron—and subsequently steel—has already been used at pilot plants by Midrex, an American company from which Stegra is purchasing the equipment. But Stegra will have to show that it will work in a far larger plant.

The world produces about 60,000 metric tons of steel every 15 minutes.

“We have multiple steps that haven’t really been proven at scale before,” says Maria Persson Gulda, Stegra’s chief technology officer. These steps include building one of the world’s largest electrolyzers. 

Beyond the unknowns of scaling up a new technology, Stegra also faces serious business challenges. The steel industry is a low-margin, intensely competitive sector in which companies win customers largely on price.

aerial view of construction site
The startup, formed in 2020, has raised close to $7 billion in financing and expects to begin operations in 2026 at its plant in Boden.
STEGRA

Once operations begin, Stegra calculates, it can come close to producing steel at the same cost as the conventional product, largely thanks to its access to cheap electricity. But it plans to charge 20% to 30% more to cover the €4.5 billion it will take to build the plant. Gulda says the company has already sold contracts for 1.2 million metric tons to be produced in the next five to seven years. And its most recent customers—such as car manufacturers seeking to reduce their carbon emissions and market their products as green—have agreed to pay the 30% premium. 

Now the question is: Can Stegra deliver? 

The secret of hydrogen

To make steel—an alloy of iron and carbon, with a few other elements thrown in as needed—you first need to get the oxygen out of the iron ore dug from the ground. That leaves you with the purified metal.

The most common steelmaking process starts in blast furnaces, where the ore is mixed with a carbon-­rich coal derivative called coke and heated. The carbon reacts with the oxygen in the ore to produce carbon dioxide; the metal left behind then enters another type of furnace, where more oxygen is forced into it under high heat and pressure. The gas reacts with remaining impurities to produce various oxides, which are then removed—leaving steel behind.  

The second conventional method, which is used to make a much smaller share of the world’s steel, is a process called direct reduction. This usually employs natural gas, which is separated into hydrogen and carbon monoxide. Both gases react with the oxygen to pull it out of the iron ore, creating carbon dioxide and water as by-products. 

The iron that remains is melted in an electric arc furnace and further processed to remove impurities and create steel. Overall, this method is about 40% lower in emissions than the blast furnace technique, but it still produces over a ton of carbon dioxide for every ton of steel.

But why not just use hydrogen instead of starting with natural gas? The only by-product would be water. And if, as Stegra plans to do, you use green hydrogen made using clean power, the result is a new and promising way of making steel that can theoretically produce close to zero emissions. 

Stegra’s process is very similar to the standard direct reduction technique, except that since it uses only hydrogen, it needs a higher temperature. It’s not the only possible way to make steel with a negligible carbon footprint, but it’s the only method on the verge of being used at an industrial scale. 

Premium marketing

Stegra has laid the foundations for its plant and is putting the roof and walls on its steel mill. The first equipment has been installed in the building where electric arc furnaces will melt the iron and churn out steel, and work is underway on the facility that will house a 700-megawatt electrolyzer, the largest in Europe.

To make hydrogen, purify iron, and produce 2.5 million metric tons of green steel annually, the plant will consume 10 terawatt-hours of electricity. This is a massive amount, on par with the annual usage of a small country such as Estonia. Though the costs of electricity in Stegra’s agreements are confidential, publicly available data suggest rates around €30 ($32) per megawatt-hour or more. (At that rate, 10 terawatt-hours would cost $320 million.) 

STEGRA

Many of the buyers of the premium green steel are in the automotive industry; they include Mercedes-Benz, Porsche, BMW, Volvo Group, and Scania, a Swedish company that makes trucks and buses. Six companies that make furniture, appliances, and construction material—including Ikea—have also signed up, as have five companies that buy steel and distribute it to many different manufacturers.

Some of these automakers—including Volvo, which will buy from Stegra and rival SSAB—are marketing cars made with the green steel as “fossil-free.” And since cars and trucks also have many parts that are much more expensive than the steel they use, steel that costs the automakers a bit more adds only a little to the cost of a vehicle—perhaps a couple of hundred dollars or less, according to some estimates. Many companies have also set internal targets to reduce emissions, and buying green steel can get them closer to those goals.

Stegra’s business model is made possible in part by the unique economic conditions within the European Union. In December 2022, the European Parliament approved a tariff on imported carbon-­intensive products such as steel, known as the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM). As of 2024, this law requires those who import iron, steel, and other commodities to report the materials’ associated carbon emissions. 

Starting in 2026, companies will have to begin paying fees designed to be proportional to the materials’ carbon footprint. Some companies are already betting that it will be enough to make Stegra’s 30% premium worthwhile. 

crane hoisting an i-beam  next to a steel building frame

STEGRA

Though the law could incentivize decarbonization within the EU and for those importing steel into Europe, green steelmakers will probably also need subsidies to defray the costs of scaling up, says Charlotte Unger, a researcher at the Research Institute for Sustainability in Potsdam, Germany. In Stegra’s case, it will receive €265 million from the European Commission to help build its plant; it was also granted €250 million from the European Union’s Innovation Fund.  

Meanwhile, Stegra is working to reduce costs and beef up revenues. Olof Hernell, the chief digital officer, says the company has invested heavily in digital products to improve efficiency. For example, a semi-automated system will be used to increase or decrease usage of electricity according to its fluctuating price on the grid.

Stegra realized there was no sophisticated software for keeping track of the emissions that the company is producing at every step of the steelmaking process. So it is making its own carbon accounting software, which it will soon sell as part of a new spinoff company. This type of accounting is ultra-important to Stegra, Hernell says, since “we ask for a pretty significant premium, and that premium lives only within the promise of a low carbon footprint.” 

Not for everyone

As long as CBAM stays in place, Stegra believes, there will be more than enough demand for its green steel, especially if other carbon pricing initiatives come into force. The company’s optimism is boosted by the fact that it expects to be the first to market and anticipates costs coming down over time. But for green steel to affect the market more broadly, or stay viable once several companies begin making significant quantities of it, its manufacturing costs will eventually have to be competitive with those of conventional steel.

Stegra has sold contracts for 1.2 million metric tons of steel to be produced in the next five to seven years.

Even if Stegra has a promising outlook in Europe, its hydrogen-based steelmaking scheme is unlikely to make economic sense in many other places in the world—at least in the near future. There are very few regions with such a large amount of clean electricity and easy access to the grid. What’s more, northern Sweden is also rich in high-quality ore that is easy to process using the hydrogen direct reduction method, says Chris Pistorius, a metallurgical engineer and co-director of the Center for Iron and Steelmaking Research at Carnegie Mellon University.

Green steel can be made from lower-grade ore, says Pistorius, “but it does have the negative effects of higher electricity consumption, hence slower processing.”

Given the EU incentives, other hydrogen-based steel plants are in the works in Sweden and elsewhere in Europe. Hybrit, a green steel technology developed by SSAB, the mining company LKAB, and the energy producer Vattenfall, uses a process similar to Stegra’s. LKAB hopes to finish a demonstration plant by 2028 in Gällivare, also in northern Sweden. However, progress has been delayed by challenges in getting the necessary environmental permit.

Meanwhile, a company called Boston Metal is working to commercialize a different technique to break the bonds in iron oxide by running a current through a mixture of iron ore and an electrolyte, creating extremely high heat. This electrochemical process yields a purified iron metal that can be turned into steel. The technology hasn’t been proved at scale yet, but Boston Metal hopes to license its green steel process in 2026. 

Understandably, these new technologies will cost more at first, and consumers or governments will have to foot the bill, says Jessica Allen, an expert on green steel production at the University of Newcastle in Australia. 

In Stegra’s case, both seem willing to do so. But it will be more difficult outside the EU. What’s more, producing enough green steel to make a large dent in the sector’s emissions will likely require a portfolio of different techniques to succeed. 

Still, as the first to market, Stegra is playing a vital role, Allen says, and its performance will color perceptions of green steel for years to come. “Being willing to take a risk and actually build … that’s exactly what we need,” she adds. “We need more companies like this.”

For now, Stegra’s plant—rising from the boreal forests of northern Sweden—represents the industry’s leading effort. When it begins operations in 2026, that plant will be the first demonstration that steel can be made at an industrial scale without releasing large amounts of carbon dioxide—and, just as important, that customers are willing to pay for it. 

Douglas Main is a journalist and former senior editor and writer at National Geographic.

Roundtables: The Worst Technology Failures of 2024

Recorded on December 17, 2024

The Worst Technology Failures of 2024

Speakers: Antonio Regalado, senior editor for biomedicine, and Niall Firth, executive editor.

MIT Technology Review publishes an annual list of the worst technologies of the year. This year, The Worst Technology Failures of 2024 list was unveiled live by our editors. Hear from MIT Technology Review executive editor Niall Firth and senior editor for biomedicine Antonio Regalado as they discuss each of the 8 items on this list.

Related Coverage

Google’s big week was a flex for the power of big tech

Last week, this space was all about OpenAI’s 12 days of shipmas. This week, the spotlight is on Google, which has been speeding toward the holiday by shipping or announcing its own flurry of products and updates. The combination of stuff here is pretty monumental, not just for a single company, but I think because it speaks to the power of the technology industry—even if it does trigger a personal desire that we could do more to harness that power and put it to more noble uses.

To start, last week Google Introduced Veo, a new video generation model, and Imagen 3, a new version of its image generation model. 

Then on Monday, Google announced a  breakthrough in quantum computing with its Willow chip. The company claims the new machine is capable of a “standard benchmark computation in under five minutes that would take one of today’s fastest supercomputers 10 septillion (that is, 1025) years.” you may recall that MIT Technology Review covered some of the Willow work after researchers posted a paper preprint in August.   But this week marked the big media splash. It was a stunning update that had Silicon Valley abuzz. (Seriously, I have never gotten so many quantum computing pitches as in the past few days.)

Google followed this on Wednesday with even more gifts: a Gemini 2 release, a Project Astra update, and even more news about forthcoming agents called Mariner, an agent that can browse the web, and Jules, a coding assistant.  

First: Gemini 2. It’s impressive, with a lot of performance updates. But I have frankly grown a little inured by language-model performance updates to the point of apathy. Or at least near-apathy. I want to see them do something.

So for me, the cooler update was second on the list: Project Astra, which comes across like an AI from a futuristic movie set. Google first showed a demo of Astra back in May at its developer conference, and it was the talk of the show. But, since demos offer companies chances to show off products at their most polished, it can be hard to tell what’s real and what’s just staged for the audience. Still, when my colleague Will Douglas Heaven recently got to try it out himself, live and unscripted, it largely lived up to the hype. Although he found it glitchy, he noted that those glitches can be easily corrected. He called the experience “stunning” and said it could be generative AI’s killer app.

On top of all this, Will notes that this week Google DeepMind CEO (the company’s AI division) Demis Hassabis was in Sweden to receive his Nobel Prize. And what did you do with your week?

Making all this even more impressive, the advances represented in Willow, Gemini, Astra, and Veo are ones that just a few years ago many, many people would have said were not possible—or at least not in this timeframe. 

A popular knock on the tech industry is that it has a tendency to over-promise and under-deliver. The phone in your pocket gives the lie to this. So too do the rides I took in Waymo’s self-driving cars this week. (Both of which arrived faster than Uber’s estimated wait time. And honestly it’s not been that long since the mere ability to summon an Uber was cool!) And while quantum has a long way to go, the Willow announcement seems like an exceptional advance; if not a tipping point exactly, then at least a real waypoint on a long road. (For what it’s worth, I’m still not totally sold on chatbots. They do offer novel ways of interacting with computers, and have revolutionized information retrieval. But whether they are beneficial for humanity—especially given energy debts, the use of copyrighted material in their training data, their perhaps insurmountable tendency to hallucinate, etc.—is debatable, and certainly is being debated. But I’m pretty floored by this week’s announcements from Google, as well as OpenAI—full stop.)

And for all the necessary and overdue talk about reining in the power of Big Tech, the ability to hit significant new milestones on so many different fronts all at once is something that only a company with the resources of a Google (or Apple or Microsoft or Amazon or Meta or Baidu or whichever other behemoth) can do. 

All this said, I don’t want us to buy more gadgets or spend more time looking at our screens. I don’t want us to become more isolated physically, socializing with others only via our electronic devices. I don’t want us to fill the air with carbon or our soil with e-waste. I do not think these things should be the price we pay to drive progress forward. It’s indisputable that humanity would be better served if more of the tech industry was focused on ending poverty and hunger and disease and war.

Yet every once in a while, in the ever-rising tide of hype and nonsense that pumps out of Silicon Valley, epitomized by the AI gold rush of the past couple of years, there are moments that make me sit back in awe and amazement at what people can achieve, and in which I become hopeful about our ability to actually solve our larger problems—if only because we can solve so many other dumber, but incredibly complicated ones. This week was one of those times for me. 


Now read the rest of The Debrief

The News

• Robotaxi adoption is hitting a tipping point

• But also, GM is shutting down its Cruise robotaxi division.

• Here’s how to use OpenAI’s new video editing tool Sora.

• Bluesky has an impersonator problem.

• The AI hype machine is coming under government scrutiny.


The Chat

Every week, I talk to one of MIT Technology Review’s journalists to go behind the scenes of a story they are working on. This week, I hit up James O’Donnell, who covers AI and hardware, about his story on how the startup defense contractor Anduril is bringing AI to the battlefield.

Mat: James, you got a pretty up close look at something most people probably haven’t even thought about yet, which is how the future of AI-assisted warfare might look. What did you learn on that trip that you think will surprise people?

James: Two things stand out. One, I think people would be surprised by the gulf between how technology has developed for the last 15 years for consumers versus the military. For consumers, we’ve gotten phones, computers, smart TVs and other technologies that generally do a pretty good job of talking to each other and sharing our data, even though they’re made by dozens of different manufacturers. It’s called the “internet of things.” In the military, technology has developed in exactly the opposite way, and it’s putting them in a crisis. They have stealth aircraft all over the world, but communicating about a drone threat might be done with Powerpoints and a chat service reminiscent of AOL Instant Messenger.

The second is just how much the Pentagon is now looking to AI to change all of this. New initiatives have surged in the current AI boom. They are spending on training new AI models to better detect threats, autonomous fighter jets, and intelligence platforms that use AI to find pertinent information. What I saw at Anduril’s test site in California is also a key piece of that. Using AI to connect to and control lots of different pieces of hardware, like drones and cameras and submarines, from a single platform. The amount being invested in AI is much smaller than for aircraft carriers and jets, but it’s growing.

Mat: I was talking with a different startup defense contractor recently, who was talking to me about the difficulty of getting all these increasingly autonomous devices on the battlefield talking to each other in a coordinated way. Like Anduril, he was making the case that this has to be done at the edge, and that there is too much happening for human decision making to process. Do you think that’s true?  Why is that?

James: So many in the defense space have pointed to the war in Ukraine as a sign that warfare is changing. Drones are cheaper and more capable than they ever were in the wars in the Middle East. It’s why the Pentagon is spending $1 billion on the Replicator initiative to field thousands of cheap drones by 2025. It’s also looking to field more underwater drones as it plans for scenarios in which China may invade Taiwan.

Once you get these systems, though, the problem is having all the devices communicate with one another securely. You need to play Air Traffic Control at the same time that you’re pulling in satellite imagery and intelligence information, all in environments where communication links are vulnerable to attacks.

Mat: I guess I still have a mental image of a control room somewhere, like you might see in Dr. Strangelove or War Games (or Star Wars for that matter) with a handful of humans directing things. Are those days over?

James: I think a couple things will change. One, a single person in that control room will be responsible for a lot more than they are now. Rather than running just one camera or drone system manually, they’ll command software that does it for them, for lots of different devices. The idea that the defense tech sector is pushing is to take them out of the mundane tasks—rotating a camera around to look for threats—and instead put them in the driver’s seat for decisions that only humans, not machines, can make.

Mat: I know that critics of the industry push back on the idea of AI being empowered to make battlefield decisions, particularly when it comes to life and death, but it seems to me that we are increasingly creeping toward that and it seems perhaps inevitable. What’s your sense?

James: This is painting with broad strokes, but I think the debates about military AI fall along similar lines to what we see for autonomous vehicles. You have proponents saying that driving is not a thing humans are particularly good at, and when they make mistakes, it takes lives. Others might agree conceptually, but debate at what point it’s appropriate to fully adopt fallible self-driving technology in the real world. How much better does it have to be than humans?

In the military, the stakes are higher. There’s no question that AI is increasingly being used to sort through and surface information to decision-makers. It’s finding patterns in data, translating information, and identifying possible threats. Proponents are outspoken that that will make warfare more precise and reduce casualties. What critics are concerned about is how far across that decision-making pipeline AI is going, and how much there is human oversight.

I think where it leaves me is wanting transparency. When AI systems make mistakes, just like when human military commanders make mistakes, I think we deserve to know, and that transparency does not have to compromise national security. It took years for reporter Azmat Khan to piece together the mistakes made during drone strikes in the Middle East, because agencies were not forthcoming. That obfuscation absolutely cannot be the norm as we enter the age of military AI.

Mat: Finally, did you have a chance to hit an In-N-Out burger while you were in California?

James: Normally In-N-Out is a requisite stop for me in California, but ahead of my trip I heard lots of good things about the burgers at The Apple Pan in West LA, so I went there. To be honest, the fries were better, but for the burger I have to hand it to In-N-Out.


The Recommendation

A few weeks ago I suggested Ca7riel and Paco  Amoroso’s appearance on NPR Tiny Desk. At the risk of this space becoming a Tiny Desk stan account, I’m back again with another. I was completely floored by Doechii’s Tiny Desk appearance last week. It’s so full of talent and joy and style and power. I came away completely inspired and have basically had her music on repeat in Spotify ever since. If you are already a fan of her recorded music, you will love her live. If she’s new to you, well, you’re welcome. Go check it out. Oh, and don’t worry: I’m not planning to recommend Billie Eilish’s new Tiny Desk concert in next week’s newsletter. Mostly because I’m doing so now.

OpenAI’s “12 days of shipmas” tell us a lot about the AI arms race

This week, OpenAI announced what it calls the 12 days of OpenAI, or 12 days of shipmas. On December 4, CEO Sam Altman took to X to announce that the company would be “doing 12 days of openai. each weekday, we will have a livestream with a launch or demo, some big ones and some stocking stuffers.”

The company will livestream about new products every morning for 12 business days in a row during December. It’s an impressive-sounding (and media-savvy) schedule, to be sure. But it also speaks to how tight the race between the AI bigs has become, and also how much OpenAI is scrambling to build more revenue.

While it remains to be seen whether or not they’ve got AGI in a pear tree up their sleeve, and maybe putting aside whether or not Sam Altman is your true love, the man can ship. OpenAI has been a monster when it comes to actually getting new products out the door and into the hands of users. It’s hard for me to believe that it was just two years ago, almost exactly, that it released ChatGPT. That was a world-changing release, but was also just one of many. The company has been on an absolute tear:  Since 2022, it’s shipped DALL-E 2, DALL-E 3, GPT-4, ChatGPT Plus, a realtime API, GPT-4o, an advanced voice mode, a preview version of a new model called o1, and a web search engine. And that’s just a partial list.

When it kicked off its 12-days shenanigans on Thursday, it was with an official roll out of OpenAI o1 and a new, $200-per-month service called ChatGPT Pro. Friday morning, it followed that up with an announcement about a new model customization technique.

If the point you have taken away from all this is that OpenAI is very, very bad at naming things, you would be right. But! There’s another point to be made, which is that the stuff it is shipping is not coming out in a vacuum anymore, as it was two years ago. When DALL-E 2 shipped, OpenAI seemed a little like the only game in town. That was still mostly true when ChatGPT came out a few months later. But those releases sent Google into full-on freakout mode, issuing a “code red” to catch up. And then it was off to the races.

Now, there is a full-scale sprint happening between OpenAI, Google (which released its Gemini models to the public almost exactly a year ago), Anthropic (which was founded by a bunch of OpenAI formers), Meta, and, to some extent, Microsoft (OpenAI’s partner).

To wit: A little over a month ago, Anthropic unveiled a bananas demo of its chatbot Claude’s ability to use a computer. On Thursday (aka: the first day of shipmas), Microsoft announced a version of CoPilot that can follow along with you while you browse the web using AI vision. And ahead of what is widely predicted to be OpenAI’s biggest release of shipmas, its new video generation tool Sora, Google jumped ahead with its own generative video product, Veo (although it has not released it widely to the public yet).

Oh. There was also one other announcement from OpenAI, just ahead of shipmas, that seems relevant. On Wednesday, it announced a new partnership with defense contractor Anduril. Some of you may remember that OpenAI is the company that had once pledged not to let its technology be used for weapons development or the military. As James O’Donnell points out, “OpenAI’s policies banning military use of its technology unraveled in less than a year.”

This is notable in its own right, but also in crystallizing just how much OpenAI needs cold hard cash. See also: the new $200-per-month ChatGPT Pro tier. (And while recurring revenue from users will bring in some much-needed cash flow, there is a fortune in defense spending.) In addition, the company is looking into bringing paid advertisements to its services, according to its CFO Sarah Friar in an interview with the FT way back in … (checks watch) … Monday.

As has been oft-discussed, OpenAI is just incinerating piles of money. It’s on track to lose billions and billions of dollars for several more years. It has to start bringing in more revenue, lots more. And to do that it has to stay ahead of its rivals. And to do that, it has to get new, compelling products to market that are better in some way than what its competitors offer. Which means it has to ship. And monetize. And ship. And monetize. Because Google and Anthropic and Meta and a host of others are all going to keep coming out with new products, and new services too.

The arms race is on. And while the 12 days of shipmas may seem jolly, internally I bet it feels a lot more like Santa’s workshop on December 23. Pressure’s on. Time to deliver.

If someone forwarded you this edition of The Debrief, you can subscribe here. I appreciate your feedback on this newsletter. Drop me a line at mat.honan@technologyreview.com with any and all thoughts. And of course, I love tips.


Now read the rest of The Debrief

The News

• Bitcoin breaks $100,000 after Trump announces Paul Atkins as SEC pick. 

• China’s critical mineral ban is an opening salvo, not a kill shot. This is what it means for the US.

• OpenAI announced a deal with defense contractor Anduril. It’s a huge pivot

• In an effort to combat sophisticated disinformation campaigns, the US Department of Defense is investing in deepfake detection

• President-elect Trump names PayPal Mafia member, All-in Podcast host, and former Yammer CEO David Sacks as White House AI and crypto Czar

• An appeals court upheld the US’ TikTok ban. It’s likely going to the Supreme Court.


The Chat

Every week, I talk to one of MIT Technology Review’s journalists to go behind the scenes of a story they are working on. This week, I hit up Amanda Silverman, our features and investigations editor, about our big story on the way the war in Ukraine is reshaping the tech sector in eastern Europe.

Mat: Amanda, we published a story this week from Peter Guest that’s about the ways civilian tech is being repurposed for the war in Ukraine. I could be wrong, but ultimately I think it showed how warfare has truly changed thanks to inexpensive, easily-built tech products. Is that right?

Amanda: I think that’s pretty spot on. Though maybe it’s more accurate to say, less expensive, more-easily-built tech products. It’s all relative, right? Like, the retrofitted consumer drones that have been so prevalent in Ukraine over the past few years are vastly cheaper than traditional weapons systems, and what we’re seeing now is that lots of other tech that was initially developed for civilian purposes—like, Pete reported on a type of scooter—are being sent to the front. And again, these are much, much cheaper than traditional weaponry. And they can be developed and shipped out really quickly.

The other thing Pete found was that this tech is being quickly reworked to respond to battlefield feedback—like that scooter has been customized to carry NATO standard-sized bullet boxes. I can’t imagine that happening in the old way of doing things.

Mat: It’s move fast and (hope not to) break things, but for war…. There is also this other, much scarier idea in there, which is that the war is changing, maybe has changed, Eastern Europe’s tech sector. What did Pete find is happening there?

Amanda: So a lot of the countries neighboring Ukraine are understandably pretty freaked out by what happened there and how the country had to turn on a dime to respond to the full-scale invasion by Russia. At the same time, Pete found that a lot of people in these countries, particularly in Latvia and particularly leading tech startups, have been inspired by how Ukrainians mobilized for the war and they’re trying to sort of get ahead of the potential enemy and get ready for a conflict within their borders. It’s not all scary, to be clear. It’s arguably somewhat thrilling to see all this innovation happening so quickly and to have some of the more burdensome red tape removed.

Mat: Okay so Russia’s neighbors are freaked out, as you say, understandably. Did anything about this story freak you out?

Amanda: Yeah, it’s impossible to ignore that there is a huge, scary risk here, too: as these companies develop new tech for war, they have an unprecedented opportunity to test it out in Ukraine without going through the traditional development and procurement process—which can be slow and laborious, sure, but also includes a lot of important testing, checks and balances, and more to prevent fraud and lots of other abuses and dangers. Like, Pete nods to how Clearview AI was deploying its tech to identify Russian war dead, which is scary in and of itself and also may violate the Geneva Conventions.

Mat: And then I’m curious, what do you look for when you are assigning a story like this? What caught your attention?

Amanda: I felt like I’d read quite a bit about the total mobilization of Ukrainian society (including a story from Pete inWired). But I had sort of thought about all this activity as happening in a bit of a vacuum. Or at least in a limited sense, within Ukrainian borders. Of course, the US and our European allies are sending loads of money and loads of weapons but (at least as I understand it) they’re largely weapons we already have in our arsenals. So when Pete pitched us this story about how the war was reshaping the tech sector of Ukraine’s neighbors, particularly civilian tech, I was really intrigued.


The Recommendation

Several weeks ago, we had our e-bike stolen. Some guy with an angle iron cut the lock. And as it turned out, our insurance didn’t cover the loss because the bike (like almost all e-bikes) had a top speed above 15 mph. As I came to learn, this is not uncommon. But you know what is common? E-bike theft. The police told us there is little chance of recovering our bike—in large part because we did not have a tracker attached to it. It was an all-around frustrating experience.  We replaced the bike, and this time I’ve invested in one of these Elevation Labs waterproof mounts to affix an AirTag to the frame, hidden away below the seat. They have a whole line of mounts, a few of which are bike-specific. Much cheaper than a new bike. They make a good stocking stuffer.