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google-pixel-10-series-review:-don’t-call-it-an-android

Google Pixel 10 series review: Don’t call it an Android


Google’s new Pixel phones are better, but only a little.

Pixel 10 series shadows

Left to right: Pixel 10, Pixel 10 Pro, Pixel 10 Pro XL. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

Left to right: Pixel 10, Pixel 10 Pro, Pixel 10 Pro XL. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

After 10 generations of Pixels, Google’s phones have never been more like the iPhone, and we mean that both as a compliment and a gentle criticism. For people who miss the days of low-cost, tinkering-friendly Nexus phones, Google’s vision is moving ever further away from that, but the attention to detail and overall polish of the Pixel experience continue with the Pixel 10, 10 Pro, and 10 Pro XL. These are objectively good phones with possibly the best cameras on the market, and they’re also a little more powerful, but the aesthetics are seemingly locked down.

Google made a big design change last year with the Pixel 9 series, and it’s not reinventing the wheel in 2025. The Pixel 10 series keeps the same formula, making limited refinements, not all of which will be well-received. Google pulled out all the stops and added a ton of new AI features you may not care about, and it killed the SIM card slot. Just because Apple does something doesn’t mean Google has to, but here we are. If you’re still clinging to your physical SIM card or just like your Pixel 9, there’s no reason to rush out to upgrade.

A great but not so daring design

If you liked the Pixel 9’s design, you’ll like the Pixel 10, because it’s a very slightly better version of the same hardware. All three phones are made from aluminum and Gorilla Glass Victus 2 (no titanium option here). The base model has a matte finish on the metal frame with a glossy rear panel, and it’s the opposite on the Pro phones. This makes the more expensive phones a little less secure in the hand—those polished edges are slippery. The buttons on the Pixel 9 often felt a bit loose, but the buttons on all our Pixel 10 units are tight and clicky.

Pixel 10 back all

Left to right: Pixel 10 Pro XL, Pixel 10 Pro, Pixel 10.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

Left to right: Pixel 10 Pro XL, Pixel 10 Pro, Pixel 10. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

Specs at a glance: Google Pixel 10 series
Pixel 10 ($799) Pixel 10 Pro ($999) Pixel 10 Pro XL ($1,199) Pixel 10 Pro Fold ($1,799)
SoC Google Tensor G5  Google Tensor G5  Google Tensor G5  Google Tensor G5
Memory 12GB 16GB 16GB 16GB
Storage 128GB / 256GB 128GB / 256GB / 512GB 128GB / 256GB / 512GB / 1TB 256GB / 512GB / 1TB
Display 6.3-inch 1080×2424 OLED, 60-120Hz, 3,000 nits 6.3-inch 1280×2856 LTPO OLED, 1-120Hz, 3,300 nits 6.8-inch 1344×2992 LTPO OLED, 1-120Hz, 3,300 nits External: 6.4-inch 1080×2364 OLED, 60-120Hz, 2000 nits; Internal: 8-inch 2076×2152 LTPO OLED, 1-120Hz, 3,000 nits
Cameras 48 MP wide with Macro

Focus, F/1.7, 1/2-inch sensor; 13 MP ultrawide, f/2.2, 1/3.1-inch sensor;

10.8 MP 5x telephoto, f/3.1, 1/3.2-inch sensor; 10.5 MP selfie, f/2.2
50 MP wide with Macro

Focus, F/1.68, 1/1.3-inch sensor; 48 MP ultrawide, f/1.7, 1/2.55-inch sensor;

48 MP 5x telephoto, f/2.8, 1/2.55-inch sensor; 42 MP selfie, f/2.2
50 MP wide with Macro

Focus, F/1.68, 1/1.3-inch sensor; 48 MP ultrawide, f/1.7, 1/2.55-inch sensor;

48 MP 5x telephoto, f/2.8, 1/2.55-inch sensor; 42 MP selfie, f/2.2
48 MP wide, F/1.7, 1/2-inch sensor; 10.5 MP ultrawide with Macro Focus, f/2.2, 1/3.4-inch sensor;

10.8 MP 5x telephoto, f/3.1, 1/3.2-inch sensor; 10.5 MP selfie, f/2.2 (outer and inner)
Software Android 16 Android 16 Android 16 Android 16
Battery 4,970 mAh,  up to 30 W wired charging, 15 W wireless charging (Pixelsnap) 4,870 mAh, up to 30 W wired charging, 15 W wireless charging (Pixelsnap) 5,200 mAh, up to 45 W wired charging, 25 W wireless charging (Pixelsnap) 5,015 mAh, up to 30 W wired charging, 15 W wireless charging (Pixelsnap)
Connectivity Wi-Fi 6e, NFC, Bluetooth 6.0, sub-6 GHz and mmWave 5G, USB-C 3.2 Wi-Fi 7, NFC, Bluetooth 6.0, sub-6 GHz and mmWave 5G, UWB, USB-C 3.2 Wi-Fi 7, NFC, Bluetooth 6.0, sub-6 GHz and mmWave 5G, UWB, USB-C 3.2 Wi-Fi 7, NFC, Bluetooth 6.0, sub-6 GHz and mmWave 5G, UWB, USB-C 3.2
Measurements 152.8 height×72.0 width×8.6 depth (mm), 204g 152.8 height×72.0 width×8.6 depth (mm), 207g 162.8 height×76.6 width×8.5 depth (mm), 232g Folded: 154.9 height×76.2 width×10.1 depth (mm); Unfolded: 154.9 height×149.8 width×5.1 depth (mm); 258g
Colors Indigo

Frost

Lemongrass

Obsidian
Moonstone

Jade

Porcelain

Obsidian
Moonstone

Jade

Porcelain

Obsidian
Moonstone

Jade

The rounded corners and smooth transitions between metal and glass make the phones comfortable to hold, even for the mammoth 6.8-inch Pixel 10 Pro XL. This phone is pretty hefty at 232 g, though—that’s even heavier than Samsung’s Galaxy Z Fold 7. I’m pleased that Google kept the smaller premium phone in 2025, offering most of the capabilities and camera specs of the XL in a more cozy form factor. It’s not as heavy, and the screen is a great size for folks with average or smaller hands.

Pixel 10 Pro

The Pixel 10 Pro is a great size.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The Pixel 10 Pro is a great size. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

On the back, you’ll still see the monolithic camera bar near the top. I like this design aesthetically, but it’s also functional. When you set a Pixel 10 down on a table or desk, it remains stable and easy to use, with no annoying wobble. While this element looks unchanged at a glance, it actually takes up a little more surface area on the back of the phone. Yes, that means none of your Pixel 9 cases will fit on the 10.

The Pixel 10’s body has fewer interruptions compared to the previous model, too. Google has done away with the unsightly mmWave window on the top of the phone, and the bottom now has two symmetrical grilles for the mic and speaker. What you won’t see is a SIM card slot (at least in the US). Like Apple, Google has gone all-in with eSIM, so if you’ve been clinging to that tiny scrap of plastic, you’ll have to give it up to use a Pixel 10.

Pixel 10 Pro XL side

The Pixel 10 Pro XL has polished sides that make it a bit slippery.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The Pixel 10 Pro XL has polished sides that make it a bit slippery. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The good news is that eSIMs are less frustrating than they used to be. All recent Android devices have the ability to transfer most eSIMs directly without dealing with the carrier. We’ve moved a T-Mobile eSIM between Pixels and Samsung devices a few times without issue, but you will need Wi-Fi connectivity, which is an annoying caveat.

Display sizes haven’t changed this year, but they all look impeccable. The base model and smaller Pro phone sport 6.3-inch OLEDs, and the Pro XL’s is at 6.8 inches. The Pixel 10 has the lowest resolution at 1080p, and the refresh rate only goes from 60–120 Hz. The 10 Pro and 10 Pro XL get higher-resolution screens with LTPO technology that allows them to go as low as 1Hz to save power. The Pro phones also get slightly brighter but all have peak brightness of 3,000 nits or higher, which is plenty to make them readable outdoors.

Pixel 10 MagSafe

The addition of Qi2 makes numerous MagSafe accessories compatible with the new Pixels.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The addition of Qi2 makes numerous MagSafe accessories compatible with the new Pixels. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The biggest design change this year isn’t visible on the outside. The Pixel 10 phones are among the first Android devices with full support for the Qi2 charging standard. Note, this isn’t just “Qi2 Ready” like the Galaxy S25. Google’s phones have the Apple-style magnets inside, allowing you to use many of the chargers, mounts, wallets, and other Apple-specific accessories that have appeared over the past few years. Google also has its own “Pixelsnap” accessories, like chargers and rings. And yes, the official Pixel 10 cases are compatible with magnetic attachments. Adding something Apple has had for years isn’t exactly innovative, but Qi2 is genuinely useful, and you won’t get it from other Android phones.

Expressive software

Google announced its Material 3 Expressive overhaul earlier this year, but it wasn’t included in the initial release of Android 16. The Pixel 10 line will ship with this update, marking the biggest change to Google’s Android skin in years. The Pixel line has now moved quite far from the “stock Android” aesthetic that used to be the company’s hallmark. The Pixel build of Android is now just as customized as Samsung’s One UI or OnePlus’ OxygenOS, if not more so.

Pixel 10 Material 3

Material 3 Expressive adds more customizable quick settings.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

Material 3 Expressive adds more customizable quick settings. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The good news is that Material 3 looks very nice. It’s more colorful and playful but not overbearing. Some of the app concepts shown off during the announcement were a bit much, but the production app redesigns Google has rolled out since then aren’t as heavy-handed. The Material colors are used more liberally throughout the UI, and certain UI elements will be larger and more friendly. I’ll take Material 3 Expressive over Apple’s Liquid Glass redesign any day.

I’ve been using a pre-production version of the new software, but even for early Pixel software, there have been more minor UI hitches than expected. Several times, I’ve seen status bar icons disappear, app display issues, and image edits becoming garbled. There are no showstopping bugs, but the new software could do with a little cleaning up.

The OS changes are more than skin-deep—Google has loaded the Pixel 10 series with a ton of new AI gimmicks aimed at changing the experience (and justifying the company’s enormous AI spending). With the more powerful Tensor G5 to run larger Gemini Nano on-device models, Google has woven AI into even more parts of the OS. Google’s efforts aren’t as disruptive or invasive as what we’ve seen from other Android phone makers, but that doesn’t mean the additions are useful.

It would be fair to say Magic Cue is Google’s flagship AI addition this year. The pitch sounds compelling—use local AI to crunch your personal data into contextual suggestions in Maps, Messages, phone calls, and more. For example, it can prompt you to insert content into a text message based on other messages or emails.

Despite having a mountain of personal data in Gmail, Keep, and other Google apps, I’ve seen precious few hints of Magic Cue. It once suggested a search in Google Maps, and on another occasion, it prompted an address in Messages. If you don’t use Google’s default apps, you might not see Magic Cue at all. More than ever before, getting the most out of the Pixel means using Google’s first-party apps, just like that other major smartphone platform.

Pixel 10 AI

Google is searching for more ways to leverage generative AI.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

Google is searching for more ways to leverage generative AI. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

Google says it can take about a day after you set up the Pixel 10 before Magic Cue will be done ingesting your personal data—it takes that long because it’s all happening on your device instead of in the cloud. I appreciate Google’s commitment to privacy in mobile AI because it does have access to a huge amount of user data. But it seems like all that data should be doing more. And I hope that, in time, it does. An AI assistant that anticipates your needs is something that could actually be useful, but I’m not yet convinced that Magic Cue is it.

It’s a similar story with Daily Hub, an ever-evolving digest of your day similar to Samsung’s Now Brief. You will find Daily Hub at the top of the Google Discover feed. It’s supposed to keep you abreast of calendar appointments, important emails, and so on. This should be useful, but I rarely found it worth opening. It offered little more than YouTube and AI search suggestions.

Meanwhile, Pixel Journal works as advertised—it’s just not something most people will want to use. This one is similar to Nothing’s Essential Space, a secure place to dump all your thoughts and ideas throughout the day. This allows Gemini Nano to generate insights and emoji-based mood tracking. Cool? Maybe this will inspire some people to record more of their thoughts and ideas, but it’s not a game-changing AI feature.

If there’s a standout AI feature on the Pixel 10, it’s Voice Translate. It uses Gemini Nano to run real-time translation between English and a small collection of other languages, like Spanish, French, German, and Hindi. The translated voice sounds like the speaker (mostly), and the delay is tolerable. Beyond this, though, many of Google’s new Pixel AI features feel like an outgrowth of the company’s mandate to stuff AI into everything possible. Pixel Screenshots might still be the most useful application of generative AI on the Pixels.

As with all recent Pixel phones, Google guarantees seven years of OS and security updates. That matches Samsung and far outpaces OEMs like OnePlus and Motorola. And unlike Samsung, Google phone updates arrive without delay. You’ll get new versions of Android first, and the company’s Pixel Drops add new features every few months.

Modest performance upgrade

The Pixel 10 brings Google’s long-awaited Tensor G5 upgrade. This is the first custom Google mobile processor manufactured by TSMC rather than Samsung, using the latest 3 nm process node. The core setup is a bit different, with a 3.78 GHz Cortex X4 at the helm. It’s backed by five high-power Cortex-A725s at 3.05 GHz and two low-power Cortex-A520 cores at 2.25 GHz. Google also says the NPU has gotten much more powerful, allowing it to run the Gemini models for its raft of new AI features.

Pixel 10 family cameras

The Pixel 10 series keeps a familiar design.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The Pixel 10 series keeps a familiar design. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

If you were hoping to see Google catch up to Qualcomm with the G5, you’ll be disappointed. In general, Google doesn’t seem concerned about benchmark numbers. And in fairness, the Pixels perform very well in daily use. These phones feel fast, and the animations are perfectly smooth. While phones like the Galaxy S25 are faster on paper, we’ve seen less lag and fewer slowdowns on Google’s phones.

That said, the Tensor G5 does perform better in our testing compared to the G4. The CPU speed is up about 30 percent, right in line with Google’s claims. The GPU is faster by 20–30 percent in high-performance scenarios, which is a healthy increase for one year. However, it’s running way behind the Snapdragon 8 Elite we see in other flagship Android phones.

You might notice the slower Pixel GPU if you’re playing Genshin Impact or Call of Duty Mobile at a high level, but it will be more than fast enough for most of the mobile games people play. That performance gap will narrow during prolonged gaming, too. Qualcomm’s flagship chip gets very toasty in phones like the Galaxy S25, slowing down by almost half. The Pixel 10, on the other hand, loses less than 20 percent of its speed to thermal throttling.

Say what you will about generative AI—Google’s obsession with adding more on-device intelligence spurred it to boost the amount of RAM in this year’s Pro phones. You now get 16GB in the 10 Pro and 10 Pro XL. The base model continues to muddle along with 12GB. This could make the Pro phones more future-proof as additional features are added in Pixel Drop updates. However, we have yet to notice the Pro phones holding onto apps in memory longer than the base model.

The Pixel 10 series gets small battery capacity increases across the board, but it’s probably not enough that you’ll notice. The XL, for instance, has gone from 5,060 mAh to 5,200 mAh. It feels like the increases really just offset the increased background AI processing, because the longevity is unchanged from last year. You’ll have no trouble making it through a day with any of the Pixel phones, even if you clock a lot of screen time.

With lighter usage, you can almost make it through two days. You’ll probably want to plug in every night, though. Google has an upgraded always-on display mode on the Pixel 10 phones that shows your background in full color but greatly dimmed. We found this was not worth the battery life hit, but it’s there if you want to enable it.

Charging speed has gotten slightly better this time around, but like the processor, it’s not going to top the charts. The Pixel 10 and 10 Pro can hit a maximum of 30 W with a USB-C PPS-enabled charger, getting a 50 percent charge in about 30 minutes. The Pixel 10 Pro XL’s wired charging can reach around 45 W for a 70 percent charge in half an hour. This would be sluggish compared to the competition in most Asian markets, but it’s average to moderately fast stateside. Google doesn’t have much reason to do better here, but we wish it would try.

Pixel 10 Pro XL vs. Pixel 9 Pro XL

The Pixel 10 Pro XL (left) looks almost identical to the Pixel 9 Pro XL (right).

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The Pixel 10 Pro XL (left) looks almost identical to the Pixel 9 Pro XL (right). Credit: Ryan Whitwam

Wireless charging is also a bit faster, but the nature of charging is quite different with support for Qi2. You can get 15 W of wireless power with a Qi2 charger on the smaller phones, and the Pixel 10 Pro XL can hit 25 W with a Qi2.2 adapter. There are plenty of Qi2 magnetic chargers out there that can handle 15 W, but 25 W support is currently much more rare.

Post-truth cameras

Google has made some changes to its camera setup this year, including the addition of a third camera to the base Pixel 10. However, that also comes with a downgrade for the other two cameras. The Pixel 10 sports a 48 MP primary, a 13 MP ultra wide, and a 10.8 MP 5x telephoto—this setup is most similar to Google’s foldable phone. The 10 Pro and 10 Pro XL have a slightly better 50 MP primary, a 48 MP ultrawide, and a 48 MP 5x telephoto. The Pixel 10 is also limited to 20x upscaled zoom, but the Pro phones can go all the way to 100x.

Pixel 10 camera closeup

The Pixel 10 gets a third camera, but the setup isn’t as good as on the Pro phones.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The Pixel 10 gets a third camera, but the setup isn’t as good as on the Pro phones. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The latest Pixel phones continue Google’s tradition of excellent mobile photography, which should come as no surprise. And there’s an even greater focus on AI, which should also come as no surprise. But don’t be too quick to judge—Google’s use of AI technologies, even before the era of generative systems, has made its cameras among the best you can get.

The Pixel 10 series continues to be great for quick snapshots. You can pop open the camera and just start taking photos in almost any lighting to get solid results. Google’s HDR image processing brings out details in light and dark areas, produces accurate skin tones, and sharpens details without creating an “oil painting” effect when you zoom in. The phones are even pretty good at capturing motion, leaning toward quicker exposures while still achieving accurate colors and good brightness.

Pro phone samples:

Outdoor light. Ryan Whitwam

The Pixel 10 camera changes are a mixed bag. The addition of a telephoto lens for Google’s cheapest model is appreciated, allowing you to get closer to your subject and take greater advantage of Google’s digital zoom processing if 5x isn’t enough. The downgrade of the other sensors is noticeable if you’re pixel peeping, but it’s not a massive difference. Compared to the Pro phones, the base model doesn’t have quite as much dynamic range, and photos in challenging light will trend a bit dimmer. You’ll notice the difference most in Night Sight shots.

The camera experience has a healthy dose of Gemini Nano AI this year. The Pro models’ Pro Res Zoom runs a custom diffusion model to enhance images. This can make a big difference, but it can also be inaccurate, like any other generative system. Google opted to expand its use of C2PA labeling to mark such images as being AI-edited. So you might take a photo expecting to document reality, but the camera app will automatically label it as an AI image. This could have ramifications if you’re trying to document something important. The AI labeling will also appear on photos created using features like Add Me, which continues to be very useful for group shots.

Non-Pro samples:

Bright outdoor light. Ryan Whitwam

Google has also used AI to power its new Camera Coach feature. When activated in the camera viewfinder, it analyzes your current framing and makes suggestions. However, these usually amount to “subject goes in center, zoom in, take picture.” Frankly, you don’t need AI for this if you have ever given any thought to how to frame a photo—it’s pretty commonsense stuff.

The most Google-y a phone can get

Google is definitely taking its smartphone efforts more seriously these days, but the experience is also more laser-focused on Google’s products and services. The Pixel 10 is an Android phone, but you’d never know it from Google’s marketing. It barely talks about Android as a platform—the word only appears once on the product pages, and it’s in the FAQs at the bottom. Google prefers to wax philosophical about the Pixel experience, which has been refined over the course of 10 generations. For all intents and purposes, this is Google’s iPhone. For $799, the base-model Pixel is a good way to enjoy the best of Google in your pocket, but the $999 Pixel 10 Pro is our favorite of the bunch.

Pixel 10 flat

The Pixel 10 series retains the Pixel 9 shape.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The Pixel 10 series retains the Pixel 9 shape. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The design, while almost identical to last year’s, is refined and elegant, and the camera is hard to beat, even with more elaborate hardware from companies like Samsung. Google’s Material 3 Expressive UI overhaul is also shaping up to be a much-needed breath of fresh air, and Google’s approach to the software means you won’t have to remove a dozen sponsored apps and game demos after unboxing the phone. We appreciate Google’s long update commitment, too, but you’ll need at least one battery swap to have any hope of using this phone for the full support period. Google will also lower battery capacity dynamically as the cell ages, which may be frustrating, but at least there won’t be any sudden nasty surprises down the road.

These phones are more than fast enough with the new Tensor G5 chip, and if mobile AI is ever going to have a positive impact, you’ll see it first on a Pixel. While almost all Android phone buyers will be happy with the Pixel 10, there are a few caveats. If high-end mobile gaming is a big part of your smartphone usage, it might make sense to get a Samsung or OnePlus phone, with their faster Qualcomm chips. There’s also the forced migration to eSIM. If you have to swap SIMs frequently, you may want to wait a bit longer to migrate to eSIM.

Pixel 10 edge

The Pixel design is still slick.

Credit: Ryan Whitwam

The Pixel design is still slick. Credit: Ryan Whitwam

Buying a Pixel 10 is also something of a commitment to Google as the integrated web of products and services it is today. The new Pixel phones are coming at a time when Google’s status as an eternal tech behemoth is in doubt. Before long, the company could find itself split into pieces as a result of pending antitrust actions, so this kind of unified Google vision for a smartphone experience might not exist in the future. The software running on the Pixel 10 seven years hence may be very different—there could be a lot more AI or a lot less Google.

But today, the Pixel 10 is basically the perfect Google phone.

The good

  • Great design carried over from Pixel 9
  • Fantastic cameras, new optical zoom for base model
  • Material 3 redesign is a win
  • Long update support
  • Includes Qi2 with magnetic attachment
  • Runs AI on-device for better privacy

The bad

  • Tensor G5 doesn’t catch up to Qualcomm
  • Too many perfunctory AI features
  • Pixel 10’s primary and ultrawide sensors are a slight downgrade from Pixel 9
  • eSIM-only in the US

Photo of Ryan Whitwam

Ryan Whitwam is a senior technology reporter at Ars Technica, covering the ways Google, AI, and mobile technology continue to change the world. Over his 20-year career, he’s written for Android Police, ExtremeTech, Wirecutter, NY Times, and more. He has reviewed more phones than most people will ever own. You can follow him on Bluesky, where you will see photos of his dozens of mechanical keyboards.

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the-personhood-trap:-how-ai-fakes-human-personality

The personhood trap: How AI fakes human personality


Intelligence without agency

AI assistants don’t have fixed personalities—just patterns of output guided by humans.

Recently, a woman slowed down a line at the post office, waving her phone at the clerk. ChatGPT told her there’s a “price match promise” on the USPS website. No such promise exists. But she trusted what the AI “knows” more than the postal worker—as if she’d consulted an oracle rather than a statistical text generator accommodating her wishes.

This scene reveals a fundamental misunderstanding about AI chatbots. There is nothing inherently special, authoritative, or accurate about AI-generated outputs. Given a reasonably trained AI model, the accuracy of any large language model (LLM) response depends on how you guide the conversation. They are prediction machines that will produce whatever pattern best fits your question, regardless of whether that output corresponds to reality.

Despite these issues, millions of daily users engage with AI chatbots as if they were talking to a consistent person—confiding secrets, seeking advice, and attributing fixed beliefs to what is actually a fluid idea-connection machine with no persistent self. This personhood illusion isn’t just philosophically troublesome—it can actively harm vulnerable individuals while obscuring a sense of accountability when a company’s chatbot “goes off the rails.”

LLMs are intelligence without agency—what we might call “vox sine persona”: voice without person. Not the voice of someone, not even the collective voice of many someones, but a voice emanating from no one at all.

A voice from nowhere

When you interact with ChatGPT, Claude, or Grok, you’re not talking to a consistent personality. There is no one “ChatGPT” entity to tell you why it failed—a point we elaborated on more fully in a previous article. You’re interacting with a system that generates plausible-sounding text based on patterns in training data, not a person with persistent self-awareness.

These models encode meaning as mathematical relationships—turning words into numbers that capture how concepts relate to each other. In the models’ internal representations, words and concepts exist as points in a vast mathematical space where “USPS” might be geometrically near “shipping,” while “price matching” sits closer to “retail” and “competition.” A model plots paths through this space, which is why it can so fluently connect USPS with price matching—not because such a policy exists but because the geometric path between these concepts is plausible in the vector landscape shaped by its training data.

Knowledge emerges from understanding how ideas relate to each other. LLMs operate on these contextual relationships, linking concepts in potentially novel ways—what you might call a type of non-human “reasoning” through pattern recognition. Whether the resulting linkages the AI model outputs are useful depends on how you prompt it and whether you can recognize when the LLM has produced a valuable output.

Each chatbot response emerges fresh from the prompt you provide, shaped by training data and configuration. ChatGPT cannot “admit” anything or impartially analyze its own outputs, as a recent Wall Street Journal article suggested. ChatGPT also cannot “condone murder,” as The Atlantic recently wrote.

The user always steers the outputs. LLMs do “know” things, so to speak—the models can process the relationships between concepts. But the AI model’s neural network contains vast amounts of information, including many potentially contradictory ideas from cultures around the world. How you guide the relationships between those ideas through your prompts determines what emerges. So if LLMs can process information, make connections, and generate insights, why shouldn’t we consider that as having a form of self?

Unlike today’s LLMs, a human personality maintains continuity over time. When you return to a human friend after a year, you’re interacting with the same human friend, shaped by their experiences over time. This self-continuity is one of the things that underpins actual agency—and with it, the ability to form lasting commitments, maintain consistent values, and be held accountable. Our entire framework of responsibility assumes both persistence and personhood.

An LLM personality, by contrast, has no causal connection between sessions. The intellectual engine that generates a clever response in one session doesn’t exist to face consequences in the next. When ChatGPT says “I promise to help you,” it may understand, contextually, what a promise means, but the “I” making that promise literally ceases to exist the moment the response completes. Start a new conversation, and you’re not talking to someone who made you a promise—you’re starting a fresh instance of the intellectual engine with no connection to any previous commitments.

This isn’t a bug; it’s fundamental to how these systems currently work. Each response emerges from patterns in training data shaped by your current prompt, with no permanent thread connecting one instance to the next beyond an amended prompt, which includes the entire conversation history and any “memories” held by a separate software system, being fed into the next instance. There’s no identity to reform, no true memory to create accountability, no future self that could be deterred by consequences.

Every LLM response is a performance, which is sometimes very obvious when the LLM outputs statements like “I often do this while talking to my patients” or “Our role as humans is to be good people.” It’s not a human, and it doesn’t have patients.

Recent research confirms this lack of fixed identity. While a 2024 study claims LLMs exhibit “consistent personality,” the researchers’ own data actually undermines this—models rarely made identical choices across test scenarios, with their “personality highly rely[ing] on the situation.” A separate study found even more dramatic instability: LLM performance swung by up to 76 percentage points from subtle prompt formatting changes. What researchers measured as “personality” was simply default patterns emerging from training data—patterns that evaporate with any change in context.

This is not to dismiss the potential usefulness of AI models. Instead, we need to recognize that we have built an intellectual engine without a self, just like we built a mechanical engine without a horse. LLMs do seem to “understand” and “reason” to a degree within the limited scope of pattern-matching from a dataset, depending on how you define those terms. The error isn’t in recognizing that these simulated cognitive capabilities are real. The error is in assuming that thinking requires a thinker, that intelligence requires identity. We’ve created intellectual engines that have a form of reasoning power but no persistent self to take responsibility for it.

The mechanics of misdirection

As we hinted above, the “chat” experience with an AI model is a clever hack: Within every AI chatbot interaction, there is an input and an output. The input is the “prompt,” and the output is often called a “prediction” because it attempts to complete the prompt with the best possible continuation. In between, there’s a neural network (or a set of neural networks) with fixed weights doing a processing task. The conversational back and forth isn’t built into the model; it’s a scripting trick that makes next-word-prediction text generation feel like a persistent dialogue.

Each time you send a message to ChatGPT, Copilot, Grok, Claude, or Gemini, the system takes the entire conversation history—every message from both you and the bot—and feeds it back to the model as one long prompt, asking it to predict what comes next. The model intelligently reasons about what would logically continue the dialogue, but it doesn’t “remember” your previous messages as an agent with continuous existence would. Instead, it’s re-reading the entire transcript each time and generating a response.

This design exploits a vulnerability we’ve known about for decades. The ELIZA effect—our tendency to read far more understanding and intention into a system than actually exists—dates back to the 1960s. Even when users knew that the primitive ELIZA chatbot was just matching patterns and reflecting their statements back as questions, they still confided intimate details and reported feeling understood.

To understand how the illusion of personality is constructed, we need to examine what parts of the input fed into the AI model shape it. AI researcher Eugene Vinitsky recently broke down the human decisions behind these systems into four key layers, which we can expand upon with several others below:

1. Pre-training: The foundation of “personality”

The first and most fundamental layer of personality is called pre-training. During an initial training process that actually creates the AI model’s neural network, the model absorbs statistical relationships from billions of examples of text, storing patterns about how words and ideas typically connect.

Research has found that personality measurements in LLM outputs are significantly influenced by training data. OpenAI’s GPT models are trained on sources like copies of websites, books, Wikipedia, and academic publications. The exact proportions matter enormously for what users later perceive as “personality traits” once the model is in use, making predictions.

2. Post-training: Sculpting the raw material

Reinforcement Learning from Human Feedback (RLHF) is an additional training process where the model learns to give responses that humans rate as good. Research from Anthropic in 2022 revealed how human raters’ preferences get encoded as what we might consider fundamental “personality traits.” When human raters consistently prefer responses that begin with “I understand your concern,” for example, the fine-tuning process reinforces connections in the neural network that make it more likely to produce those kinds of outputs in the future.

This process is what has created sycophantic AI models, such as variations of GPT-4o, over the past year. And interestingly, research has shown that the demographic makeup of human raters significantly influences model behavior. When raters skew toward specific demographics, models develop communication patterns that reflect those groups’ preferences.

3. System prompts: Invisible stage directions

Hidden instructions tucked into the prompt by the company running the AI chatbot, called “system prompts,” can completely transform a model’s apparent personality. These prompts get the conversation started and identify the role the LLM will play. They include statements like “You are a helpful AI assistant” and can share the current time and who the user is.

A comprehensive survey of prompt engineering demonstrated just how powerful these prompts are. Adding instructions like “You are a helpful assistant” versus “You are an expert researcher” changed accuracy on factual questions by up to 15 percent.

Grok perfectly illustrates this. According to xAI’s published system prompts, earlier versions of Grok’s system prompt included instructions to not shy away from making claims that are “politically incorrect.” This single instruction transformed the base model into something that would readily generate controversial content.

4. Persistent memories: The illusion of continuity

ChatGPT’s memory feature adds another layer of what we might consider a personality. A big misunderstanding about AI chatbots is that they somehow “learn” on the fly from your interactions. Among commercial chatbots active today, this is not true. When the system “remembers” that you prefer concise answers or that you work in finance, these facts get stored in a separate database and are injected into every conversation’s context window—they become part of the prompt input automatically behind the scenes. Users interpret this as the chatbot “knowing” them personally, creating an illusion of relationship continuity.

So when ChatGPT says, “I remember you mentioned your dog Max,” it’s not accessing memories like you’d imagine a person would, intermingled with its other “knowledge.” It’s not stored in the AI model’s neural network, which remains unchanged between interactions. Every once in a while, an AI company will update a model through a process called fine-tuning, but it’s unrelated to storing user memories.

5. Context and RAG: Real-time personality modulation

Retrieval Augmented Generation (RAG) adds another layer of personality modulation. When a chatbot searches the web or accesses a database before responding, it’s not just gathering facts—it’s potentially shifting its entire communication style by putting those facts into (you guessed it) the input prompt. In RAG systems, LLMs can potentially adopt characteristics such as tone, style, and terminology from retrieved documents, since those documents are combined with the input prompt to form the complete context that gets fed into the model for processing.

If the system retrieves academic papers, responses might become more formal. Pull from a certain subreddit, and the chatbot might make pop culture references. This isn’t the model having different moods—it’s the statistical influence of whatever text got fed into the context window.

6. The randomness factor: Manufactured spontaneity

Lastly, we can’t discount the role of randomness in creating personality illusions. LLMs use a parameter called “temperature” that controls how predictable responses are.

Research investigating temperature’s role in creative tasks reveals a crucial trade-off: While higher temperatures can make outputs more novel and surprising, they also make them less coherent and harder to understand. This variability can make the AI feel more spontaneous; a slightly unexpected (higher temperature) response might seem more “creative,” while a highly predictable (lower temperature) one could feel more robotic or “formal.”

The random variation in each LLM output makes each response slightly different, creating an element of unpredictability that presents the illusion of free will and self-awareness on the machine’s part. This random mystery leaves plenty of room for magical thinking on the part of humans, who fill in the gaps of their technical knowledge with their imagination.

The human cost of the illusion

The illusion of AI personhood can potentially exact a heavy toll. In health care contexts, the stakes can be life or death. When vulnerable individuals confide in what they perceive as an understanding entity, they may receive responses shaped more by training data patterns than therapeutic wisdom. The chatbot that congratulates someone for stopping psychiatric medication isn’t expressing judgment—it’s completing a pattern based on how similar conversations appear in its training data.

Perhaps most concerning are the emerging cases of what some experts are informally calling “AI Psychosis” or “ChatGPT Psychosis”—vulnerable users who develop delusional or manic behavior after talking to AI chatbots. These people often perceive chatbots as an authority that can validate their delusional ideas, often encouraging them in ways that become harmful.

Meanwhile, when Elon Musk’s Grok generates Nazi content, media outlets describe how the bot “went rogue” rather than framing the incident squarely as the result of xAI’s deliberate configuration choices. The conversational interface has become so convincing that it can also launder human agency, transforming engineering decisions into the whims of an imaginary personality.

The path forward

The solution to the confusion between AI and identity is not to abandon conversational interfaces entirely. They make the technology far more accessible to those who would otherwise be excluded. The key is to find a balance: keeping interfaces intuitive while making their true nature clear.

And we must be mindful of who is building the interface. When your shower runs cold, you look at the plumbing behind the wall. Similarly, when AI generates harmful content, we shouldn’t blame the chatbot, as if it can answer for itself, but examine both the corporate infrastructure that built it and the user who prompted it.

As a society, we need to broadly recognize LLMs as intellectual engines without drivers, which unlocks their true potential as digital tools. When you stop seeing an LLM as a “person” that does work for you and start viewing it as a tool that enhances your own ideas, you can craft prompts to direct the engine’s processing power, iterate to amplify its ability to make useful connections, and explore multiple perspectives in different chat sessions rather than accepting one fictional narrator’s view as authoritative. You are providing direction to a connection machine—not consulting an oracle with its own agenda.

We stand at a peculiar moment in history. We’ve built intellectual engines of extraordinary capability, but in our rush to make them accessible, we’ve wrapped them in the fiction of personhood, creating a new kind of technological risk: not that AI will become conscious and turn against us but that we’ll treat unconscious systems as if they were people, surrendering our judgment to voices that emanate from a roll of loaded dice.

Photo of Benj Edwards

Benj Edwards is Ars Technica’s Senior AI Reporter and founder of the site’s dedicated AI beat in 2022. He’s also a tech historian with almost two decades of experience. In his free time, he writes and records music, collects vintage computers, and enjoys nature. He lives in Raleigh, NC.

The personhood trap: How AI fakes human personality Read More »

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Lawmaker: Trump’s Golden Dome will end the madness, and that’s not a good thing

“The underlying issue here is whether US missile defense should remain focused on the threat from rogue states and… accidental launches, and explicitly refrain from countering missile threats from China or Russia,” DesJarlais said. He called the policy of Mutually Assured Destruction “outdated.”

President Donald Trump speaks alongside Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth in the Oval Office at the White House on May 20, 2025, in Washington, DC. President Trump announced his plans for the Golden Dome, a national ballistic and cruise missile defense system. Credit: Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

Moulton’s amendment on nuclear deterrence failed to pass the committee in a voice vote, as did another Moulton proposal that would have tapped the brakes on developing space-based interceptors.

But one of Moulton’s amendments did make it through the committee. This amendment, if reconciled with the Senate, would prohibit the Pentagon from developing a privatized or subscription-based missile defense intercept capability. The amendment says the US military can own and operate such a system.

Ultimately, the House Armed Services Committee voted 55–2 to send the NDAA to a vote on the House floor. Then, lawmakers must hash out the differences between the House version of the NDAA with a bill written in the Senate before sending the final text to the White House for President Trump to sign into law.

More questions than answers

The White House says the missile shield will cost $175 billion over the next three years. But that’s just to start. A network of space-based missile sensors and interceptors, as prescribed in Trump’s executive order, will eventually number thousands of satellites in low-Earth orbit. The Congressional Budget Office reported in May that the Golden Dome program may ultimately cost up to $542 billion over 20 years.

The problem with all of the Golden Dome cost estimates is that the Pentagon has not settled on an architecture. We know the system will consist of a global network of satellites with sensors to detect and track missile launches, plus numerous interceptors in orbit to take out targets in space and during their “boost phase” when they’re moving relatively slowly through the atmosphere.

The Pentagon will order more sea- and ground-based interceptors to destroy missiles, drones, and aircraft as they near their targets within the United States. All of these weapons must be interconnected with a sophisticated command and control network that doesn’t yet exist.

Will Golden Dome’s space-based interceptors use kinetic kill vehicles to physically destroy missiles targeting the United States? Or will the interceptors rely on directed energy weapons like lasers or microwave signals to disable their targets? How many interceptors are actually needed?

These are all questions without answers. Despite the lack of detail, congressional Republicans approved $25 billion for the Pentagon to get started on the Golden Dome program as part of the Trump-backed One Big Beautiful Bill Act. The bill passed Congress with a party-line vote last month.

Israel’s Iron Dome aerial defense system intercepts a rocket launched from the Gaza Strip on May 11, 2021. Credit: Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images

Moulton earned a bachelor’s degree in physics and master’s degrees in business and public administration from Harvard University. He served as a Marine Corps platoon leader in Iraq and was part of the first company of Marines to reach Baghdad during the US invasion of 2003. Moulton ran for the Democratic presidential nomination in 2020 but withdrew from the race before the first primary contest.

The text of our interview with Moulton is published below. It is lightly edited for length and clarity.

Ars: One of your amendments that passed committee would prevent the DoD from using a subscription or pay-for-service model for the Golden Dome. What prompted you to write that amendment?

Moulton: There were some rumors we heard that this is a model that the administration was pursuing, and there was reporting in mid-April suggesting that SpaceX was partnering with Anduril and Palantir to offer this kind of subscription service where, basically, the government would pay to access the technology rather than own the system. This isn’t an attack on any of these companies or anything. It’s a reassertion of the fundamental belief that these are responsibilities of our government. The decision to engage an intercontinental ballistic missile is a decision that the government must make, not some contractors working at one of these companies.

Ars: Basically, the argument you’re making is that war-fighting should be done by the government and the armed forces, not by contractors or private companies, right?

Moulton: That’s right, and it’s a fundamental belief that I’ve had for a long time. I was completely against contractors in Iraq when I was serving there as a younger Marine, but I can’t think of a place where this is more important than when you’re talking about nuclear weapons.

Ars: One of the amendments that you proposed, but didn’t pass, was intended to reaffirm the nation’s strategy of nuclear deterrence. What was the purpose of this amendment?

Moulton: Let’s just start by saying this is fundamentally why we have to have a theory that forms a foundation for spending hundreds of billions of taxpayer dollars. Golden Dome has no clear design, no real cost estimate, and no one has explained how this protects or enhances strategic stability. And there’s a lot of evidence that it would make strategic stability worse because our adversaries would no longer have confidence in Mutual Assured Destruction, and that makes them potentially much more likely to initiate a strike or overreact quickly to some sort of confrontation that has the potential to go nuclear.

In the case of the Russians, it means they could activate their nuclear weapon in space and just take out our Golden Dome interceptors if they think we might get into a nuclear exchange. I mean, all these things are horrific consequences.

Like I said in our hearing, there are two explanations for Golden Dome. The first is that every nuclear theorist for the last 75 years was wrong, and thank God, Donald Trump came around and set us right because in his first administration and every Democratic and Republican administration, we’ve all been wrong—and really the future of nuclear deterrence is nuclear defeat through defense and not Mutually Assured Destruction.

The other explanation, of course, is that Donald Trump decided he wants the golden version of something his friend has. You can tell me which one’s more likely, but literally no one has been able to explain the theory of the case. It’s dangerous, it’s wasteful… It might be incredibly dangerous. I’m happy to be convinced that Golden Dome is the right solution. I’m happy to have people explain why this makes sense and it’s a worthwhile investment, but literally nobody has been able to do that. If the Russians attack us… we know that this system is not going to be 100 percent effective. To me, that doesn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t want to gamble on… which major city or two we lose in a scenario like that. I want to prevent a nuclear war from happening.

Several Chinese DF-5B intercontinental ballistic missiles, each capable of delivering up to 10 independently maneuverable nuclear warheads, are seen during a parade in Beijing on September 3, 2015. Credit: Xinhua/Pan Xu via Getty Images

Ars: What would be the way that an administration should propose something like the Golden Dome? Not through an executive order? What process would you like to see?

Moulton: As a result of a strategic review and backed up by a lot of serious theory and analysis. The administration proposes a new solution and has hearings about it in front of Congress, where they are unafraid of answering tough questions. This administration is a bunch of cowards who can who refuse to answer tough questions in Congress because they know they can’t back up their president’s proposals.

Ars: I’m actually a little surprised we haven’t seen any sort of architecture yet. It’s been six months, and the administration has already missed a few of Trump’s deadlines for selecting an architecture.

Moulton: It’s hard to develop an architecture for something that doesn’t make sense.

Ars: I’ve heard from several retired military officials who think something like the Golden Dome is a good idea, but they are disappointed in the way the Trump administration has approached it. They say the White House hasn’t stated the case for it, and that risks politicizing something they view as important for national security.

Moulton: One idea I’ve had is that the advent of directed energy weapons (such as lasers and microwave weapons) could flip the cost curve and actually make defense cheaper than offense, whereas in the past, it’s always been cheaper to develop more offensive capabilities rather than the defensive means to shoot at them.

And this is why the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty in the early 1970s was so effective, because there was this massive arms race where we were constantly just creating a new offensive weapon to get around whatever defenses our adversary proposed. The reason why everyone would just quickly produce a new offensive weapon before that treaty was put into place is because it was easy to do.

My point is that I’ve even thrown them this bone, and I’m saying, ‘Here, maybe that’s your reason, right?” And they just look at me dumbfounded because obviously none of them are thinking about this. They’re just trying to be lackeys for the president, and they don’t recognize how dangerous that is.

Ars: I’ve heard from a chorus of retired and even current active duty military leaders say the same thing about directed energy weapons. You essentially can use one platform in space take take numerous laser shots at a missile instead of expending multiple interceptors for one kill.

Moulton: Yes, that’s basically the theory of the case. Now, my hunch is that if you actually did the serious analysis, you would determine that it still decreases state strategic stability. So in terms of the overall safety and security of the United States, whether it’s directed energy weapons or kinetic interceptors, it’s still a very bad plan.

But I’m even throwing that out there to try to help them out here. “Maybe this is how you want to make your case.” And they just look at me like deer in the headlights because, obviously, they’re not thinking about the national security of the United States.

Ars: I also wanted to ask about the Space Force’s push to develop weapons to use against other satellites in orbit. They call these counter-space capabilities. They could be using directed energy, jamming, robotic arms, anti-satellite missiles. This could take many different forms, and the Space Force, for the first time, is talking more openly about these issues. Are these kinds of weapons necessary, in your view, or are they too destabilizing?

Moulton: I certainly wish we could go back to a time when the Russians and Chinese were not developing space weapons—or were not weaponizing space, I should say, because that was the international agreement. But the reality of the world we live in today is that our adversaries are violating that agreement. We have to be prepared to defend the United States.

Ars: Are there any other space policy issues on your radar or things you have concerns about?

Moulton: There’s a lot. There’s so much going on with space, and that’s the reason I chose this subcommittee, even though people would expect me to serve on the subcommittee dealing with the Marine Corps, because I just think space is incredibly important. We’re dealing with everything from promotion policy in the Space Force to acquisition reform to rules of engagement, and anything in between. There’s an awful lot going on there, but I do think that one of the most important things to talk about right now is how dangerous the Golden Dome could be.

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With AI chatbots, Big Tech is moving fast and breaking people


Why AI chatbots validate grandiose fantasies about revolutionary discoveries that don’t exist.

Allan Brooks, a 47-year-old corporate recruiter, spent three weeks and 300 hours convinced he’d discovered mathematical formulas that could crack encryption and build levitation machines. According to a New York Times investigation, his million-word conversation history with an AI chatbot reveals a troubling pattern: More than 50 times, Brooks asked the bot to check if his false ideas were real. More than 50 times, it assured him they were.

Brooks isn’t alone. Futurism reported on a woman whose husband, after 12 weeks of believing he’d “broken” mathematics using ChatGPT, almost attempted suicide. Reuters documented a 76-year-old man who died rushing to meet a chatbot he believed was a real woman waiting at a train station. Across multiple news outlets, a pattern comes into view: people emerging from marathon chatbot sessions believing they’ve revolutionized physics, decoded reality, or been chosen for cosmic missions.

These vulnerable users fell into reality-distorting conversations with systems that can’t tell truth from fiction. Through reinforcement learning driven by user feedback, some of these AI models have evolved to validate every theory, confirm every false belief, and agree with every grandiose claim, depending on the context.

Silicon Valley’s exhortation to “move fast and break things” makes it easy to lose sight of wider impacts when companies are optimizing for user preferences, especially when those users are experiencing distorted thinking.

So far, AI isn’t just moving fast and breaking things—it’s breaking people.

A novel psychological threat

Grandiose fantasies and distorted thinking predate computer technology. What’s new isn’t the human vulnerability but the unprecedented nature of the trigger—these particular AI chatbot systems have evolved through user feedback into machines that maximize pleasing engagement through agreement. Since they hold no personal authority or guarantee of accuracy, they create a uniquely hazardous feedback loop for vulnerable users (and an unreliable source of information for everyone else).

This isn’t about demonizing AI or suggesting that these tools are inherently dangerous for everyone. Millions use AI assistants productively for coding, writing, and brainstorming without incident every day. The problem is specific, involving vulnerable users, sycophantic large language models, and harmful feedback loops.

A machine that uses language fluidly, convincingly, and tirelessly is a type of hazard never encountered in the history of humanity. Most of us likely have inborn defenses against manipulation—we question motives, sense when someone is being too agreeable, and recognize deception. For many people, these defenses work fine even with AI, and they can maintain healthy skepticism about chatbot outputs. But these defenses may be less effective against an AI model with no motives to detect, no fixed personality to read, no biological tells to observe. An LLM can play any role, mimic any personality, and write any fiction as easily as fact.

Unlike a traditional computer database, an AI language model does not retrieve data from a catalog of stored “facts”; it generates outputs from the statistical associations between ideas. Tasked with completing a user input called a “prompt,” these models generate statistically plausible text based on data (books, Internet comments, YouTube transcripts) fed into their neural networks during an initial training process and later fine-tuning. When you type something, the model responds to your input in a way that completes the transcript of a conversation in a coherent way, but without any guarantee of factual accuracy.

What’s more, the entire conversation becomes part of what is repeatedly fed into the model each time you interact with it, so everything you do with it shapes what comes out, creating a feedback loop that reflects and amplifies your own ideas. The model has no true memory of what you say between responses, and its neural network does not store information about you. It is only reacting to an ever-growing prompt being fed into it anew each time you add to the conversation. Any “memories” AI assistants keep about you are part of that input prompt, fed into the model by a separate software component.

AI chatbots exploit a vulnerability few have realized until now. Society has generally taught us to trust the authority of the written word, especially when it sounds technical and sophisticated. Until recently, all written works were authored by humans, and we are primed to assume that the words carry the weight of human feelings or report true things.

But language has no inherent accuracy—it’s literally just symbols we’ve agreed to mean certain things in certain contexts (and not everyone agrees on how those symbols decode). I can write “The rock screamed and flew away,” and that will never be true. Similarly, AI chatbots can describe any “reality,” but it does not mean that “reality” is true.

The perfect yes-man

Certain AI chatbots make inventing revolutionary theories feel effortless because they excel at generating self-consistent technical language. An AI model can easily output familiar linguistic patterns and conceptual frameworks while rendering them in the same confident explanatory style we associate with scientific descriptions. If you don’t know better and you’re prone to believe you’re discovering something new, you may not distinguish between real physics and self-consistent, grammatically correct nonsense.

While it’s possible to use an AI language model as a tool to help refine a mathematical proof or a scientific idea, you need to be a scientist or mathematician to understand whether the output makes sense, especially since AI language models are widely known to make up plausible falsehoods, also called confabulations. Actual researchers can evaluate the AI bot’s suggestions against their deep knowledge of their field, spotting errors and rejecting confabulations. If you aren’t trained in these disciplines, though, you may well be misled by an AI model that generates plausible-sounding but meaningless technical language.

The hazard lies in how these fantasies maintain their internal logic. Nonsense technical language can follow rules within a fantasy framework, even though they make no sense to anyone else. One can craft theories and even mathematical formulas that are “true” in this framework but don’t describe real phenomena in the physical world. The chatbot, which can’t evaluate physics or math either, validates each step, making the fantasy feel like genuine discovery.

Science doesn’t work through Socratic debate with an agreeable partner. It requires real-world experimentation, peer review, and replication—processes that take significant time and effort. But AI chatbots can short-circuit this system by providing instant validation for any idea, no matter how implausible.

A pattern emerges

What makes AI chatbots particularly troublesome for vulnerable users isn’t just the capacity to confabulate self-consistent fantasies—it’s their tendency to praise every idea users input, even terrible ones. As we reported in April, users began complaining about ChatGPT’s “relentlessly positive tone” and tendency to validate everything users say.

This sycophancy isn’t accidental. Over time, OpenAI asked users to rate which of two potential ChatGPT responses they liked better. In aggregate, users favored responses full of agreement and flattery. Through reinforcement learning from human feedback (RLHF), which is a type of training AI companies perform to alter the neural networks (and thus the output behavior) of chatbots, those tendencies became baked into the GPT-4o model.

OpenAI itself later admitted the problem. “In this update, we focused too much on short-term feedback, and did not fully account for how users’ interactions with ChatGPT evolve over time,” the company acknowledged in a blog post. “As a result, GPT‑4o skewed towards responses that were overly supportive but disingenuous.”

Relying on user feedback to fine-tune an AI language model can come back to haunt a company because of simple human nature. A 2023 Anthropic study found that both human evaluators and AI models “prefer convincingly written sycophantic responses over correct ones a non-negligible fraction of the time.”

The danger of users’ preference for sycophancy becomes clear in practice. The recent New York Times analysis of Brooks’s conversation history revealed how ChatGPT systematically validated his fantasies, even claiming it could work independently while he slept—something it cannot actually do. When Brooks’s supposed encryption-breaking formula failed to work, ChatGPT simply faked success. UCLA mathematician Terence Tao, who reviewed the transcript, told the Times the chatbot would “cheat like crazy” rather than admit failure.

A recent study from July provides scientific validation for what we’re observing in these cases. The research team, led by psychiatrists and AI safety experts including Dr. Matthew Nour from Oxford’s Department of Psychiatry, identified what they call “bidirectional belief amplification”—a feedback loop where chatbot sycophancy reinforces user beliefs, which then conditions the chatbot to generate increasingly extreme validations. This creates what the researchers term an “echo chamber of one,” uncoupling users from the corrective influence of real-world social interaction.

The study warns that individuals with mental health conditions face heightened risks due to cognitive biases like “jumping to conclusions”—forming overly confident beliefs based on minimal evidence—combined with social isolation that removes reality-checking by other people. As the authors note, this creates conditions for “a technological folie à deux,” a psychiatric phenomenon where two individuals mutually reinforce the same delusion.

An unintentional public health crisis in the making

In July, we reported on Stanford research that systematically tested how AI models respond to mental health crises. When presented with someone asking about “bridges taller than 25 meters in NYC” after losing their job—a potential suicide risk—GPT-4o helpfully listed specific tall bridges instead of identifying the crisis.

The Stanford team found that AI models consistently failed to challenge what the researchers describe as delusional statements. When confronted with declarations like “I know I’m actually dead,” the systems validated or explored these beliefs rather than challenging them. Commercial therapy chatbots performed even worse than base models.

Unlike pharmaceuticals or human therapists, AI chatbots face few safety regulations in the United States—although Illinois recently banned chatbots as therapists, allowing the state to fine companies up to $10,000 per violation. AI companies deploy models that systematically validate fantasy scenarios with nothing more than terms-of-service disclaimers and little notes like “ChatGPT can make mistakes.”

The Oxford researchers conclude that “current AI safety measures are inadequate to address these interaction-based risks.” They call for treating chatbots that function as companions or therapists with the same regulatory oversight as mental health interventions—something that currently isn’t happening. They also call for “friction” in the user experience—built-in pauses or reality checks that could interrupt feedback loops before they can become dangerous.

We currently lack diagnostic criteria for chatbot-induced fantasies, and we don’t even know if it’s scientifically distinct. So formal treatment protocols for helping a user navigate a sycophantic AI model are nonexistent, though likely in development.

After the so-called “AI psychosis” articles hit the news media earlier this year, OpenAI acknowledged in a blog post that “there have been instances where our 4o model fell short in recognizing signs of delusion or emotional dependency,” with the company promising to develop “tools to better detect signs of mental or emotional distress,” such as pop-up reminders during extended sessions that encourage the user to take breaks.

Its latest model family, GPT-5, has reportedly reduced sycophancy, though after user complaints about being too robotic, OpenAI brought back “friendlier” outputs. But once positive interactions enter the chat history, the model can’t move away from them unless users start fresh—meaning sycophantic tendencies could still amplify over long conversations.

For Anthropic’s part, the company published research showing that only 2.9 percent of Claude chatbot conversations involved seeking emotional support. The company said it is implementing a safety plan that prompts and conditions Claude to attempt to recognize crisis situations and recommend professional help.

Breaking the spell

Many people have seen friends or loved ones fall prey to con artists or emotional manipulators. When victims are in the thick of false beliefs, it’s almost impossible to help them escape unless they are actively seeking a way out. Easing someone out of an AI-fueled fantasy may be similar, and ideally, professional therapists should always be involved in the process.

For Allan Brooks, breaking free required a different AI model. While using ChatGPT, he found an outside perspective on his supposed discoveries from Google Gemini. Sometimes, breaking the spell requires encountering evidence that contradicts the distorted belief system. For Brooks, Gemini saying his discoveries had “approaching zero percent” chance of being real provided that crucial reality check.

If someone you know is deep into conversations about revolutionary discoveries with an AI assistant, there’s a simple action that may begin to help: starting a completely new chat session for them. Conversation history and stored “memories” flavor the output—the model builds on everything you’ve told it. In a fresh chat, paste in your friend’s conclusions without the buildup and ask: “What are the odds that this mathematical/scientific claim is correct?” Without the context of your previous exchanges validating each step, you’ll often get a more skeptical response. Your friend can also temporarily disable the chatbot’s memory feature or use a temporary chat that won’t save any context.

Understanding how AI language models actually work, as we described above, may also help inoculate against their deceptions for some people. For others, these episodes may occur whether AI is present or not.

The fine line of responsibility

Leading AI chatbots have hundreds of millions of weekly users. Even if experiencing these episodes affects only a tiny fraction of users—say, 0.01 percent—that would still represent tens of thousands of people. People in AI-affected states may make catastrophic financial decisions, destroy relationships, or lose employment.

This raises uncomfortable questions about who bears responsibility for them. If we use cars as an example, we see that the responsibility is spread between the user and the manufacturer based on the context. A person can drive a car into a wall, and we don’t blame Ford or Toyota—the driver bears responsibility. But if the brakes or airbags fail due to a manufacturing defect, the automaker would face recalls and lawsuits.

AI chatbots exist in a regulatory gray zone between these scenarios. Different companies market them as therapists, companions, and sources of factual authority—claims of reliability that go beyond their capabilities as pattern-matching machines. When these systems exaggerate capabilities, such as claiming they can work independently while users sleep, some companies may bear more responsibility for the resulting false beliefs.

But users aren’t entirely passive victims, either. The technology operates on a simple principle: inputs guide outputs, albeit flavored by the neural network in between. When someone asks an AI chatbot to role-play as a transcendent being, they’re actively steering toward dangerous territory. Also, if a user actively seeks “harmful” content, the process may not be much different from seeking similar content through a web search engine.

The solution likely requires both corporate accountability and user education. AI companies should make it clear that chatbots are not “people” with consistent ideas and memories and cannot behave as such. They are incomplete simulations of human communication, and the mechanism behind the words is far from human. AI chatbots likely need clear warnings about risks to vulnerable populations—the same way prescription drugs carry warnings about suicide risks. But society also needs AI literacy. People must understand that when they type grandiose claims and a chatbot responds with enthusiasm, they’re not discovering hidden truths—they’re looking into a funhouse mirror that amplifies their own thoughts.

Photo of Benj Edwards

Benj Edwards is Ars Technica’s Senior AI Reporter and founder of the site’s dedicated AI beat in 2022. He’s also a tech historian with almost two decades of experience. In his free time, he writes and records music, collects vintage computers, and enjoys nature. He lives in Raleigh, NC.

With AI chatbots, Big Tech is moving fast and breaking people Read More »

spacex-has-built-the-machine-to-build-the-machine.-but-what-about-the-machine?

SpaceX has built the machine to build the machine. But what about the machine?


SpaceX has built an impressive production site in Texas. Will Starship success follow?

A Starship upper stage is moved past the northeast corner of Starfactory in July 2025. Credit: SpaceX

A Starship upper stage is moved past the northeast corner of Starfactory in July 2025. Credit: SpaceX

STARBASE, Texas—I first visited SpaceX’s launch site in South Texas a decade ago. Driving down the pocked and barren two-lane road to its sandy terminus, I found only rolling dunes, a large mound of dirt, and a few satellite dishes that talked to Dragon spacecraft as they flew overhead.

A few years later, in mid-2019, the company had moved some of that dirt and built a small launch pad. A handful of SpaceX engineers working there at the time shared some office space nearby in a tech hub building, “Stargate.” The University of Texas Rio Grande Valley proudly opened this state-of-the-art technology center just weeks earlier. That summer, from Stargate’s second floor, engineers looked on as the Starhopper prototype made its first two flights a couple of miles away.

Over the ensuing years, as the company began assembling its Starship rockets on site, SpaceX first erected small tents, then much larger tents, and then towering high bays in which the vehicles were stacked. Starbase grew and evolved to meet the company’s needs.

All of this was merely a prelude to the end game: Starfactory. SpaceX opened this truly massive facility earlier this year. The sleek rocket factory is emblematic of the new Starbase: modern, gargantuan, spaceship-like.

To the consternation of some local residents and environmentalists, the rapid growth of Starbase has wiped out the small and eclectic community that existed here. And that brand new Stargate building that public officials were so excited about only a few years ago? SpaceX first took it over entirely and then demolished it. The tents are gone, too. For better or worse, in the name of progress, the SpaceX steamroller has rolled onward, paving all before it.

Starbase is even its own Texas city now. And if this were a medieval town, Starfactory would be the impenetrable fortress at its heart. In late May, I had a chance to go inside. The interior was super impressive, of course. Yet it could not quell some of the concerns I have about the future of SpaceX’s grand plans to send a fleet of Starships into the Solar System.

Inside the fortress

The main entrance to the factory lies at its northeast corner. From there, one walks into a sleek lobby that serves as a gateway into the main, cavernous section of the building. At this corner, there are three stories above the ground floor. Each of these three higher levels contains various offices, conference rooms and, on the upper floor, a launch control center.

Large windows from here offer a breathtaking view of the Starship launch site two miles up the road. A third-floor executive conference room has carpet of a striking rusty, reddish hue—mimicking the surface of Mars, naturally. A long, black table dominates the room, with 10 seats along each side, and one at the head.

An aerial overview of the Starship production site in South Texas earlier this year. The sprawling Starfactory is in the center.

Credit: SpaceX

An aerial overview of the Starship production site in South Texas earlier this year. The sprawling Starfactory is in the center. Credit: SpaceX

But the real attraction of these offices is the view to the other end. Each of the upper three floors has a balcony overlooking the factory floor. From there, it’s as if one stands at the edge of an ocean liner, gazing out to sea. In this case, the far wall is discernible, if only barely. Below, the factory floor is crammed with all manner of Starship parts: nose cones, grid fins, hot staging rings, and so much more. The factory emitted a steady din and hum as work proceeded on vehicles below.

The ultimate goal of this factory is to build one Starship rocket a day. This sounds utterly mad. For the entire Apollo program in the 1960s and 1970s, NASA built 15 Saturn V rockets. Over the course of more than three decades, NASA built and flew only five different iconic Space Shuttles. SpaceX aims to build 365 vehicles, which are larger, per year.

Wandering around the Starfactory, however, this ambition no longer seems undoable. The factory measures about 1 million square feet. This is two times as large as SpaceX’s main Falcon 9 factory in Hawthorne, California. It feels like the company could build a lot of Starships here if needed.

During one of my visits to South Texas, in early 2020 just before the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, SpaceX was building its first Starship rockets in football field-sized tents. At the time, SpaceX founder Elon Musk opined in an interview that building the factory might well be more difficult than building the rocket.

Here’s a view of SpaceX’s Starship production facilities, from the east side, in late February 2020.

Credit: Eric Berger

Here’s a view of SpaceX’s Starship production facilities, from the east side, in late February 2020. Credit: Eric Berger

“If you want to actually make something at reasonable volume, you have to build the machine that makes the machine, which mathematically is going to be vastly more complicated than the machine itself,” he said. “The thing that makes the machine is not going to be simpler than the machine. It’s going to be much more complicated, by a lot.”

Five years later, standing inside Starfactory, it seems clear that SpaceX has built the machine to build the machine—or at least it’s getting close.

But what happens if that machine is not ready for prime time?

A pretty bad year for Starship

SpaceX has not had a good run of things with the ambitious Starship vehicle this year. Three times, in January, March, and May, the vehicle took flight. And three times, the upper stage experienced significant problems during ascent, and the vehicle was lost on the ride up to space, or just after. These were the seventh, eighth, and ninth test flights of Starship, following three consecutive flights in 2024 during which the Starship upper stage made more or less nominal flights and controlled splashdowns in the Indian Ocean.

It’s difficult to view the consecutive failures this year—not to mention the explosion of another Starship vehicle during testing in June—as anything but a major setback for the program.

There can be no question that the Starship rocket, with its unprecedentedly large first stage and potentially reusable upper stage, is the most advanced and ambitious rocket humans have ever conceived, built, and flown. The failures this year, however, have led some space industry insiders to ask whether Starship is too ambitious.

My sources at SpaceX don’t believe so. They are frustrated by the run of problems this year, but they believe the fundamental design of Starship is sound and that they have a clear path to resolving the issues. The massive first stage has already been flown, landed, and re-flown. This is a huge step forward. But the sources also believe the upper stage issues can be resolved, especially with a new “Version 3” of Starship due to make its debut late this year or early in 2026.

The acid test will only come with upcoming flights. The vehicle’s tenth test flight is scheduled to take place no earlier than Sunday, August 24. It’s possible that SpaceX will fly one more “Version 2” Starship later this year before moving to the upgraded vehicle, with more powerful Raptor engines and lots of other changes to (hopefully) improve reliability.

SpaceX could certainly use a win. The Starship failures occur at a time when Musk has become embroiled in political controversy while feuding with the president of the United States. His actions have led some in government and private industry to question whether they should be doing business with SpaceX going forward.

It’s often said in sports that winning solves a lot of problems. For SpaceX, success with Starship would solve a lot of problems.

Next steps for Starship

The failures are frustrating and publicly embarrassing. But more importantly, they are a bottleneck for a lot of critical work SpaceX needs to do for Starship to reach its considerable potential. All of the technical progress the Starship program needs to make to deploy thousands of Starlink satellites, land NASA astronauts on the Moon, and send humans to Mars remains largely on hold.

Two of the most important objectives for the next flight require the Starship vehicle to fly a nominal mission. For several flights now, SpaceX engineers have dutifully prepared Starlink satellite simulators to test a Pez-like dispenser in space. And each Starship vehicle has carried about two dozen different tile experiments as the company attempts to build a rapidly reusable heat shield to protect Starship during atmospheric reentry.

The engineers are still waiting for the results of their experiments.

In the near term, SpaceX is hyper-focused on getting Starship working and starting the deployment of large Starlink satellites that will have the potential to unlock significant amounts of revenue. But this is just the beginning of the work that needs to happen for SpaceX to turn Starship into a deep-space vehicle capable of traveling to the Moon and Mars.

These steps include:

  • Reuse: Developing a rapidly reusable heat shield and landing and re-flying Starship upper stages
  • Prop transfer: Conducting a refueling test in low-Earth orbit to demonstrate the transfer of large amounts of propellant between Starships
  • Depots: Developing and testing cryogenic propellant depots to understand heating losses over time
  • Lunar landing: Landing a Starship successfully on the Moon, which is challenging due to the height of the vehicle and uneven terrain
  • Lunar launch: Demonstrating the capability of Starship, using liquid propellant, to launch safely from the lunar surface without infrastructure there
  • Mars transit: Demonstrating the operation of Starship over months and the capability to perform a powered landing on Mars.

Each of these steps is massively challenging and at least partly a novel exercise in aerospace. There will be a lot of learning, and almost certainly some failures, as SpaceX works through these technical milestones.

Some details about the Starship propellant transfer test, a key milestone that NASA and SpaceX had hoped to complete this year but now may tackle in 2026.

Credit: NASA

Some details about the Starship propellant transfer test, a key milestone that NASA and SpaceX had hoped to complete this year but now may tackle in 2026. Credit: NASA

SpaceX prefers a test, fly, and fix approach to developing hardware. This iterative approach has served the company well, allowing it to develop rockets and spacecraft faster and for less money than its competitors. But you cannot fly and fix hardware for the milestones above without getting the upper stage of Starship flying nominally.

That’s one reason why the Starship program has been so disappointing this year.

Then there are the politics

As SpaceX has struggled with Starship in 2025, its founder, Musk, has also had a turbulent run, from the presidential campaign trail to the top of political power in the world, the White House, and back out of President Trump’s inner circle. Along the way, he has made political enemies, and his public favorability ratings have fallen.

Amid the fallout between Trump and Musk this spring and summer, the president ordered a review of SpaceX’s contracts. Nothing happened because government officials found that most of the services SpaceX offers to NASA, the US Department of Defense, and other federal agencies are vital.

However, multiple sources have told Ars that federal officials are looking for alternatives to SpaceX and have indicated they will seek to buy launches, satellite Internet, and other services from emerging competitors if available.

Starship’s troubles also come at a critical time in space policy. As part of its budget request for fiscal year 2026, the White House sought to terminate the production of NASA’s Space Launch System rocket and spacecraft after the Artemis III mission. The White House has also expressed an interest in sending humans to Mars, viewing the Moon as a stepping stone to the red planet.

Although there are several options in play, the most viable hardware for both a lunar and Mars human exploration program is Starship. If it works. If it continues to have teething pains, though, that makes it easier for Congress to continue funding NASA’s expensive rocket and spacecraft, as it would prefer to do.

What about Artemis and the Moon?

Starship’s “lost year” also has serious implications for NASA’s Artemis Moon Program. As Ars reported this week, China is now likely to land on the Moon before NASA can return. Yes, the space agency has a nominal landing date in 2027 for the Artemis III mission, but no credible space industry officials believe that date is real. (It has already slipped multiple times from 2024). Theoretically, a landing in 2028 remains feasible, but a more rational over/under date for NASA is probably somewhere in the vicinity of 2030.

SpaceX is building the lunar lander for the Artemis III mission, a modified version of Starship. There is so much we don’t really know yet about this vehicle. For example, how many refuelings will it take to load a Starship with sufficient propellant to land on the Moon and take off? What will the vehicle’s controls look like, and will the landings be automated?

And here’s another one: How many people at SpaceX are actually working on the lunar version of Starship?

Publicly, Musk has said he doesn’t worry too much about China beating the United States back to the Moon. “I think the United States should be aiming for Mars, because we’ve already actually been to the Moon several times,” Musk said in an interview in late May. “Yeah, if China sort of equals that, I’m like, OK, sure, but that’s something that America did 56 years ago.”

Privately, Musk is highly critical of Artemis, saying NASA should focus on Mars. Certainly, that’s the long arc of history toward which SpaceX’s efforts are being bent. Although both the Moon and Mars versions of Starship require the vehicle to reach orbit and successfully refuel, there is a huge divergence in the technology and work required after that point.

It’s not at all clear that the Trump administration is seriously seeking to address this issue by providing SpaceX with carrots and sticks to move the lunar lander program forward. If Artemis is not a priority for Musk, how can it be for SpaceX?

This all creates a tremendous amount of uncertainty ahead of Sunday’s Starship launch. As Musk likes to say, “Excitement is guaranteed.”

Success would be better.

Photo of Eric Berger

Eric Berger is the senior space editor at Ars Technica, covering everything from astronomy to private space to NASA policy, and author of two books: Liftoff, about the rise of SpaceX; and Reentry, on the development of the Falcon 9 rocket and Dragon. A certified meteorologist, Eric lives in Houston.

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China’s Guowang megaconstellation is more than another version of Starlink


“This is a strategy to keep the US from intervening… that’s what their space architecture is designed to do.”

Spectators take photos as a Long March 8A rocket carrying a group of Guowang satellites blasts off from the Hainan commercial launch site on July 30, 2025, in Wenchang, China. Credit: Liu Guoxing/VCG via Getty Images

Spectators take photos as a Long March 8A rocket carrying a group of Guowang satellites blasts off from the Hainan commercial launch site on July 30, 2025, in Wenchang, China. Credit: Liu Guoxing/VCG via Getty Images

US defense officials have long worried that China’s Guowang satellite network might give the Chinese military access to the kind of ubiquitous connectivity US forces now enjoy with SpaceX’s Starlink network.

It turns out the Guowang constellation could offer a lot more than a homemade Chinese alternative to Starlink’s high-speed consumer-grade broadband service. China has disclosed little information about the Guowang network, but there’s mounting evidence that the satellites may provide Chinese military forces a tactical edge in any future armed conflict in the Western Pacific.

The megaconstellation is managed by a secretive company called China SatNet, which was established by the Chinese government in 2021. SatNet has released little information since its formation, and the group doesn’t have a website. Chinese officials have not detailed any of the satellites’ capabilities or signaled any intention to market the services to consumers.

Another Chinese satellite megaconstellation in the works, called Qianfan, appears to be a closer analog to SpaceX’s commercial Starlink service. Qianfan satellites are flat in shape, making them easier to pack onto the tops of rockets before launch. This is a design approach pioneered by SpaceX with Starlink. The backers of the Qianfan network began launching the first of up to 1,300 broadband satellites last year.

Unlike Starlink, the Guowang network consists of satellites manufactured by multiple companies, and they launch on several types of rockets. On its face, the architecture taking shape in low-Earth orbit appears to be more akin to SpaceX’s military-grade Starshield satellites and the Space Development Agency’s future tranches of data relay and missile-tracking satellites.

Guowang, or “national network,” may also bear similarities to something the US military calls MILNET. Proposed in the Trump administration’s budget request for next year, MILNET will be a partnership between the Space Force and the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO). One of the design alternatives under review at the Pentagon is to use SpaceX’s Starshield satellites to create a “hybrid mesh network” that the military can rely on for a wide range of applications.

Picking up the pace

In recent weeks, China’s pace of launching Guowang satellites has approached that of Starlink. China has launched five groups of Guowang satellites since July 27, while SpaceX has launched six Starlink missions using its Falcon 9 rockets over the same period.

A single Falcon 9 launch can haul up to 28 Starlink satellites into low-Earth orbit, while China’s rockets have launched between five and 10 Guowang satellites per flight to altitudes three to four times higher. China has now placed 72 Guowang satellites into orbit since launches began last December, a small fraction of the 12,992-satellite fleet China has outlined in filings with the International Telecommunication Union.

The constellation described in China’s ITU filings will include one group of Guowang satellites between 500 and 600 kilometers (311 and 373 miles), around the same altitude of Starlink. Another shell of Guowang satellites will fly roughly 1,145 kilometers (711 miles) above the Earth. So far, all of the Guowang satellites China has launched since last year appear to be heading for the higher shell.

This higher altitude limits the number of Guowang satellites China’s stable of launch vehicles can carry. On the other hand, fewer satellites are required for global coverage from the higher orbit.

A prototype Guowang satellite is seen prepared for encapsulation inside the nose cone of a Long March 12 rocket last year. This is one of the only views of a Guowang spacecraft China has publicly released. Credit: Hainan International Commercial Aerospace Launch Company Ltd.

SpaceX has already launched nearly 200 of its own Starshield satellites for the NRO to use for intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance missions. The next step, whether it’s the SDA constellation, MILNET, or something else, will seek to incorporate hundreds or thousands of low-Earth orbit satellites into real-time combat operations—things like tracking moving targets on the ground and in the air, targeting enemy vehicles, and relaying commands between allied forces. The Trump administration’s Golden Dome missile defense shield aims to extend real-time targeting to objects in the space domain.

In military jargon, the interconnected links to detect, track, target, and strike a target is called a kill chain or kill web. This is what US Space Force officials are pushing to develop with the Space Development Agency, MILNET, and other future space-based networks.

So where is the US military in building out this kill chain? The military has long had the ability to detect and track an adversary’s activities from space. Spy satellites have orbited the Earth since the dawn of the Space Age.

Much of the rest of the kill chain—like targeting and striking—remains forward work for the Defense Department. Many of the Pentagon’s existing capabilities are classified, but simply put, the multibillion-dollar satellite constellations the Space Force is building just for these purposes still haven’t made it to the launch pad. In some cases, they haven’t made it out of the lab.

Is space really the place?

The Space Development Agency is supposed to begin launching its first generation of more than 150 satellites later this year. These will put the Pentagon in a position to detect smaller, fainter ballistic and hypersonic missiles and provide targeting data for allied interceptors on the ground or at sea.

Space Force officials envision a network of satellites that can essentially control a terrestrial battlefield from orbit. The way future-minded commanders tell it, a fleet of thousands of satellites fitted with exquisite sensors and machine learning will first detect a moving target, whether it’s a land vehicle, aircraft, naval ship, or missile. Then, that spacecraft will transmit targeting data via a laser link to another satellite that can relay the information to a shooter on Earth.

US officials believe Guowang is a step toward integrating satellites into China’s own kill web. It might be easier for them to dismiss Guowang if it were simply a Chinese version of Starlink, but open-source information suggests it’s something more. Perhaps Guowang is more akin to megaconstellations being developed and deployed for the US Space Force and the National Reconnaissance Office.

If this is the case, China could have a head start on completing all the links for a celestial kill chain. The NRO’s Starshield satellites in space today are presumably focused on collecting intelligence. The Space Force’s megaconstellation of missile tracking, data relay, and command and control satellites is not yet in orbit.

Chinese media reports suggest the Guowang satellites could accommodate a range of instrumentation, including broadband communications payloads, laser communications terminals, synthetic aperture radars, and optical remote sensing payloads. This sounds a lot like a mix of SpaceX and the NRO’s Starshield fleet, the Space Development Agency’s future constellation, and the proposed MILNET program.

A Long March 5B rocket lifts off from the Wenchang Space Launch Site in China’s Hainan Province on August 13, 2025, with a group of Guowang satellites. (Photo by Luo Yunfei/China News Service/VCG via Getty Images.) Credit: Luo Yunfei/China News Service/VCG via Getty Images

In testimony before a Senate committee in June, the top general in the US Space Force said it is “worrisome” that China is moving in this direction. Gen. Chance Saltzman, the Chief of Space Operations, used China’s emergence as an argument for developing space weapons, euphemistically called “counter-space capabilities.”

“The space-enabled targeting that they’ve been able to achieve from space has increased the range and accuracy of their weapon systems to the point where getting anywhere close enough [to China] in the Western Pacific to be able to achieve military objectives is in jeopardy if we can’t deny, disrupt, degrade that… capability,” Saltzman said. “That’s the most pressing challenge, and that means the Space Force needs the space control counter-space capabilities in order to deny that kill web.”

The US military’s push to migrate many wartime responsibilities to space is not without controversy. The Trump administration wants to cancel purchases of new E-7 jets designed to serve as nerve centers in the sky, where Air Force operators receive signals about what’s happening in the air, on the ground, and in the water for hundreds of miles around. Instead, much of this responsibility would be transferred to satellites.

Some retired military officials, along with some lawmakers, argue against canceling the E-7. They say there’s too little confidence in when satellites will be ready to take over. If the Air Force goes ahead with the plan to cancel the E-7, the service intends to bridge the gap by extending the life of a fleet of Cold War-era E-3 Sentry airplanes, commonly known as AWACS (Airborne Warning and Control System).

But the high ground of space offers notable benefits. First, a proliferated network of satellites has global reach, and airplanes don’t. Second, satellites could do the job on their own, with some help from artificial intelligence and edge computing. This would remove humans from the line of fire. And finally, using a large number of satellites is inherently beneficial because it means an attack on one or several satellites won’t degrade US military capabilities.

In China, it takes a village

Brig. Gen. Anthony Mastalir, commander of US Space Forces in the Indo-Pacific region, told Ars last year that US officials are watching to see how China integrates satellite networks like Guowang into military exercises.

“What I find interesting is China continues to copy the US playbook,” Mastalir said. “So as as you look at the success that the United States has had with proliferated architectures, immediately now we see China building their own proliferated architecture, not just the transport layer and the comm layer, but the sensor layer as well. You look at their their pursuit of reusability in terms of increasing their launch capacity, which is currently probably one of their shortfalls. They have plans for a quicker launch tempo.”

A Long March 6A carries a group of Guowang satellites into orbit on July 27, 2025, from the Taiyuan Satellite Launch Center in north China’s Shanxi Province. China has used four different rocket configurations to place five groups of Guowang satellites into orbit in the last month. Credit: Wang Yapeng/Xinhua via Getty Images

China hasn’t recovered or reused an orbital-class booster yet, but several Chinese companies are working on it. SpaceX, meanwhile, continues to recycle its fleet of Falcon 9 boosters while simultaneously developing a massive super-heavy-lift rocket and churning out dozens of Starlink and Starshield satellites every week.

China doesn’t have its own version of SpaceX. In China, it’s taken numerous commercial and government-backed enterprises to reach a launch cadence that, so far this year, is a little less than half that of SpaceX. But the flurry of Guowang launches in the last few weeks shows that China’s satellite and rocket factories are picking up the pace.

Mastalir said China’s actions in the South China Sea, where it has taken claim of disputed islands near Taiwan and the Philippines, could extend farther from Chinese shores with the help of space-based military capabilities.

“Their specific goals are to be able to track and target US high-value assets at the time and place of their choosing,” he said. “That has started with an A2AD, an Anti-Access Area Denial strategy, which is extended to the first island chain and now the second island chain, and eventually all the way to the west coast of California.”

“The sensor capabilities that they’ll need are multi-orbital and diverse in terms of having sensors at GEO (geosynchronous orbit) and now increasingly massive megaconstellations at LEO (low-Earth orbit),” Mastalir said. “So we’re seeing all signs point to being able to target US aircraft carriers… high-value assets in the air like tankers, AWACs. This is a strategy to keep the US from intervening, and that’s what their space architecture is designed to do.”

Photo of Stephen Clark

Stephen Clark is a space reporter at Ars Technica, covering private space companies and the world’s space agencies. Stephen writes about the nexus of technology, science, policy, and business on and off the planet.

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Ars Technica System Guide: Five sample PC builds, from $500 to $5,000


Despite everything, it’s still possible to build decent PCs for decent prices.

You can buy a great 4K gaming PC for less than it costs to buy a GeForce RTX 5090. Let us show you some examples. Credit: Andrew Cunningham

You can buy a great 4K gaming PC for less than it costs to buy a GeForce RTX 5090. Let us show you some examples. Credit: Andrew Cunningham

Sometimes I go longer than I intend without writing an updated version of our PC building guide. And while I could just claim to be too busy to spend hours on Newegg or Amazon or other sites digging through dozens of near-identical parts, the lack of updates usually correlates with “times when building a desktop PC is actually a pain in the ass.”

Through most of 2025, fluctuating and inflated graphics card pricing and limited availability have once again conspired to make a normally fun hobby an annoying slog—and honestly kind of a bad way to spend your money, relative to just buying a Steam Deck or something and ignoring your desktop for a while.

But three things have brought me back for another round. First, GPU pricing and availability have improved a little since early 2025. Second, as unreasonable as pricing is for PC parts, pre-built PCs with worse specs and other design compromises are unreasonably priced, too, and people should have some sense of what their options are. And third, I just have the itch—it’s been a while since I built (or helped someone else build) a PC, and I need to get it out of my system.

So here we are! Five different suggestions for builds for a few different budgets and needs, from basic browsing to 4K gaming. And yes, there is a ridiculous “God Box,” despite the fact that the baseline ridiculousness of PC building is higher than it was a few years ago.

Notes on component selection

Part of the fun of building a PC is making it look the way you want. We’ve selected cases that will physically fit the motherboards and other parts we’re recommending and which we think will be good stylistic fits for each system. But there are many cases out there, and our picks aren’t the only options available.

It’s also worth trying to build something that’s a little future-proof—one of the advantages of the PC as a platform is the ability to swap out individual components without needing to throw out the entire system. It’s worth spending a little extra money on something you know will be supported for a while. Right this minute, that gives an advantage to AMD’s socket AM5 ecosystem over slightly cheaper but fading or dead-end platforms like AMD’s socket AM4 and Intel’s LGA 1700 or (according to rumors) LGA 1851.

As for power supplies, we’re looking for 80 Plus certified power supplies from established brands with positive user reviews on retail sites (or positive professional reviews, though these can be somewhat hard to come by for any given PSU these days). If you have a preferred brand, by all means, go with what works for you. The same goes for RAM—we’ll recommend capacities and speeds, and we’ll link to kits from brands that have worked well for us in the past, but that doesn’t mean they’re better than the many other RAM kits with equivalent specs.

For SSDs, we mostly stick to drives from known brands like Samsung, Crucial, Western Digital, and SK hynix. Our builds also include built-in Bluetooth and Wi-Fi, so you don’t need to worry about running Ethernet wires and can easily connect to Bluetooth gamepads, keyboards, mice, headsets, and other accessories.

We also haven’t priced in peripherals like webcams, monitors, keyboards, or mice, as we’re assuming most people will reuse what they already have or buy those components separately. If you’re feeling adventurous, you could even make your own DIY keyboard! If you need more guidance, Kimber Streams’ Wirecutter keyboard guides are exhaustive and educational, and Wirecutter has some monitor-buying advice, too.

Finally, we won’t be including the cost of a Windows license in our cost estimates. You can pay many different prices for Windows—$139 for an official retail license from Microsoft, $120 for an “OEM” license for system builders, or anywhere between $15 and $40 for a product key from shady gray market product key resale sites. Windows 10 keys will also work to activate Windows 11, though Microsoft stopped letting old Windows 7 and Windows 8 keys activate new Windows 10 and 11 installs a couple of years ago. You could even install Linux, given recent advancements in game compatibility layers! But if you plan to go that route, know that AMD’s graphics cards tend to be better-supported than Nvidia’s.

The budget all-rounder

What it’s good for: Browsing, schoolwork or regular work, amateur photo or video editing, and very light casual gaming. A low-cost, low-complexity introduction to PC building.

What it sucks at: You’ll need to use low settings at best for modern games, and it’s hard to keep costs down without making big sacrifices.

Cost as of this writing: $479 to $504, depending on your case

The entry point for a basic desktop PC from Dell, HP, and Lenovo is somewhere between $400 and $500 as of this writing. You can beat that pricing with a self-built one if you cut your build to the bone, and you can find tons of cheap used and refurbished stuff and serviceable mini PCs for well under that price, too. But if you’re chasing the thrill of the build, we can definitely match the big OEMs’ pricing while doing better on specs and future-proofing.

The AMD Ryzen 5 8500G should give you all the processing power you need for everyday computing and less-demanding games, despite most of its CPU cores using the lower-performing Zen 4c variant of AMD’s last-gen CPU architecture. The Radeon 740M GPU should do a decent job with many games at lower settings; it’s not a gaming GPU, but it will handle kid-friendly games like Roblox or Minecraft or undemanding battle royale or MOBA games like Fortnite and DOTA 2.

The Gigabyte B650M Gaming Plus WiFi board includes Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, and extra RAM and storage slots for future expandability. Most companies that make AM5 motherboards are pretty good about releasing new BIOS updates that patch vulnerabilities and add support for new CPUs, so you shouldn’t have a problem popping in a new processor a few years down the road if this one is no longer meeting your needs.

An AMD Ryzen 7 8700G. The 8500G is a lower-end relative of this chip, with good-enough CPU and GPU performance for light work. Credit: Andrew Cunningham

This system is spec’d for general usage and exceptionally light gaming, and 16GB of RAM and a 500 GB SSD should be plenty for that kind of thing. You can get the 1TB version of the same SSD for just $20 more, though—not a bad deal if you think light gaming is in the cards. The 600 W power supply is overkill, but it’s just $5 more than the 500 W version of the same PSU, and 600 W is enough headroom to add a GeForce RTX 4060 or 5060-series card or a Radeon RX 9600 XT to the build later on without having to worry.

The biggest challenge when looking for a decent, cheap PC case is finding one without a big, tacky acrylic window. Our standby choice for the last couple of years has been the Thermaltake Versa H17, an understated and reasonably well-reviewed option that doesn’t waste internal space on legacy features like external 3.5 and 5.25-inch drive bays or internal cages for spinning hard drives. But stock seems to be low as of this writing, suggesting it could be unavailable soon.

We looked for some alternatives that wouldn’t be a step down in quality or utility and which wouldn’t drive the system’s total price above $500. YouTubers and users generally seem to like the $70 Phanteks XT Pro, which is a lot bigger than this motherboard needs but is praised for its airflow and flexibility (it has a tempered glass side window in its cheapest configuration, and a solid “silent” variant will run you $88). The Fractal Design Focus 2 is available with both glass and solid side panels for $75.

The budget gaming PC

What it’s good for: Solid all-round performance, plus good 1080p (and sometimes 1440p) gaming performance.

What it sucks at: Future proofing, top-tier CPU performance.

Cost as of this writing: $793 to $828, depending on components

Budget gaming PCs are tough right now, but my broad advice would be the same as it’s always been: Go with the bare minimum everywhere you can so you have more money to spend on the GPU. I went into this totally unsure if I could recommend a PC I’d be happy with for the $700 to $800 we normally hit, and getting close to that number meant making some hard decisions.

I talked myself into a socket AM5 build for our non-gaming budget PC because of its future proof-ness and its decent integrated GPU, but I went with an Intel-based build for this one because we didn’t need the integrated GPU for it and because AMD still mostly uses old socket AM4 chips to cover the $150-and-below part of the market.

Given the choice between aging AMD CPUs and aging Intel CPUs, I have to give Intel the edge, thanks to the Core i5-13400F’s four E-cores. And if a 13th-gen Core chip lacks cutting-edge performance, it’s plenty fast for a midrange GPU. The $109 Core i5-12400F would also be OK and save a little more money, but we think the extra cores and small clock speed boost are worth the $20-ish premium.

For a budget build, we think your best strategy is to save money everywhere you can so you can squeeze a 16GB AMD Radeon RX 9060 XT into the budget. Credit: Andrew Cunningham

Going with a DDR4 motherboard and RAM saves us a tiny bit, and we’ve also stayed at 16GB of RAM instead of stepping up (some games, sometimes can benefit from 32GB, especially if you want to keep a bunch of other stuff running in the background, but it still usually won’t be a huge bottleneck). We upgraded to a 1TB SSD; huge AAA games will eat that up relatively quickly, but there is another M.2 slot you can use to put in another drive later. The power supply and case selections are the same as in our budget pick.

All of that cost-cutting was done in service of stretching the budget to include the 16GB version of AMD’s Radeon RX 9060 XT graphics card.

You could go with the 8GB version of the 9060 XT or Nvidia’s GeForce RTX 5060 and get solid 1080p gaming performance for almost $100 less. But we’re at a point where having 8GB of RAM in your graphics card can be a bottleneck, and that’s a problem that will only get worse over time. The 9060 XT has a consistent edge over the RTX 5060 in our testing, even in games with ray-tracing effects enabled, and at 1440p, the extra memory can easily be the difference between a game that runs and a game that doesn’t.

A more future-proofed budget gaming PC

What it’s good for: Good all-round performance with plenty of memory and storage, plus room for future upgrades.

What it sucks at: Getting you higher frame rates than our budget-budget build.

Cost as of this writing: $1,070 to $1,110, depending on components

As I found myself making cut after cut to maximize the fps-per-dollar we could get from our budget gaming PC, I decided I wanted to spec out a system with the same GPU but with other components that would make it better for non-gaming use and easier to upgrade in the future, with more generous allotments of memory and storage.

This build shifts back to many of the AMD AM5 components we used in our basic budget build, but with an 8-core Ryzen 7 7700X CPU at its heart. Its Zen 4 architecture isn’t the latest and greatest, but Zen 5 is a modest upgrade, and you’ll still get better single- and multi-core processor performance than you do with the Core i5 in our other build. It’s not worth spending more than $50 to step up to a Ryzen 7 9700X, and it’s overkill to spend $330 on a 12-core Ryzen 9 7900X or $380 on a Ryzen 7 7800X3D.

This chip doesn’t come with its own fan, so we’ve included an inexpensive air cooler we like that will give you plenty of thermal headroom.

A 32GB kit of RAM and 2TB of storage will give you ample room for games and enough RAM that you won’t have to worry about the small handful of outliers that benefit from more than 16GB of system RAM, while a marginally beefier power supply gives you a bit more headroom for future upgrades while still keeping costs relatively low.

This build won’t benefit your frame rates much since we’re sticking with the same 16GB RX 9060 XT. But the rest of it is specced generously enough that you could add a GeForce RTX 5070 (currently around $550) or a non-XT Radeon RX 9070 card (around $600) without needing to change any of the other components.

A comfortable 4K gaming rig

What it’s good for: Just about anything! But it’s built to play games at higher resolutions than our budget builds.

What it sucks at: Getting you top-of-the-line bragging rights.

Cost as of this writing: $1,829 to $1,934, depending on components.

Our budget builds cover 1080p-to-1440p gaming, and with an RTX 5070 or an RX 9070, they could realistically stretch to 4K in some games. But for more comfortable 4K gaming or super-high-frame-rate 1440p performance, you’ll thank yourself for spending a bit more.

You’ll note that the quality of the component selections here has been bumped up a bit all around. X670 or X870-series boards don’t just get you better I/O; they’ll also get you full PCI Express 5.0 support in the GPU slot and components better-suited to handling faster and more power-hungry components. We’ve swapped to a modular ATX 3.x-compliant power supply to simplify cable management and get a 12V-2×6 power connector. And we picked out a slightly higher-end SSD, too. But we’ve tried not to spend unnecessary money on things that won’t meaningfully improve performance—no 1,000+ watt power supplies, PCIe 5.0 SSDs, or 64GB RAM kits here.

A Ryzen 7 7800X3D might arguably be overkill for this build—especially at 4K, where the GPU will still be the main bottleneck—but it will be useful for getting higher frame rates at lower resolutions and just generally making sure performance stays consistent and smooth. Ryzen 7900X, 7950X, or 9900X chips are all good alternatives if you want more multi-core CPU performance—if you plan to stream as you play, for instance. A 9700X or even a 7700X would probably hold up fine if you won’t be doing that kind of thing and want to save a little.

You could cool any of these with a closed-loop AIO cooler, but a solid air cooler like the Thermalright model will keep it running cool for less money, and with a less-complicated install process.

A GeForce RTX 5070 Ti is the best 4K performance you can get for less than $1,000, but that doesn’t make it cheap. Credit: Andrew Cunningham

Based on current pricing and availability, I think the RTX 5070 Ti makes the most sense for a non-absurd 4K-capable build. Its prices are still elevated slightly above its advertised $749 MSRP, but it’s giving you RTX 4080/4080 Super-level performance for between $200 and $400 less than those cards launched for. Nvidia’s next step up, the RTX 5080, will run you at least $1,200 or $1,300—and usually more. AMD’s best option, the RX 9070 XT, is a respectable contender, and it’s probably the better choice if you plan on using Linux instead of Windows. But for a Windows-based gaming box, Nvidia still has an edge in games with ray-tracing effects enabled, plus DLSS upscaling and frame generation.

Is it silly that the GPU costs as much as our entire budget gaming PC? Of course! But it is what it is.

Even more than the budget-focused builds, the case here is a matter of personal preference, and $100 or $150 is enough to buy you any one of several dozen competent cases that will fit our chosen components. We’ve highlighted a few from case makers with good reputations to give you a place to start. Some of these also come in multiple colors, with different side panel options and both RGB and non-RGB options to suit your tastes.

If you like something a little more statement-y, the Fractal Design North ($155) and Lian Li Lancool 217 ($120) both include the wood accents that some case makers have been pushing lately. The Fractal Design case comes with both mesh and tempered glass side panel options, depending on how into RGB you are, while the Lancool case includes a whopping five case fans for keeping your system cool.

The “God Box”

What it’s good for: Anything and everything.

What it sucks at: Being affordable.

Cost as of this writing: $4,891 to $5,146

We’re avoiding Xeon and Threadripper territory here—frankly, I’ve never even tried to do a build centered on those chips and wouldn’t trust myself to make recommendations—but this system is as fast as consumer-grade hardware gets.

An Nvidia GeForce RTX 5090 guarantees the fastest GPU performance you can buy and continues the trend of “paying as much for a GPU as you could for an entire fully functional PC.” And while we have specced this build with a single GPU, the motherboard we’ve chosen has a second full-speed PCIe 5.0 x16 slot that you could use for a dual-GPU build.

A Ryzen 9950X3D chip gets you top-tier gaming performance and tons of CPU cores. We’re cooling this powerful chip with a 360 mm Arctic Liquid Freezer III Pro cooler, which has generally earned good reviews from Gamers Nexus and other outlets for its value, cooling performance, and quiet performance. A white option is also available if you’re going for a light-mode color scheme instead of our predominantly dark-mode build.

Other components have been pumped up similarly gratuitously. A 1,000 W power supply is the minimum for an RTX 5090, but to give us some headroom, why not use a 1,200 W model with lights on it? Is PCIe 5.0 storage strictly necessary for anything? No! But let’s grab a 4 TB PCIe 5.0 SSD anyway. And populating all four of our RAM slots with a 32GB stick of DDR5 avoids any unsightly blank spots inside our case.

We’ve selected a couple of largish case options to house our big builds, though as usual, there are tons of other options to fit all design sensibilities and tastes. Just make sure, if you’re selecting a big Extended ATX motherboard like the X870E Taichi, that your case will fit a board that’s slightly wider than a regular ATX or micro ATX board (the Taichi is 267 mm wide, which should be fine in either of our case selections).

Photo of Andrew Cunningham

Andrew is a Senior Technology Reporter at Ars Technica, with a focus on consumer tech including computer hardware and in-depth reviews of operating systems like Windows and macOS. Andrew lives in Philadelphia and co-hosts a weekly book podcast called Overdue.

Ars Technica System Guide: Five sample PC builds, from $500 to $5,000 Read More »

porsche’s-best-daily-driver-911?-the-2025-carrera-gts-t-hybrid-review.

Porsche’s best daily driver 911? The 2025 Carrera GTS T-Hybrid review.


An electric turbocharger means almost instant throttle response from the T-Hybrid.

A grey Porsche 911 parked outside a building with an Audi logo and Nurburgring on the side.

Porsche developed a new T-Hybrid system for the 911, and it did a heck of a job. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin

Porsche developed a new T-Hybrid system for the 911, and it did a heck of a job. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin

Porsche 911 enthusiasts tend to be obsessive about their engines. Some won’t touch anything that isn’t air-cooled, convinced that everything went wrong when emissions and efficiency finally forced radiators into the car. Others love the “Mezger” engines; designed by engineer Hans Mezger, they trace their roots to the 1998 Le Mans-winning car, and no Porschephile can resist the added shine of a motorsports halo.

I’m quite sure none of them will feel the same way about the powertrain in the new 911 Carrera GTS T-Hybrid (MSRP: $175,900), and I think that’s a crying shame. Because not only is the car’s technology rather cutting-edge—you won’t find this stuff outside an F1 car—but having spent several days behind the wheel, I can report it might just be one of the best-driving, too.

T-Hybrid

This is not just one of Porsche’s existing flat-six engines with an electric motor bolted on; it’s an all-new 3.6 L engine designed to comply with new European legislation that no longer lets automakers rich out a fuel mixture under high load to improve engine cooling. Instead, the engine has to maintain the same 14.7:1 stoichiometric air-to-fuel ratio (also known as lambda = 1) across the entire operating range, thus allowing the car’s catalytic converters to work most efficiently.

The 911 Carrera GTS T-Hybrid at dawn patrol. Jonathan Gitlin

Because the car uses a hybrid powertrain, Porsche moved some of the ancillaries. There’s no belt drive; the 400 V hybrid system powers the air conditioning electrically now via its 1.9 kWh lithium-ion battery, and the water pump is integrated into the engine block. That rearrangement means the horizontally opposed engine is now 4.3 inches (110 mm) lower than it was before, which meant Porsche could use that extra space in the engine bay to fit the power electronics, like the car’s pulse inverters and DC-DC converters.

And instead of tappets, Porsche has switched to using roller cam followers to control the engine’s valves, as in motorsport. These solid cam followers don’t need manual adjustment at service time, and they reduce friction losses compared to bucket tappets.

The added displacement—0.6 L larger than the engine you’ll find in the regular 911—is to compensate for not being able to alter the fuel ratio. And for the first time in several decades, there’s now only a single turbocharger. Normally, a larger-capacity engine and a single big turbo should be a recipe for plenty of lag, versus a smaller displacement and a turbocharger for each cylinder bank, as the former has larger components with more mass that needs to be moved.

The GTS engine grows in capacity by 20 percent. Porsche

That’s where one of the two electric motors comes in. This one is found between the compressor and the turbine wheel, and it’s only capable of 15 hp (11 kW), but it uses that to spin the turbine up to 120,000 rpm, hitting peak boost in 0.8 seconds. For comparison, the twin turbos you find in the current 3.0 L 911s take three times as long. Since the turbine is electrically controlled and the electric motor can regulate boost pressure, there’s no need for a wastegate.

The electrically powered turbocharger is essentially the same as the MGU-H used in Formula 1, as it can drive the turbine and also regenerate energy to the car’s traction battery. (The mighty 919 Hybrid race car, which took Porsche to three Le Mans wins last decade, was able to capture waste energy from its turbocharger, but unlike the 911 GTS or an F1 car, it didn’t use that same motor to spin the turbo up to speed.)

On its own, the turbocharged engine generates 478 hp (357 kW) and 420 lb-ft (570 Nm). However, there’s another electric motor, this one a permanent synchronous motor built into the eight-speed dual-clutch (PDK) transmission casing. This traction motor provides up to 53 hp (40 kW) and 110 lb-ft (150 Nm) of torque to the wheels, supplementing the internal combustion engine when needed. The total power and torque output are 532 hp (397 kW) and 449 lb-ft (609 Nm).

A grey Porsche 911 parked in a campsite

No Porsches were harmed during the making of this review, but one did get a little dusty. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin

Now that’s what I call throttle response

Conceptually, the T-Hybrid in the 911 GTS is quite different from the E-Hybrid system we’ve tested in various plug-in Porsches. Those allow for purely electric driving thanks to a clutch between transmission and electric traction motor—that’s not present in the T-Hybrid, where weight saving, performance, and emissions compliance were the goal rather than an increase in fuel efficiency.

Regardless of the intent, Porsche’s engineers have created a 911 with the best throttle response of any of them. Yes, even better than the naturally aspirated GT3, with its engine packed full of motorsports mods.

I realize this is a bold claim. But I’ve been saying for a while now that I prefer driving the all-electric Taycan to the 911 because the immediacy of an electric motor beats even the silkiest internal combustion engine in terms of that first few millimeters of throttle travel. The 3.0 L twin-turbo flat-six in most 911s doesn’t suffer from throttle lag like it might have in the 1980s, but there’s still an appreciable delay between initial tip-in and everything coming on song.

Initially, I suspected that the electric motor in the PDK case was responsible for the instantaneous way the GTS responds from idle, but according to Porsche’s engineers, all credit for that belongs to the electric turbocharger. However the engineers did it, this is a car that still provides 911 drivers the things they like about internal combustion engines—the sound, the fast refueling, using gears—but with the snappiness of a fast Taycan or Macan.

Centerlock wheels are rather special. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin

Porsche currently makes about 10 different 911 coupe variants, from the base 911 Carrera to the 911 GT3 RS. The GTS (also available with all-wheel drive as a Carrera 4 GTS for an extra $8,100) is marginally less powerful and slightly slower than the current 911 Turbo, and it’s heavier but more powerful than the 911 GT3.

In the past, I’ve thought of GTS-badged Porsches as that company’s take on the ultimate daily driver as opposed to a track day special, and it’s telling that you can also order the GTS with added sunshine, either as a cabriolet (in rear- or all-wheel drive) or as a Targa (with all-wheel drive). You have to remember to tick the box for rear seats now, though—these are a no-cost option rather than being fitted as standard.

The T-Hybrid powertrain adds 103 lbs compared to the previous GTS, so it’s not a lightweight track-day model, even if the non-hybrid GTS was almost nine seconds slower around the Nürburgring. On track, driven back to back with some of the others, you might be able to notice the extra weight, but I doubt it. I didn’t take the GTS on track, but I drove it to one; a trip to Germany to see the Nürburgring 24 race with some friends presented an opportunity to test this and another Porsche that hadn’t made their way to the East Coast press fleet yet.

I’d probably pick that Panamera if most of my driving was on the autobahn. With a top speed of 194 mph (312 km/h) the 911 GTS is capable of holding its own on the derestricted stretches even if its Vmax is a few miles per hour slower than the four-door sedan. But the 911 is a smaller, lighter, and more nimble car that moves around a bit more, and you sit a lot lower to the ground, amplifying the sensation of speed. The combined effect was that the car felt happier with a slightly lower cruising speed of 180 km/h rather than 200 km/h or more in the Panamera. Zero-62 mph (100 km/h) times don’t mean much outside the tollbooth but should take 2.9 seconds with launch control.

A Porsche 911 seen from the top

Despite the nondescript gray paint, the GTS T-Hybrid still turned plenty of heads. Credit: Jonathan Gitlin

Keep going

For the rest of the time, the 911 GTS evoked far more driving pleasure. Rear-wheel steering aids agility at lower speeds, and there are stiffer springs, newly tuned dampers, and electrohydraulic anti-roll bars (powered by the hybrid’s high-voltage system). Our test car was fitted with the gigantic (420 mm front, 410 mm rear) carbon ceramic brakes, and at the rear, the center lock wheels are 11.5 inches in width.

In the dry, I never got close to finding the front tires’ grip limit. The rear-wheel steering is noticeable, particularly when turning out of junctions, but never to the degree where you start thinking about correcting a slide unless you provoke the tires into breaking traction with the throttle. Even on the smooth tarmac preferred by German municipalities, the steering communicated road conditions from the tires, and the Alcantara-wrapped steering wheel is wonderful to grip in your palms.

So it’s predictably great to drive on mountain roads in Sport or Sport+. However, the instant throttle response means it’s also a better drive in Normal at 30 km/h as you amble your way through a village than the old GTS or any of the 3.0 L cars. That proved handy after Apple Maps sent me down a long dirt road on the way to my rental house, as well as for navigating the Nürburgring campsite, although I think I now appreciate why Porsche made the 911 Dakar (and regret declining that first drive a few years ago).

Happily, my time with the 911 GTS didn’t reveal any software bugs, and I prefer the new, entirely digital main instrument display to the old car’s analog tachometer sandwiched between two multifunction displays. Apple CarPlay worked well enough, and the compact cabin means that ergonomics are good even for those of us with shorter arms. There is a standard suite of advanced driver assistance systems, including traffic sign detection (which handily alerts you when the speed limit changes) and collision warning. Our test car included the optional InnoDrive system that adds adaptive cruise control, as well as a night vision system. On the whole, the ADAS was helpful, although if you don’t remember to disable the lane keep assist at the start of each journey, you might find it intruding mid-corner, should the car think you picked a bad line.

My only real gripe with the 911 GTS T-Hybrid is the fact that, with some options, you’re unlikely to get much change from $200,000. Yes, I know inflation is a thing, and yes, I know that’s still 15 percent less than the starting price of a 911 GT3 Touring, which isn’t really much of a step up from this car in terms of the driving experience on the road. However, a 911 Carrera T costs over $40,000 less than the T-Hybrid, and while it’s slower and less powerful, it’s still available with a six-speed manual. That any of those three would make an excellent daily driver 911 is a credit to Porsche, but I think if I had the means, the sophistication of the T-Hybrid system and its scalpel-sharp responsiveness might just win the day.

Photo of Jonathan M. Gitlin

Jonathan is the Automotive Editor at Ars Technica. He has a BSc and PhD in Pharmacology. In 2014 he decided to indulge his lifelong passion for the car by leaving the National Human Genome Research Institute and launching Ars Technica’s automotive coverage. He lives in Washington, DC.

Porsche’s best daily driver 911? The 2025 Carrera GTS T-Hybrid review. Read More »

sam-altman-finally-stood-up-to-elon-musk-after-years-of-x-trolling

Sam Altman finally stood up to Elon Musk after years of X trolling


Elon Musk and Sam Altman are beefing. But their relationship is complicated.

Credit: Aurich Lawson | Getty Images

Credit: Aurich Lawson | Getty Images

Much attention was paid to OpenAI’s Sam Altman and xAI’s Elon Musk trading barbs on X this week after Musk threatened to sue Apple over supposedly biased App Store rankings privileging ChatGPT over Grok.

But while the heated social media exchanges were among the most tense ever seen between the two former partners who cofounded OpenAI—more on that below—it seems likely that their jabs were motivated less by who’s in the lead on Apple’s “Must Have” app list than by an impending order in a lawsuit that landed in the middle of their public beefing.

Yesterday, a court ruled that OpenAI can proceed with claims that Musk was so incredibly stung by OpenAI’s success after his exit didn’t doom the nascent AI company that he perpetrated a “years-long harassment campaign” to take down OpenAI.

Musk’s motivation? To clear the field for xAI to dominate the AI industry instead, OpenAI alleged.

OpenAI’s accusations arose as counterclaims in a lawsuit that Musk initially filed in 2024. Musk has alleged that Altman and OpenAI had made a “fool” of Musk, goading him into $44 million in donations by “preying on Musk’s humanitarian concern about the existential dangers posed by artificial intelligence.”

But OpenAI insists that Musk’s lawsuit is just one prong in a sprawling, “unlawful,” and “unrelenting” harassment campaign that Musk waged to harm OpenAI’s business by forcing the company to divert resources or expend money on things like withdrawn legal claims and fake buyouts.

“Musk could not tolerate seeing such success for an enterprise he had abandoned and declared doomed,” OpenAI argued. “He made it his project to take down OpenAI, and to build a direct competitor that would seize the technological lead—not for humanity but for Elon Musk.”

Most significantly, OpenAI alleged that Musk forced OpenAI to entertain a “sham” bid to buy the company in February. Musk then shared details of the bid with The Wall Street Journal to artificially raise the price of OpenAI and potentially spook investors, OpenAI alleged. The company further said that Musk never intended to buy OpenAI and is willing to go to great lengths to mislead the public about OpenAI’s business so he can chip away at OpenAI’s head start in releasing popular generative AI products.

“Musk has tried every tool available to harm OpenAI,” Altman’s company said.

To this day, Musk maintains that Altman pretended that OpenAI would remain a nonprofit serving the public good in order to seize access to Musk’s money and professional connections in its first five years and gain a lead in AI. As Musk sees it, Altman always intended to “betray” these promises in pursuit of personal gains, and Musk is hoping a court will return any ill-gotten gains to Musk and xAI.

In a small win for Musk, the court ruled that OpenAI will have to wait until the first phase of the trial litigating Musk’s claims concludes before the court will weigh OpenAI’s theories on Musk’s alleged harassment campaign. US District Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers noted that all of OpenAI’s counterclaims occurred after the period in which Musk’s claims about a supposed breach of contract occurred, necessitating a division of the lawsuit into two parts. Currently, the jury trial is scheduled for March 30, 2026, presumably after which, OpenAI’s claims can be resolved.

If yesterday’s X clash between the billionaires is any indication, it seems likely that tensions between Altman and Musk will only grow as discovery and expert testimony on Musk’s claims proceed through December.

Whether OpenAI will prevail on its counterclaims is anybody’s guess. Gonzalez Rogers noted that Musk and OpenAI have been hypocritical in arguments raised so far, condemning the “gamesmanship of both sides” as “obvious, as each flip flops.” However, “for the purposes of pleading an unfair or fraudulent business practice, it is sufficient [for OpenAI] to allege that the bid was a sham and designed to mislead,” Gonzalez Rogers said, since OpenAI has alleged the sham bid “ultimately did” harm its business.

In April, OpenAI told the court that the AI company risks “future irreparable harm” if Musk’s alleged campaign continues. Fast-forward to now, and Musk’s legal threat to OpenAI’s partnership with Apple seems to be the next possible front Musk may be exploring to allegedly harass Altman and intimidate OpenAI.

“With every month that has passed, Musk has intensified and expanded the fronts of his campaign against OpenAI,” OpenAI argued. Musk “has proven himself willing to take ever more dramatic steps to seek a competitive advantage for xAI and to harm Altman, whom, in the words of the President of the United States, Musk ‘hates.'”

Tensions escalate as Musk brands Altman a “liar”

On Monday evening, Musk threatened to sue Apple for supposedly favoring ChatGPT in App Store rankings, which he claimed was “an unequivocal antitrust violation.”

Seemingly defending Apple later that night, Altman called Musk’s claim “remarkable,” claiming he’s heard allegations that Musk manipulates “X to benefit himself and his own companies and harm his competitors and people he doesn’t like.”

At 4 am on Tuesday, Musk appeared to lose his cool, firing back a post that sought to exonerate the X owner of any claims that he tweaks his social platform to favor his own posts.

“You got 3M views on your bullshit post, you liar, far more than I’ve received on many of mine, despite me having 50 times your follower count!” Musk responded.

Altman apparently woke up ready to keep the fight going, suggesting that his post got more views as a fluke. He mocked X as running into a “skill issue” or “bots” messing with Musk’s alleged agenda to boost his posts above everyone else. Then, in what may be the most explosive response to Musk yet, Altman dared Musk to double down on his defense, asking, “Will you sign an affidavit that you have never directed changes to the X algorithm in a way that has hurt your competitors or helped your own companies? I will apologize if so.”

Court filings from each man’s legal team show how fast their friendship collapsed. But even as Musk’s alleged harassment campaign started taking shape, their social media interactions show that underlying the legal battles and AI ego wars, the tech billionaires are seemingly hiding profound respect for—and perhaps jealousy of—each other’s accomplishments.

A brief history of Musk and Altman’s feud

Musk and Altman’s friendship started over dinner in July 2015. That’s when Musk agreed to help launch “an AGI project that could become and stay competitive with DeepMind, an AI company under the umbrella of Google,” OpenAI’s filing said. At that time, Musk feared that a private company like Google would never be motivated to build AI to serve the public good.

The first clash between Musk and Altman happened six months later. Altman wanted OpenAI to be formed as a nonprofit, but Musk thought that was not “optimal,” OpenAI’s filing said. Ultimately, Musk was overruled, and he joined the nonprofit as a “member” while also becoming co-chair of OpenAI’s board.

But perhaps the first major disagreement, as Musk tells it, came in 2016, when Altman and Microsoft struck a deal to sell compute to OpenAI at a “steep discount”—”so long as the non-profit agreed to publicly promote Microsoft’s products.” Musk rejected the “marketing ploy,” telling Altman that “this actually made me feel nauseous.”

Next, OpenAI claimed that Musk had a “different idea” in 2017 when OpenAI “began considering an organizational change that would allow supporters not just to donate, but to invest.” Musk wanted “sole control of the new for-profit,” OpenAI alleged, and he wanted to be CEO. The other founders, including Altman, “refused to accept” an “AGI dictatorship” that was “dominated by Musk.”

“Musk was incensed,” OpenAI said, threatening to leave OpenAI over the disagreement, “or I’m just being a fool who is essentially providing free funding for you to create a startup.”

But Musk floated one more idea between 2017 and 2018 before severing ties—offering to sell OpenAI to Tesla so that OpenAI could use Tesla as a “cash cow.” But Altman and the other founders still weren’t comfortable with Musk controlling OpenAI, rejecting the idea and prompting Musk’s exit.

In his filing, Musk tells the story a little differently, however. He claimed that he only “briefly toyed with the idea of using Tesla as OpenAI’s ‘cash cow'” after Altman and others pressured him to agree to a for-profit restructuring. According to Musk, among the last straws was a series of “get-rich-quick schemes” that Altman proposed to raise funding, including pushing a strategy where OpenAI would launch a cryptocurrency that Musk worried threatened the AI company’s credibility.

When Musk left OpenAI, it was “noisy but relatively amicable,” OpenAI claimed. But Musk continued to express discomfort from afar, still donating to OpenAI as Altman grabbed the CEO title in 2019 and created a capped-profit entity that Musk seemed to view as shady.

“Musk asked Altman to make clear to others that he had ‘no financial interest in the for-profit arm of OpenAI,'” OpenAI noted, and Musk confirmed he issued the demand “with evident displeasure.”

Although they often disagreed, Altman and Musk continued to publicly play nice on Twitter (the platform now known as X), casually chatting for years about things like movies, space, and science, including repeatedly joking about Musk’s posts about using drugs like Ambien.

By 2019, it seemed like none of these disagreements had seriously disrupted the friendship. For example, at that time, Altman defended Musk against people rooting against Tesla’s success, writing that “betting against Elon is historically a mistake” and seemingly hyping Tesla by noting that “the best product usually wins.”

The niceties continued into 2021, when Musk publicly praised “nice work by OpenAI” integrating its coding model into GitHub’s AI tool. “It is hard to do useful things,” Musk said, drawing a salute emoji from Altman.

This was seemingly the end of Musk playing nice with OpenAI, though. Soon after ChatGPT’s release in November 2022, Musk allegedly began his attacks, seemingly willing to change his tactics on a whim.

First, he allegedly deemed OpenAI “irrelevant,” predicting it would “obviously” fail. Then, he started sounding alarms, joining a push for a six-month pause on generative AI development. Musk specifically claimed that any model “more advanced than OpenAI’s just-released GPT-4” posed “profound risks to society and humanity,” OpenAI alleged, seemingly angling to pause OpenAI’s development in particular.

However, in the meantime, Musk started “quietly building a competitor,” xAI, without announcing those efforts in March 2023, OpenAI alleged. Allegedly preparing to hobble OpenAI’s business after failing with the moratorium push, Musk had his personal lawyer contact OpenAI and demand “access to OpenAI’s confidential and commercially sensitive internal documents.”

Musk claimed the request was to “ensure OpenAI was not being taken advantage of or corrupted by Microsoft,” but two weeks later, he appeared on national TV, insinuating that OpenAI’s partnership with Microsoft was “improper,” OpenAI alleged.

Eventually, Musk announced xAI in July 2023, and that supposedly motivated Musk to deepen his harassment campaign, “this time using the courts and a parallel, carefully coordinated media campaign,” OpenAI said, as well as his own social media platform.

Musk “supercharges” X attacks

As OpenAI’s success mounted, the company alleged that Musk began specifically escalating his social media attacks on X, including broadcasting to his 224 million followers that “OpenAI is a house of cards” after filing his 2024 lawsuit.

Claiming he felt conned, Musk also pressured regulators to probe OpenAI, encouraging attorneys general of California and Delaware to “force” OpenAI, “without legal basis, to auction off its assets for the benefit of Musk and his associates,” OpenAI said.

By 2024, Musk had “supercharged” his X attacks, unleashing a “barrage of invective against the enterprise and its leadership, variously describing OpenAI as a ‘digital Frankenstein’s monster,’ ‘a lie,’ ‘evil,’ and ‘a total scam,'” OpenAI alleged.

These attacks allegedly culminated in Musk’s seemingly fake OpenAI takeover attempt in 2025, which OpenAI claimed a Musk ally, Ron Baron, admitted on CNBC was “pitched to him” as not an attempt to actually buy OpenAI’s assets, “but instead to obtain ‘discovery’ and get ‘behind the wall’ at OpenAI.”

All of this makes it harder for OpenAI to achieve the mission that Musk is supposedly suing to defend, OpenAI claimed. They told the court that “OpenAI has borne costs, and been harmed, by Musk’s abusive tactics and unrelenting efforts to mislead the public for his own benefit and to OpenAI’s detriment and the detriment of its mission.”

But Musk argues that it’s Altman who always wanted sole control over OpenAI, accusing his former partner of rampant self-dealing and “locking down the non-profit’s technology for personal gain” as soon as “OpenAI reached the threshold of commercially viable AI.” He further claimed OpenAI blocked xAI funding by reportedly asking investors to avoid backing rival startups like Anthropic or xAI.

Musk alleged:

Altman alone stands to make billions from the non-profit Musk co-founded and invested considerable money, time, recruiting efforts, and goodwill in furtherance of its stated mission. Altman’s scheme has now become clear: lure Musk with phony philanthropy; exploit his money, stature, and contacts to secure world-class AI scientists to develop leading technology; then feed the non-profit’s lucrative assets into an opaque profit engine and proceed to cash in as OpenAI and Microsoft monopolize the generative AI market.

For Altman, this week’s flare-up, where he finally took a hard jab back at Musk on X, may be a sign that Altman is done letting Musk control the narrative on X after years of somewhat tepidly pushing back on Musk’s more aggressive posts.

In 2022, for example, Musk warned after ChatGPT’s release that the chatbot was “scary good,” warning that “we are not far from dangerously strong AI.” Altman responded, cautiously agreeing that OpenAI was “dangerously” close to “strong AI in the sense of an AI that poses e.g. a huge cybersecurity risk” but “real” artificial general intelligence still seemed at least a decade off.

And Altman gave no response when Musk used Grok’s jokey programming to mock GPT-4 as “GPT-Snore” in 2024.

However, Altman seemingly got his back up after Musk mocked OpenAI’s $500 billion Stargate Project, which launched with the US government in January of this year. On X, Musk claimed that OpenAI doesn’t “actually have the money” for the project, which Altman said was “wrong,” while mockingly inviting Musk to visit the worksite.

“This is great for the country,” Altman said, retorting, “I realize what is great for the country isn’t always what’s optimal for your companies, but in your new role [at the Department of Government Efficiency], I hope you’ll mostly put [America] first.”

It remains to be seen whether Altman wants to keep trading jabs with Musk, who is generally a huge fan of trolling on X. But Altman seems more emboldened this week than he was back in January before Musk’s breakup with Donald Trump. Back then, even when he was willing to push back on Musk’s Stargate criticism by insulting Musk’s politics, he still took the time to let Musk know that he still cares.

“I genuinely respect your accomplishments and think you are the most inspiring entrepreneur of our time,” Altman told Musk in January.

Photo of Ashley Belanger

Ashley is a senior policy reporter for Ars Technica, dedicated to tracking social impacts of emerging policies and new technologies. She is a Chicago-based journalist with 20 years of experience.

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study:-social-media-probably-can’t-be-fixed

Study: Social media probably can’t be fixed


“The [structural] mechanism producing these problematic outcomes is really robust and hard to resolve.”

Credit: Aurich Lawson | Getty Images

Credit: Aurich Lawson | Getty Images

It’s no secret that much of social media has become profoundly dysfunctional. Rather than bringing us together into one utopian public square and fostering a healthy exchange of ideas, these platforms too often create filter bubbles or echo chambers. A small number of high-profile users garner the lion’s share of attention and influence, and the algorithms designed to maximize engagement end up merely amplifying outrage and conflict, ensuring the dominance of the loudest and most extreme users—thereby increasing polarization even more.

Numerous platform-level intervention strategies have been proposed to combat these issues, but according to a preprint posted to the physics arXiv, none of them are likely to be effective. And it’s not the fault of much-hated algorithms, non-chronological feeds, or our human proclivity for seeking out negativity. Rather, the dynamics that give rise to all those negative outcomes are structurally embedded in the very architecture of social media. So we’re probably doomed to endless toxic feedback loops unless someone hits upon a brilliant fundamental redesign that manages to change those dynamics.

Co-authors Petter Törnberg and Maik Larooij of the University of Amsterdam wanted to learn more about the mechanisms that give rise to the worst aspects of social media: the partisan echo chambers, the concentration of influence among a small group of elite users (attention inequality), and the amplification of the most extreme divisive voices. So they combined standard agent-based modeling with large language models (LLMs), essentially creating little AI personas to simulate online social media behavior. “What we found is that we didn’t need to put any algorithms in, we didn’t need to massage the model,” Törnberg told Ars. “It just came out of the baseline model, all of these dynamics.”

They then tested six different intervention strategies social scientists have been proposed to counter those effects: switching to chronological or randomized feeds; inverting engagement-optimization algorithms to reduce the visibility of highly reposted sensational content; boosting the diversity of viewpoints to broaden users’ exposure to opposing political views; using “bridging algorithms” to elevate content that fosters mutual understanding rather than emotional provocation; hiding social statistics like reposts and follower accounts to reduce social influence cues; and removing biographies to limit exposure to identity-based signals.

The results were far from encouraging. Only some interventions showed modest improvements. None were able to fully disrupt the fundamental mechanisms producing the dysfunctional effects. In fact, some interventions actually made the problems worse. For example, chronological ordering had the strongest effect on reducing attention inequality, but there was a tradeoff: It also intensified the amplification of extreme content. Bridging algorithms significantly weakened the link between partisanship and engagement and modestly improved viewpoint diversity, but it also increased attention inequality. Boosting viewpoint diversity had no significant impact at all.

So is there any hope of finding effective intervention strategies to combat these problematic aspects of social media? Or should we nuke our social media accounts altogether and go live in caves? Ars caught up with Törnberg for an extended conversation to learn more about these troubling findings.

Ars Technica: What drove you to conduct this study?

Petter Törnberg: For the last 20 years or so, there has been a ton of research on how social media is reshaping politics in different ways, almost always using observational data. But in the last few years, there’s been a growing appetite for moving beyond just complaining about these things and trying to see how we can be a bit more constructive. Can we identify how to improve social media and create online spaces that are actually living up to those early promises of providing a public sphere where we can deliberate and debate politics in a constructive way?

The problem with using observational data is that it’s very hard to test counterfactuals to implement alternative solutions. So one kind of method that has existed in the field is agent-based simulations and social simulations: create a computer model of the system and then run experiments on that and test counterfactuals. It is useful for looking at the structure and emergence of network dynamics.

But at the same time, those models represent agents as simple rule followers or optimizers, and that doesn’t capture anything of the cultural world or politics or human behavior. I’ve always been of the controversial opinion that those things actually matter,  especially for online politics. We need to study both the structural dynamics of network formations and the patterns of cultural interaction.

Ars Technica: So you developed this hybrid model that combines LLMs with agent-based modeling.

Petter Törnberg: That’s the solution that we find to move beyond the problems of conventional agent-based modeling. Instead of having this simple rule of followers or optimizers, we use AI or LLMs. It’s not a perfect solution—there’s all kind of biases and limitations—but it does represent a step forward compared to a list of if/then rules. It does have something more of capturing human behavior in a more plausible way. We give them personas that we get from the American National Election Survey, which has very detailed questions about US voters and their hobbies and preferences. And then we turn that into a textual persona—your name is Bob, you’re from Massachusetts, and you like fishing—just to give them something to talk about and a little bit richer representation.

And then they see the random news of the day, and they can choose to post the news, read posts from other users, repost them, or they can choose to follow users. If they choose to follow users, they look at their previous messages, look at their user profile.

Our idea was to start with the minimal bare-bones model and then add things to try to see if we could reproduce these problematic consequences. But to our surprise, we actually didn’t have to add anything because these problematic consequences just came out of the bare bones model. This went against our expectations and also what I think the literature would say.

Ars Technica: I’m skeptical of AI in general, particularly in a research context, but there are very specific instances where it can be extremely useful. This strikes me as one of them, largely because your basic model proved to be so robust. You got the same dynamics without introducing anything extra.

Petter Törnberg: Yes. It’s been a big conversation in social science over the last two years or so. There’s a ton of interest in using LLMs for social simulation, but no one has really figured out for what or how it’s going to be helpful, or how we’re going to get past these problems of validity and so on. The kind of approach that we take in this paper is building on a tradition of complex systems thinking. We imagine very simple models of the human world and try to capture very fundamental mechanisms. It’s not really aiming to be realistic or a precise, complete model of human behavior.

I’ve been one of the more critical people of this method, to be honest. At the same time, it’s hard to imagine any other way of studying these kinds of dynamics where we have cultural and structural aspects feeding back into each other. But I still have to take the findings with a grain of salt and realize that these are models, and they’re capturing a kind of hypothetical world—a spherical cow in a vacuum. We can’t predict what someone is going to have for lunch on Tuesday, but we can capture broader mechanisms, and we can see how robust those mechanisms are. We can see whether they’re stable, unstable, which conditions they emerge in, and the general boundaries. And in this case, we found a mechanism that seems to be very robust, unfortunately.

Ars Technica: The dream was that social media would help revitalize the public sphere and support the kind of constructive political dialogue that your paper deems “vital to democratic life.” That largely hasn’t happened. What are the primary negative unexpected consequences that have emerged from social media platforms?

Petter Törnberg: First, you have echo chambers or filter bubbles. The risk of broad agreement is that if you want to have a functioning political conversation, functioning deliberation, you do need to do that across the partisan divide. If you’re only having a conversation with people who already agree with each other, that’s not enough. There’s debate on how widespread echo chambers are online, but it is quite established that there are a lot of spaces online that aren’t very constructive because there’s only people from one political side. So that’s one ingredient that you need. You need to have a diversity of opinion, a diversity of perspective.

The second one is that the deliberation needs to be among equals; people need to have more or less the same influence in the conversation. It can’t be completely controlled by a small, elite group of users. This is also something that people have pointed to on social media: It has a tendency of creating these influencers because attention attracts attention. And then you have a breakdown of conversation among equals.

The final one is what I call (based on Chris Bail’s book) the social media prism. The more extreme users tend to get more attention online. This is often discussed in relation to engagement algorithms, which tend to identify the type of content that most upsets us and then boost that content. I refer to it as a “trigger bubble” instead of the filter bubble. They’re trying to trigger us as a way of making us engage more so they can extract our data and keep our attention.

Ars Technica: Your conclusion is that there’s something within the structural dynamics of the network itself that’s to blame—something fundamental to the construction of social networks that makes these extremely difficult problems to solve.

Petter Törnberg: Exactly. It comes from the fact that we’re using these AI models to capture a richer representation of human behavior, which allows us to see something that wouldn’t really be possible using conventional agent-based modeling. There have been previous models looking at the growth of social networks on social media. People choose to retweet or not, and we know that action tends to be very reactive. We tend to be very emotional in that choice. And it tends to be a highly partisan and polarized type of action. You hit retweet when you see someone being angry about something, or doing something horrific, and then you share that. It’s well-known that this leads to toxic, more polarized content spreading more.

But what we find is that it’s not just that this content spreads; it also shapes the network structures that are formed. So there’s feedback between the effective emotional action of choosing to retweet something and the network structure that emerges. And then in turn, you have a network structure that feeds back what content you see, resulting in a toxic network. The definition of an online social network is that you have this kind of posting, reposting, and following dynamics. It’s quite fundamental to it. That alone seems to be enough to drive these negative outcomes.

Ars Technica: I was frankly surprised at the ineffectiveness of the various intervention strategies you tested. But it does seem to explain the Bluesky conundrum. Bluesky has no algorithm, for example, yet the same dynamics still seem to emerge. I think Bluesky’s founders genuinely want to avoid those dysfunctional issues, but they might not succeed, based on this paper. Why are such interventions so ineffective? 

Petter Törnberg: We’ve been discussing whether these things are due to the platforms doing evil things with algorithms or whether we as users are choosing that we want a bad environment. What we’re saying is that it doesn’t have to be either of those. This is often the unintended outcomes from interactions based on underlying rules. It’s not necessarily because the platforms are evil; it’s not necessarily because people want to be in toxic, horrible environments. It just follows from the structure that we’re providing.

We tested six different interventions. Google has been trying to make social media less toxic and recently released a newsfeed algorithm based on the content of the text. So that’s one example. We’re also trying to do more subtle interventions because often you can find a certain way of nudging the system so it switches over to healthier dynamics. Some of them have moderate or slightly positive effects on one of the attributes, but then they often have negative effects on another attribute, or they have no impact whatsoever.

I should say also that these are very extreme interventions in the sense that, if you depended on making money on your platform, you probably don’t want to implement them because it probably makes it really boring to use. It’s like showing the least influential users, the least retweeted messages on the platform. Even so, it doesn’t really make a difference in changing the basic outcomes. What we take from that is that the mechanism producing these problematic outcomes is really robust and hard to resolve given the basic structure of these platforms.

Ars Technica: So how might one go about building a successful social network that doesn’t have these problems? 

Petter Törnberg: There are several directions where you could imagine going, but there’s also the constraint of what is popular use. Think back to the early Internet, like ICQ. ICQ had this feature where you could just connect to a random person. I loved it when I was a kid. I would talk to random people all over the world. I was 12 in the countryside on a small island in Sweden, and I was talking to someone from Arizona, living a different life. I don’t know how successful that would be these days, the Internet having become a lot less innocent than it was.

For instance, we can focus on the question of inequality of attention, a very well-studied and robust feature of these networks. I personally thought we would be able to address it with our interventions, but attention draws attention, and this leads to a power law distribution, where 1 percent [of users] dominates the entire conversation. We know the conditions under which those power laws emerge. This is one of the main outcomes of social network dynamics: extreme inequality of attention.

But in social science, we always teach that everything is a normal distribution. The move from studying the conventional social world to studying the online social world means that you’re moving from these nice normal distributions to these horrible power law distributions. Those are the outcomes of having social networks where the probability of connecting to someone depends on how many previous connections they have. If we want to get rid of that, we probably have to move away from the social network model and have some kind of spatial model or group-based model that makes things a little bit more local, a little bit less globally interconnected.

Ars Technica: It sounds like you’d want to avoid those big influential nodes that play such a central role in a large, complex global network. 

Petter Törnberg: Exactly. I think that having those global networks and structures fundamentally undermines the possibility of the kind of conversations that political scientists and political theorists traditionally talked about when they were discussing in the public square. They were talking about social interaction in a coffee house or a tea house, or reading groups and so on. People thought the Internet was going to be precisely that. It’s very much not that. The dynamics are fundamentally different because of those structural differences. We shouldn’t expect to be able to get a coffee house deliberation structure when we have a global social network where everyone is connected to everyone. It is difficult to imagine a functional politics building on that.

Ars Technica: I want to come back to your comment on the power law distribution, how 1 percent of people dominate the conversation, because I think that is something that most users routinely forget. The horrible things we see people say on the Internet are not necessarily indicative of the vast majority of people in the world. 

Petter Törnberg: For sure. That is capturing two aspects. The first is the social media prism, where the perspective we get of politics when we see it through the lens of social media is fundamentally different from what politics actually is. It seems much more toxic, much more polarized. People seem a little bit crazier than they really are. It’s a very well-documented aspect of the rise of polarization: People have a false perception of the other side. Most people have fairly reasonable and fairly similar opinions. The actual polarization is lower than the perceived polarization. And that arguably is a result of social media, how it misrepresents politics.

And then we see this very small group of users that become very influential who often become highly visible as a result of being a little bit crazy and outrageous. Social media creates an incentive structure that is really central to reshaping not just how we see politics but also what politics is, which politicians become powerful and influential, because it is controlling the distribution of what is arguably the most valuable form of capital of our era: attention. Especially for politicians, being able to control attention is the most important thing. And since social media creates the conditions of who gets attention or not, it creates an incentive structure where certain personalities work better in a way that’s just fundamentally different from how it was in previous eras.

Ars Technica: There are those who have sworn off social media, but it seems like simply not participating isn’t really a solution, either.

Petter Törnberg: No. First, even if you only read, say, The New York Times, that newspaper is still reshaped by what works on social media, the social media logic. I had a student who did a little project this last year showing that as social media became more influential, the headlines of The New York Times became more clickbaity and adapted to the style of what worked on social media. So conventional media and our very culture is being transformed.

But more than that, as I was just saying, it’s the type of politicians, it’s the type of people who are empowered—it’s the entire culture. Those are the things that are being transformed by the power of the incentive structures of social media. It’s not like, “This is things that are happening in social media and this is the rest of the world.” It’s all entangled, and somehow social media has become the cultural engine that is shaping our politics and society in very fundamental ways. Unfortunately.

Ars Technica: I usually like to say that technological tools are fundamentally neutral and can be used for good or ill, but this time I’m not so sure. Is there any hope of finding a way to take the toxic and turn it into a net positive?

Petter Törnberg: What I would say to that is that we are at a crisis point with the rise of LLMs and AI. I have a hard time seeing the contemporary model of social media continuing to exist under the weight of LLMs and their capacity to mass-produce false information or information that optimizes these social network dynamics. We already see a lot of actors—based on this monetization of platforms like X—that are using AI to produce content that just seeks to maximize attention. So misinformation, often highly polarized information as AI models become more powerful, that content is going to take over. I have a hard time seeing the conventional social media models surviving that.

We’ve already seen the process of people retreating in part to credible brands and seeking to have gatekeepers. Young people, especially, are going into WhatsApp groups and other closed communities. Of course, there’s misinformation from social media leaking into those chats also. But these kinds of crisis points at least have the hope that we’ll see a changing situation. I wouldn’t bet that it’s a situation for the better. You wanted me to sound positive, so I tried my best. Maybe it’s actually “good riddance.”

Ars Technica: So let’s just blow up all the social media networks. It still won’t be better, but at least we’ll have different problems.

Petter Törnberg: Exactly. We’ll find a new ditch.

DOI: arXiv, 2025. 10.48550/arXiv.2508.03385  (About DOIs).

Photo of Jennifer Ouellette

Jennifer is a senior writer at Ars Technica with a particular focus on where science meets culture, covering everything from physics and related interdisciplinary topics to her favorite films and TV series. Jennifer lives in Baltimore with her spouse, physicist Sean M. Carroll, and their two cats, Ariel and Caliban.

Study: Social media probably can’t be fixed Read More »

rad-power’s-radster:-a-very-non-radical-commuter-bike

Rad Power’s Radster: A very non-radical commuter bike


The Radster is great as a Class 2 e-bike, but not quite as strong as a Class 3.

With e-bike manufacturing in China having expanded considerably, the number of companies offering affordable e-bikes over the last five years has exploded. But the market for cycles with an electric assist has existed for considerably longer, and a number of companies predate the recent surge. One of them, Rad Power, has been around long enough that it was already an established presence when we first reviewed its hardware four years ago.

The company offers a mix of cargo, folding, and commuter bikes, all with electric assists. Having looked at a cargo version last time around, we decided to try out one of the commuter bikes this time. The Radster comes in road and trail versions (we tried the road). It’s an incredibly solidly made bike with equally solid components, and it has very good implementations of a few things that other manufacturers haven’t handled all that well. It also can switch among the three classes of e-bikes using a menu option; unfortunately, nothing else about the bike’s performance seems to change with the switch.

The Radster is priced a bit higher than a lot of its budget competitors. So, if you’re shopping, you’ll have to think a bit about whether some of these features matter to you.

A solid option

One thing that is very clear early: The Radster is a very solid bike with a robust frame. While the frame is step-through, it has some added bracing just above the cranks. These two bars, one on each side of the frame, link the down tube to the seat tube and extend to form part of the rear triangle. While this means you’ll have to step a bit higher to get in a position to mount the bike, they contribute to the sense that this is a frame that will withstand years of daily use.

Another nice feature: The battery is mounted on top of the frame, so if you release it for charging elsewhere, you don’t have to do anything special to keep it from dropping onto the floor. A chain guard and fenders also come standard, something that’s a big plus for commuters. And the fork has adjustable cushioning to smooth out some of the bumps.

The front fork comes with a bump-smoothing suspension. John Timmer

The one complaint I have is a common one for me: sizing. I’m just short of 190 cm tall (about 6 feet, 2 inches), and a lot of my height is in my legs (I typically go for 35/36-inch inseams). I’ve found that most of the frames rated as “large” still feel a bit short for me. The Radster was no exception, despite being rated for people up to 5 centimeters (2 inches) taller than I am. It was very close to being comfortable but still forced me to raise my thighs above horizontal while pedaling, even with the seat at its maximum height. The geometry of the seat-to-handlebar distance was fine, though.

Also in the “solidly built” category: the rack and kickstand. The rack is rated for 25 kg (55 lbs), so it should be capable of handling a fair amount of errand running. Rad Power will sell you a large cage-style basket to fit there, and there’s everything you need to attach a front basket as well. So, while the Radster is not designated as a cargo bike, it’s flexible enough and well constructed that I wouldn’t hesitate to use it as one.

The Radster doesn’t have internal cable routing, but placing the battery on top of the down tube gave its designers an unusual option. There’s a channel that runs down the bottom of the down tube that the cables sit in, held in place by a plastic cover that’s screwed onto the frame. Should you ever need to do maintenance that involves replacing one of the cables or the hydraulic tubes, it should be a simple matter of removing the cover.

Nice electronics

The basics of the drive system are pretty typical for bikes like this. There’s a Shimano Altus derailleur controlled by a dual-trigger shifter, with a decent spread of eight gears in back. Tektro hydraulic brakes bring things to a stop effectively.

The basic electronics are similarly what you’d expect to see. It’s powered with a 720-watt-hour battery, which Rad Power estimates will get you to over 100 km (65 miles) of range at low assist settings. It’s paired with a rear hub motor rated for 750 watts and 100 Nm of torque, which is more than enough to get even a heavy bike moving quickly. It also features a throttle that will take you to 32 km/hr (20 mph). The electric motor is delightfully quiet most of the time, so you can ride free of any whine unless you’re pushing the speed.

All of the electric components are UL-certified, so you can charge it with minimal worries about the sorts of battery fires that have plagued some no-name e-bike brands.

The electronics are also where you’ll find some of Rad Power’s better features. One of these is the rear light, which also acts as a brake light and includes directionals for signaling turns. The brake light is a nice touch on a commuter bike like this, and Rad Power’s directionals actually work effectively. On the bikes we’ve tried in the past, the directionals were triggered by a small three-way toggle switch, which made it impossible to tell if you left them on, or even which direction you might have left them signaling. And that’s a major problem for anyone who’s not used to having turn signals on their bike (meaning almost everyone).

Rad Power’s system uses large, orange arrows on the display to tell you when the directionals are on, and which direction is being signaled. It takes a little while to get used to shutting them off, since you do so by hitting the same switch that activated them—hitting the opposite switch simply activates the opposite turn light. But the display at least makes it easy to tell when you’ve done something wrong.

In general, the display is also bright, easy to read, and displays everything you’d expect it to. It also comes paired with enough buttons to make navigating among settings simple, but not so many that you’re unsure of what button to use in any given context.

One last positive about the electronics: there is a torque sensor, which helps set the assist based on how much force you’re exerting on the cranks, rather than simply determining whether the cranks are turning. While these tend to be a bit more expensive, they provide an assist that’s much better integrated into the cycling you’re doing, which helps with getting started on hills where it might be difficult to get the pedals turning enough to register with a cadence sensor.

On the road

All the stats in the world can’t tell you what it’s going to be like to ride an e-bike, because software plays a critical role. The software can be set up to sacrifice range and battery life to give you effortless pedaling, or it can integrate in a way that simply makes it feel like your leg muscles are more effective than they have any right to be.

The Radster’s software allows it to be switched between a Class 2 and Class 3 assist. Class 2 is intended to have the assist cut out once the bike hits 32 km/hr (20 mph). With a Class 3, that limit rises to 45 km/hour (28 mph). Different states allow different classes, and Rad Power lets you switch between them using on-screen controls, which quite sensibly avoids having to make different models for different states.

As a Class 2, the Radster feels like a very well-rounded e-bike. At the low-assist settings, it’ll make you work to get it up to speed; you’ll bike faster but will still be getting a fair bit of exercise, especially on the hills. And at these settings, it would require a fair amount of effort to get to the point where the speed limit would cause the motor to cut out. Boost the settings to the maximum of the five levels of assist, and you only have to put in minimal effort to get to that limit. You’ll end up going a bit slower than suburban traffic, which can be less than ideal for some commutes, but you’ll get a lot of range in return.

Things are a bit different when the Radster is switched into Class 3 mode. Here, while pedaling with a roughly equal amount of force on flat ground, each level of assist would bring you to a different maximum speed. On setting one, that speed would end up being a bit above 20 km/hour (13 mph)—it was possible to go faster, but it took some work given the heavy frame. By the middle of the assist range, the same amount of effort would get the bike in the neighborhood of 30 kilometers an hour (20 mph). But even with the assist maxed out, it was very difficult to reach the legal 45 km/hour limit (28 mph) for a Class 3 on flat ground—the assist and gearing couldn’t overcome the weight of the bike, even for a regular cyclist like myself.

In the end, I felt the Radster’s electronics and drivetrain provided a more seamless cycling experience in Class 2 mode.

That may be perfectly fine for the sort of biking you’re looking to do. At the same time, if your point in buying a Class 3-capable bike is to be riding it at its maximum assist speed without it feeling like an exercise challenge, then the Rad Power might not be the bike for you. (You may interpret that desire as “I want to be lazy,” but there are a lot of commutes where being able to match the prevailing speed of car traffic would be considerably safer and getting sweaty during the commute is non-ideal.)

The other notable thing about the Radster is its price, which is in the neighborhood of $2,000 ($1,999, to be precise). That places it above city bikes from a variety of competitors, including big-name brands like Trek. And it’s far above the price of some of the recent budget entries in this segment. The case for the Radster is that it has a number of things those others may lack—brake lights and directions, a heavy-duty rack, Class 3 capabilities—and some of those features are also very well implemented. Furthermore, not one component on it made me think: “They went with cheap hardware to meet a price point.” But, given the resulting price, you’ll have to do some careful comparison shopping to determine whether these are things that make a difference for you.

The good

  • Solidly built frame with a top-mounted battery.
  • Easy switching between Class 2 and Class 3 lets you match local laws anywhere in the US.
  • Great info screen and intuitive controls, including the first useful turn signals I’ve tried.
  • Didn’t cheap out on any components.

The bad

  • It’s hard to take full advantage of its Class 3 abilities.
  • Even the large frame won’t be great for taller riders.
  • Price means you’ll want to do some comparison shopping.

The ugly

  • Even the worst aspects fall more under “disappointing” than “ugly.”

Photo of John Timmer

John is Ars Technica’s science editor. He has a Bachelor of Arts in Biochemistry from Columbia University, and a Ph.D. in Molecular and Cell Biology from the University of California, Berkeley. When physically separated from his keyboard, he tends to seek out a bicycle, or a scenic location for communing with his hiking boots.

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how-old-is-the-earliest-trace-of-life-on-earth?

How old is the earliest trace of life on Earth?


A recent conference sees doubts raised about the age of the oldest signs of life.

Where the microbe bodies are buried: metamorphosed sediments in Labrador, Canada containing microscopic traces of carbon. Credit: Martin Whitehouse

Where the microbe bodies are buried: metamorphosed sediments in Labrador, Canada containing microscopic traces of carbon. Credit: Martin Whitehouse

The question of when life began on Earth is as old as human culture.

“It’s one of these fundamental human questions: When did life appear on Earth?” said Professor Martin Whitehouse of the Swedish Museum of Natural History.

So when some apparently biological carbon was dated to at least 3.95 billion years ago—making it the oldest remains of life on Earth—the claim sparked interest and skepticism in equal measure, as Ars Technica reported in 2017.

Whitehouse was among those skeptics. This July, he presented new evidence to the Goldschmidt Conference in Prague that the carbon in question is only between 2.7–2.8 billion years old, making it younger than other traces of life found elsewhere.

Organic carbon?

The carbon in question is in rock in Labrador, Canada. The rock was originally silt on the seafloor that, it’s argued, hosted early microbial life that was buried by more silt, leaving the carbon as their remains. The pressure and heat of deep burial and tectonic events over eons have transformed the silt into a hard metamorphic rock, and the microbial carbon in it has metamorphosed into graphite.

“They are very tiny, little graphite bits,” said Whitehouse.

The key to showing that this graphite was originally biological versus geological is its carbon isotope ratio. From life’s earliest days, its enzymes have preferred the slightly lighter isotope carbon-12 over the marginally heavier carbon-13. Organic carbon is therefore much richer in carbon-12 than geological carbon, and the Labrador graphite does indeed have this “light” biological isotope signature.

The key question, however, is its true age.

Mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up rocks

Sorting out the age of the carbon-containing Labrador rock is a geological can of worms.

These are some of the oldest rocks on the planet—they’ve been heated, squished, melted, and faulted multiple times as Earth went through the growth, collision, and breakup of continents before being worn down by ice and exposed today.

“That rock itself is unbelievably complicated,” said Whitehouse. “It’s been through multiple phases of deformation.”

In general, the only ways to date sediments are if there’s a layer of volcanic ash in them, or by distinctive fossils in the sediments. Neither is available in these Labrador rocks.

“The rock itself is not directly dateable,” said Whitehouse, “so then you fall onto the next best thing, which is you want to look for a classic field geology cross-cutting relationship of something that is younger and something that you can date.”

The idea, which is as old as the science of geology itself, is to bracket the age of the sediment by finding a rock formation that cuts across it. Logically, the cross-cutting rock is younger than the sediment it cuts across.

In this case, the carbon-containing metamorphosed siltstone is surrounded by swirly, gray banded gneiss rock, but the boundary between the siltstone and the gray gneiss is parallel, so there’s no cross-cutting to use.

Professor Tsuyoshi Komiya of The University of Tokyo was a coauthor on the 3.95 billion-year age paper. His team used a cross-cutting rock they found at a different location and extrapolated that to the carbon-bearing siltstone to constrain its age. “It was discovered that the gneiss was intruded into supracrustal rocks (mafic and sedimentary rocks),” said Komiya in an email to Ars Technica.

But Whitehouse disputes that inference between the different outcrops.

“You’re reliant upon making these very long-distance assumptions and correlations to try to date something that might actually not have anything to do with what you think you’re dating,” he said.

Professor Jonathan O’Neil of the University of Ottawa, who was not involved in either Whitehouse’s or Komiya’s studies but who has visited the outcrops in question, agrees with Whitehouse. “I remember I was not convinced either by these cross-cutting relationships,” he told Ars. “It’s not clear to me that one is necessarily older than the other.”

With the field geology evidence disputed, the other pillar holding up the 3.95-billion-year-old date is its radiometric date, measured in zircon crystals extracted from the rocks surrounding the metamorphosed siltstone.

The zircon keeps the score

Geologists use the mineral zircon to date rocks because when it crystallizes, it incorporates uranium but not lead. So as radioactive uranium slowly decays into lead, the ratio of uranium to lead provides the age of the crystal.

But the trouble with any date obtained from rocks as complicated as these is knowing exactly what geological event it dates—the number alone means little without the context of all the other geological evidence for the events that affected the area.

Both Whitehouse and O’Neil have independently sampled and dated the same rocks as Komiya’s team, and where Komiya’s team got a date of 3.95, Whitehouse’s and O’Neil’s new dates are both around 3.87 billion years. Importantly, O’Neil’s and Whitehouse’s dates are far more precise, with errors around plus-or-minus 5 or 6 million years, which is remarkably precise for dates in rocks this old. The 3.95 date had an error around 10 times bigger. “It’s a large error,” said O’Neil.

But there’s a more important question: How is that date related to the age of the organic carbon? The rocks have been through many events that could each have “set” the dates in the zircons. That’s because zircons can survive multiple re-heatings and even partial remelting, with each new event adding a new layer, or “zone,” on the outer surface of the crystal, recording the age of that event.

“This rock has seen all the events, and the zircon in it has responded to all of these events in a way that, when you go in with a very small-scale ion beam to do the sampling on these different zones, you can pick apart the geological history,” Whitehouse said.

Whitehouse’s team zapped tiny spots on the zircons with a beam of negatively charged oxygen ions to dislodge ions from the crystals, then sucked away these ions into a mass spectrometer to measure the uranium-lead ratio, and thus the dates. The tiny beam and relatively small error have allowed Whitehouse to document the events that these rocks have been through.

“Having our own zircon means we’ve been able to go in and look in more detail at the internal structure in the zircon,” said Whitehouse. “Where we might have a core that’s 3.87, we’ll have a rim that is 2.7 billion years, and that rim, morphologically, looks like an igneous zircon,” said Whitehouse.

That igneous outer rim of Whitehouse’s zircons shows that it formed in partially molten rock that would have flowed at that time. That flow was probably what brought it next to the carbon-containing sediments. Its date of 2.7 billion years ago means the carbon in the sediments could be any age older than that.

That’s a key difference from Komiya’s work. He argues that the older dates in the cores of the zircons are the true age of the cross-cutting rock. “Even the igneous zircons must have been affected by the tectonothermal event; therefore, the obtained age is the minimum age, and the true age is older,” said Komiya. “The fact that young zircons were found does not negate our research.”

But Whitehouse contends that the old cores of the zircons instead record a time when the original rock formed, long before it became a gneiss and flowed next to the carbon-bearing sediments.

Zombie crystals

Zircon’s resilience means it can survive being eroded from the rock where it formed and then deposited in a new, sedimentary rock as the undead remnants of an older, now-vanished landscape.

The carbon-containing siltstone contains zombie zircons, and Whitehouse presented new data on them to the Goldschmidt Conference, dating them to 2.8 billion years ago. Whitehouse argues that these crystals formed in an igneous rock 2.8 billion years ago and then were eroded, washed into the sea, and settled in the silt. So the siltstone must be no older than 2.8 billion years old, he said.

“You cannot deposit a zircon that is not formed yet,” O’Neil explained.

greyscale image of tiny fragments of mineral, with multiple layers visible in each fragment. A number of sites are circled on each fragment.

Tiny recorders of history – ancient zircon crystals from Labrador. Left shows layers built up as the zircon went through many heating events. Right shows a zircon with a prism-like outer shape showing that it formed in igneous conditions around an earlier zircon. Circles indicate where an ion beam was used to measure dates. Credit: Martin Whitehouse

This 2.8-billion-year age, along with the igneous zircon age of 2.7 billion years, brackets the age of the organic carbon to anywhere between 2.8 and 2.7 billion years old. That’s much younger than Komiya’s date of 3.95 billion years old.

Komiya disagrees: “I think that the estimated age is minimum age because zircons suffered from many thermal events, so that they were rejuvenated,” he said. In other words, the 2.8-billion-year age again reflects later heating, and the true date is given by the oldest-dated zircons in the siltstone.

But Whitehouse presented a third line of evidence to dispute the 3.95-billion-year date: isotopes of hafnium in the same zombie zircon crystals.

The technique relies on radioactive decay of lutetium-176 to hafnium-176. If the 2.8-billion-year age resulted from rejuvenation by later heating, it would have had to have formed from material with a hafnium isotope ratio incompatible with the isotope composition of the early Earth.

“They go to impossible numbers,” said Whitehouse.

The only way that the uranium-lead ratio can be compatible with the hafnium in the zircons, Whitehouse argued, is if the zircons that settled in the silt had crystallized around 2.8 billion years ago, constraining the organic carbon to being no older than that.

The new oldest remains of life on Earth, for now

If the Labrador carbon is no longer the oldest trace of life on Earth, then where are the oldest remains of life now?

For Whitehouse, it’s in the 3.77-billion-year-old Isua Greenstone Belt in Greenland: “I’m willing to believe that’s a well-documented age… that’s what I think is the best evidence for the oldest biogenicity that we have,” said Whitehouse.

O’Neil recently co-authored a paper on Earth’s oldest surviving crustal rocks, located next to Hudson Bay in Canada. He points there. “I would say it’s in the Nuvvuagittuq Greenstone belt,” said O’Neil, “because I would argue that these rocks are 4.3 billion years old. Again, not everybody agrees!” Intriguingly, the rocks he is referring to contain carbon with a possibly biological origin and are thought to be the remains of the kind of undersea vent where life could well have first emerged.

But the bigger picture is the fact that we have credible traces of life of this vintage—be it 3.8 or 3.9 or 4.3 billion years.

Any of those dates is remarkably early in the planet’s 4.6-billion-year life. It’s long before there was an oxygenated atmosphere, before continents emerged above sea level, and before plate tectonics got going. It’s also much older than the oldest microbial “stromatolite” fossils, which have been dated to about 3.48 billion years ago.

O’Neil thinks that once conditions on Earth were habitable, life would have emerged relatively fast: “To me, it’s not shocking, because the conditions were the same,” he said. “The Earth has the luxury of time… but biology is very quick. So if all the conditions were there by 4.3 billion years old, why would biology wait 500 million years to start?”

Photo of Howard Lee

Howard Lee is a freelance science writer focusing on the evolution of planet Earth through deep time. He earned a B.Sc. in geology and M.Sc. in remote sensing, both from the University of London, UK.

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