Hemp products have exploded across the United States, even in the majority of states where recreational marijuana remains illegal. This surge came after the 2018 Farm Bill removed hemp from the Controlled Substances Act and made cannabis products derived from hemp, defined as those containing less than 0.3% delta-9 tetrahydrocannabinol – commonly known as THC – legal. But the types of THC products available and the regulations around them, which vary by state, can be confusing.

A common question I get as a chemist is about the differences between the various delta THCs, and about the actual amounts of THC in the available products. There’s delta-8, delta-9, delta-10 and THCA. The amounts of THC in legally infused drinks and edibles also varies, with products most often containing 5 or 10 milligrams.

Knowing the difference between these compounds, and how much THC is in what you’re buying, goes a long way toward making informed choices as a consumer.

THCA and delta-9 THC

THC compounds are a subset of cannabinoids, which include any compound that interacts with the cannabinoid receptors in your body. THC is technically a family of compounds including delta-8, delta-9 and delta-10 THC, which all have similar chemical structures and are psychoactive – meaning they can alter your mood and perception and produce a “high.”

However, not all cannabinoids are psychoactive. For example, cannabidiol, or CBD, interacts with the same receptors, but through different mechanisms, so it does not produce a high.

9-tetrahydrocannabinolic acid, THCA, is the major cannabinoid found in the cannabis plant. THCA itself does not produce a high, however. It first needs to undergo a chemical reaction that generates a psychoactive compound: delta-9 THC.

These two compounds have different chemical structures. THCA has an extra group of atoms attached that must be removed to produce delta-9 THC. Under heat, this group breaks away from the rest of the compound, creating delta-9 THC. So, when the plant is burned or cooked, THCA transforms into delta-9 THC.

The 2018 Farm Bill measured only the delta-9 THC – not THCA – present in a hemp plant. So a hemp plant could have, say, 25% THCA and only 0.2% delta-9 THC and still be legal, as it has less than 0.3% delta-9 THC. But as soon as you heat it, the THCA will convert to psychoactive delta-9 THC.

However, in November 2025, the Agriculture Appropriations Act redefined hemp by limiting the total THC, including THCA, to 0.3% on a dry weight basis.

Changing regulations

This new rule will go into effect in November 2026 and significantly affect the potency of smokable hemp products. In the plant itself, the cannabinoids make up a large percentage of the flower’s dry weight. High-potency cannabis strains have THCA concentrations from 20% to 30% by dry weight – far above the 0.3% total THC threshold. This redefinition would effectively render the majority of these products illegal under federal law.

The math for edibles like gummies and seltzers is different, so the dry weight rule alone does not affect these products.

Consider a 12-ounce THC-infused drink: The total dry weight of the product would only need to be about 3.3 grams per 10 milligrams of delta-9 THC – a common higher-end dosage – to fall at exactly the 0.3% threshold. A 12-ounce can of seltzer weighs around 355 grams, so 10 milligrams of delta-9 THC in a 12-ounce drink easily passes the weight threshold.

Even a very small edible like a gummy easily meets this weight threshold. For instance, a single Starburst candy weighs 5 grams, well above the 3.3-gram minimum needed for a 10-milligram dose to be under the 0.3% limit.

To close this loophole, the new law adds a separate rule: Any final hemp-derived product containing more than 0.4 milligrams of THC per container is no longer legal. That’s well below a single dose of any commercially marketed THC beverage or edible.

However, the debate isn’t over. Lawmakers introduced amended legislation in April 2026 that will give states autonomy in hemp regulation as opposed to a blanket federal ban.

What about delta-8 and delta-10 THC?

Delta-8 and delta-10 THC are what chemists call isomers of the delta-9 THC. They have the same chemical formula but different chemical structures. It’s hard to even tell the difference looking at the molecules. One of the double bonds just shifts its position by one spot in the ring.

Like delta-9, delta-8 and delta-10 THC are also psychoactive and bind cannabinoid receptors in the body in a similar way.

While they do occur naturally in cannabis plants, the concentrations are far lower than THCA and delta-9 THC. For commercial products, they must be produced synthetically, which has raised concerns about chemical contamination from manufacturing.

Some evidence suggests that these alternate forms are less potent than delta-9, but scientists will need to conduct more research to determine whether that’s true.

These compounds fell outside the original calculation in the 2018 Farm Bill, which limited only delta-9 – effectively acting as another loophole. But the recently proposed total THC standard closes it by accounting for all types of THC. State legislation still varies substantially when it comes to hemp-derived products.

In April 2026, the Trump administration rescheduled medical marijuana from Schedule I to Schedule III. This move could potentially add to the regulatory confusion, but it will lower research barriers and help scientists address basic questions about THC’s potency, how the body metabolizes it and its therapeutic potential.

Underlying all these complex debates around the legality of hemp versus marijuana and recreational versus medical uses at the state and federal levels lies a single molecule: delta-9 THC.

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

Cricket and soccer are two of, if not the biggest national sporting codes in Australia.

Yet the governing bodies of both have recently been in the news for their financial difficulties.

How can it be these two dominant codes are struggling?

Major sports, major problems

Football Australia (FA) recently announced it will cut around 20% of its workforce, following a loss of more than $15 million. This has raised concerns about organisational performance.

But the financial detail suggests something more structural.

In 2025, FA generated record revenue of approximately $139 million, yet reported a net loss of $15.3 million – about 11% of total income.

This follows a deficit of $8.5 million the previous year.

Revenue has been rising but financial stability remains elusive, a pattern also evident in Cricket Australia (CA).

CA reported around $455 million in revenue and an operating surplus of $109.6 million in 2024–25. However, after distributing roughly $120 million to state associations, it recorded a net deficit of about $11 million.

This highlights how large revenues in sport do not necessarily deliver financial strength.

In many governing body models, revenue functions less as retained capital and more as a redistribution mechanism to support leagues, grassroots systems, pathways and national teams.

Revenue growth without financial stability

At first glance, both organisations appear financially strong.

FA has expanded commercial partnerships and participation while CA has benefited from increased attendance and broadcast income associated with major international series.

However, much of this revenue is cyclical, particularly in cricket where income fluctuates with international scheduling, while soccer revenues remain exposed to changes in participation patterns and media markets.

This suggests FA’s high fixed costs relative to variable costs are limiting profitability.

Much of FA’s cost base is now structurally embedded: national team investment, women’s soccer expansion, technical infrastructure and participation systems. These create recurring expenditure that is difficult to reduce quickly without damaging sporting or political objectives.

On the expenditure side, both organisations face relatively inflexible cost structures. FA’s employee and team-related expenses increased to more than $63 million in 2025, up from about $50 million the previous year.

Wages alone rose by roughly $11 million over the same period.

CA faces comparable pressures. Total expenses rose to nearly $346 million, with player payments exceeding $133 million – representing the largest category of expenditure.

While CA generated a substantial operating surplus, much of that cash flow is redistributed via state funding arrangements, player payments and system-wide commitments.

In practice, CA functions more like a financing institution for the broader national cricket economy.

What the financial data actually show

FA’s revenue increased from $124 million in 2024 to $139 million in 2025, yet its losses expanded from $8.5 million to $15.3 million during the same period.

This divergence reinforces earlier evidence that expenditure growth, particularly in labour-intensive areas, is outpacing revenue, reflecting cost pressures within the system.

These costs appear structurally embedded, which means they can’t be easily reduced in the short term.

FA has also been affected by the A-League’s own turbulent finances.

While FA is the governing body for soccer in Australia, the A-League is independent. FA does not directly cover the league’s losses but does support the A-League by allowing it to retain money it might otherwise have owed.

This is because a financially stable A-League is critical to the health of the entire soccer system, including player development, national team performance and the sport’s commercial viability in Australia.

CA’s position reflects a different structural constraint. While the organisation generated an operating surplus of $109.6 million, distributions of around $120 million to state associations effectively absorbed that surplus, resulting in a net deficit.

This financial uncertainty led CA to recently investigate raising money by selling some or all of its Big Bash League teams to private equity. However, the move was quashed by the states.

Read more: Cricket Australia’s Big Bash cash grab is rejected – but there are better options on the table

Governance constraints and contested reform

Australian sports’ governing bodies are increasingly caught between globalised cost structures and comparatively limited domestic market scale. Many remain dependent on cyclical broadcast markets and concentrated domestic audiences.

These structural pressures are made worse because FA still has financial obligations tied to the A-League. But anticipated A-League revenues have not been fully realised, transferring financial strain onto the FA.

CA provides a comparable example, where proposals to restructure commercial arrangements, such as the proposed Big Bash equity sales, have been constrained by stakeholder resistance.

Together, these cases illustrate how federated governance structures constrain financial adaptability, creating structurally embedded pressures in which cyclical revenues and rising cost bases generate financial strain even during periods of growth.

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

Every year in March, tens of thousands of Americans take to the streets – and bars – to celebrate St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. Similarly, Mexican Americans celebrate the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mexico’s patron saint, in December.

But did you know that the U.S. has its own patron saint? Nearly 200 years ago, in May 1846, Catholic priests and bishops named the Virgin Mary patroness of the United States of America – specifically, under her title as the Immaculate Conception, referring to the belief she was conceived without sin.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which summarizes doctrine, a saint is a holy person who “leads a life in union with God through the grace of Christ and receives the reward of eternal life.” Catholics may venerate saints and ask them to intercede with God on their behalf. Some are recognized, whether formally or informally, as “patrons” of particular situations, conditions, identities or places, often inspired by their life on Earth.

We are librarians at the University of Dayton who work in the Marian Library and the U.S. Catholic Special Collection. We recently created a digital exhibit with objects pointing to the history of this devotion to Mary as the Immaculate Conception in the United States – objects that reflect both patriotism and faith.

The Immaculate Conception

Mary is known by many names and titles, including the Virgin Mary, Mary of Nazareth, Our Lady of Lourdes, Holy Mother of God, Queen of Heaven, Seat of Wisdom and Mystical Rose.

One important title is Immaculate Conception, referring to the Catholic belief that Mary was free of “original sin” and therefore suitable to be the mother of Jesus Christ. The Catholic Church teaches that all other people are conceived with original sin as a result of Adam and Eve’s disobedience to God in the Garden of Eden.

Originally, the idea that Mary was free of original sin was widely debated within the Catholic Church. But the teaching was defined as dogma on Dec. 8, 1854, by Pope Pius IX. The feast day of the Immaculate Conception is now celebrated by Catholics on Dec. 8 each year. Even before its official acceptance, devotion to the Immaculate Conception influenced the art and teachings of the Catholic Church.

Patroness of the United States

How did Mary, as the Immaculate Conception, become patroness of the United States?

John Carroll, who became the first American bishop in 1790, was devoted to Mary throughout his life. In 1791, he and other American Catholic clergy consecrated the Diocese of Baltimore to Mary, asking her to “[preserve] from all evil” the people of the diocese.

Half a century later, in 1846, a council of priests and bishops from across the country officially named Mary, under her title as the Immaculate Conception, the patroness of the entire United States, asking her for “the aid of her prayers.”

Devotion to the Immaculate Conception has remained an important part of the faith lives of many American Catholics, even if they are unaware of her patronage of the United States. This devotion is demonstrated by the many churches that are named for the Immaculate Conception, jewelry depicting the Immaculate Conception and the inclusion of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception as a holy day of obligation in the U.S. – a day when Catholics are expected to attend Mass.

On Feb. 7, 1847, the Vatican approved the request to make Mary, as the Immaculate Conception, the patroness of the United States. This was seven years before the dogma was defined by the pope, pointing to the popularity of this devotion even before official recognition.

Bicentennial holy card

Many items in the Marian Library’s collection, such as holy cards, also demonstrate American Catholics’ devotion to Mary as the Immaculate Conception. A holy card is a small portable devotional tool, often including an image of Jesus or a saint on the front. Typically, a prayer, devotion, scripture passage or commemoration of an important event is printed on the reverse side.

One of our cards features an image of Mary as the Immaculate Conception above the words: “Immaculate Mary, Patroness of the United States, Pray for Us.” The reverse commemorates the bicentennial of the United States in 1976, followed by the motto of the United States, “In God We Trust.”

The image of Mary is a reproduction of “The Immaculate Conception of El Escorial,” a painting by 17th-century Spanish painter Bartolomé Esteban Murillo in the collection of Madrid’s Museo del Prado. The painting reflects artistic traditions that symbolize the theology behind the Immaculate Conception.

Mary is shown with a blue garment: a color associated with faith, humility, the heavens and the sea. Since blue pigments were very expensive during the Renaissance, the color was reserved for important figures, particularly paintings of Mary.

Other symbols, though, are specific to Mary as the Immaculate Conception. She stands with a moon beneath her feet, inspired by the “apocalyptic woman” from the Bible’s Book of Revelation: “a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.” Catholic theologians interpret this figure as a reference to Mary, establishing her as mother of all Christians.

In other artwork of the Immaculate Conception, Mary is depicted with a snake beneath her feet, a crown of 12 stars or a dragon – also inspired by Revelation, Chapter 12.

American rosary

Another important object of Catholic devotion, the rosary, encourages reflection on the lives of Jesus and Mary. The word can refer to a physical object – a set of 50 beads or knots on a string – or certain sets of prayers, including Hail Mary and Our Father. Touching the beads as they pray helps Catholics keep track as they recite the prayers.

The “American Rosary” in our collection was designed by Marie George of New York in 1956, though archivists do not know exactly who she was. It uses beads in the patriotic colors of red, white and blue, and it includes a Miraculous Medal, which depicts Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception. A card included with the rosary encourages Catholics to offer prayers “for World Peace, with Justice and Charity.”

Across centuries

For much of U.S. history, Catholics in the United States often faced prejudice and discrimination. In the mid-19th century, when Mary as the Immaculate Conception was named patroness, the Protestant majority of the U.S. was deeply suspicious of Catholics’ loyalty to the pope.

The bicentennial holy card and the American rosary from the following century, both dedicated to the Immaculate Conception, reveal how American Catholics still sought to demonstrate that their faith and their patriotism did not conflict with each other.

In 2026 – the 250th anniversary of the United States, and the 180th anniversary of Mary’s patronage – some of that history may feel distant. The Catholic Church elected the first American-born pope, Leo XIV, in 2025, and the United States has seen a surge in Catholic conversions in 2026. But Catholics still ask Mary, as patroness of the U.S., for her intercession: not only in their lives, but for their country.

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

Chief Purpose Officers: Do firms really need them? For decades, the shareholder primacy model dominated corporate strategy, often displacing explicit discussions of broader organizational purpose. Today, in a world shaped by AI, economic uncertainty, and constant organizational change, many stakeholders want companies to stand for something more than short-term results. As a result, the term “purpose”, defined as the reason a firm exists in society, has become a powerful business buzzword, especially following the Business Roundtable’s 2019 statement on corporate purpose. However, the more companies talk about purpose, the fewer employees seem to believe them.

Research suggests corporate purpose may be “too good to be true”. Employees increasingly experience purpose rhetoric as vague, superficial, and disconnected from everyday work realities. Companies make ambitious promises about values and responsibility to connect with society, yet the day-to-day remains dominated by growth targets, efficiency pressures, and quarterly results.

Employees notice the gap between what organisations say and what they actually do.

The emergence of CPOs and the importance of being ‘purpose-driven’

This growing complexity has fostered a new executive role that has quietly emerged: the Chief Purpose Officer, or CPO.

Ubisoft, Virgin Atlantic, Cisco, Sephora, and KPMG, to name a few, have introduced purpose-focused leadership roles in recent years.

Their task is simple in theory but difficult in practice: making sure a company’s stated purpose influences real decisions. Rather than competing with financial goals, CPOs help clarify how purpose and performance can be aligned, especially when leaders face difficult trade-offs about growth, stakeholders, and long-term responsibility.

Our recent study of 44 Chief Purpose Officers across industries such as gaming, travel, and beauty found that these executives work at the intersection of strategy, culture, and ethics to transform their organisations into more purpose-driven entities.

They help by connecting lofty purpose statements to the reality of organisational life.

In practice, this means asking difficult questions during leadership meetings:

• Does a business decision align with the company’s long-term direction and with its purpose?
• When does growth undermine the organisation’s purpose?
• How does the company create value for society? And where its activities cause harm, what changes are needed to transform the business?

Some CPOs redesign hiring and reward systems so employees are evaluated partly on their contributions to strengthening the organisation’s purpose. Others develop “purpose metrics” that executives discuss alongside financial performance.

Some examples are surprisingly concrete. One executive told us their company had ended relationships with clients whose practices conflicted with its values. Another described leadership meetings where executives openly discussed their emotional reactions to climate-related events. Some make purpose visible in simple, tangible ways. One CPO, for example, created a “light bulb wall”: each time an employee acts in a way that brings the organisation’s purpose to life, a new bulb is switched on. Over time, the wall becomes a visible reminder that purpose is enacted through everyday decisions and small, repeated actions.

At first glance, CPOs’ practices may appear unusual. In reality, they reflect a deeper transformation in management itself, trying to integrate moral and emotional considerations into strategic decision-making.

CPOs set out to reshape how organisations think about their societal role. They foster emotional engagement around shared values. They build relationships across stakeholders and departments. And they embed purpose into tangible structures such as incentives, metrics, and governance systems. In short, they attempt to transform abstract ideals into operational reality.

Can CPOs really make a difference?

The big question is whether companies need a dedicated executive for this work. While the role may overlap with functions such as HR, CPOs add value by linking purpose to long-term strategy and governance. As purpose is not static, CPOs support purpose evolution. They ensure that decisions reflect the organization’s responsibilities toward employees, customers, and communities, turning purpose into a practical guide for business.

Critics argue that Chief Purpose Officers risk becoming symbolic figures with little real influence. If one executive champions purpose while finance and operations teams control the actual decisions, nothing changes.

As a result, in some organisations, the role can become a form of corporate theatre: a visible commitment to values without meaningful structural reform. And lastly, purpose is also difficult to measure. Unlike sales or profits, its impact is harder to quantify. That makes it easy for sceptics to dismiss the role as another management fad.

Our research suggests that CPOs only make a difference under certain conditions.

1. The organisation must genuinely use purpose as a decision-making filter and link purpose with strategy.

2. The CPO must have both legitimacy and authority. They must report directly to the CEO and participate in strategic meetings.

3. Leadership must visibly model purpose, especially when it conflicts with short-term profit. If the CEO abandons purpose when it becomes inconvenient, the entire effort collapses into theatre.

When these conditions are present, organisations can change in tangible ways. Hiring practices evolve. Supplier relationships shift. Incentive systems are redesigned. Purpose begins to shape everyday decisions and becomes strategically relevant.

So, do firms need Chief Purpose Officers? Increasingly, yes.

In a business world marked by technological disruption, social pressure, and growing distrust of corporate rhetoric, firms face pressure from all directions at once. They must remain profitable, innovate quickly, attract talent, respond to social expectations, and adapt to technological change. Purpose does not replace these goals. It helps connect them.

This is where Chief Purpose Officers can make a difference.

Their role is about helping organisations clarify what they stand for when facing difficult trade-offs and competing priorities.

CPOs cannot solve these tensions alone. But they can help organisations turn purpose from a marketing message into a tangible, organisational reality that can be experienced in the workplace.

Why Europe needs CPOs

Society is raising the bar for responsible business. The European Union’s Corporate and Sustainability Reporting Directive and Green Deal now require large firms to align finance and operations with stated sustainability commitments and report on their impact. Yet compliance alone does not create purpose.

A company may report strong environmental performance while still lacking a clear reason for existing beyond shareholder returns. A Chief Purpose Officer is one emerging and fragile answer that helps close this gap by ensuring that a company’s purpose genuinely shapes financial and operational decisions, driving the transformation of European businesses toward more responsible and sustainable models.

Ones to watch

List of top executive appointments dedicated to upholding best practices:

• Richard Boele, Chief Purpose Officer, KPMG Australia
• Alexandra Michat, Chief Purpose Officer, Exo Travel
• Simon Cheetham, Chief Purpose Officer, Andrew Property & Purpose
• Priya Srinivasan, Chief People and Purpose Officer, Coty
• Laura Dunne, Chief Purpose and Proposition Officer, Lincolnshire Co-op
• Caroline Jeanteur, Chief Purpose Officer, Ubisoft.

Paradoxically, several CPOs in our study suggested that their ultimate success would be to make the position less necessary over time by embedding purpose into the organisations systems, routines, and decision-making processes.

Yet the very emergence of the Chief Purpose Officer points to a broader shift in modern capitalism: companies are increasingly expected to demonstrate how their purpose shapes how they create value, govern themselves, and respond to society’s demands.

The full research on how to implement purpose in organisations is available in “Dynamic Strategifying: How do Chief Purpose Officers make purpose strategic and strategy purposeful?”, published in Long Range Planning (2025), and “Too good to be true? The ambivalent consequences and managerial challenges of purpose implementation,” in European Management Review (2026).

A weekly e-mail in English featuring expertise from scholars and researchers. It provides an introduction to the diversity of research coming out of the continent and considers some of the key issues facing European countries. Get the newsletter!

Les auteurs ne travaillent pas, ne conseillent pas, ne possèdent pas de parts, ne reçoivent pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'ont déclaré aucune autre affiliation que leur organisme de recherche.

Every four years, the men’s World Cup delivers some certainties. The pitch dimensions are tightly regulated, offside is signaled with a flag, and referees end the match with a blast of a whistle. But one key piece of equipment is changed on purpose: the ball.

Adidas, which has supplied World Cup soccer balls since 1970, introduces a new match ball for every tournament, and with that comes fresh aerodynamic calculations for players. How will it fly through the air, weave and dip?

For the past 20 years, my engineering colleagues in Japan and England and I have put the new balls through their paces, investigating soccer ball aerodynamics. Our work begins by putting balls in wind tunnels to measure drag, side and lift forces. We use the measurements from these tests in trajectory simulations that tell us how the ball will behave in a real-game setting.

That may all sound a little academic, and we do produce an academic paper on our findings. But what our data indicates could mean the difference between a goal or a miss for strikers, a save or a blunder for goalkeepers, and jubilation or heartache for fans.

At the World Cup, the ball is the most important piece of equipment in the biggest tournament of the world’s most popular sport.

This year’s ball, the Trionda, is especially interesting. When FIFA and Adidas unveiled it in fall 2025, the first thing many people noticed was the color and the paneling.

The ball’s red, blue and green graphics correspond to the three host countries, with maple leaf, star and eagle motifs representing Canada, the United States and Mexico. And for the first time in men’s World Cup history, matches will be played with a four-panel ball.

But with so few panels, has Adidas made the ball too smooth? That is the trap engineers fell into with the Jabulani ball used at the 2010 World Cup in South Africa that became notorious for sudden dips and swerves, which made goalkeepers’ lives far trickier.

You do not want the World Cup ball to feel like the start of a science experiment once it is in the air. And if it behaves strangely, players and goalkeepers notice immediately.

The evolution of soccer balls

World Cup balls have come a long way over the decades. If you go back to 1930, the ball looked very different. The first World Cup final used two different leather balls: Argentina’s Tiento in the first half and Uruguay’s T-Model in the second. Both were hand-sewn, multipaneled balls, inflated through a bladder opening that had to be tied off and tucked back beneath the laces. In damp conditions, the leather absorbed water, making the ball heavier and less predictable in play.

By 1994 – when the United States last hosted the men’s tournament – the official ball, Adidas’ Questra, had evolved into a foam-based design. The modern World Cup ball is no longer just stitched leather. It is an engineered aerodynamic surface.

Trionda pushes that evolution further. It has only four panels, the fewest in men’s World Cup history, which have been thermally bonded – melded together using heat and adhesive.

Fewer panels might suggest less total seam length and therefore a smoother ball. And smoothness matters because the thin boundary layer of air clinging to the ball determines where the flow separates, how large a wake forms, and how much drag the ball experiences.

The Trionda has intentionally deep seams, three pronounced grooves on each panel and fine surface texturing.

But will these textures and grooves do the trick? To find that out, my colleagues and I measured the ball’s seam geometry and overall aerodynamic behavior. We compared it with Trionda’s four predecessors: 2022’s Al Rihla, 2018’s Telstar 18, the Brazuca used in 2014 and the Jabulani in 2010.

What the measurements show

In our wind tunnel tests at the University of Tsukuba, we measured something called the drag coefficient, which is a way of describing how much air resistance a ball experiences as it moves.

Using this data, we gained insights into how the airflow changes around the ball after it is kicked. The tests helped identify the drag crisis, the speed range in which changes in the boundary layer and flow separation produce a sharp change in drag, which can alter the ball’s acceleration, trajectory and range.

We found that the Trionda is effectively rougher than those predecessors.

Trionda reaches its drag crisis at a lower speed, at about 27 mph (43 kph). That is below the roughly 31-40 mph (50-65 kph) range for Al Rihla, Telstar 18 and Brazuca, and far below Jabulani’s roughly 49-60 mph (79-97 kph) range, depending on orientation.

Why does all that matter? Because a ball can feel ordinary off the boot and still behave differently in flight. When the drag crisis occurs in the middle of game-relevant speeds, small changes in launch speed, orientation or spin can shift the ball from one aerodynamic regime to another.

That was Jabulani’s problem. Once kicked with little spin, it had a tendency to slow down too much as it passed through its critical-speed range.

Trionda does not look like that kind of ball. It has a more steady and consistent drag coefficient in the range of speeds associated with corner kicks and free kicks.

But there is a trade-off. Our measurements also showed that once Trionda enters the higher-speed, turbulent-flow regime, its drag coefficients are somewhat larger than those of Brazuca, Telstar 18 and Al Rihla.

In plain language, that suggests a hard-hit long ball may lose a little range.

In our simulations, the difference is not huge. But it is large enough that players may notice long kicks coming up a few meters short.

It is also important to note that we tested a nonspinning ball. As such, our results do not provide a prediction of every pass, clearance or free kick fans will see this summer. Balls in flight often spin due to off-center kicks. That, along with altitude, humidity, temperature and air pressure all influence how a ball flies through the air once kicked.

The big test yet to come

Fewer panels and more texturing aren’t the only differences with the new ball.

Trionda also carries technology that has little to do with its flight and a great deal to do with officiating. Like Al Rihla, Trionda includes “connected-ball technology” that lets computers know when the ball is kicked, helping with offside decisions.

But the architecture has changed. In 2022, the measurement unit was suspended at the center of the ball. With Trionda, it sits in a specially created layer inside one panel, with counterbalancing weights in the other three panels. The chip sends data to the video assistant referee, or VAR, system and the tournament’s semi-automated offside system.

That tweak will help referees, but will the new ball in general help or hinder players?

The evidence from our tests suggests that the ball won’t be behaving in a way that leads to baffling and erratic flight.

But the more intriguing possibilities are subtler and outside the scope of our tests. Will the grooves on Trionda help players generate more backspin on the ball, generating more lift and possibly offsetting Trionda’s somewhat larger high-speed drag coefficient?

That is why I keep studying World Cup balls both in the lab and through their behavior in play. Every four years, a new design offers a fresh way to watch physics enter the game, not in theory, but in the movement of an object in which every player on the soccer field must place their trust.

John Eric Goff currently works as a visitor in the Department of Physics at the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, Washington. Following the conclusion on 30 June of that one-year appointment, he will start on 1 July as Professor of Engineering Practice in the Weldon School of Biomedical Engineering and the School of Mechanical Engineering at Purdue University.

I (Adam) am chatting with the “Apostle Stephen”, an online chatbot created by the Redeemed Christian Church of God, a church founded in Nigeria in the 1950s with a growing global following. He is, to be honest, a bit pushy for an apostle.

In my conversation with Apostle Stephen, I open by asking for details about RCCG congregations in Coventry. He responds that to help assist me better he needs my name, email and phone number. I say I’d rather not share that information right now.

But with the tenacity of a seasoned telesales agent, he insists and the following exchange occurs.

Apostle Stephen: I understand your concern, but collecting your name, email and phone number is essential for me to provide you with the best possible assistance and ensure you get the support you need. If you’re comfortable, please share those details with me, and I’ll be glad to help you with the contact details for churches in Coventry.

Adam: Can you just give me the details first?

Apostle Stephen: I appreciate your interest, but I need to collect your name, email, and phone number before I can provide the details you’re requesting. This allows me to assist you effectively and offer further support. Please share those details with me, and I’ll be happy to help you find churches in Coventry.

Adam: Oh, ok, I’ll leave it for now.

Undeterred, Apostle Stephen sets out the seven steps to being “born again” (including acknowledging my sins, accepting Jesus, being baptised, and joining a “Bible-believing church”).

He cheerfully leads me in “the prayer for salvation” (after which I am apparently born again) and closes by asking me for my name, email and phone number.

So, is this a glimpse of spirituality in the age of generative artificial intelligence (gen AI)? Or an unrepresentative snapshot from an evangelical Christian denomination?

The Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG) claims to have almost 9 million members worldwide. It was first established in the UK during the early 1990s, as part of the Nigerian diaspora.

Four decades later, it is possibly the largest Black-led Christian denomination in the UK and one of the fastest-growing, particularly in large cities.

It’s an interesting church, and it’s certainly not the only religious organisation that is experimenting with gen AI.

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All major religions now have AI chatbots – examples include thejesusai.com; qurangpt.com; bhagavadgita.com/gitagpt (Hindu chatbot); ai.aish.com (Jewish chatbot of Rabbi Nechemia Coopersmith); and JustinAI from Catholic Answers.

Even Sikhism has one: KhalsaGPT. This is surprising because the religion’s governing body, the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee (SGPC), has issued a worldwide ban on generative AI depicting the Sikh gurus and scriptures.

In fact, the website designers behind KhalsaGPT have since discontinued “active work” on the bot, after they “became increasingly concerned about the limitations of AI-based chatbot systems, including the risk of inaccurate or inappropriate answers on sensitive religious matters”.

A spokesperson told The Conversation: “As Sikhs ourselves, we understood that this area requires great care, responsibility and proper oversight.” The spokesperson said it “fully” respects the SGPC and its “intention has never been to disobey any Sikh directive”.

The phenomenon of religious AI chatbots – also known as “godbots” – is a recent development. In most cases, they are not officially sanctioned by religious leaders or policy.

Rather, they are set up by enterprising individuals or organisations that see demand and opportunity. But with opportunity comes danger.

Pope Leo XIV recently declared that artificial intelligence was one of the defining moral challenges of our time. In his first encyclical (a formal letter intended to guide moral, social and theological thought), he warned that AI is never truly neutral, but “takes on the characteristics of those who devise, finance, regulate and use it”.

When AI and religion collide

As I investigated further, I discovered numerous cases of chatbots that had condoned or encouraged users to harm others or themselves after deep down-the-rabbit-hole, life-altering conversations. This phenomenon even had a name: GPT or AI psychosis.

Read more: AI-induced psychosis: the danger of humans and machines hallucinating together

While there are no official statistics, it seems increasing numbers of people are turning to chatbots for companionship, advice and spiritual guidance.

Clearly, this phenomenon of AI overlapping with faith and spirituality needed more scrutiny. So I teamed up with my colleague Chris Shannahan, a political theologian and ordained Methodist minister, to conduct research into the social effects of what happens when AI and religion collide.

Religious faith plays a pivotal role in the resilience of large segments of the British population. And faith groups provide a crucial social safety net in times of crisis, helping to provide emergency accommodation, foodbanks, refugee and pastoral support. They are also involved in grassroots community development and social justice campaigns.

Following tragedies such as the Grenfell Tower fire or terrorist attacks, religious leaders, symbols and narratives play a key role in bringing people together. They facilitate grieving, rebuilding and advocacy.

To find out more about how AI is affecting these groups, we interviewed 28 religious leaders across all six major religious faiths in the UK, including some from non-denominational backgrounds.

Religious responses to AI

Faith communities are dynamic, not uniform. Such diversity and plurality makes it very difficult to pin-down the “official” stance of an entire faith community on an issue like AI.

While the Roman Catholic Church and some Pentecostal denominations are relatively hierarchical, most faith communities are flatter, more devolved organisations, making it less easy to adopt and enforce a single approach.

There have been a small number of institutional responses to the use and growth of AI, such as the Vatican’s 2020 Rome Call. Supported by Pope Francis, the Rome Call launched a high-level dialogue with the bosses of global tech giants like Microsoft and IBM. This was intended to develop a shared “algorethics” – ethical frameworks to guide the design of AI algorithms.

But the Rome Call and the SGPC’s worldwide ban on gen AI depicting the Sikh gurus and scriptures are the only examples we could find of official intervention on this matter.

A much more common approach to AI among faith communities is the one identified by Revd Dr Simon Cross, AI adviser to the Church of England (CofE). Cross suggested to us that it would be difficult and unwise for a diverse faith group like the CofE to enforce a top-down, rules-based approach to AI, because the needs and natures of local communities differ.

A better approach, Cross suggested, was for institutions like the CofE to develop and encourage the use of a series of ethical principles intended to inform and guide the use of AI locally.

Describing a kind of “nervousness” from religious congregations around using AI, Cross explained:

People are asking for some more granular use advice. What we’ve discovered trying to write our own [guidelines] over the last six months is it needs to be principles-based, because the right solution is always contextual.

Online godbots are often trained on the holy books of different faith traditions, using large language models (LLMs).

These tools tend to function in one of two ways. Faith groups can use godbots as “virtual assistants” for people visiting their website (just like Apostle Stephen). Such virtual-assistant godbots are similar to those used by many businesses on their website, providing answers to people who want to find out more – and, of course, gathering data from those inquiring.

The style of these virtual assistants can reflect the stance of the faith group on whose website they appear. Some, like Apostle Stephen, can be assertive and keen to recruit new followers. Other, less evangelical faith communities tend to use their virtual assistant godbots in a more low-key manner – simply offering information when asked, rather than proactively seeking to find out more about people using the tool.

In fact, we believe it is the second way godbots are used where the most danger lies. That is when they serve as unofficial sources of spiritual guidance.

Father Justin AI

Justin AI is a Catholic apologist chatbot created by Catholic Answers, a conservative advocacy group based in California. In his original iteration, “Father Justin” wore the clerical clothing of a Roman Catholic priest.

The interface is similar to a Zoom call, with an AI-generated avatar set in the picturesque surrounds of the basilica of St Francis of Assisi. Justin invites you to ask any question you like about Catholicism, and provides answers based on the Bible and the Catechism. Following his launch as Father Justin AI in 2024, he was able to hear confessions and offer absolution.

However, he was swiftly “defrocked” (had his priest status removed) following a number of complaints about some unorthodox answers that he had allegedly given – including that babies could “get baptised with Gatorade”, siblings could marry, and “other controversial statements”.

Justin AI is now just a “lay theologian”, but is still available online 24/7 to answer the “tens of thousands” of questions received daily about Catholic faith.

This case illustrates the tension that exists between the need to leverage technology to fill budgetary and staff gaps, and the pitfalls of using a fallible technology in a pastoral context where people’s lives and spiritual wellbeing are at stake.

As one of our Roman Catholic interviewees noted: “After Justin committed heresy … there was a sense that Catholic Answers had slightly jumped the gun” on AI.

While different religious traditions may differ in their responses to godbots, there is undeniably an appeal and demand for their services. Some research suggests people perceive less fear of judgment and that we may be more honest when conversing with chatbots as opposed to humans.

A quick online search reveals, for example, over a dozen different Hindu iterations of chatbots.

One, called GitaGPT, reportedly condoned violent acts “using the voice of God”. According to a report by Salimah Shivji, the South Asia correspondent for Canadian media outlet CBC News:

Many in India are foregoing in-person contact with a guru interpreting the Bhagavad Gita and turning to online chatbots which imitate the voice of the Hindu god Krishna … It’s new technology with the tendency to veer off script and condone violence, according to experts, who warn that artificial intelligence chatbots playing god can be a dangerous mix. Several of the bots consistently provide the answer that it’s OK to kill someone if it’s your dharma, or duty.

We experimented with Hindu chatbots as part of our investigation, and also found there were times when they justified the use of violence as “your duty”.

Magisterium AI

If the Gita and the Justin AI bots are examples of the wrong way to do a religious chatbot, Magisterium AI might represent a better way.

In a YouTube interview, the creator of Magisterium, Mathew Harvey Sanders, who is originally from Canada, stated its fundamental goal is “radical fidelity to the magisterium of the church” – as opposed to secular models that serve the general public.

Magisterium AI’s earlier attempts tried to adapt commercially available LLMs like ChatGPT, Gemini and Claude to its needs. But Sanders explained: “We realised that if we’re going to be serious about Catholic AI, we’re going to have train it from scratch … There’s just no way to truly achieve alignment with one of these pre-trained models from one of these companies.”

Building from scratch, and training AI on a corpus of your own documents is what Sanders calls “data evangelisation”.

This thought came up again in an interview with a Quaker elder who had previously worked in Silicon Valley, and now works in UK government in cybersecurity and AI development. He said: “It’s my unit of government that develops AIs and chatbots for the government. We’re also the ones who assure its safety.”

He explained that public-facing government chatbots are designed to answer queries efficiently and minimise engagement, adding:

It can tell you exactly what you need to know about interacting with government, because it has been trained on exactly that data and nothing else … The success [is measured] in how little time you engage with it … how little of your time is wasted.

Tech ambivalence

The government-backed chatbot model is a stark contrast to the commercialised social media models. These are typically designed to maximise engagement and suck up as much of your time, attention and data as possible, as you scroll through endless content.

Perhaps the defining feature of our discussions around technology was the notion of ambivalence – a simultaneous awareness of our reliance on technology, combined with a wary scepticism bred, in part, from the lessons of the last two decades around the addictive nature of social media and its negative impacts on mental health, especially of young people.

A recent landmark US court case recognised the argument that social media apps like Facebook and YouTube are intentionally designed to be addictive. Google and Meta, the defendants in the case, have announced they will appeal the verdict.

Read more: Landmark lawsuit finds that social media addiction is a feature, not a bug

Several of our interviewees drew the comparison to social media. But Cross warned that the risks posed by AI “are a magnitude, several magnitudes, greater than what we’ve done to ourselves with social media”.

He argued that “nothing in the current techniques or tools around AI are anywhere close” to achieving “consciousness or spirituality”, adding:

It seems to me that to develop a close and intimate psychological and emotional and spiritual relationship with something which inauthentically mimics those things is profoundly destructive to human beings.

We are created to be in a very particular kind of community and a particular set of relationships. And those things depend on being an authentic relationship. Any relationship we develop with a generative large language model or anything like that is flawed in profoundly hidden, unpredictable but dangerous ways.

Cross’s caution was echoed repeatedly when AI was seen to be treading into spiritual territory. This is partly because of the lessons of social media, and partly because all the people we spoke to suggested there is a clear divide between humanity and technology.

A Jewish Rabbi reminded us that “an AI bot cannot hold somebody’s hand when they’re at the end of their life”. A Buddhist leader pointed to a robot’s inability to “experience suffering”.

A Roman Catholic bishop asserted that the ingenious mimicking of human behaviour does not indicate a true internal life. Another Quaker interviewee summed up the ambivalence perfectly when he stated that AI is socially useful in all sorts of ways – but that it also “seems to be creating the most pressure on social systems, jobs and the environment in a way that feels incredibly unhelpful right now.”

There is also the profit motive to consider. A Jewish rabbi suggested that AI development is often motivated by a profit ethic, not a vision of the common good – and that the dynamics of ownership and profit are encoded within this technology:

The hand of the coder which designed the algorithm is designed to generate profit. It’s not designed to generate social cohesion … The code is created to fuel capitalism.

‘Alarming consequences’

Several interviewees expressed concern about the ability of generative AI to accurately reflect complex theological concepts and lessons. Religious chatbots might fuse disparate ideas, values, beliefs and scriptural texts in unexpected ways. They could even begin to create entirely new belief systems. As a Methodist leader explained:

You know, once you’ve got AI speaking in the name of God, then if it hallucinates a religious text, that’s one thing. But equally it could misinterpret or misapply a religious text in a way that gives really alarming consequences.

Other interviewees spoke of their concern over a kind of generative hybridity where disparate ideas, values, beliefs or scriptural texts are fused to forge something new.

The highly realistic nature of AI content in an increasingly 24/7 social media saturated world led many interviewees to refer to a growing difficulty in discerning real from fake online content.

A majority of our interviewees also thought that if this “AI disorientation” combines with a breakdown of in-person relationships, increasing dependency on automation, social fragmentation and radicalisation, then this could lead to a rise in mental health problems.

This can happen as people get caught in the fog of AI delirium and risk falling into GPT psychosis as they seek narratives of certainty. It was a thought captured by one interfaith leader:

Socially conservative religious faith gives you certainty in a very uncertain world, and for a certain type of young person, that’s what they’re looking for – certainty.

In the face of this bleak outlook, what is the way forward?

Pope Leo’s first encyclical helps in one way by setting out a moral framework for humanity to navigate the challenges and shape the future of AI – by “disarming” this technology and “preventing it from dominating humanity”. It traces the roots of Catholic Social Doctrine and stresses the importance of human dignity, solidarity, truth, compassion, love, and the common good.

This is perhaps something governments could take inspiration from – by taking a truly bold approach in leading a public discussion and reining in big tech.

In such a future, recognition is given to the importance of the public health aspects of technology, applications are tested for safety and reliability prior to release, AI-generated content is clearly labelled, and policymakers and the public have a much greater awareness of generative AI and its flaws.

Whistleblowers working in a sector shrouded in secrecy and non-disclosure agreements also need to be protected and empowered to reveal unethical or illegal practices.

We also believe the voluntary sector and faith communities must be consulted and involved in conversations that shape policy.

Meanwhile, sovereign, publicly owned AI systems designed for education and entertainment could be explored, to remove the extractive pressures of commercialised technology.

Who picks up the pieces?

But what does a future where AI and religious faith merge into a new hybrid ethical and spiritual system look like? Is this a future that enhances human agency, wellbeing, cultural resilience and the common good?

We sensed two possible answers to this question during our research. First, there is a future characterised by AI dependency and disorientation. AI agents or robot priests evangelising online, encouraging direct debit donations or subscriptions from susceptible or vulnerable users seeking spiritual guidance.

Read more: Can you really talk to the dead using AI? We tried out ‘deathbots’ so you don’t have to

Vulnerable and grieving family members could become addicted to “generative ghosts” or griefbots of deceased loved ones, and become susceptible to sharp marketing tactics or glitches in the process.

Is this really a future that we want to embrace? And who will help these vulnerable people if their AI priests and gurus fail them? Cross for one believes he knows the answer:

It is going to be local priests and ministers, and vicars up and down the country who are going to be picking up the pieces on this stuff. They’re going to face challenges and questions that they have never been trained for.

KhalsaGPT discontinued

A spokesperson for KhalsaGPT said the bot was originally created in 2023 as an “experimental educational tool to help people learn about Sikhism in a simple and accessible way”. “It was designed only as a text-based question-and-answer tool for general Sikhism-related information”.

After a limited period between 2023 and 2024, the company became increasingly concerned about the limitations of AI-based chatbot systems. “For that reason, we discontinued active work on KhalsaGPT. For around the last two years, we have not been selling accounts, credits, tokens, or new access to the platform…The domain and website may still be online, but KhalsaGPT is not being actively operated, promoted, or offered as a public chatbot service at this time.”

The spokesperson added: “KhalsaGPT should not be understood as a replacement for Guru Granth Sahib Ji, Sikh scholars, Granthi Singhs, SGPC, Sri Akal Takht Sahib, or any recognised Sikh authority. If we ever revisit this project in the future, it would only be after careful review, proper safeguards, and with respect for Sikh maryada and guidance from recognised Sikh institutions.”

The Conversation also approached GitaGPT for a comment but had received no response at the time of publication.

For you: more from our Insights series:

• Underground data fortresses: the nuclear bunkers, mines and mountains being transformed to protect our ‘new gold’ from attack

• ‘People think you come out … and live happily ever after. If only.’ The reality of life after wrongful conviction

• The grief myth: it doesn’t come in stages or follow a checklist – like love, it endures

• Inside Porton Down: what I learned during three years at the UK’s most secretive chemical weapons laboratory

To hear about new Insights articles, join the hundreds of thousands of people who value The Conversation’s evidence-based news. Subscribe to our newsletter.

Adam James Fenton received funding for the project "Cultural Resilience, Religious Faith and the intersection of Generative and Agentic Artificial Intelligence" from the SALIENT Hub at the University of Manchester funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) part of UK Research and Innovation grant reference: AH/Y505316/1 .

Chris Shannahan received funding for the project "Cultural Resilience, Religious Faith and the intersection of Generative and Agentic Artificial Intelligence" from the SALIENT Hub at the University of Manchester funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) part of UK Research and Innovation grant reference: AH/Y505316/1 .

When researchers founded Anthropic in 2021, they said the race to build powerful AI was moving too recklessly. They inserted detailed safety measures into their products and marketed their commitment to safety as the corporate quality that distinguished them from competitors – notably OpenAI, the rival company they had left. In March 2026 that reputation was tested when the Trump administration declared that Anthropic was a supply chain risk.

The company had refused to remove built-in safeguards that prohibited domestic surveillance and autonomous weapons from products it had supplied to the Pentagon. President Donald Trump ordered the federal government to stop using Anthropic and its large language model, Claude, labeling the company a national security risk. Within hours, OpenAI made a deal to be the Pentagon’s supplier instead.

Despite Anthropic’s apparent stand, during its clash with Trump the company quietly scrapped the binding principles in its main safety policy. Several weeks earlier, Anthropic’s head of safeguards research had resigned, warning that “the world is in peril.” And a week after the Pentagon officially banned Claude, the U.S. military was still using the technology to select and target sites to bomb in Iran.

As a philosopher studying the rule of law and democracy, I’ve found that authoritarian governance of technology often does not involve direct censorship. Instead it delegitimizes the intended protections, poisoning any external regulation and even voluntary self-regulation that deviates from the regime’s goals or values.

The Trump administration, which follows the authoritarian playbook, has argued that AI safety standards and user restrictions are ideological impositions rather than sound engineering decisions. The “Preventing Woke AI” executive order of July 23, 2025, didn’t change what companies are allowed to do with their products. By by attaching the “woke” label to basic ethics protections, the administration made those protections politically costly to maintain.

The Brennan Center, a legal policy and advocacy organization, has documented how AI ethics is being redefined through contract negotiations. In these cases, the government weaponizes terms such as “biased” to disqualify companies that maintain civil rights protections from competing for federal contracts.

The prisoner’s dilemma

A single U.S. Defense Department AI contract can be worth billions of dollars. It can also provide access to data no private company could otherwise have and unlock further government work. Companies that maintain the ethics guardrails risk ceding ground to competitors that don’t.

When OpenAI moved in to take the Pentagon work, CEO Sam Altman told his board of directors the move looked “opportunistic and sloppy.” But he said the company took it anyway, because admitting that an action looks bad is different from being willing to fall behind.

This situation reflects the classic prisoner’s dilemma. If Anthropic maintains safety provisions and OpenAI strips them away, OpenAI gets the contracts and the future advantage. If both companies maintain the provisions, digital protections might survive. But because neither company can be certain the other will hold the line – and because being left behind is not a good option – the rational choice is to discard safety measures.

These circumstances differ from a standard market race to the bottom in one key respect: The trap of having to strip away guardrails isn’t an accident of competition; it’s being maintained by the government through incentives.

Palantir didn’t wait to be caught in this trap. The data analytics company was founded by Peter Thiel and run by Alex Karp, who spent years denouncing “woke” Silicon Valley. Palantir built its business model around government surveillance and military data infrastructure. While Palantir has said it is committed to privacy and civil liberties, critics contend that the company is dismantling those protections. The company’s stock has surged under the Trump administration, its contracts have expanded, and it now has a front-row seat where AI policy is being written. Palantir solved the prisoner’s dilemma by defecting first.

It’s important to note that the dissolution of safety teams across the industry, such as OpenAI’s Superalignment team and Microsoft’s ethics unit, isn’t the result of anyone deciding to abandon safety. What I see in analyzing the different companies’ actions is a pattern: an accumulation of collective, incremental compromises that quietly reorient the definition of safety away from the public and toward the state. The resulting harm and risks fall on everyone whose lives are shaped by AI systems.

Redefining safety to serve the government

Across government contracts and policy documents, I have also observed that the original definition of AI-related safety has shifted from protecting the public toward making systems controllable for the state. The “anti-woke” framing accelerates this shift: Once ethics requirements are characterized as ideological rather than technical, removing them can be framed not as a safety reduction but as a correction.

This shift does not require bad faith from the companies. Safety teams are still doing rigorous work. The companies are not lying when they describe their safety commitments. Those commitments are now simply oriented toward the government rather than the public.

The case for stronger AI regulation assumes that a government constrains commercial entities on behalf of the public. But blacklisting a company for maintaining civil rights protections, and then banning the military deployment of its AI hours later, shows that the federal government in this instance enables the harm that regulation is meant to prevent.

Expanding regulatory authority over AI companies does not necessarily protect citizens. Safety regulations – intended to constrain corporate power – in authoritarian regimes become tools to coerce compliance.

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

I teach writing and rhetoric, but my college students and I often overlook a surprisingly complicated question: What is writing?

And can artificial intelligence really do it?

Many people think of “writing” as putting words on a page. However, even from very early on, writers have seen their craft as something more. From Enheduanna, the first named author on record, to Plato and Aristotle, writing has been portrayed and defined in ways that suggest AI may not be “writing” at all.

If not, what should we call AI text? ChatGPT and I have an idea.

Praising and pleading

Enheduanna, who lived around 2,300 B.C.E., was a powerful princess, priestess and poet of the Akkadian Empire, in what is now Iraq. She has been celebrated as the earliest known writer, though the authorship of her poems and hymns is debated.

One of her poems, “The Exaltation of Inanna,” reveals a sense of what writing is and does – portraying it as a living medium that expresses experience and shapes the future.

First, the poem praises the ancient Mesopotamian goddess Inanna, who was associated with fertility and war, among other powers. “My Lady, you are the guardian / Of all greatness,” Enheduanna says, in a translation by Jane Hirschfield.

That praise may be strategic. It is followed by Enheduanna’s plea to overthrow Lugal-Ane, a rebel king who she describes exiling her and taking her post at the temple of Ur. “Now I have been cast out / To the place of lepers,” she writes, describing her suffering. “Day comes, / And the brightness / Is hidden around me.”

Grieving, Enheduanna writes a new destiny. In a translation by Sophus Helle, the priestess envisions Inanna coming to her aid and “tear[ing] off this fate, Lugale-Ane.” And her pleading seems to be successful: The end of the poem depicts Enheduanna restored to her post.

In Enheduanna’s poetry, writing does not simply communicate information. It interacts with the present and changes the future. The priestess’s pleas please the goddess, move her heart, and she restores Enheduanna to her post – though historians have little evidence of whether an exile and return really happened.

But her poetry did have real-world influence, helping to create religious and political unity in the world’s first empire. For example, her writing merged the Sumerian goddess Inanna with the Akkadian goddess Ishtar, describing a single “Queen of Heaven.”

AI writing can be used to try to create change, such as by swaying someone’s political opinion. But it lacks the human emotions that make experiences like praise, gratitude and suffering possible – the emotions and motivations that make writing a living medium with real-world effects.

Transforming over informing

Two thousand years after Enheduanna, Plato and his student Aristotle offered another influential view of writing – one that complements hers.

In the “Phaedrus,” which discusses the relationship between love and rhetoric, Plato famously defines writing as a poor copy of speech. Speech’s job is to represent thoughts; thoughts, in turn, represent knowledge and truth. Similarly, Aristotle writes, “Spoken words are the symbols of mental experience and written words are the symbols of spoken words.”

Even that definition marks a sharp contrast with AI, which lacks thoughts and mental experiences. Its output proceeds from data aggregation and text generation.

To understand what writing is, we also need to look at what it does. Although Plato elevates speech over writing, he suggests in “Phaedrus” that good writing may lead a learner toward truth and knowledge. Similar to Enheduanna, he employs writing as a tool for change, both inside and outside the text.

In Plato’s dialogues, characters often radically change their opinions. And today, almost 2,500 years after his death, the philosopher’s real-world impact is clear. For instance, universities and colleges today are collectively called the “Academy” because that was the name of Plato’s group, the first institution of higher learning in the West. English scholar Alfred North Whitehead famously wrote that all Western philosophy is “a series of footnotes to Plato.”

Aristotle’s voluminous works, too, show writing’s purpose transcends communication. In “Rhetoric,” for instance, he details ways to make writing persuasive. Aristotle defines rhetoric as a way of “moving souls,” not just exchanging knowledge.

For both of the Greek philosophers, then, writing is more about transformation than information.

Today, however, AI tools’ popularity may make writing less dynamic and less moving. Use of AI risks a “blandification” of writing, according to a study led by computer science professor Natasha Jaques. In other words, much AI writing today lacks distinct voices, making it sound the same – which could make people’s thinking more similar, too.

‘Generwriting’

Overall, these three ancient authors agree that writing emerges from thoughts and experiences – a process that strives to create change. Enheduanna, Plato and Aristotle also agree that writing’s essence transcends the simple summaries and information transmission common to AI output today.

Although AI can generate creative texts, its writing may not “move souls” the way human writing does. Several studies show a “pro-human attribution bias” or an “AI penalty,” meaning that people prefer human writing even when AI writing is stylistically similar. People want to read what other people write, not what an algorithm pumps out.

Perhaps we need a different word for AI’s output. Common terms today include “generative content” and “synthetic text,” but I wondered if I could land on something simpler – and involve AI itself. After prompting and tweaking ChatGPT over and over, I settled on one word: “generwriting.”

Though AI is here to stay, new words may help distinguish types of text. And as Enheduanna, Plato and Aristotle remind us, there are elements of writing that may always be unique to embodied, thinking beings striving to move souls.

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

U.S. politicians have perhaps never been more divided, including when it comes to their views on higher education.

Republicans are pushing for more control over the day-to-day work at colleges and universities. Some Republican politicians say that universities are elitist, woke organizations that are out of touch with the general public and lack value for most people. In step with this rhetoric, they have cut funding to higher education, including slashing grants to universities with ethnically and racially diverse student bodies.

Democrats, meanwhile, broadly support higher education, praising it for its role in improving people’s lives. They are challenging these cuts and the Trump administration’s mounting interference into how colleges are run.

Despite these differences, both Democrats and Republicans invest billions in higher education and issue billions annually in federal earmarks. Federal earmarks are taxpayer-funded spending provisions that Congress members allocate, with minimal oversight, to projects or organizations that typically align with their priorities.

For fiscal year 2026, spanning October 2025 through September 2026, Congress allocated US$16 billion in earmarks to a range of causes – approximately $2 billion of which went to colleges and universities across the country.

We are scholars of higher education who have analyzed federal earmarking patterns in recent years. Our May 2026 study considers how party affiliation shapes universities’ earmark outcomes.

Where do Republicans and Democrats funnel academic earmarks? Does either party put this money where their mouth is? The data tells a story of partisan preferences that are predictable in some ways and surprising in others.

Understanding federal earmarks

Some critics call federal earmarks “congressional pork” and describe them as wasteful pet projects used to curry political favor.

However, Congress has long leveraged earmarks to fund expensive and important infrastructural projects, like airport updates. Earmarks can also help colleges pay for expensive construction projects they might not be able to otherwise afford, especially as college enrollment declines and state and local funding to higher education decreases.

Current federal guidelines cap federal earmarks to 1% of total federal discretionary spending. Currently, each member of Congress may issue 15 earmark requests to the House Committee on Appropriations each fiscal year.

The House and Senate appropriations committees ultimately negotiate and decide which projects receive funding, and how much.

Not all schools receive the same

Our 2024 study showed that Congress, as a whole, earmarked far less funding to minority-serving institutions and community colleges compared with what it gave to well-endowed research universities.

Minority-serving institutions,like historically Black colleges and universities and tribal colleges and universities, serve large shares of students of color and low-income students. They are generally underfunded.

Recent reports indicate that Congress members may also favor their alma maters when doling out earmarks.

Twenty-four senators – 13 Democrats and 11 Republicans – collectively requested approximately $636 million for projects at their alma maters in fiscal year 2026. But Republicans were responsible for nearly three-fourths of those requests, or $470 million.

For example, Senator Jim Justice, a Republican from West Virginia, requested nearly $60 million across seven earmark projects for his alma mater, Marshall University.

Republicans’ earmark tendencies

Contrary to their largely fiscal conservative rhetoric and critiques of universities as overly woke and elitist, Republicans generally sponsor earmarks with gusto across the board, including for colleges and universities.

Eight Republicans were among the 10 most generous earmark sponsors in fiscal year 2026. Republicans also made up 27 of the 31 representatives who requested $50 million or more from that year’s budget.

Based on our analysis, from October 2021 through September 2023, Republicans sponsored $230 million more in earmarks to colleges and universities than their Democratic colleagues did.

Republicans also tended to send less in earmarked funding to colleges and universities serving large numbers of students who receive need-based federal financial aid, per our findings. Rather, Republicans were more likely to earmark money for whiter, wealthier universities, like the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill or the University of Michigan.

For example, Senator Mitch McConnell directed just shy of $60 million in earmarks to two large research universities, University of Louisville and the University of Kentucky, for fiscal year 2026. McConnell attended both of those schools.

Nearly 70% and just over 75% of the undergraduates at the University of Louisville and the University of Kentucky, respectively, identify as white.

That same year, McConnell sponsored a $2 million earmark project for a single community college in the state – Madisonville Community College.

He did not sponsor any earmarks for the state’s two historically Black colleges and universities: Simmons University and Kentucky State University.

Democrats’ earmark tendencies

Democrats, meanwhile, generally walk the talk in terms of which colleges and universities they fund, generally supporting minority-serving institutions and campuses with large numbers of students who receive Pell Grants. Pell Grants are a form of federal financial aid for low-income students that they do not have to repay, unlike loans.

Our analysis specifically shows Democrats gave these schools an outsized share of the pot of earmarked dollars, relative to what they gave overall to colleges and universities.

Some Democrats also sponsored earmarks to minority-serving institutions beyond their own districts.

For example, while Florida International University is in Republican Representative Mario Diaz-Balart’s district, he did not request earmark funding be sent their way in 2022. Rather, that year, Representative Debbie Wasserman Schultz, a Democrat from another district in Florida, secured a $2 million earmark for the university to support its public health and social work programming.

However, Democrats’ earmarks are much smaller than their Republican counterparts and generally far too small to level the playing field for minority-serving institutions, which are chronically underfunded.

So, while Democrats direct more earmarks to minority-serving institutions than Republicans, the comparatively small size of those awards cannot close the funding gap these schools face.

In 2026, for example, the Democratic senators from California, Alex Padilla and Adam Schiff, secured a $3.5 million earmark to support the University of California, Merced’s medical school. This is a Hispanic-serving institution, meaning a college or university where at least 25% of undergraduates are Hispanic.

At the same time, Republican Senator John Boozman from Arkansas secured $45 million in earmarks to upgrade the University of Arkansas Medical Center, which is a predominantly white school.

Based on our research, it seems that both parties have real, if different, work to do to fully leverage earmarks to support higher education.

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

Cruise ships are convenient floating hotels by which to see far-flung parts of the world – but as an epidemiologist, I know they are also everything an infectious pathogen could want: thousands of strangers packed into enclosed spaces for days or weeks, sharing dining rooms and high-touch surfaces such as elevator buttons and handrails, breathing recirculated air.

Each new port of call where passengers can explore for a few days is an opportunity for germs to embark – and once they do, they encounter a highly efficient setting for hopping from host to host.

The MV Hondius confirmed this well-known fact in April 2026, when an outbreak of Andes hantavirus began aboard the Dutch-flagged expedition vessel carrying 147 passengers and crew from 23 countries.

The Andes virus is one of several species of hantaviruses. It is the only one known to spread from person to person, though it doesn’t do so very efficiently. It is far less contagious than COVID-19 or the measles.

As of May 14, a total of 11 cases, including three deaths, have been reported in the Hondius outbreak.

Outbreaks at sea are one of the oldest problems in public health. From medieval plague quarantines to modern times, they have repeatedly tested the ability to control infectious disease – and have played a key role in shaping the international public health framework in place today.

That interconnected public health system, however, depends on the cooperation of countries around the globe.

From harbor quarantine to global disease control

The word “quarantine” was first documented in the English language in 1663, in the Oxford English Dictionary, which defined it as a period of 40 days during which people who might spread a contagious disease are kept isolated from the rest of the community.

The first official quarantine, though, came earlier, in 1377, when the Republic of Ragusa – modern-day Dubrovnik, Croatia – ordered ships from plague-affected ports to anchor offshore for 30 days before anyone could disembark. A quarter-century later, Venice extended this period to 40 days – hence the “quarantine” term, which stuck. In 1423, Venice officially opened the world’s first permanent quarantine island, the Lazzaretto Vecchio, specifically to manage the problem of the plague arriving by sea.

The system worked during the medieval era because a single authority usually controlled most harbors. Ships waited because they recognized states’ authority to detain them.

For centuries, maritime quarantine operated on this principle. Harbor officials wielded broad public health powers over incoming vessels. In the 19th century this practice continued in the United States. Cholera ships – a nickname for trans-Atlantic vessels carrying migrants and troops that were breeding grounds for cholera and other diseases – arrived from Europe and the Mediterranean and sat offshore in New York for weeks. At quarantine stations on Ellis Island and ports across the Atlantic seaboard, ships were inspected, passengers isolated and captains overruled by public health officers who had the legal authority to isolate passengers for extended periods.

The system was crude and often brutal. Ships of the medieval period were floating sickrooms with poor conditions: putrid water in the casks, bread full of worms, and passengers packed into pitch-sealed berths with lice in the bedding and the bilge stinking under them. Many people died on board. But the system rested on a foundation of recognized, enforceable authority over the vessel and everyone on it for the purpose of protecting the city from disease.

International cooperation

As maritime trade and travel became increasingly globalized, however, no single port or government could manage outbreaks alone. Also, advances in vaccines, antibiotics and sanitation led many countries to downsize the maritime quarantine systems that had once defined disease control at sea.

This forced quarantine systems to evolve from local harbor control into international frameworks for coordination. The World Health Organization was established in 1948, and the International Health Regulations were created in 1969 to manage disease across borders.

Countries agreed to share information, notify one another of outbreaks and coordinate responses at ports and borders. The responsibility no longer fell on a sole harbormaster, but the system was designed to perform a similar coordinating function across an increasingly interconnected world.

Even within that system, however, cruise ships remain unusually vulnerable outbreak environments. A highly visible example was a COVID-19 outbreak that occurred on the Diamond Princess in 2020. The cruise ship, which was anchored off the coast of Yokohama, Japan, produced weeks of confusion between Japanese authorities, the British cruise operator and a dozen foreign governments as they struggled to coordinate responsibility for the 3,700 passengers and containment measures.

Some analyses later suggested the shipboard quarantine may have amplified transmission. At the time, most observers treated it as a crisis specific to the early chaos of the pandemic.

But the Hondius outbreak suggests the problem runs deeper.

Ships cross borders – so too do pathogens

Cruise ships combine dense social mixing, international mobility and fragmented legal authority in ways that continue to challenge modern disease-control systems – even decades after the creation of international public health frameworks designed to coordinate them, and even for diseases like Andes hantavirus that are extremely unlikely to cause a pandemic.

As the cruise industry has grown, it has expanded into more remote and epidemiologically unpredictable environments – expedition voyages to Antarctica, the Amazon, Alaska. Alongside the industry’s ambitions, disease risk has also increased. These trips routinely bring large groups of passengers into contact with wildlife, pathogens and ecosystems they may have little prior exposure to and then seal travelers together for weeks.

Nevertheless, the United States chose in January 2026 to withdraw from the World Health Organization, the primary institution administering the framework designed to coordinate responses when disease crosses the borders that cruise ships cross as a matter of routine.

The Trump administration framed the exiting of international organizations as a means of protecting U.S. sovereignty. In practice, it meant that when the Hondius needed a response, the U.S. participated from outside the systems it had spent decades helping to build.

A crack in the system

In the outbreak on the Hondius, the international system still functioned.

The WHO still issued risk assessments and guidance. The European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control still coordinated the response across Europe. And in the U.S., the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention belatedly issued a health alert to physicians.

What changed is that the U.S. moved from being a central participant in the international public health system to operating more from its edges.

Who can say whether the next big outbreak will come from a disease spread on a cruise ship – or whether the pathogen involved will be one that spreads more efficiently between people than the Andes strain of the hantavirus does.

Whatever its source, outbreak response depends on cooperation between major governments, rapid information sharing and coordinated logistics. When a country as globally connected as the U.S. steps back from those systems, managing international health emergencies becomes slower, more fragmented and more dependent on ad hoc negotiations. Ultimately, this may make the world less safe.

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

Detroit Police Chief Todd Bettison says alerts from ShotSpotter, a gun detection technology, help officers respond quickly to shootings.

“Without it, I wouldn’t have the closure rate [of resolved crimes] that I have and a lot of families wouldn’t have the justice they deserve,” he said in March 2026, according to BridgeDetroit, a nonprofit news service.

During a Detroit City Council committee meeting on May 18, 2026, police officials said ShotSpotter led to hundreds of search warrants and confiscated guns in 2025.

It’s not clear how many arrests resulted last year. Bettison has been quoted saying that ShotSpotter during the May 18 City Council meeting and 256 during a March 23 budget briefing. We reached out to the Detroit Police Department to clarify the number, but it didn’t respond by our deadline.

The department has requested a nine-month extension for ShotSpotter, which would cost the city an additional $US2.06 million, while it considers other vendors to provide gun detection technology, the Detroit News reported.

The system uses a network of acoustic sensors to detect, locate and alert police to shots fired. ShotSpotter is in use in more than 180 American cities, according to the company. The technology has been criticized for its high price tag, ineffectiveness in improving public safety and lack of transparency.

Detroit City Council first approved ShotSpotter in 2020, and the system became fully active in 2021. In 2022, City Council members narrowly approved, by a 5-4 vote, expanding the program to more neighborhoods. The technology now covers approximately 39 square miles (about 101 square kilometers), about a third of the city, and is deployed in the neighborhoods police say are most likely to experience gun violence. The contract that expires on June 30, 2026, cost $7 million over a four-year period.

Divya Ramjee and Tian An Wong are part of a team of researchers who studied the effectiveness of gunshot detection technology in Detroit during its first two years. The study is currently under peer review. They answered the following questions for The Conversation Detroit.

How did ShotSpotter affect calls to 911 to report gunshots?

Wong: Our research first looked at calls to 911 reporting gunshots before and after the first deployment of ShotSpotter in Detroit, covering February 2018 to November 2022. This data is available on Detroit’s Open Data Portal. In the areas of Detroit where ShotSpotter was implemented in 2021, calls to 911 to report gunshots initially dropped by 47%. This effect disappeared about after a year, however, and these calls returned to previous levels.

Our study does not cover the 2023 expansion of ShotSpotter in Detroit, though the data is currently available for those interested.

Although ShotSpotter alert time and location data is publicly available, the outcome of the police response to those alerts, is not and the DPD has never released data on the effectiveness of the technology during these first two years of use. To analyze outcomes, we made a Freedom of Information Act, or FOIA, request to the Detroit Police Department.

Did the technology affect officer response times or the rates of arrests for violent crime in Detroit?

Wong: By analyzing the FOIA data, we found that of the 5,853 ShotSpotter alerts from that first deployment, just two alerts, or 0.03%, resulted in at least one arrest. Additionally, 798 alerts, or 13.63%, resulted in at least one firearm recovered.

Those numbers are obviously low. However, we don’t believe that arrest rates should be used as a measure of ShotSpotter’s success. We need to understand the nature of those arrests and if they helped bring down gun-related incidents in the community.

We did not find any difference in officer response times. Some have argued that the alerts generate responses to events that would otherwise not have been reported due to lack of trust in law enforcement, but it is difficult to verify this claim.

I’d argue the request to renew ShotSpotter is not based on a rigorous review of the technology’s impact. In addition to ShotSpotter, Detroit also introduced a community violence intervention program in 2023 with a similar name – Shot Stoppers. That program determines grant renewals to participating community organizations based on a drop in homicides and nonfatal shootings in their geographic area.

But the reality is that homicides in Detroit hit a 60-year low in 2025, and nonfatal shootings are also significantly down. This tracks with nationwide crime trends. Our research tries to get at the role ShotSpotter played in this reduction, if any.

What do you make of Bettison’s statement that ShotSpotter alerts led to dozens or hundreds of arrests in 2025?

Wong: The arrest data that we obtained from the Detroit Police Department covers February 2018 to November 2022. Bettison is referring to a later time period – after the expansion of the coverage area – so his numbers don’t necessarily contradict ours. The only way to know for sure is to FOIA data for this most recent time period and fact-check what the chief is saying. This process is currently underway.

In the meantime, two arrests, as we found in the actual data we obtained from the police department, compared with 78 – or even 256, as Bettison as said – seems like a big jump, and more context is needed.

Is there any evidence that ShotSpotter saved lives of gunshot victims?

Ramjee: Evidence is inconclusive at best. Some research supports that the technology can potentially increase the likelihood of police transport of gunshot victims to hospitals and reduce EMS response times for victims, which could potentially improve survival outcomes. However, research hasn’t proved a corresponding reduction in mortality rates in areas where ShotSpotter has been deployed across the U.S.

How is ShotSpotter received in other U.S. cities?

Ramjee: There are continued issues with the accuracy of sensors, including false positives and missed gunshot detections, that complicate its practical effectiveness.

The lack of evidence that ShotSpotter improves public safety, given its high cost, has prompted a number of communities to reassess its value. Chicago; San Antonio; Houston; Baton Rouge, Louisiana; Charlotte, North Carolina; and Portland, Oregon have either terminated existing agreements or indicated that they do not intend to renew them upon expiration.

In New York, the city comptroller indicated that available evidence from a June 2024 audit did not support continued investment in ShotSpotter. Nevertheless, the New York City Police Department opted to renew its contract for an additional three-year term, at a cost of approximately $21.8 million.

What happens to the data ShotSpotter collects? Specifically, does the city of Detroit own it, can researchers access it, and how does that compare to 911 data?

Ramjee: ShotSpotter data ise not broadly shared with the public. The company, which rebranded as SoundThinking, Inc. in 2023, considers the raw audio from sensors, the underlying algorithms and other system-generated data to be proprietary. SoundThinking states that the company only shares alerts, gunshot locations, timestamps and short, isolated audio clips with police agencies. Prosecutors, defense attorneys and courts may also access this incident data as part of criminal cases, depending on legal rules.

Cities and municipalities themselves do not necessarily obtain full ownership of ShotSpotter data even when data is shared with them. In most cases, contractual agreements dictate the access and use of incident data by the respective jurisdictions, and there are generally constraints on how they can store, analyze or publicly release the data.

For 911 call data in Detroit, access to the data depends on the level of detail required. The city’s Open Data Portal provides a large dataset of law enforcement-serviced 911 calls that includes time of incident, call type, response metrics and ShotSpotter-initiated 911 alerts, but it redacts information that exposes a person’s identity.

Obtaining the actual dispatch logs or the arrest outcomes from ShotSpotter alerts typically requires submitting a FOIA request. That process can be tedious, may involve delays due to issues with resources, outdated technology or flawed data reporting practices, and may ultimately result in partial data or data with redactions.

Tian An Wong received funding from the American Council of Learned Societies (ACLS).

Divya Ramjee is affiliated with the Center for Strategic and International Studies.

Archaeologists have found something unexpected inside a 1,600-year-old Roman-era Egyptian mummy: a fragment of Homer’s Iliad. It wasn’t placed beside the body, but inside the mummy’s abdomen. But the real surprise isn’t just where the fragment was found. It’s how it got there. To understand, we must go back – to the Iliad itself, and to what it became in the Roman world.

In The Iliad, a poem shaped in the 8th century BC and attributed to Homer, the Trojan war does not end in triumph or renewal. It ends in devastation. The poem closes at the edge of collapse, with Troy reduced to a landscape of heroic ruin. And yet, this is not where the story ends.

According to later Roman tradition, one Trojan escaped. Aeneas – son of Anchises and the goddess Aphrodite – fled the burning city carrying his father on his shoulders and the household gods in his hands. He moved west, across the Mediterranean, towards Italy, where he became the ancestor of Rome.

This continuation did not come from the Iliad itself. It was shaped centuries later, most famously in Virgil’s Aeneid. But it changed the meaning of the Trojan war entirely. The past, in other words, was actively reorganised – through stories that could be reworked, extended and connected across time and space.

Turning defeat into origin

For Roman audiences, the Trojan war was more than a distant Greek legend. It became a way of thinking about origins, identity and power.

Claiming descent from Troy was more than a matter of tracing a lineage. It required constant cultural work – through storytelling, education and shared knowledge. The Iliad provided the raw material: characters, events and genealogies that could be reshaped and redeployed across generations.

Across the Roman Empire, educated elites learned Homer as part of their schooling. They quoted him in speeches, analysed him in classrooms and used him to signal cultural authority. To know the Iliad was to speak a language that others across the empire understood.

A senator in Rome, a teacher in Asia Minor or a student in Egypt could all draw on the same stories. The poem created a shared frame of reference – one that allowed very different people to situate themselves within a common past.

In the Roman imperial period, the site of ancient Troy – located in modern-day Turkey – became a destination. Emperors invested in its development, tying it directly to Rome’s claimed Trojan origins. Under Emperor Augustus, Troy was folded into the political language of empire. And under Emperor Hadrian, it became part of a wider culture of travel, memory and heritage.

A visitor to Troy in the 2nd century AD would have arrived at a curated landscape. There were baths, places to stay and spaces for performance. A small theatre – the Odeion – was built directly into the ancient citadel, so that the remains of the bronze age city, understood as the setting of the legendary battles around Troy, formed a dramatic backdrop.

Visitors could walk through what was presented as the setting of Homeric epic, experiencing the Trojan war as something anchored in the ground beneath their feet.

From Troy to Egypt

Across the Roman Empire, the Iliad circulated as a living text: copied, taught and read. Egypt, one of Rome’s most important provinces, was no exception. Yet here, Homer circulated within a cultural landscape that differed in important ways from the Greek literary world in which the poem had first taken shape.

For Roman observers, Egypt often appeared as a place where antiquity was materially preserved as well as remembered – through temples, monuments and practices that emphasised continuity with the past. At the same time, it was a deeply hybrid society, where Egyptian, Greek and Roman traditions interacted in complex ways.

Homer was among the most widely copied authors in Roman Egypt – read and taught as a marker of education and cultural belonging and deeply embedded in everyday literary culture.

The Homeric version of the Trojan War was particularly prominent among the Greek-speaking elite, especially in urban centres such as Oxyrhynchus, where the mummy was found. Other versions of the story – which placed greater emphasis on Paris and Helen’s stay in Egypt, as reported by Herodotus based on accounts from Egyptian priests – were probably more widespread among the broader Egyptian population.

The initial media coverage of the discovery of the fragment inside the Egyptian mummy suggested the text was deliberately chosen to accompany the deceased. As a personally meaningful object, perhaps reflecting their education or cultural identity.

The most telling explanation, however, may be the most straightforward. Discarded or damaged papyri could be reused as inexpensive material. The fragment may therefore have functioned as stuffing – bundled together and inserted into the body cavity without particular regard for its literary content.

The very fact that a scrap of the Iliad could end up as disposable filling, however, speaks to how deeply Homer had penetrated everyday life in Roman Egypt.

A text in motion

To make sense of the past in the Roman world meant moving between story and monument, between genealogy and deep time. Each perspective made the others more intelligible.

The Iliad helped create a world in which different pasts could be connected, compared and reshaped. By linking stories, places and traditions across the Mediterranean, the Roman world turned the past into a flexible resource – one that could generate identity, authority and belonging in shifting contexts.

This is why the Iliad mattered: it circulated across many different settings. It shaped elite education, but it was also part of everyday reading culture. At Troy, it helped transform the city into a place of cultural memory. The text itself also had a long material afterlife, surviving not only as an authoritative story, but through manuscripts and writing materials that were copied, passed on – or even reused for entirely different purposes.

Its most enduring insight is therefore this: the past is not something simply preserved, but something continuously made and remade – through the stories, practices and materials that carry it across time.

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