2026-04-21 02:00:02
When the robotics engineering field that Maja Matarić wanted to work in didn’t exist, she helped create it. In 2005 she helped define the new area of socially assistive robotics.
As an associate professor of computer science, neuroscience, and pediatrics at the University of Southern California, in Los Angeles, she developed robots to provide personalized therapy and care through social interactions.
Employer
University of Southern California, Los Angeles
Job Title
Professor of computer science, neuroscience, and pediatrics
Member grade
Fellow
Alma maters
University of Kansas and MIT
The robots could have conversations, play games, and respond to emotions.
Today the IEEE Fellow is a professor at USC. She studies how robots can help students with anxiety and depression undergo cognitive behavioral therapy. CBT focuses on changing a person’s negative thought patterns, behaviors, and emotional responses.
For her work, she received a 2025 Robotics Medal from MassRobotics, which recognizes female researchers advancing robotics. The Boston-based nonprofit provides robotics startups with a workspace, prototyping facilities, mentorship, and networking opportunities.
When receiving the award at the ceremony in Boston, Matarić was overcome with joy, she says.
“I’ve been very fortunate to be honored with several awards, which I am grateful for. But there was something very special about getting the MassRobotics medal, because I knew at least half the people in the room,” she says. “Everyone was just smiling, and there was a great sense of love.”
Matarić grew up in Belgrade, Serbia. Her father was an engineer, and her mother was a writer. After her father died when she was 16, Matarić and her mother moved to the United States.
She credits her father for igniting her interest in engineering, and her uncle who worked as an aerospace engineer for introducing her to computer science.
Matarić says she didn’t consider herself an engineer until she joined USC’s faculty, since she always had worked in computer science.
“In retrospect, I’ve always been an engineer,” Matarić says. “But I didn’t set out specifically thinking of myself as one—which is just one of the many things I like to convey to young people: You don’t always have to know exactly everything in advance.”
Maja Matarić and her lab are exploring how socially assistive robots can help improve the communication skills of children with autism spectrum disorder. National Science Foundation News
While pursuing her bachelor’s degree in computer science at the University of Kansas in Lawrence, she was introduced to industrial robotics through a textbook. After earning her degree in 1987, she had an opportunity to continue her education as a graduate student at MIT’s AI Lab (now the Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab). During her first year, she explored the different research projects being conducted by faculty members, she said in a 2010 oral history conducted by the IEEE History Center. She met IEEE Life Fellow Rodney Brooks, who was working on novel reactive and behavior-based robotic systems. His work so excited her that she joined his lab and conducted her master’s thesis under his tutelage.
Inspired by the way animals use landmarks to navigate, Matarić developed Toto, the first navigating behavior-based robot. Toto used distributed models to map the AI Lab building where Matarić worked and plan its path to different rooms. Toto used sonar to detect walls, doors, and furniture, according to Matarić’s paper, “The Robotics Primer.”
After earning her master’s degree in AI and robotics in 1990, she continued to work under Brooks as a doctoral student, pioneering distributed algorithms that allowed a team of up to 20 robots to execute complex tasks in tandem, including searching for objects and exploring their environment.
Matarić earned her Ph.D. in AI and robotics in 1994 and joined Brandeis University, in Waltham, Mass., as an assistant professor of computer science. There she founded the Interaction Lab, where she developed autonomous robots that work together to accomplish tasks.
Three years later, she relocated to California and joined USC’s Viterbi School of Engineering as an assistant professor in computer science and neuroscience.
In 2002 she helped to found the Center for Robotics and Embedded Systems (now the Robotics and Autonomous Systems Center). The RASC focuses on research into human-centric and scalable robotic systems and promotes interdisciplinary partnerships across USC.
Matarić’s shift in her research came after she gave birth to her first child in 1998. When her daughter was a bit older and asked Matarić why she worked with robots, she wanted to be able to “say something better than ‘I publish a lot of research papers,’ or ‘it’s well-recognized,’” she says.
“In academia, you can be in a leadership role and still do research. It’s a wonderful and important opportunity that lets academics be on top of our field and also train the next generation of students and help the next generation of faculty colleagues.”
“Kids don’t consider those good answers, and they’re probably right,” she says. “This made me realize I was in a position to do something different. And I really wanted the answer to my daughter’s future question to be, ‘Mommy’s robots help people.’”
Matarić and her doctoral student David Feil-Seifer presented a paper defining socially assistive robotics at the 2005 International Conference on Rehabilitation Robotics. It was the only paper that talked about helping people complete tasks and learn skills by speaking with them rather than by performing physical jobs, she says.
Feil-Seifer is now a professor of computer science and engineering at the University of Nevada in Reno.
At the same time, she founded the Interaction Lab at USC and made its focus creating robots that provide social, rather than physical, support.
“At this point in my career journey, I’ve matured to a place where I don’t want to do just curiosity-driven research alone,” she says. “Plenty of what my team and I do today is still driven by curiosity, but it is answering the question: ‘How can we help someone live a better life?’”
In 2006 she was promoted to full professor and made the senior associate dean for research in USC’s Viterbi School of Engineering. In 2012 she became vice dean for research.
“In academia, you can be in a leadership role and still do research,” she says. “It’s a wonderful and important opportunity that lets academics be on top of our field and also train the next generation of students and help the next generation of faculty colleagues.”
One of the longest research projects Matarić has led at her Interaction Lab is exploring how socially assistive robots can help improve the communication skills of children with autism spectrum disorder. ASD is a lifelong neurological condition that affects the way people interact with others, and the way they learn. Children with ASD often struggle with social behaviors such as reading nonverbal cues, playing with others, and making eye contact.
Matarić and her team developed a robot, Bandit, that can play games with a child and give the youngster words of affirmation. Bandit is 56 centimeters tall and has a humanlike head, torso, and arms. Its head can pan and tilt. The robot uses two FireWire cameras as its eyes, and it has a movable mouth and eyebrows, allowing it to exhibit a variety of facial expressions, according to the IEEE Spectrum’s robots guide. Its torso is attached to a wheeled base.
The study showed that when interacting with Bandit, children with ASD exhibited social behaviors that were out of the ordinary for them, such as initiating play and imitating the robot.
Matarić and her team also studied how the robot could serve as a social and cognitive aid for elderly people and stroke patients. Bandit was programmed to instruct and motivate users to perform daily movement exercises such as seated aerobics.
Maja Matarić and doctoral student Amy O’Connell testing Blossom, which is being used to study how it can aid students with anxiety or depression.University of Southern California
Over the years, Matarić’s lab developed other robots including Kiwi and Blossom. Kiwi, which looked like an owl, helped children with ASD learn social and cognitive skills, helped motivate elderly people living alone to be more physically active, and mediated discussions among family members. Blossom, originally developed at Cornell, was adapted by the Interaction Lab to make it less expensive and personalizable for individuals. The robot is being used to study how it can aid students with anxiety or depression to practice cognitive behavioral therapy.
Matarić’s line of research began when she learned that large language model (LLM) chatbots were being promoted to help people with mental health struggles, she said in an episode of the AMA Medical News podcast.
“It is generally not easy to get [an appointment with a] therapist, or there might not be insurance coverage,” she said. “These, combined with the rates of anxiety and depression, created a real need.”
That made the chatbot idea appealing, she says, but she was interested to see if they were effective compared with a friendly robot such as Blossom.
Matarić and her team used the same LLMs to power CBT practice with a chatbot and with Blossom. They ran a two-week study in the USC dorms, where students were randomly assigned to complete CBT exercises daily with either a chatbot or the robot. Participants filled out a clinical assessment to measure their psychiatric distress before and after each session.
The study showed that students who interacted with the robot experienced a significant decrease in their mental state, Matarić said in the podcast, and students who interacted with the chatbot did not.
“Joining an [IEEE] society has an impact, and it can be personal. That’s why I recommend my students join the organization—because it’s important to get out there and get connected.”
She and her team also reviewed transcripts of conversations between the students and the robot to evaluate how well the LLM responded to the participants. They found the robot was more effective than the chatbot, even though both were using the same model.
Based on those findings, in 2024 Matarić received a grant from the U.S. National Institute of Mental Health to conduct a six-week clinical trial to explore how effective a socially assistive robot could be at delivering CBT practice. The trial, currently underway, also is expected to study how Blossom can be personalized to adapt to each user’s preferences and progress, including the way the robot moves, which exercises it recommends, and what feedback it gives.
During the trial, the 120 students participating are wearing Fitbits to study their physiologic responses. The participants fill out a clinical assessment to measure their psychiatric distress before and after each session.
Data including the participants’ feelings of relating to the robot, intrinsic motivation, engagement, and adherence will be assessed by the research team, Matarić says.
She says she’s proud of the graduate students working on this project, and seeing them grow as engineers is one of the most rewarding parts of working in academia.
“Engineers generally don’t anticipate having to work with human study participants and needing to understand psychology in addition to the hardcore engineering,” she says. “So the students who choose to do this research are just wonderful, caring people.”
Matarić joined IEEE as a graduate student in 1992, the year she published her first paper in IEEE Transactions on Robotics and Automation. The paper, “Integration of Representation Into Goal-Driven Behavior-Based Robots,” described her work on Toto.
As a member of the IEEE Robotics and Automation Society, she says she has gained a community of like-minded people. She enjoys attending conferences including the IEEE International Conference on Robotics and Automation, the IEEE/RSJ International Conference on Intelligent Robots and Systems, and the ACM/IEEE International Conference on Human-Robot Interaction, which is closest to her field of research.
Matarić credits IEEE Life Fellow George Bekey, the founding editor in chief of the IEEE Transactions on Robotics, for recruiting her for the USC engineering faculty position. He knew of her work through her graduate advisor Brooks, who published a paper in the journal that introduced reactive control and the subsumption architecture, which became the foundation of a new way to control robots. It is his most cited paper. Bekey, who was editor in chief at the time, helped guide Brooks through the challenging review process. Matarić joined Brooks’s lab at MIT two years after its publication, and her work on Toto built on that foundation.
“Joining a society has an impact, and it can be personal,” she says. “That’s why I recommend my students join the organization—because it’s important to get out there and get connected.”
2026-04-19 21:00:02
In 1627, a year after the death of the philosopher and statesman Francis Bacon, a short, evocative tale of his was published. The New Atlantis describes how a ship blown off course arrives at an unknown island called Bensalem. At its heart stands Salomon’s House, an institution devoted to “the knowledge of causes, and secret motions of things” and to “the effecting of all things possible.” The novel captured Bacon’s vision of a science built on skepticism and empiricism and his belief that understanding and creating were one and the same pursuit.
No mere scholar’s study filled with curiosities, Salomon’s House had deep-sunk caves for refrigeration, towering structures for astronomy, sound-houses for acoustics, engine-houses, and optical perspective-houses. Its inhabitants bore titles that still sound futuristic: Merchants of Light, Pioneers, Compilers, and Interpreters of Nature.
Francis Bacon wrote The Advancement and Proficience of Learning.Public Domain
Bacon didn’t conjure his story from nothing. Engineers he likely had met or observed firsthand gave him reason to believe such an institution could actually exist. Two in particular stand out: the Dutch engineer Cornelis Drebbel and the French engineer Salomon de Caus. Their bold creations suggested that disciplined making and testing could transform what we know.
Drebbel came to England around 1604 at the invitation of King James I. His audacious inventions quickly drew notice. By the early 1620s, he unveiled a contraption that bordered on fantasy: a boat that could dive beneath the Thames and resurface hours later, ferrying passengers from Westminster to Greenwich. Contemporary descriptions mention tubes reaching the surface to supply air, while later accounts claim Drebbel had found chemical means to replenish it. He refined the underwater craft through iterative builds, each informed by test dives and adjustments. His other creations included a perpetual-motion device driven by heat and air-pressure changes, a mercury regulator for egg incubation, and advanced microscopes.
De Caus, who arrived in England around 1611, created ingenious fountains that transformed royal gardens into animated spectacles. Visitors marveled as statues moved and birds sang in water-driven automatons, while hidden pipes and pumps powered elaborate fountains and mythic scenes. In 1615, de Caus published The Reasons for Moving Forces, an illustrated manual on water- and air-driven devices like spouts, hydraulic organs, and mechanical figures. What set him apart was scale and spectacle: He pressed ancient physical principles into the service of courtly theater.
Drebbel’s airtight submersibles and methodical trials echo in the motion studies and environmental chambers of Salomon’s House. De Caus’s melodic fountains and hidden mechanisms parallel its acoustic trials and optical illusions. From such hands-on workshops, Bacon drew the lesson that trustworthy knowledge comes from working within material constraints, through gritty making and testing. On the island of Bensalem, he imagines an entire society organized around it.
Beyond inspiring Bacon’s fiction, figures like Drebbel and de Caus honed his emerging philosophy. In 1620, Bacon published Novum Organum, which critiqued traditional philosophical methods and advocated a fresh way to investigate nature. He pointed to printing, gunpowder, and the compass as practical inventions that had transformed the world far more than abstract debates ever could. Nature reveals its secrets, Bacon argued, when probed through ingenious tools and stringent tests. Novum Organum laid out the rationale, while New Atlantis gave it a vivid setting.
Francis Bacon also wrote Novum Organum.Public Domain
That devotion to inquiry followed Bacon to the roadside one day in March 1626. In a biting late-winter chill, he halted his carriage for an impromptu trial. He bought a hen and helped pack its gutted body with fresh snow to test whether freezing alone could prevent decay. Unfortunately, the cold seeped through Bacon’s own body, and within weeks pneumonia claimed him. Bacon’s life ended with an experiment—and set in motion a larger one. In 1660, a group of London thinkers hailed Bacon as their inspiration in founding the Royal Society. Their motto, Nullius in verba (“take no one’s word for it”), committed them to evidence over authority, and their ambition was nothing less than to create a Salomon’s House for England.
The Royal Society and its successors realized fragments of Bacon’s dream, institutionalizing experimental inquiry. Over the following centuries, though, a distorting story took root: Scientists discover nature’s truths, and the rest is just engineering. Nineteenth-century “men of science” pressed for greater recognition and invented the title of “scientist,” creating a new professional hierarchy. Across the Atlantic, U.S. engineers adopted the rigorous science-based curricula of French and German technical schools and recast engineering as “applied science” to gain institutional legitimacy.
We still call engineering “applied science,” a label that retrofits and reverses history. Alongside it stands “technology,” a catchall word that obscures as much as it describes. And we speak of “development” as if ideas cascade neatly from theory to practice. But creation and comprehension have been partners from the start. Yes, theory does equip engineers with tools to push for further insights. But knowing often follows making, arising from things that someone made work.
Bacon’s imaginary academy offered only fleeting glimpses of its inventions and methods. Yet he had seen the real thing: engineers like Drebbel and de Caus who tested, erred, iterated, and pushed their contraptions past the edge of known theory. From his observations of those muddy, noisy endeavors, Bacon forged his blueprint for organized inquiry. Later generations of scientists would reduce Bacon’s ideas to the clean, orderly “scientific method.” But in the process, they lost sight of its inventive roots.
2026-04-17 22:00:50
A practical guide to designing log-periodic dipole array fed parabolic reflector antennas using advanced 3D MoM simulation — from parametric modeling to electrically large structures.
What Attendees will Learn
2026-04-17 02:00:01
Roughly 90 percent of hard tech startups fail due to funding constraints, longer R&D timelines for developing hardware, and the complexity of manufacturing their products, according to a number of studies.
Generally, these startups require up to 50 percent more investor financing than software ones, according to a Medium article. Typically, they need at least US $30 million, according to a Lucid article. That’s double the funding needed by software companies on average.
To help them connect with investors, IEEE Entrepreneurship in 2024 launched its Hard Tech Venture Summits. The two-day events connect founders with potential investors and other entrepreneurs. Attendees include manufacturers, design engineers, and intellectual property lawyers.
“Even though there are a lot of startup investor conferences, it’s hard to find those focused on hard tech,” says Joanne Wong, who helped initiate the program and is now the chair. She is a general partner at Redds Capital, a California-based venture capital firm that invests in global early-stage IT startups.
The IEEE member is also an entrepreneur. She founded SciosHub in 2020. The company’s software-as-a-service and informatics platform automates the data-management process for biomedical research labs.
“Many investors are focused on AI software—which is good,” she says. “But for hard tech companies, it is still hard to find support.”
The summit also includes a workshop to help founders navigate manufacturing processes and regulatory compliance. The event is open to IEEE members and others.
IEEE is a natural fit for the program, Wong says, because hard tech is synonymous with electrical engineering.
“Some of the domains we’re covering are robotics, semiconductors, and aerospace technology. IEEE has societies for all these fields,” she says. “Because of that, there are many resources within the organizations for startups, whether it be mentors or guides on how to commercialize products.”
There are several venture summits planned for this year. Two are scheduled in collaboration with the IEEE Systems Council: this month in Menlo Park, Calif., and in October in Toronto.
On 10 and 11 June, a third summit is scheduled to take place in Boston at the IEEE Microwave Theory and Technology Society’s International Microwave Symposium.
More events are being planned for next year in Asia, Europe, Latin America, and North America.
Each summit includes keynote speakers, followed by networking roundtables. Each table is composed of people from three to five startups, one or two investors, and a service provider.
That arrangement helps founders build relationships, which is the summit organizers’ priority, Wong says. Investors at past events have included i3 Ventures, Monozukuri Ventures, and TSV Capital.
“The connection with the community was fantastic, especially investors and founders in robotics.” —Mark Boysen, founder of Naware
Startups present their pitch, which a number of investors evaluate before ranking the business plan and product. The top 10 startups pitch their business to all the investors.
On the second day, the startup founders participate in a half-day engineering design–to–manufacturing workshop, at which manufacturing engineers teach them how to navigate the process and meet regulations.
In an exhibition area, participants can see demonstrations from the startups and connect with service providers.
The 2025 event’s half-day engineering design–to–manufacturing workshop was led by Liz Taylor, president of DOER Marine. The company manufactures marine equipment.Larissa Abi Nakhle/IEEE
In a survey of past summit attendees, startup founders said the event connected them not only with investors but also with other entrepreneurs having similar struggles.
“The connection with the community was fantastic, especially investors and founders in robotics,” said Mark Boysen, who founded Naware. The company, based in Edina, Minn., developed a robot that uses AI to detect and remove weeds from golf courses, parks, and lawns.
“I loved getting the investors’ perspectives and understanding what they’re looking for,” Boysen said.
Jeffrey Cook, who attended a summit in 2024, said he met “a lot of great contacts and saw what the hard tech venture climate is like.”
Attendees of the Hard Tech Venture Summit spend the first day networking and presenting their pitch to investors. IEEE Entrepreneurship
“Those in the community would benefit from coming to the summit,” said Cook, who founded Gigantor Technologies in Melbourne Beach, Fla. It develops hardware systems for AI-powered devices.
More than 90 percent of attendees at the 2025 event in San Francisco said they would highly recommend the summit to others, according to a survey.
Investors and service providers also have found the events successful.
Ji Ke, a partner and the chief technology officer of deep tech VC firm SOSV, attended the 2025 summit.
“I met a lot of young entrepreneurs tackling some big challenges,” he said. “This is one of the best events to meet some very-early-stage companies.”
Startup founders who want to attend a summit must apply. Applications for this year’s events are open. Participants must be founders of preseed, seed, or Series A startups.
Preseed founders are seeking small investments to get their businesses off the ground. Those in the seed stage have already secured funding from their first investor. Series A startups have obtained funding and are developing their product.
Applicants are reviewed by a committee of investors to ensure the startups would be a good fit. Those who are approved are matched with investors and service providers based on their specialty.
“The journey for a hard tech startup is very long and arduous,” Wong says. “Founders need to meet as many investors as possible and other people who support hard tech systems so that they’re able to reach out to them for advice or help.”
Those interested in learning more about an upcoming event can send a request to [email protected].
2026-04-15 21:00:02
On 8 January 2026, the Iranian government imposed a near-total communications shutdown. It was the country’s first full information blackout: For weeks, the internet was off across all provinces while services including the government-run intranet, VPNs, text messaging, mobile calls, and even landlines were severely throttled. It was an unprecedented lockdown that left more than 90 million people cut off not only from the world, but from one another.
Since then, connectivity has never fully returned. Following U.S. and Israeli airstrikes in late February, Iran again imposed near-total restrictions, and people inside the country again saw global information flows dry up.
The original January shutdown came amid nationwide protests over the deepening economic crisis and political repression, in which millions of people chanted antigovernment slogans in the streets. While Iranian protests have become frequent in recent years, this was one of the most significant uprisings since the Islamic Revolution in 1979. The government responded quickly and brutally. One report put the death toll at more than 7,000 confirmed deaths and more than 11,000 under investigation. Many sources believe the death toll could exceed 30,000.
Thirteen days into the January shutdown, we at NetFreedom Pioneers (NFP) turned to a system we had built for exactly this kind of moment—one that sends files over ordinary satellite TV signals. During the national information vacuum, our technology, called Toosheh, delivered real-time updates into Iran, offering a lifeline to millions starved of trusted information.
I joined NetFreedom Pioneers, a nonprofit focused on anticensorship technology, in 2014. Censorship in Iran was a defining feature of my youth in the 1990s. After the Islamic Revolution, most Iranians began to lead double lives—one at home, where they could drink, dance, and choose their clothing, and another in public, where everyone had to comply with stifling government laws.
Iran’s internet infrastructure is more centralized than in other parts of the world, making it easier for the government to restrict the flow of information. Morteza Nikoubazl/NurPhoto/Getty Images
That openness didn’t last. As internet use spread in the early 2000s, the Iranian government began reshaping the network itself. Unlike the highly distributed networks in the United States or Europe, where thousands of providers exchange traffic across many independent routes, Iran’s connection to the global internet is relatively centralized. Most international traffic passes through a small number of gateways controlled by state-linked telecom operators. That architecture gives authorities unusual leverage: By restricting or withdrawing those connections, they can sharply reduce the country’s access to the outside world.
Over the past decade, Iran has expanded this control through what it calls the National Information Network, a domestically routed system designed to keep data inside the country whenever possible. Many government services, banking systems, and local platforms are hosted on this internal network. During periods of unrest, access to the global internet can be throttled or cut off while portions of this domestic network continue to function.
The government began its censorship campaign by redirecting or blocking websites. As internet use grew, it adopted more sophisticated approaches. For example, the Telecommunication Company of Iran uses a technique called deep packet inspection to analyze the content of data packets in real time. This method enables it to identify and block specific types of traffic, such as VPN connections, messaging apps, social media platforms, and banned websites.
Toosheh’s communication workaround builds on a history of satellite TV adoption in Middle Eastern and North African countries. By the early 2000s, satellite dishes were common in Iran; today the majority of households in Iran have access to satellite TV despite its official prohibition.
Unlike subscription services such as DirecTV and Dish Network, “free-to-air” satellite TV broadcasts are unencrypted and can be received by anyone with a dish and receiver—no subscription required. Because the signals are open, users can also capture and store the data they carry, rather than simply watching it live. Tech-savvy people learned that they could use a digital video broadcasting (DVB) card—a piece of hardware that connects to a computer and tunes into satellite frequencies—to transform a personal computer into a satellite receiver. This way, they could watch and store media locally as well as download data from dedicated channels.
Many Iranian citizens have free-to-air satellite dishes, like the ones on this apartment building in Tehran, and can thus download Toosheh transmissions, giving them a lifeline during internet blackouts.Morteza Nikoubazl/NurPhoto/Getty Images
Toosheh, a Persian word that translates to “knapsack,” is the brainchild of Mehdi Yahyanejad, an Iranian-American technologist and entrepreneur. Yahyanejad cofounded NetFreedom Pioneers in 2012. He proposed that the satellite-computer connections enabled by a DVB card could be re-created in software, eliminating the need for specialized hardware. He added a simple digital interface to the software to make it easy for anyone to use. The next breakthrough came when the NFP team developed a new transfer protocol that tricks ordinary satellite receivers into downloading data alongside audio and video content. Thus, Toosheh was born.
Satellite TV uses a file system called an MPEG transport stream that allows multiple audio, video, or data layers to be packaged into a single stream file. When you tune in to a satellite channel and select an audio option or closed captions, you’re accessing data stored in different parts of this stream. The NFP team’s insight was that, by piggybacking on one of these layers, Toosheh could send an MPEG stream that included documents, videos, and more.
HOW TOOSHEH WORKS: At NetFreedom Pioneers, content curators pull together files—news articles, videos, audio, and software [1]. Toosheh’s encoder software [2] compresses the files into a bundle, in .ts format, creating an MPEG transport stream [3]. From there, it’s uploaded to a server for transmission [4] via a free-to-air TV channel on a Yahsat satellite that’s positioned over the Middle East to provide regional coverage [5]. Satellite receivers [6] directly capture the data streams, which are downloaded to computers, smartphones, and other devices, and decoded by Toosheh software [8].Chris Philpot
A satellite receiver can’t tell the difference between our data and normal satellite audio and video data since it only “sees” the MPEG streams, not what’s encoded on them. This means the data can be downloaded and read, watched, and saved on local devices such as computers, smartphones, or storage devices. What’s more, the system is entirely private: No one can detect whether someone has received data through Toosheh; there are no traceable logs of user activity.
Toosheh doesn’t provide internet access, but rather delivers curated data through satellite technology. The fundamental distinction lies in the way users interact with the system. Unlike traditional internet services, where you type a request into your browser and receive data in response, Toosheh operates more like a combination of radio and television, presenting information in a magazine-like format. Users don’t make requests; instead, they receive 1 to 5 gigabytes of prepackaged, carefully selected data.
Access to information is not only about news or politics, but about exposure to possibilities.
During this year’s internet blackout, we distributed official statements from Iranian opposition leader Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi and the U.S. government. We provided first-aid tutorials for medics and injured protesters. We sent uncensored news reports from BBC Persian, Iran International, IranWire, VOA Farsi, and others. We also shared critical software packages including anticensorship and antisurveillance tools, along with how-to guides to help people securely connect to Starlink satellite terminals, allowing them to stay protected and anonymous as they sent their own communications.
Because Toosheh relies on one-way satellite broadcasts, it evades the usual tactics governments use to block internet access. However, it remains vulnerable to satellite signal jamming.
The Iranian government is notorious for deploying signal jamming, especially in larger cities. In 2009, the government used uplink interference, which attacks the satellite in orbit by beaming strong noise in the frequency of the satellite’s receiver. This makes it impossible for the satellite to distinguish the information it’s supposed to receive. However, because this type of attack temporarily disables the entire satellite, Iran was threatened with international sanctions and in 2012 stopped using the method .
A graph of network connectivity in Iran shows that on 9 January 2026, internet access dropped from nearly 100 percent to 0. Samuel Boivin/NurPhoto/Getty Images
The current method, called terrestrial jamming, uses antennas installed at higher elevations than the surrounding buildings to beam strong noise over a specific area in the frequency range of household receivers. This attack is effective in keeping some of the packets from arriving and damaging others, effectively jamming the transmission. But it’s short-range and requires significant power, so it’s impossible to implement nationwide. There are always people somewhere who can still watch TV, download from Toosheh, or tune into a satellite radio despite the jamming. Even so, we wanted a workaround that would keep our transmissions broadly accessible.
NFP’s solution was to add redundancy, similar in principle to a data-storage technique called RAID (redundant array of independent disks). Instead of sending each piece of data once, we send extra information that allows missing or corrupted packets to be reconstructed. Under normal circumstances, we often use 5 percent of our bandwidth for this redundancy. During periods of active jamming, we increase that to as much as 25 to 30 percent, improving the chances that users can recover complete files despite interference.
Toosheh initially came online in 2015 in Iran and Afghanistan. Its full potential, however, was first realized during the 2019 protests in Iran, which saw the most widespread internet shutdown prior to the blackout this year. Wired called the 2019 shutdown “the most severe disconnection” tracked by NetBlocks in any country in terms of its “technical complexity and breadth.” Our technology helped thousands of people stay informed. We sent crucial local updates, legal-aid guides, digital security tools, and independent news to satellite receivers all over the country, seeing a sixfold increase in our user base.
When that wave of protests subsided, the government allowed some communication services to return. People were again able to access the free internet using VPNs and other antifilter software that allowed them to bypass restrictions. Toosheh then became a public access point for news, educational material, and entertainment beyond government filtering.
Toosheh’s impact is often personal. A traveling teacher in western Iran told NFP that he regularly distributed Toosheh files to students in remote villages. One package included footage of female athletes competing in the Olympic Games, something never broadcast in Iran. For one young girl, it was the first time she realized women could compete professionally in sports. That moment underscores a broader truth: Access to information is not only about news or politics, but about exposure to possibilities.
Unlike internet-based systems, Toosheh’s operational cost remains constant regardless of the number of users. A single TV satellite in geostationary earth orbit, deployed and maintained by an international company such as Eutelsat, can broadcast to an entire continent with no increase in cost to audiences. What’s more, the startup cost for users isn’t high: A satellite dish and receiver in Iran costs less than US $50, which is affordable to many. And it costs nothing for people to use Toosheh’s service and receive its files.
We aim not just to build a tool for censorship circumvention, but to redefine access itself.
However, operating the service is costly: NetFreedom Pioneers pays tens of thousands of dollars a month for satellite bandwidth. We had received funding from the U.S. State Department, but in August of 2025, that funding ended, forcing us to suspend services in Iran.
Then the December protests happened, and broadcasting to Iran became an urgent priority. To turn Toosheh back on, we needed roughly $50,000 a month. With the support of a handful of private donors, we were able to meet these costs and sustain operations in Iran for a few months, though our future there and elsewhere is uncertain.
Toosheh’s revival in Iran came alongside NFP’s ongoing support for deployments of Starlink, a satellite internet service that allows users to connect directly to satellites rather than relying on domestic networks, which the government can shut down. Unlike Toosheh’s one-way broadcasts, Starlink provides full two-way internet access, enabling users to send messages, upload videos, and communicate with the outside world.
In 2022, we started gathering donations to buy Starlink terminals for Iran. We have delivered more than 300 of the roughly 50,000 there, enabling citizens to send encrypted updates and videos to us from inside the country. Because the technology is banned by the government, access remains limited and carries risk; Iranian authorities have recently arrested Starlink users and sellers. And unlike Toosheh’s receive-only broadcasts, Starlink terminals transmit signals back to orbit, creating a radio footprint that can potentially be detected.
The internet shutdown in Iran continued after the attacks by Israel and the United States began in late February, preventing Iranians from communicating with the outside world and with one another.Fatemeh Bahrami/Anadolu/Getty Images
Looking ahead, we envision Toosheh becoming a foundational part of global digital resilience. It is uncensored, untraceable, and resistant to government shutdowns. Because Toosheh is downlink only, it can sometimes feel hard to explain the value of this technology to those living in the free world, those accustomed to open internet access. Yet, people living under censorship have few other choices when there’s a digital blackout.
Currently, NFP is developing new features like intelligent content curation and automatically prioritizing data packages based on geographic or situational needs. And we’re experimenting with local sharing tools that allow users who receive Toosheh broadcasts to redistribute those files via Wi-Fi hotspots or other offline networks, which could extend the system’s reach to disaster zones, conflict areas, and climate-impacted regions where infrastructure may be destroyed.
We’re also looking at other use cases. Following the Taliban’s return to power in Afghanistan, NetFreedom Pioneers designed a satellite-based system to deliver educational materials. Our goal is to enable private, large-scale distribution of coursework to anyone—including the girls who are banned from Afghanistan’s schools. The system is technically ready but has yet to secure funding for deployment.
We aim not just to build a tool for censorship circumvention, but to redefine access itself. Whether in an Iranian city under surveillance, a Guatemalan village without internet, or a refugee camp in East Africa, Toosheh offers a powerful and practical model for delivering vital information without relying on vulnerable or expensive networks.
Toosheh is a reminder that innovation doesn’t have to mean complexity. Sometimes, the most transformative ideas are the simplest, like delivering data through the sky, quietly and affordably, into the hands of those who need it most.
This article appears in the May 2026 print issue as “The Stealth Signals Bypassing Iran’s Internet Blackout.”
2026-04-15 21:00:01
The race to transition online security protocols to ones that can’t be cracked by a quantum computer is already on. The algorithms that are commonly used today to protect data online—RSA and elliptic curve cryptography—are uncrackable by supercomputers, but a large enough quantum computer would make quick work of them. There are algorithms secure enough to be out of reach for both classical and future quantum machines, called post-quantum cryptography, but transitioning to these is a work in progress.
Late last month, the team at Google Quantum AI published a whitepaper that added significant urgency to this race. In it, the team showed that the size of a quantum computer that would pose a cryptographic threat is approximately 20 times smaller than previously thought. This is still far from accessible to the quantum computers that exist today: The largest machines currently consist of approximately 1,000 quantum bits, or qubits, and the whitepaper estimated that about 500 times as much is needed. Nonetheless, this shortens the timeline to switch over to post-quantum algorithms.
The news had a surprising beneficiary: Obscure cryptocurrency Algorand jumped 44% in price in response. The whitepaper called out Algorand specifically for implementing post-quantum cryptography on their blockchain. We caught up with Algorand’s chief scientific officer and professor of computer science and engineering at the University of Michigan, Chris Peikert, to understand how this announcement is impacting cryptography, why cryptocurrencies are feeling the effects, and what the future might hold. Peikert’s early work on a particular type of algorithm known as lattice cryptography underlies most post-quantum security today.
IEEE Spectrum: What is the significance of this Google Quantum AI whitepaper?
Peikert: The upshot of this paper is that it shows that a quantum computer would be able to break some of the cryptography that is most widely used, especially in blockchains and cryptocurrencies, with much, much fewer resources than had previously been established. Those resources include the time that it would take to do so and the number of qubits (or quantum bits) that it would have to use.
This cryptography is very central to not just cryptocurrencies, but more broadly to cryptography on the internet. It is also used for secure web connections between web browsers and web servers. Versions of elliptic curve cryptography are used in national security systems and military encryption. It’s very prevalent and pervasive in all modern networks and protocols.
And not only was this paper improving the algorithms, but there was also a concurrent paper showing that the hardware itself was substantially improved. The claim here was that the number of physical qubits needed to achieve a certain kind of logical qubit was also greatly reduced. These two kinds of improvements are compounding upon each other. It’s a kind of a win-win situation from the quantum computing perspective, but a lose-lose situation for cryptography.
IEEE Spectrum: What do Google AI’s findings mean for cryptocurrencies and the broader cybersecurity ecosystem?
Peikert: There’s always been this looming threat in the distance of quantum computers breaking a large fraction of the cryptography that’s used throughout the cryptocurrency ecosystem. And I think what this paper did was really the loudest alarm yet that these kinds of quantum attacks might not be as far off as some have suspected, or hoped, in recent years. It’s caused a reevaluation across the industry, and a moving up of the timeline for when quantum computers might be capable of breaking this cryptography.
When we think about the timelines and when it’s important to have completed these transitions [to post-quantum cryptography], we also need to factor in the unknown improvements that we should expect to see in the coming years. The science of quantum computing will not stay static, and there will be these further breakthroughs. We can’t say exactly what they will be or when they will come, but you can bet that they will be coming.
IEEE Spectrum: What is your guess on if or when quantum computers will be able to break cryptography in the real world?
Peikert: Instead of thinking about a specific date when we expect them to come, we have to think about the probabilities and the risks as time goes on. There have been huge breakthrough developments, including not only this paper, but also some last year. But even with these, I think that the chance of a cryptographic attack by quantum computers being successful in the next three years is extremely low, maybe less than a percent. But then, as you get out to several years, like five, six, or 10 years, one has to seriously consider a probability, maybe 5 percent or 10 percent or more. So it’s still rather small, but significant enough that we have to worry about the risk, because the value that is protected by this kind of cryptography is really enormous.
The U.S. government has put 2035 as its target for migrating all of the national security systems to post-quantum cryptography. That seems like a prudent date, given the timelines that it takes to upgrade cryptography. It’s a slow process. It has to be done very deliberately and carefully to make sure that you’re not introducing new vulnerabilities, that you’re not making mistakes, that everything still works properly. So, you know, given the outlook for quantum computers on the horizon, it’s really important that we prepare now, or ideally, yesterday, or a few years ago, for that kind of transition.
IEEE Spectrum: Are there significant roadblocks you see to industrial adoption of post-quantum cryptography going forward?
Peikert: Cryptography is very hard to change. We’ve only had one or maybe two major transitions in cryptography since the early 1980s or late 1970s, when the field first was invented. We don’t really have a systematic way of transitioning cryptography.
An additional challenge is that the performance trade-offs are very different in post-quantum cryptography than they are in the legacy systems. Keys and cipher texts and digital signatures are all significantly larger in post-quantum cryptography, but the computations are actually faster, typically. People have optimized cryptography for speed in the past, and we have very good fast speeds now for post-quantum cryptography, but the sizes of the keys are a challenge.
Especially in blockchain applications, like cryptocurrencies, space on the blockchain is at a premium. So it calls for a reevaluation in many applications of how we integrate the cryptography into the system, and that work is ongoing. And, the blockchain ecosystem uses a lot of advanced cryptography, exotic things like zero-knowledge proofs. In many cases, we have rudimentary constructions of these fancy cryptography tools from post-quantum-type mathematics, but they’re not nearly as mature and industry-ready as the legacy systems that have been deployed. It continues to be an important technical challenge to develop post-quantum versions of these very fancy cryptographic schemes that are used in cutting-edge applications.
IEEE Spectrum: As an academic cryptography researcher, what attracted you to work with a cryptocurrency, and Algorand in particular?
Peikert: My former Ph.D. advisor is Silvio Micali, the inventor of Algorand. The system is very elegant. It is a very high-performing blockchain system, and it uses very little energy, has fast transaction finalization, and a number of other great features. And Silvio appreciated that this quantum threat was real and was coming, and the team approached me about helping to improve the Algorand protocol at the basic levels to become more post-quantum secure in 2021. That was a very exciting opportunity, because it was a difficult engineering and scientific challenge to integrate post-quantum cryptography into all the different technical and cryptographic mechanisms that were underlying the protocol.
IEEE Spectrum: What is the current status of post-quantum cryptography in Algorand, and blockchains in general?
Peikert: We’ve identified some of the most pressing issues and worked our way through some of them, but it’s a many-faceted problem overall. We started with the integrity of the chain itself, which is the transaction history that everybody has to agree upon.
Our first major project was developing a system that would add post-quantum security to the history of the chain. We developed a system called state proofs for that, which is a mixture of ordinary post-quantum cryptography and also some more fancy cryptography: It’s a way of taking a large number of signatures and digesting them down into a much smaller number of signatures, while still being confident that these large number of signatures actually exist and are properly formed. We also followed it with other papers and projects that are about adding post-quantum cryptography and security to other aspects of the blockchain in the Algorand ecosystem.
It’s not a complete project yet. We don’t claim to be fully post-quantum secure. That’s a very challenging target to hit, and there are aspects that we will continue to work on into the near future.
IEEE Spectrum: In your view, will we adopt post-quantum cryptography before the risks actually catch up with us?
Peikert: I tend to be an optimist about these things. I think that it’s a very good thing that more people in decision-making roles are recognizing that this is an important topic, and that these kinds of migrations have to be done. I think that we can’t be complacent about it, and we can’t kick the can down the road much longer. But I do see that the focus is being put on this important problem, so I’m optimistic that most important systems will eventually have good either mitigations or full migrations in place.
But it’s also a point on the horizon that we don’t know exactly when it will come. So, there is the possibility that there is a huge breakthrough, and we have many fewer years than we might have hoped for, and that we don’t get all the systems upgraded that we would like to have fixed by the time quantum computers arrive.