2026-04-09 20:25:10
This is today’s edition of The Download, our weekday newsletter that provides a daily dose of what’s going on in the world of technology.
In 2001, Americans installed just over 7 million square meters of synthetic turf. By 2024, that number was 79 million square meters—enough to carpet all of Manhattan and then some. The increase worries folks who study microplastics and environmental pollution.
While the plastic-making industry insists that synthetic fields are safe if properly installed, lots of researchers think that isn’t so. Find out why AstroTurf has ignited heated debates.
—Douglas Main
This story is from the next issue of our print magazine, packed with stories all about nature. Subscribe now to read the full thing when it lands on Wednesday, April 22.
—Mustafa Suleyman, Microsoft AI CEO and Google DeepMind co-founder
The skeptics keep predicting that AI compute will soon hit a wall—and keep getting proven wrong. To understand why that is, you need to look at the forces driving the AI explosion.
Three advances are enabling exponential progress: faster basic calculators, high-bandwidth memory, and technologies that turn disparate GPUs into enormous supercomputers. Where does all this get us? Read the full op-ed on the future of AI development to learn more.
—Casey Crownhart
When I started digging into desalination technology for a new story, I couldn’t help but obsess over the numbers.
I knew on some level that desalination—pulling salt out of seawater to produce fresh water—was an increasingly important technology, especially in water-stressed regions including the Middle East. But just how much some countries rely on desalination, and how big a business it is, still surprised me.
Here are the extraordinary numbers behind the crucial water source.
This story is from The Spark, our weekly newsletter on the tech that could combat the climate crisis. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Wednesday.
The must-reads
I’ve combed the internet to find you today’s most fun/important/scary/fascinating stories about technology.
1 Meta has launched the first AI model from its Superintelligence Labs
Muse Spark is the company’s first model in a year. (Reuters $)
+ The closed model brings reasoning capabilities to the Meta AI app. (Engadget)
+ It’s built by Meta’s Superintelligence Labs, the unit led by Alexandr Wang. (TechCrunch)
2 Anthropic has lost a bid to pause the Pentagon’s blacklisting
An appeals court in Washington, DC denied the request. (CNBC)
+ A California judge had temporarily blocked the blacklisting in March. (NPR)
+ The mixed rulings leave Anthropic in a legal limbo. (Wired $)
+ And open doors for smaller AI rivals. (Reuters $)
3 New evidence suggests Adam Back invented Bitcoin
The British cryptographer may be the real Satoshi Nakamoto. (NYT $)
+ Back denies the claims. (BBC)
+ There’s a dark side to crypto’s permissionless dream. (MIT Technology Review)
4 Gen Z is cooling on AI
The share feeling angry about it has risen from 22% to 31% in a year. (Axios)
+ Anti-AI protests are also growing. (MIT Technology Review)
5 War in the Gulf could tilt the cloud race toward China
Huawei is pitching “multi-cloud” resilience to Gulf clients. (Rest of World)
6 Meta has killed a leaderboard of its AI token users
It showed the top 250 users. (The Information $)
+ Meta blamed data leaks for the shutdown. (Fortune)
+ It encouraged “tokenmaxxing,” a growing phenomenon in Big Tech. (NYT $)
7 Did Artemis II really tell us anything new about space?
Or was it primarily a PR exercise? (Ars Technica)
8 Israeli attacks have brutally exposed Lebanon’s digital infrastructure
It’s managing a modern crisis without modern technology. (Wired $)
9 AI models could offer mathematicians a common language
They hope it will simplify the process of verifying proofs. (Economist)
10 A “self-doxing’ rave is helping trans people stay safe online
It’s among a series of digital self-defenses. (404 Media)
Quote of the day
—Sydney Gill, a freshman at Rice University, tells the New York Times why she’s soured on AI.
One More Thing
In 2012, data from CERN’s Large Hadron Collider (LHC) unearthed a particle called the Higgs boson. The discovery answered a nagging question: where do fundamental particles, such as the ones that make up all the protons and neutrons in our bodies, get their mass?
But now particle physicists have reached an impasse in their quest to discover, produce, and study new particles at colliders. Find out what they’re trying to do about it.
—Dan Garisto
We can still have nice things
A place for comfort, fun and distraction to brighten up your day. (Got any ideas? Drop me a line.)
+ Enjoy this tale of the “joke” sound that accidentally defined 90s rave culture.
+ Take a nostalgic trip through the websites of the early 00s.
+ One for animal lovers: sperm whales have teamed up to support a newborn.
+ Here’s a long overdue answer to a vital question: can the world’s largest mousetrap catch a limousine?
2026-04-09 18:00:00
When I started digging into desalination technology for a new story, I couldn’t help but obsess over the numbers.
I’d known on some level that desalination—pulling salt out of seawater to produce fresh water—was an increasingly important technology, especially in water-stressed regions including the Middle East. But just how much some countries rely on desalination, and how big a business it is, still surprised me.
For more on how this crucial water infrastructure is increasingly vulnerable during the war in Iran, check out my latest story. Here, though, let’s look at the state of desalination technology, by the numbers.
Globally, we rely on desalination for just 1% of fresh-water withdrawals. But for some countries in the Middle East, and particularly for the Gulf Cooperation Council countries (Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, and Oman), it’s crucial.
Qatar, home to over 3 million people, is one of the most staggering examples, with nearly all its drinking water supplies coming from desalination. But many major cities in the region couldn’t exist without the technology. There are no permanent rivers on the Arabian Peninsula, and supplies of fresh water are incredibly limited, so countries rely on facilities that can take in seawater and pull out the salt and other impurities.
The region has historically been water-scarce, and that trend is only continuing as climate change pushes temperatures higher and changes rainfall patterns.
Of the 17,910 desalination facilities that are operational globally, 4,897 are located in the Middle East, according to a 2026 study in npj Clean Water. The technology supplies not only municipal water used by homes and businesses, but also industries including agriculture, manufacturing, and increasingly data centers.
The Ras Al-Khair water and power plant in Eastern Province, Saudi Arabia, is one of a growing number of gigantic plants that output upwards of a million cubic meters of water each day. That amount of water can meet the needs of millions of people in Riyadh City. Producing it takes a lot of power—the attached power plant has a capacity of 2.4 gigawatts.
While this plant is just one of thousands across the region, it’s an example of a growing trend: The average size of a desalination plant is about 10 times what it was 15 years ago, according to data from the International Energy Agency. Communities are increasingly turning to larger plants, which can produce water more efficiently than smaller ones.
Desalination is only going to be more crucial for life in the Middle East. The region is expected to spend over $25 billion on capital expenses for desalination facilities between 2024 and 2028, according to the 2026 npj Clean Water study. More massive plants are expected to come online in Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Egypt during that time.
All this growth could consume a lot of electricity. Between growth of the technology generally and the move toward plants that use electricity rather than fossil fuels, desalination could add 190 terawatt-hours of electricity demand globally by 2035, according to IEA data. That’s the equivalent of about 60 million households.
This article is from The Spark, MIT Technology Review’s weekly climate newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Wednesday, sign up here.
2026-04-09 18:00:00
A rare warm spell in January melted enough snow to uncover Cornell University’s newest athletic field, built for field hockey. Months before, it was a meadow teeming with birds and bugs; now it’s more than an acre of synthetic turf roughly the color of the felt on a pool table, almost digital in its saturation. The day I walked up the hill from a nearby creek to take a look, the metal fence around the field was locked, but someone had left a hallway-size piece of the new simulated grass outside the perimeter. It was bristly and tough, but springy and squeaky under my booted feet. I could imagine running around on it, but it would definitely take some getting used to.
My companion on this walk seemed even less favorably disposed to the thought. Yayoi Koizumi, a local environmental advocate, has been fighting synthetic-turf projects at Cornell since 2023. A petite woman dressed that day in a faded plum coat over a teal vest, with a scarf the colors of salmon, slate, and sunflowers, Koizumi compulsively picked up plastic trash as we walked: a red Solo cup, a polyethylene Dunkin’ container, a five-foot vinyl panel. She couldn’t bear to leave this stuff behind to fragment into microplastic bits—as she believes the new field will. “They’ve covered the living ground in plastic,” she said. “It’s really maddening.”
The new pitch is one part of a $70 million plan to build more recreational space at the university. As of this spring, Cornell plans to install something like a quarter million square feet of synthetic grass—what people have colloquially called “astroturf” since the middle of the last century. University PR says it will be an important part of a “health-promoting campus” that is “supportive of holistic individual, social, and ecological well-being.” Koizumi runs an anti-plastic environmental group called Zero Waste Ithaca, which says that’s mostly nonsense.
This fight is more than just the usual town-versus-gown tension. Synthetic turf used to be the stuff of professional sports arenas and maybe a suburban yard or two; today communities across the United States are debating whether to lay it down on playgrounds, parks, and dog runs. Proponents say it’s cheaper and hardier than grass, requiring less water, fertilizer, and maintenance—and that it offers a uniform surface for more hours and more days of the year than grass fields, a competitive advantage for athletes and schools hoping for a more robust athletic program.
But while new generations of synthetic turf look and feel better than that mid-century stuff, it’s still just plastic. Some evidence suggests it sheds bits that endanger users and the environment, and that it contains PFAS “forever chemicals”—per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, which are linked to a host of health issues. The padding within the plastic grass is usually made from shredded tires, which might also pose health risks. And plastic fields need to be replaced about once a decade, creating lots of waste.
Yet people are buying a lot of the stuff. In 2001, Americans installed just over 7 million square meters of synthetic turf, just shy of 11,000 metric tons. By 2024, that number was 79 million square meters—enough to carpet all of Manhattan and then some, almost 120,000 metric tons. Synthetic turf covers 20,000 athletic fields and tens of thousands of parks, playgrounds, and backyards. And the US is just 20% of the global market.
Where real estate is limited and demand for athletic facilities is high, artificial turf is tempting. “It all comes down to land and demand.”
Frank Rossi, professor of turf science, Cornell
Those increases worry folks who study microplastics and environmental pollution. Any actual risk is hard to parse; the plastic-making industry insists that synthetic fields are safe if properly installed, but lots of researchers think that isn’t so. “They’re very expensive, they contain toxic chemicals, and they put kids at unnecessary risk,” says Philip Landrigan, a Boston College epidemiologist who has studied environmental toxins like lead and microplastics.
But at Cornell, where real estate is limited and demand for athletic facilities is high, synthetic turf was a tempting option. As Frank Rossi, a professor of turf science at Cornell, told me: “It all comes down to land and demand.”
In 1965, Houston’s new, domed baseball stadium was an icon of space-age design. But the Astrodome had a problem: the sun. Deep in the heart of Texas, it shined brightly through the Astrodome’s skylights—so much so that players kept missing fly balls. So the club painted over the skylights. Denied sunlight, the grass in the outfield withered and died.
A replacement was already in the works. In the late 1950s a Ford Foundation–funded educational laboratory determined that a soft, grasslike surface material would give city kids more places to play outside and had prevailed upon the Monsanto corporation to invent one. The result was clipped blades of nylon stuck to a rubber base, which the company called ChemGrass. Down it went into Houston’s outfield, where it got a new, buzzier name: AstroTurf.
That first generation of simulated lawn was brittle and hard, but quality has improved. Today, there are a few competing products, but they’re all made by extruding a petroleum-based polymer—that’s plastic—through tiny holes and then stitching or fusing the resulting fibers to a carpetlike bottom. That gets attached to some kind of padding, also plastic. In the 1970s the industry started layering that over infill, usually sand; by the 1990s, “third generation” synthetic turf had switched to softer fibers made of polyethylene. Beneath that, they added infill that combined sand and a soft, cheap shredded rubber made from discarded automobile tires, which pile up by the hundreds of millions every year. This “crumb rubber” provides padding and fills spaces between the blades and the backing.
In the early 1980s, nearly half the professional baseball and football fields in the US had synthetic turf. But many players didn’t like it. It got hotter than real grass, gave the ball different action, and seemed to be increasing the rate of injuries among athletes. Since the 1990s, most pro sports have shifted back toward grass—water and maintenance costs pale in comparison to the importance of keeping players happy or sparing them the risk of injury.
But at the same time, more universities and high schools are buying the artificial stuff. The advantages are clear, especially in places where it rains either too much or not enough. A natural-grass field is usable for a little more than 800 hours a year at the most, spread across just eight months in the cooler, wetter northern US. An artificial-turf field can see 3,000 hours of activity per year. For sports like lacrosse, which begins in late winter, this makes artificial turf more appealing. Most lacrosse pitches are now synthetic. So are almost all field hockey pitches; players like the way the even, springy turf makes the ball bounce.
Furthermore, supporters say synthetic turf needs less maintenance than grass, saving money and resources. That’s not always true; workers still have to decompact the playing surface and hose it off to remove bird poop or cool it down. Sometimes the infill needs topping up. But real grass allows less playing time, and because grass athletic fields often need to be rotated to avoid damage, synthetic ground cover can require less space. Hence the market’s explosive growth in the 21st century.
The city and town of Ithaca—two separate political entities with overlapping jurisdiction over Cornell construction projects—held multiple public meetings about the university’s new synthetic fields: the field hockey pitch and a complex called the Meinig Fieldhouse. Koizumi’s group turned up in force, and a few folks who worked at Cornell came to oppose the idea too—submitting pages of citations and studies on the risks of synthetic grass.
At two of those meetings, dozens of Cornell athletes turned out to support the turf. Representatives of the university and the athletic department declined to speak with me for this story, citing an ongoing lawsuit from Zero Waste Ithaca. But before that, Nicki Moore, Cornell’s director of athletics, told a local newspaper that demand from campus groups and sports teams meant the fields were constantly overcrowded. “Activities get bumped later and later, and sometimes varsity teams won’t start practicing until 10 at night, you know?” Moore told the paper. “Availability of all-weather space should normalize scheduling a great deal.”
That argument wasn’t universally convincing. “It’s a bad idea, but that’s from the environmental perspective,” says Marianne Krasny, director of Cornell’s Civic Ecology Lab and one of the speakers at those hearings. “Obviously the athletic department thinks it’s a great idea.”
Members of Cornell on Fire, a climate action group with members from both the university and the town, joined in opposing the use of artificial turf, citing the fossil-fuel origins of the stuff. They described the nominal support of the project from student athletes as inauthentic, representing not grassroots support but, yes, an astroturf campaign.
Sorting out the actual science here isn’t simple. Over time, the plastic that synthetic turf is made of sheds bits of itself into the environment. In one study, published in 2023 in the journal Environmental Pollution, researchers found that 15% of the medium-size and microplastic particles in a river and the Mediterranean Sea outside Barcelona, Spain, came from artificial turf, mostly in the form of tiny green fibers. Back in 2020, the European Chemicals Agency estimated that infill material from artificial-turf fields in the European Union was contributing 16,000 metric tons of microplastics to the environment each year—38% of all annual microplastic pollution. Most of that came from the crumb rubber infill, which Europe now plans to ban by 2031.
This pollution worries the Cornell activists. Ithaca is famous for scenic gorges and waterways. The new field hockey pitch is uphill from a local creek that empties into Cayuga Lake, the longest of the Finger Lakes and the source of drinking water for over 40,000 people.
And it’s not just the plastic bits. When newer generations of synthetic turf switched to durable high-density polyethylene, the new material gunked up the extruders used in the manufacturing process. So turf makers started adding fluorinated polymers—a type of PFAS. Some of these environmentally persistent “forever chemicals” cause cancer, disrupt the endocrine system, or lead to other health problems. Research in several different labs has found PFAS in many types of plastic grass.
But the key to assessing the threat here is exposure. Heather Whitehead, an analytical chemist then at the University of Notre Dame, found PFAS in synthetic turf at levels around five parts per billion—but estimated it’d be in water running off the fields at three parts per trillion; for context, the US Environmental Protection Agency’s legal drinking-water limit on one of the most widespread and dangerous PFAS chemicals is four parts per trillion. “These chemicals will wash off in small amounts for long periods of time,” says Graham Peaslee, Whitehead’s advisor and an emeritus nuclear physicist who studies PFAS concentrations. “I think it’s reason enough not to have artificial turf.”
This gets confusing, though. There are over 16,000 different types of PFAS, few have been well studied, and different companies use different manufacturing techniques. Companies represented by the Synthetic Turf Council now “use zero intentionally added PFAS,” says Melanie Taylor, the group’s president. “This means that as the field rolls off the assembly line, there are zero PFAS-formulated materials present.”
Some researchers are skeptical of the industry’s assurances. They’re hard to confirm, especially because there are a lot of ways to test for PFAS. The type of synthetic turf going onto the new field hockey pitch at Cornell is called GreenFields TX; the university had a sample tested using an EPA method that looks for 40 different PFAS compounds. It came back negative for all of them. The local activists countered that the test doesn’t detect the specific types they’re most concerned about, and in 2025 they paid for three more tests on newly purchased synthetic turf. Two clearly found fluorine—the F in “PFAS”—and one identified two distinct PFAS compounds. (The company that makes GreenFields TX, TenCate, declined to comment, citing ongoing litigation.)
PFAS isn’t the only potential problem. There’s also the crumb rubber made from tires. A billion tires get thrown out every year worldwide, and if they aren’t recycled they sit in giant piles that make great habitats for rats and mosquitoes; they also occasionally catch fire. Lots of the tires that go into turf are made of styrene-butadiene rubber, or SBR. In bulk, that’s bad. Butadiene is a carcinogen that causes leukemia, and fumes from styrene can cause nervous system damage. SBR also contains high levels of lead.
But how much of that comes out of synthetic-turf infill? Again, that’s hotly debated. Researchers around the world have published suggestive studies finding potentially dangerous levels of heavy metals like zinc and lead in synthetic turf, with possible health risks to people using the fields. But a review of many of the relevant studies on turf and crumb rubber from Canada’s National Collaborating Centre for Environmental Health determined that most well-conducted health risk assessments over the last decade found exposures below levels of concern for cancer and certain other diseases. A 2017 report by the European Chemicals Agency—the same people who found all those microplastics in the environment—“found no reason to advise people against playing sports on synthetic turf containing recycled rubber granules as infill material.” And a multiyear study from the EPA, published in 2024, found much the same thing—although the researchers said that levels of certain synthetic chemicals were elevated inside places that used indoor artificial turf. They also stressed that the paper was not a risk assessment.
The problem is, the kinds of cancers these chemicals can cause may take decades to show up. Long-term studies haven’t been done yet. All the evidence available so far is anecdotal—like a series for the Philadelphia Inquirer that linked the deaths of six former Phillies players from a rare type of brain cancer called glioblastoma to years spent playing on PFAS-containing artificial turf. That’d be about three times the usual rate of glioblastoma among adult men, but the report comes with a lot of cautions—small sample size, lots of other potential causes, no way to establish causation.
Synthetic turf has one negative that no one really disputes: It gets very hot in the sun—as hot as 150 °F (66 °C). This can actually burn players, so they often want to avoid using a field on very hot days.
Athletes playing on artificial turf also have a higher rate of foot and ankle injuries, and elite-level football players seem to be more predisposed to knee injuries on those surfaces. But other studies have found rates of knee and hip injury to be roughly comparable on artificial and natural turf—a point the landscape architect working on the Cornell project made in the information packet the university sent to the city. Athletic departments and city parks departments say that the material’s upsides make it worthwhile, given that there’s no conclusive proof of harm.
Back in Ithaca, Cornell hired an environmental consulting firm called Haley & Aldrich to assess the evidence. The company concluded that none of the university’s proposed installations of artificial turf would have a negative environmental impact. People from Cornell on Fire and Zero Waste Ithaca told me they didn’t trust the firm’s findings; representatives from Haley & Aldrich declined to comment.
Longtime activists say that as global consumption of fossil fuels declines, petrochemical companies are desperate to find other markets. That means plastics. “There’s a big push to shift more petrochemicals into plastic products for an end market,” says Jeff Gearhart, a consumer product researcher at the Ecology Center. “Industry people, with a vested interest in petrochemicals, are looking to expand and build out alternative markets for this stuff.”
All that and more went before the decision-makers in Ithaca. In September 2024, the City of Ithaca Planning Board unanimously issued a judgment that the Meinig Fieldhouse would not have a significant environmental impact and thus would not need to complete a full environmental impact assessment. Six months later, the town made the same determination for the field hockey pitch.
Zero Waste Ithaca sued in New York’s supreme court, which ruled against the group. Koizumi and lawyers from Pace University’s Environmental Litigation Clinic have appealed. She says she’s still hopeful the court might agree that Ithaca authorities made a mistake by not requiring an environmental impact statement from the college. “We have the science on our side,” she says.
Ithaca is a pretty rarefied place, an Ivy League university town. But these same tensions—potential long-term environmental and public health consequences versus the financial and maintenance concerns of the now—are pitting worried citizens against their representatives and city agencies around the country.
New York City has 286 municipal synthetic-turf fields, with more under construction. In Inwood, the northernmost neighborhood in Manhattan, two fields were approved via Zoom meetings during the pandemic, and Massimo Strino, a local artist who makes kaleidoscopes, says he found out only when he saw signs announcing the work on one of his daily walks in Inwood Hill Park, along the Hudson River. He joined a campaign against the plan, gathering more than 4,300 signatures. “I was canvassing every weekend,” Strino says. “You can count on one hand, literally, the number of people who said they were in favor.”
But that doesn’t include the group that pushed for one of those fields in the first place: Uptown Soccer, which offers free and low-cost lessons and games to 1,000 kids a year, mostly from underserved immigrant families. “It was turning an unused community space into a usable space,” says David Sykes, the group’s executive director. “That trumped the sort of abstract concerns about the environmental impacts. I’m not an expert in artificial turf, but the parks department assured me that there was no risk of health effects.”
Artificial turf doesn’t go away. “You’re going to be paying to get rid of it. Somebody will have to take it to a dump, where it will sit for a thousand years.”
Graham Peaslee, emeritus nuclear physicist studying PFAS concentrations, University of Notre Dame
New York City councilmember Christopher Marte disagrees. He has introduced a bill to ban new artificial turf from being installed in parks, and he hopes the proposal will be taken up by the Parks Committee this spring. Last session, the bill had 10 cosponsors—that’s a lot. Marte says he expects resistance from lobbyists, but there’s precedent. The city of Boston banned artificial turf in 2022.
Upstate, in a Rochester suburb called Brighton, the school district included synthetic-turf baseball and softball diamonds in a wide-ranging February 2024 capital improvement proposition. The measure passed. In a public meeting in November 2025, the school board acknowledged the intent to use synthetic grass—or, as concerned parents had it, “to rip up a quarter million square feet of this open space and replace it with artificial turf,” says David Masur, executive director of the environmental group PennEnvironment, whose kids attend school in Brighton. Parents and community members mobilized against the plan, further angered when contractors also cut down a beloved 200-year-old tree. School superintendent Kevin McGowan says it’s too late to change course. Masur has been working to oppose the plan nevertheless—he says school boards are making consequential decisions about turf without sharing information or getting input, even though these fields can cost millions of dollars of taxpayer money.
In short, the fights can get tense. On Martha’s Vineyard, in Massachusetts, a meeting about plans to install an artificial field at a local high school had to be ended early amid verbal abuse. A staffer for the local board of health who voiced concern about PFAS in the turf quit the board after discovering bullet casings in her tote bag, she said, which she perceived as a death threat. After an eight-year fight, the board eventually banned artificial turf altogether.
What happens next? Well, outdoor artificial turf lasts only eight to 12 years before it needs to be taken up and replaced. The Synthetic Turf Council says it’s at least partially recyclable and cites a company called BestPLUS Plastic Lumber as a purveyor of products made from recycled turf. The company says one of its products, a liner called GreenBoard that artificial turf can be nailed into, is at least 40% recycled from fake grass. Joseph Sadlier, vice president and general manager of plastics recycling at BestPLUS, says the company recycles over 10 million pounds annually.
Yet the material is piling up. In 2021, a Danish company called Re-Match announced plans to open a recycling plant in Pennsylvania and began amassing thousands of tons of used plastic turf in three locations. The company filed for bankruptcy in 2025.
In Ithaca, university representatives told planning boards that it would be possible to recycle the old artificial turf they ripped out to make way for the Meinig Fieldhouse. That didn’t happen. An anonymous local activist tracked the old rolls to a hauling company a half-hour’s drive south of campus and shared pictures of them sitting on the lot, where they stayed for months. It’s unclear what their ultimate fate will be.
That’s the real problem: Artificial turf just doesn’t go away. “You’re going to be paying to get rid of it,” says Peaslee, the PFAS expert. “Somebody will have to take it to a dump, where it will sit for a thousand years.” At minimum, real grass is a net carbon sink, even including installation and maintenance. Synthetic turf releases greenhouse gases. One life-cycle analysis of a 2.2-acre synthetic field in Toronto determined that it would emit 55 metric tons of carbon dioxide over a decade. Plastic fields need less water to maintain, but it takes water to make plastic, and natural grass lets rainwater seep into the ground. Synthetic turf sends most of it away as runoff.
It’s a boggling set of issues to factor into a decision. Rossi, the Cornell turf scientist, says he can understand why a school in the northern United States might go plastic, even when it cares about its students’ health. “It was the best bad option,” he says. Concerns about microplastics and PFAS are “significant issues we have not fully addressed.” And they need to be.
Douglas Main is a journalist and former senior editor and writer at National Geographic.
2026-04-08 22:00:00
We evolved for a linear world. If you walk for an hour, you cover a certain distance. Walk for two hours and you cover double that distance. This intuition served us well on the savannah. But it catastrophically fails when confronting AI and the core exponential trends at its heart.
From the time I began work on AI in 2010 to now, the amount of training data that goes into frontier AI models has grown by a staggering 1 trillion times—from roughly 10¹⁴ flops (floating-point operations‚ the core unit of computation) for early systems to over 10²⁶ flops for today’s largest models. This is an explosion. Everything else in AI follows from this fact.
The skeptics keep predicting walls. And they keep being wrong in the face of this epic generational compute ramp. Often, they point out that Moore’s Law is slowing. They also mention a lack of data, or they cite limitations on energy.
But when you look at the combined forces driving this revolution, the exponential trend seems quite predictable. To understand why, it’s worth looking at the complex and fast-moving reality beneath the headlines.
Think of AI training as a room full of people working calculators. For years, adding computational power meant adding more people with calculators to that room. Much of the time those workers sat idle, drumming their fingers on desks, waiting for the numbers to come through for their next calculation. Every pause was wasted potential. Today’s revolution goes beyond more and better calculators (although it delivers those); it is actually about ensuring that all those calculators never stop, and that they work together as one.
Three advances are now converging to enable this. First, the basic calculators got faster. Nvidia’s chips have delivered an over sevenfold increase in raw performance in just six years, from 312 teraflops in 2020 to 2,250 teraflops today. Our own Maia 200 chip, launched this January, delivers 30% better performance per dollar than any other hardware in our fleet. Second, the numbers arrive faster thanks to a technology called HBM, or high bandwidth memory, which stacks chips vertically like tiny skyscrapers; the latest generation, HBM3, triples the bandwidth of its predecessor, feeding data to processors fast enough to keep them busy all the time. Third, the room of people with calculators became an office and then a whole campus or city. Technologies like NVLink and InfiniBand connect hundreds of thousands of GPUs into warehouse-size supercomputers that function as single cognitive entities. A few years ago this was impossible.
These gains all come together to deliver dramatically more compute. Where training a language model took 167 minutes on eight GPUs in 2020, it now takes under four minutes on equivalent modern hardware. To put this in perspective: Moore’s Law would predict only about a 5x improvement over this period. We saw 50x. We’ve gone from two GPUs training AlexNet, the image recognition model that kicked off the modern boom in deep learning in 2012, to over 100,000 GPUs in today’s largest clusters, each one individually far more powerful than its predecessors.
Then there’s the revolution in software. Research from Epoch AI suggests that the compute required to reach a fixed performance level halves approximately every eight months, much faster than the traditional 18-to-24-month doubling of Moore’s Law. The costs of serving some recent models have collapsed by a factor of up to 900 on an annualized basis. AI is becoming radically cheaper to deploy.
The numbers for the near future are just as staggering. Consider that leading labs are growing capacity at nearly 4x annually. Since 2020, the compute used to train frontier models has grown 5x every year. Global AI-relevant compute is forecast to hit 100 million H100-equivalents by 2027, a tenfold increase in three years. Put all this together and we’re looking at something like another 1,000x in effective compute by the end of 2028. It’s plausible that by 2030 we’ll bring an additional 200 gigawatts of compute online every year—akin to the peak energy use of the UK, France, Germany, and Italy put together.
What does all this get us? I believe it will drive the transition from chatbots to nearly human-level agents—semiautonomous systems capable of writing code for days, carrying out weeks- and months-long projects, making calls, negotiating contracts, managing logistics. Forget basic assistants that answer questions. Think teams of AI workers that deliberate, collaborate, and execute. Right now we’re only in the foothills of this transition, and the implications stretch far beyond tech. Every industry built on cognitive work will be transformed.
The obvious constraint here is energy. A single refrigerator-size AI rack consumes 120 kilowatts, equivalent to 100 homes. But this hunger collides with another exponential: Solar costs have fallen by a factor of nearly 100 over 50 years; battery prices have dropped 97% over three decades. There is a pathway to clean scaling coming into view.
The capital is deployed. The engineering is delivering. The $100 billion clusters, the 10-gigawatt power draws, the warehouse-scale supercomputers … these are no longer science fiction. Ground is being broken for these projects now across the US and the world. As a result, we are heading toward true cognitive abundance. At Microsoft AI, this is the world our superintelligence lab is planning for and building.
Skeptics accustomed to a linear world will continue predicting diminishing returns. They will continue being surprised. The compute explosion is the technological story of our time, full stop. And it is still only just beginning.
Mustafa Suleyman is CEO of Microsoft AI.
2026-04-08 20:10:00
This is today’s edition of The Download, our weekday newsletter that provides a daily dose of what’s going on in the world of technology.
As the conflict in Iran has escalated, a crucial resource is under fire: the desalinization technology that supplies water in the region.
President Donald Trump has threatened to destroy “possibly all desalinization plants” in Iran if the Strait of Hormuz is not reopened. The impact on farming, industry, and—crucially—drinking in the Middle East could be severe. Find out why.
—Casey Crownhart
This story is part of MIT Technology Review Explains, our series untangling the complex, messy world of technology to help you understand what’s coming next. You can read more from the series here.
For small entrepreneurs, deciding what to sell and where to make it has traditionally been a slow, labor-intensive process. Now that work is increasingly being done by AI.
Tools like Alibaba’s Accio compress weeks of product research and supplier hunting into a single chat. Business owners and e-commerce experts say they’re making sourcing more accessible—and slashing the time from product idea to launch.
Read the full story on how AI is leveling the path to global manufacturing.
—Caiwei Chen
When Zeus, a medical student in Nigeria, returns to his apartment from a long day at the hospital, he straps his iPhone to his forehead and records himself doing chores.
Zeus is a data recorder for Micro1, which sells the data he collects to robotics firms. As these companies race to build humanoids, videos from workers like Zeus have become the hottest new way to train them.
Micro1 has hired thousands of them in more than 50 countries, including India, Nigeria, and Argentina. The jobs pay well locally, but raise thorny questions around privacy and informed consent. The work can be challenging—and weird. Read the full story.
—Michelle Kim
This is our latest story to be turned into an MIT Technology Review Narrated podcast, which we’re publishing each week on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. Just navigate to MIT Technology Review Narrated on either platform, and follow us to get all our new content as it’s released.
The must-reads
I’ve combed the internet to find you today’s most fun/important/scary/fascinating stories about technology.
1 Anthropic’s new model found security problems in every OS and browser
Claude Mythos has been heralded as a cybersecurity “reckoning.” (The Verge)
+ Anthrophic is limiting the rollout over hacking fears. (CNBC)
+ It’s also launching a project that lets Mythos flag vulnerabilities. (Gizmodo)
+ Apple, Google, and Microsoft have joined the initiative. (ZDNET)
2 Iranian hackers are targeting American critical infrastructure
Their focus is on energy and water infrastructure. (Wired)
+ They’re targeting industrial control devices. (TechCrunch)
3 Google’s AI Overviews deliver millions of incorrect answers per hour
Despite a 90% accuracy rate. (NYT $)
+ AI means the end of internet search as we’ve known it. (MIT Technology Review)
4 Elon Musk is trying to oust OpenAI CEO Sam Altman in a lawsuit
As remedies for Altman allegedly defrauding him. (CNBC)
+ Musk wants any damages given to OpenAI’s nonprofit arm. (WSJ $)
5 ICE has admitted it’s using powerful spyware
The tools that can intercept encrypted messages. (NPR)
+ Immigration agencies are also weaponizing AI videos. (MIT Technology Review)
6 Greece has joined the countries banning kids from social media
Under-15s will be blocked from 2027. (Reuters)
+ Australia introduced the world’s first social media ban for children. (Guardian)
+ Indonesia recently rolled out the first one in Southeast Asia. (DW)
+ Experts say they’re a lazy fix. (CNBC)
7 Intel will help Elon Musk build his Terafab in Texas
They aim to manufacture chips for AI projects. (Engadget)
+ Musk says it will be the largest-ever semiconductor factory. (Engadget)
+ Future AI chips could be built on glass. (MIT Technology Review)
8 TikTok is building a second billion-euro data center in Finland
It’s moving data storage for European users. (Reuters)
+ Finland has become a magnet for data centers. (Bloomberg $)
+ But nobody wants one in their backyard. (MIT Technology Review)
9 Plans for Canada’s first “virtual gated community” have sparked a row
The AI-powered surveillance system has divided neighbors. (Guardian)
+ Is the Pentagon allowed to surveil Americans with AI? (MIT Technology Review)
10 The high-tech engineering of the “space toilet” has been revealed
Artemis II is the first mission to carry one around the world. (Vox)
Quote of the day
—OpenAI criticizes Musk’s legal action in an X post.
One More Thing
You may not notice it, but your experience on every US government website is carefully crafted.
Each site aligns an official web design and a custom typeface. They aim to make government websites not only good-looking but accessible and functional for all.
MIT Technology Review dug into the system’s history and features. Find out what we discovered.
—Jon Keegan
We can still have nice things
A place for comfort, fun and distraction to brighten up your day. (Got any ideas? Drop me a line.)
+ Rejoice in the splendor of the “Earthset” image captured by Artemis II.
+ Meet the fearless cat chasing off bears.
+ This document vividly explains what makes the octopus so unique.
+ Revealed: the rhythmic secret that makes emo music so angsty.
2026-04-07 22:54:06
MIT Technology Review Explains: Let our writers untangle the complex, messy world of technology to help you understand what’s coming next. You can read more from the series here.
As the conflict in Iran has escalated, a crucial resource is under fire: the desalination technology that supplies water across much of the region.
In early March, Iran’s foreign minister accused the US of attacking a desalination plant on Qeshm Island in the Strait of Hormuz and disrupting the water supply to nearly 30 villages. (The US denied responsibility.) In the weeks since, both Bahrain and Kuwait have reported damage to desalination plants and blamed Iran, though Iran also denied responsibility.
In late March, President Donald Trump threatened the destruction of “possibly all desalinization plants” in Iran if the Strait of Hormuz was not reopened. Since then, he’s escalated his threats against Iran, warning of plans to attack other crucial civilian infrastructure like power plants and bridges.
Countries in the Middle East, particularly the Gulf states, rely on the technology to turn salt water into fresh water for farming, industry, and—crucially—drinking. The mounting attacks and threats to date highlight just how vital the industry is to the region—a situation made even more precarious by rising temperatures and extreme weather driven by climate change.
Right now, 83% of the Middle East is under extremely high water stress, says Liz Saccoccia, a water security associate at the World Resources Institute. Future projections suggest that’s going to increase to about 100% by 2050, she adds: “This is a continuing trend, and it’s getting worse, not better.”
Here’s a look at desalination technology in the Middle East and what wartime threats to the critical infrastructure could mean for people in the region.
Desalination technology has helped provide water supplies in the Middle East since the early 20th century and became widespread in the 1960s and 1970s.
There are two major categories of desalination plants. Thermal plants use heat to evaporate water, leaving salt and other impurities behind. The vapor can then be condensed into usable fresh water. The alternative is membrane-based technology like reverse osmosis, which pushes water through membranes that have tiny pores—so small that salt can’t get through.
Early desalination plants in the Middle East were the first type, burning fossil fuels to evaporate water, leaving the salt behind. This technique is incredibly energy-intensive, and over time, processes that rely on filters became the dominant choice.
Membrane technologies have made up essentially all new desalination capacity in recent years; the last major thermal plant built in the Gulf came online in 2018. Many reverse osmosis plants still rely on fossil fuels, but they’re more efficient. Since then, membrane technologies have added more than 15 million cubic meters of daily capacity—enough to supply water to millions of people.
Capacity has expanded quickly in recent years; between 2006 and 2024, countries across the Middle East collectively spent over $50 billion building and upgrading desalination facilities, and nearly that much operating them.
Today, there are nearly 5,000 desalination plants operational across the Middle East.
And looking ahead, growth is continuing. Between 2024 and 2028, daily capacity is expected to grow from about 29 million cubic meters to 41 million cubic meters.
Some countries rely on the technology more than others. Iran, for example, uses desalination for about 3% of its municipal fresh water. The country has access to groundwater and some surface water, including rivers, though these resources are being stretched thin by agriculture and extreme drought.
Other nations in the region, particularly the Gulf countries (Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, and Oman), have much more limited water resources and rely heavily on desalination. Across these six nations, all but the UAE get more than half their drinking water from desalination, and for Bahrain, Qatar, and Kuwait the figure is more than 90%.
“The Gulf countries are much, much more vulnerable to attacks on their desalination plants than Iran is,” says David Michel, a senior associate in the global food and water security program at the Center for Strategic and International Studies.
There are thousands of desalination facilities across the region, so the system wouldn’t collapse if a small number were taken offline, Michel says. However, in recent years there’s been a trend toward larger, more centralized plants.
The average desalination plant is about 10 times larger than it was 15 years ago, according to data from the International Energy Agency. The largest desalination plants today can produce 1 million cubic meters of water daily, enough for hundreds of thousands of people. Taking one or more of these massive facilities offline could have a significant effect on the system, Michel says.
Desalination facilities are quite linear, meaning there are multiple steps and pieces of equipment that work in sequence—and the failure of a component in that chain can take an entire facility down. Attacks on water inlets, transportation networks, and power supplies can also disrupt the system, Michel says.
During the Gulf War in 1991, Iraqi forces pumped oil into the gulf, contaminating the water and shutting down desalination plants in Kuwait.
The facilities are also generally located close to other targets in this conflict. Desalination is incredibly energy intensive, so about three-quarters of facilities in the region are next to power plants. Trump has repeatedly threatened power plants in Iran. In response, Iran’s military has said that if civilian targets are hit, the country will respond with strikes that are “much more devastating and widespread.” Other governments and organizations, including the United Nations, the European Union, and the Red Cross, have broadly condemned threats to infrastructure as illegal.
But war isn’t the only danger facing these plants, even if it is the most immediate. Some studies have suggested that global warming could strengthen cyclones in the region, and these extreme weather events could force shutdowns or damage equipment.
Water pollution could also cause shutdowns. Oil spills, whether accidental or intentional, as in the case of the Gulf War, can wreak havoc. And in 2009, a red algae bloom closed desalination plants in Oman and the United Arab Emirates for weeks. The algae fouled membranes and blocked the plants from being able to take water in from the Persian Gulf and the Gulf of Oman.
Desalination facilities could become more resilient to threats in the future, and they may need to as their importance continues to grow.
There’s increasing interest in running desalination facilities at least partially on solar power, which could help reduce dependence on the oil that powers most facilities today. The Hassyan seawater desalination project in the UAE, currently under construction, would be the largest reverse osmosis plant in the world to operate solely with renewable energy.
Another way to increase resilience is for countries to build up more strategic water storage to meet demand. Qatar recently issued new policies that aim to improve management and storage of desalinated water, for example. Countries could also work together to invest in shared infrastructure and policies that help strengthen the water supply through the region.
Preparedness, resilience, and cooperation will be key for the Middle East broadly as critical infrastructure, including the water supply, is increasingly under threat.
“The longer the conflict goes on, the more likely we’ll see significant water infrastructure damage,” says Ginger Matchett, an assistant director at the Atlantic Council. “What worries me is that after this war ends, some of the lessons will show how water can be weaponized more strategically than previously imagined.”
