Friday, April 10, 2026

 TECHNOLOGY

Is Schoolwork Optional Now?

Education is on the verge of becoming fully automated.

An illustration of code in the shape of a school desk.
Illustration by Akshita Chandra / The Atlantic

William Liu is grateful that he finished high school when he did. If the latest AI tools had been around then, he told me, he might have been tempted to use them to do his homework. Liu, now a sophomore at Stanford, finished high school all the way back in 2024. “I have a younger sibling who is just graduating high school,” he said. “Our educational experience has been vastly different, even though we’re just two years apart.”

By the time Liu graduated, ChatGPT was already causing chaos in the classroom. But the automation of school is intensifying. If at first teachers worried about students using chatbots to write essays, now new agentic tools such as Claude Code are allowing students to outsource even more of their work to the machines. Need to take an online math quiz? Write a biology-lab report? Create a PowerPoint presentation for history class? AI can do all of this and more. One high schooler recently told me that he struggles to think of a single assignment that AI wouldn’t be able to do for him.

As a measure of just how good AI has become at schoolwork, consider a new bot called Einstein. Several weeks ago, the tool went viral with big claims: “Einstein checks for new assignments and knocks them out before the deadline,” a website advertising the bot explained. All that a student had to do was hand over their credentials for Canvas, the popular learning-management platform, and Einstein promised to do the rest. No matter the task, the bot was game: Einstein boasted that it could watch lectures, complete readings, write papers, participate in discussion forums, automatically submit homework assignments. If a quiz or a final exam was administered online, Einstein was happy to do that too.

When I first came across Einstein, I was skeptical: Flashy AI demos have a way of overpromising and under-delivering. So I decided to test the tool out for myself. Because I’m not a college student, I enrolled in a free online introductory-statistics class. The course website explained that the class was self-paced and that it could help undergraduates, postgraduates, medical students, and even lecturers build up basic statistical knowledge. I set the bot loose, and in less than an hour, Einstein had worked through all eight modules and seven quizzes. There were some hiccups—the bot took one quiz 15 times—but it ultimately earned a perfect score in the class. As for me? I hardly so much as read the course website.

Einstein was designed to provoke. Its creator, Advait Paliwal, a 22-year-old tech entrepreneur, told me that he’d released the bot as a way of alerting educators as to just how good AI is at schoolwork. “You can blame me,” he said. “But this is happening right now, and more people need to know about what’s to come.” (He has previously said that he designed Einstein’s landing page by prompting AI to make a website “that people would get angry over.”) Almost immediately after releasing Einstein, Paliwal started receiving emails from professors chastising him for creating a tool seemingly designed to perpetuate academic fraud. He took down the bot after he received multiple cease-and-desist letters, including one from Canvas’s parent company.

Sunday, April 5, 2026

 


Sheesh! I woke up this morning from a gripping dream in which it was decreed by law that all men had to oear their underwear on the outside of their pants, and there I was at Chick-Fil-A ordering my breakfast at the counter and everyone was laughing at me with my red poke-a-dot boxer underwear over my blue jeans EVEN THOUGH the other men also had their underwear on over their pants. But everyone was laughing... only at ME. I'm looking around shrugging saying "What???" but everyone just keeps laughing at me. The manager comes over and says, "I gotta hand it to you, Fred, you sure know how to liven a place up!" Then I'm driving off in the parking lot and all of the patrons and staff are standing at the door still laughing at me. Then I woke up. I don't think I'm going to Chick-Fil-A this morning. And i didn't.

Friday, April 3, 2026

  


Early Christian Reactions to “Heresies” in a Nutshell by Bart Ehrman

April 2, 2026

In recent posts I gave brief overviews of issues from the earliest centuries of Christianity that would take (and have taken) entire books to cover in adequate length — Christian relations with Jews and their relationship to hostile outsiders (persecutions).   In this post I deal with the third key antagonistic social situation that arose early on in the faith, the relationship of “orthodox” Christians with “heretics.”

For long-time readers of the blog, this will probably be more familiar territory — I’ve dealt with related issues a lot; but whether you have a firm grasp on the matter or no grasp at all, here is a nutshell discussion to provide some of the basics one should probably know.

Again, this is from my textbook, The Bible: A Historical and Literary Introduction2nd ed. (Oxford University Press).

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Christianity was highly unusual among the religions of the ancient world because it insisted that it mattered what you believed. As we have seen on the blog  before, in pagan religions, “beliefs” played very little role at all: what mattered was how you worshiped the gods in the sacrifices and prayers you made. This was not so for Christians. There is only one God, Jesus is his Son, and he brought about the only way of salvation. If you don’t believe the right things, you are condemned.

But different Christians and Christian groups advocated different forms of belief, as we have seen repeated. Paul’s Christian opponents in Galatia maintained that you had to keep the Jewish Law to be a follower of Jesus, as did later Jewish Christian groups such as the Ebionites. These later groups were avidly monotheistic: there is only one God. And as a result, many of them insisted that Jesus himself could not be God. Otherwise there would be two gods, not one. Contrast that with the view of Marcion, who thought that in fact there were two gods and that Jesus was so much divine that he was not at all human. But which was it? Was Jesus a man but not God? Or was he God and not a man? Are there two gods or just one?

And then there were the Gnostics who did not believe that there was just one or two gods but many gods—and that this world was not the creation of the highest God but was a cosmic catastrophe created by lower, inferior divinities as a place of entrapment for sparks of the divine.

Why didn’t these various groups simply read the New Testament to see that they were wrong? The answer should be obvious: there was no New Testament. The books that finally came to be embodied in the New Testament emerged out of these conflicts and came to be placed in a sacred canon by church fathers who were striving to combat each and every one of these other groups (as well as many more). These church fathers insisted that these groups all erred in one way or another.

At the same time, these other groups insisted that the church fathers were the ones who had gotten it all wrong, that their own views were the ones taught by Jesus and his early followers. And they too had writings to prove it—Gospels, for example, that set forth their Gnostic, Marcionite, or Ebionite points of view, all of them claiming to be written by apostles.

How do we know that these other groups were wrong and that the church fathers were right? Ultimately, of course, that is a theological question about what is the right thing to believe. And I am not writing this book as a theologian trying to convince you about what you should believe. I am writing it, as I explained in chapter 1, to show how the books of the Bible can be understood literarily and historically. What, then, can we say about the historical relationship of these different perspectives on the Christian religion? This is usually discussed as the relationship between “orthodoxy” and “heresy” in the early church.

These terms themselves need to be explained. Technically speaking, “orthodoxy” is a word that means “correct belief,” and “heresy” is a word that means “choice”—that is, the choice not to believe the right belief.

These terms themselves pose problems for historians because history has no way of demonstrating whether there is one God, two gods, or thirty-six gods. That is a decision for theologians, not historians. But historians are able to look at the history of Christianity and decide which Christian views were dominant where and when and which views ended up “winning out” in the struggle among various groups.

Scholars call the group that won the theological arguments “orthodox” not because this group was necessarily right but because it won and decided for all time what Christians were to believe. The other groups that lost (Marcionites, Gnostics, Ebionites, etc.) are therefore called “heresies”—not because they were wrong but because they were declared wrong by the group that eventually won the majority of believers.

What is the historical relationship of orthodoxy and heresy? For most of Christian history, the view of this relationship has been the one that was advocated most strongly by the first major historian of early Christianity, Eusebius, a fourth-century church father who wrote a ten-volume work called The History of the Christian Church.This work traced the history of Christianity from the time of Jesus down to Eusebius’s own day at the beginning of the fourth century. In it, he had to deal with many of the varieties of Christian belief that had been found in the Christian church over the years.

Eusebius’s view of this variety is clear and straightforward. As a member of the “orthodox” church—that is, the side of things that ended up winning the debates—he maintained that the views of his group had always been the dominant and majority and correct view from the very beginning. Jesus preached an “orthodox” form of Christianity to his disciples; they taught their followers this orthodoxy, who passed it along to their successors, and so on—for 300 years. This “orthodox” view was that there was only one God; Jesus was his son, who was both fully human and fully divine; that the world was the true creation of the true God; that the Jewish Scriptures predicted the coming of Jesus into the world; and so on.

In Eusebius’s view, “heresies” sprouted up only when willful, mean-spirited, and demonically inspired people infiltrated the church and tried to corrupt its beliefs. That was true of the Jewish Christians, of Marcion, of different Gnostic leaders, and so on. But orthodoxy had been the original point of view and had always been the dominant point of view from the very beginning.

This “Eusebian” view was accepted for many centuries because the groups that supported other perspectives were squashed by the winning group by the time the Roman Empire converted to Christianity. It just seemed right to people that their own theological beliefs had always been the majority and true beliefs of Christianity from the beginning. Most people still think that today.

But scholars are not so sure that this simple view of the relationship of orthodoxy and heresy is correct. In 1934, an important German scholar named Walter Bauer wrote a significant book called Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity in which he disputed Eusebius’ point of view and argued something different. In Bauer’s view, from as far back as we have historical sources, the earliest point of view in many parts of the Christian church was one that later came to be declared a heresy.

And so, for example, in parts of Syria and Asia Minor, the original form of Christianity was Marcionite; in Egypt it was Gnostic; and so on. Eventually all these groups tried to gain more converts than the others and to squelch their opponents. It was the form of Christianity located in Rome that proved most successful in this attempt to establish itself as dominant. The “catholic” church (i.e., the one with universal appeal) was the result of these struggles; and it ended up being, in fact, the Roman Catholic church.

There has been a lot of scholarship on these questions over the past eighty years, and no one thinks that Bauer is completely right. In many of the details of his exposition, in fact, he appears to be wrong. But with new discoveries—such as the Nag Hammadi library mentioned in chapter 20—it appears that Bauer’s basic instincts were right. Early Christianity was incredibly diverse: there were all sorts of views in very many places; all of these views claimed that they were right and that their views were propagated by both Jesus and his apostles. Only one form ended up winning out; when it did so, it declared itself “orthodox” and insisted that all other views had been heresies from the beginning. And it then rewrote the history of the conflict to make it appear that its views had always been the majority views (in authors such as Eusebius).

More than the other groups, this orthodox group stressed the importance of a clerical hierarchy that could call the shots and tell people what to believe (as we saw with the Pastoral epistles). They insisted on a set creed to be recited in which their theological beliefs were embodied (e.g., the two creeds still recited today by many Christians: the Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed). And they established a canon of scripture—a collection of books that claimed to have been written by the apostles and that supported and advanced the points of view that were considered orthodox.

Wednesday, April 1, 2026

 


History

Jefferson on Race: A Reader

    Edited by 
  • Annette Gordon-Reed

From The New York Times–bestselling and Pulitzer Prize–winning author of The Hemingses of Monticello, a groundbreaking collection of Thomas Jefferson’s writings on race that every American should read

Hardcover

Price:
$24.95/£20.00
ISBN:
Published (US):
Mar 31, 2026
Published (UK):
May 26, 2026
2026
Pages:
416
Size:
6.12 x 9.25 in.
1 b/w illus.
Add to Cart

Among America’s Founding Fathers, none was more deeply, personally, or controversially entangled with race and slavery than Thomas Jefferson. The man whose Declaration of Independence proclaimed that “all men are created equal” enslaved more than 600 people of African descent even as he acknowledged the injustice of slavery, saw himself as its opponent, and condemned it in his writings. How is this possible? In Jefferson on Race, Pulitzer Prize–winning historian Annette Gordon-Reed gathers Jefferson’s most revealing writings about African Americans, slavery, and Native Americans, enabling readers as never before to directly explore his complex and contradictory thoughts, feelings, and decisions on these subjects—the most hotly debated aspect of his legacy.

These selections come from Jefferson’s public and private writings, letters, and plantation records, as well as accounts by contemporaries, including his son Madison Hemings and three other people formerly enslaved at Monticello. The book documents Jefferson’s ideas about—and self-image in relation to—African Americans, slavery, and Native Americans, as well as his conduct, including interactions with individual Black and Native people. The writings show how Jefferson responded to living in a multiracial slave society while professing progressive ideals, and how his views on race and slavery were shaped by his experiences with enslaved Black peopl