Fungi are emerging as some of the most sophisticated problem solvers on the planet, despite lacking brains, nerves or anything resembling a face. From underground webs that feed forests to lab-grown networks that steer robots, they are starting to look less like background scenery and more like a parallel form of intelligence. The central question is no longer whether fungi can do clever things, but how far this “hyper-intelligent” behavior can be pushed, and what it might mean for the future of computing, climate and even space travel.
I see a pattern running through the latest research: fungi excel at doing more with less. They process information without silicon, build structures without factories and manage ecosystems without central control. If we treat them not as curiosities but as design partners, they could help reshape how we store data, build machines, restore landscapes and protect life beyond Earth.
Ancient engineers that prepared the planet
Long before forests shaded the continents, fungi were already rewriting the surface of Earth. Recent work combining fossil traces with genetic clues suggests that fungal lineages colonised land hundreds of millions of years before the first trees, breaking down rock and helping to create the first true soils. Researchers studying these early lineages argue that Fungi did not just survive in those barren landscapes, they actively shaped them, altering erosion patterns and nutrient cycles in ways that set the stage for later life.
A complementary line of research led by the Okinawa Institute of reinforces this picture of fungi as planetary pioneers. Their work indicates that Fungi led the way on land, preparing the world for plants by decomposing minerals and recycling nutrients into forms that later organisms could use. When I think about today’s efforts to terraform degraded landscapes or even other worlds, it is hard not to see a historical echo: the same kind of organisms that once prepared Earth for complex ecosystems may now be our best tools for repairing or recreating them.
Basic intelligence without a brain
Modern experiments are revealing just how sophisticated fungal decision making can be. In one set of studies, Oxford researchers showed that filamentous fungi can navigate mazes and adjust their growth patterns to find the shortest route to food, even though they have no neurons at all. The work suggests that these organisms can perform a kind of distributed computation, with electrical and chemical signals flowing through their networks to guide behavior, a result that has led some scientists to describe fungi as capable of basic intelligence.
Other teams have pushed this idea further by testing how fungi respond to changing rewards. In one 2020 study, Fukasawa and UK colleagues watched fungal networks grow through blocks of wood, then “decide” when to abandon a smaller resource in favour of a larger one nearby. The researchers argued that these shifts in growth were expressions of intelligent behaviour, a claim later discussed in detail in work on whether fungi could be. I do not think the evidence justifies calling fungi conscious in any human sense, but it does point to a form of problem solving that is more flexible than simple reflex.
From wood-eating strategists to climate allies
Some of the clearest demonstrations of fungal savvy come from species that eat wood. Researchers from Tohoku University arranged blocks of food in different spatial patterns and watched how a wood-decaying fungus explored them. The organism adjusted its growth to reach the most rewarding configurations, effectively passing a cognitive-style test without anything resembling a brain. Follow-up reporting on the same experiments has highlighted how the findings add to growing evidence that such fungi can inspire innovations in bio-computing.
These behavioural feats matter for more than curiosity. Wood-eating fungi are central players in the global carbon cycle, breaking down tough plant material and locking some of that carbon into soils. As climate scientists look for ways to keep more carbon underground, they are turning to the world’s huge underground webs of fungi. Caption Options Researchers are identifying the best fungal partners, out of an estimated trillion microbial species, for storing carbon in stable forms. The same traits that let fungi choose efficient feeding strategies may also help them manage carbon in ways that could tilt the climate balance.
Mycelial networks as living infrastructure
Below our feet, fungal mycelium forms vast networks that connect roots, soil particles and microbes into a single living mesh. Ecologists now see these networks as critical infrastructure for forests, moving nutrients and signalling molecules between plants. One project that began with a single spore in a lab tray grew into a massive, intricate underground network that proved crucial to the survival of almost all nearby plants and trees, illustrating how fungal threads can underpin entire ecosystems. Researchers involved in that work are now exploring how to harness this underground network to address environmental challenges, while warning that we must learn how to do that safely.
From a systems perspective, these mycelial webs look a lot like biological versions of the internet, with packets of nutrients and information flowing along dynamic routes. Some scientists are now studying fungi as models for new computing systems, self-healing and decentralised machines that “think” like networks rather than like individual chips. In one discussion of this work, Some researchers argued that fungal networks may be teaching us a new kind of intelligence, one that is less about fast calculations and more about robust adaptation. If that view holds up, the smartest infrastructure of the future may look less like server farms and more like living soil.
Fungal computing, robots and data storage
The idea of fungi as information processors is moving rapidly from metaphor to hardware. Engineers have already used simple organisms such as Physarum polycephalum to solve routing problems, showing that a slime mold can find efficient paths through mazes and even approximate transport networks. Although Physarum is a protist rather than a fungus, its behaviour has inspired similar experiments with mycelial networks, and projects documented by slime mold computing have helped normalise the idea that soft, growing tissues can perform useful calculations.
In parallel, roboticists are beginning to wire fungal networks directly into machines. Materials provided by Cornell University describe fungus-controlled robots that tap into the unique power of living mycelium. In those prototypes, electrical signals from fungal tissue are interpreted by microcontrollers and used to steer simple robotic platforms, turning the organism into a kind of wetware controller. Other teams are exploring fungi as data storage media, with reports from TechmedTimes describing how mushroom tissues can be trained to hold information patterns. Deep in the labs of Finland, Scientists are experimenting with such “nature’s hard drive” concepts that would require no heavy manufacturing and no petroleum base.
Art, music and the question of creativity
Fungal intelligence is not only being channelled into engineering; it is also reshaping art. In one striking project, engineers and artists from the UK have developed systems that let mushrooms and plants “play” music through custom-built bionic arms. Their equipment converts tiny bioelectric fluctuations into control signals for instruments, turning the growth and internal rhythms of fungi into soundscapes. The team behind the Bionic and the Wires project describes how Our equipment converts these into signals that are used to control the arms, effectively giving non-human lifeforms a new channel of expression.
Critics might argue that this is just humans projecting meaning onto random noise, but that misses the deeper point. When we wire living networks into creative tools, we are forced to confront how much of our own art is shaped by unconscious patterns and environmental feedback. I suspect that as mushroom-based music and visual systems mature, they will move from novelty acts into serious experimental platforms, much as modular synthesizers did in the 1960s. The challenge will be integrating these slow, organic signal sources into mainstream technology without flattening their quirks, a tension already visible in early video showcases of fungal interfaces.
Radiation eaters and Mars-ready “super fungi”
Some of the most dramatic fungal feats are happening in places humans can barely survive. Deep within the abandoned remains of Chernobyl’s nuclear reactor, scientists discovered Cladosporium sphaerospermum, a fungus that not only tolerates intense gamma radiation but appears to feed on it. The organism uses a pigment called melanin, similar to the one that colours human skin, to absorb radiation and convert it into chemical energy in a process dubbed radiosynthesis. NASA is now studying these fungi to see if they can be used to shield astronauts from cosmic radiation on Mars or deep space missions, with the long-term vision of self-healing, radiation-proof walls on future spacecraft.
Other experiments are testing how far fungal resilience can go in Mars-like conditions. One astrobiology study exposed selected species to extreme cold, dryness and ultraviolet radiation and found that some “super fungi” could survive and even grow under UV-C alone. The authors argued that Understanding the limits of life in extreme environments on Earth is a crucial step toward interpreting biosignatures beyond our planet. If fungi can thrive in such conditions, they become prime candidates for biotechnologies that build habitats, recycle waste and provide radiation shielding on Mars. My first prediction is that within two decades, at least one long-duration space habitat will rely on a living fungal layer as a primary radiation barrier, monitored as carefully as any mechanical system.
Everyday applications and climate-scale stakes
Closer to home, fungi are already slipping into consumer products and climate strategies. One high-profile example is Hiro nappies, which come with a sachet of fungus to speed up decomposition in landfill, a small but symbolic step toward embedding living systems in everyday goods. Broader surveys of fungal innovation describe them as Nature’s original engineers, with applications ranging from packaging foams to building materials that grow into shape. These materials promise to replace plastics and concrete in some contexts, cutting emissions while creating products that can safely return to the soil.
At the ecosystem level, the stakes are even higher. Fungi do not, of course, possess intelligence in the form of a brain or centralised nervous system like those seen in animals, yet their hyphal networks transmit signals that can travel in ways similar to our neural transmitters. Reporting on the future of fungi highlights how these properties could be harnessed to stabilise soils, support crops and buffer climate shocks. In parallel, climate-focused work notes that Researchers are identifying the best fungal partners for long-term carbon storage in the world’s huge underground webs. My second prediction is that by the 2030s, major carbon markets will include certified “myco-sequestration” projects, paying landowners not just to plant trees but to cultivate specific fungal communities.
Ethics, limits and the risk of hype
As the narrative of “hyper-intelligent super fungi” gathers momentum, it risks outrunning the evidence. Fungi clearly display complex, adaptive behaviour, but there is a danger in casually equating that with human-style cognition or consciousness. Some coverage leans heavily on the most dramatic interpretations of experiments, while more cautious voices stress that we are still mapping the basic rules of fungal signalling. Work on whether fungi could be itself acknowledges this uncertainty, noting that terms like “decision” and “choice” may be useful metaphors rather than literal descriptions.
The ethical questions become sharper as we start to integrate fungi into computing and space systems. If future bio-computers rely on dense, long-lived mycelial networks that show increasingly rich behaviour, we will need to decide whether they deserve any form of moral consideration, especially in high-stress environments like spacecraft. Video explainers on why What fungi might do in space already hint at this tension, even if they do not frame it as ethics. For now, the more immediate risk is instrumental: deploying fungal systems at scale without fully understanding their ecological side effects. Introducing engineered strains into soils or closed habitats could have unintended consequences, from outcompeting native species to altering nutrient flows in ways we cannot easily reverse.
Rethinking intelligence for a fungal century
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*This article was researched with the help of AI, with human editors creating the final content.
