I want you to picture something for a second.
Okay. Imagine you are a brilliant aerospace scientist
and it's the mid -1970s. Right, the golden age
of space exploration. Exactly. You spend your
days deep in the weeds of cutting edge technology,
specifically designing systems meant to explore
the rugged alien surface of Mars. That's some
heavy, highly specialized science. It is. But
now I want you to imagine taking that exact same
space age technology, pivoting entirely and pointing
it at one of the most fiercely debated religious
artifacts in human history. It sounds like the
premise of a science fiction novel, honestly.
Right. But we are looking at what happens when
those two complete completely different worlds
collide. And it's a very real piece of history.
We're talking about a moment where the absolute
pinnacle of 1970s hard science was brought face
to face with an ancient mystery. So for this
deep dive, our mission is to examine the source
material detailing the shroud of Turin Research
Project. You'll often hear that abbreviated as
STIRP. We've gathered the historical timeline
from the Wikipedia article, the rosters of the
scientists involved, their methodologies, the
final reports, and the pretty serious controversies
that followed. We're going to lay out exactly
how this all happened. But right off the bat,
before we get into the mechanics of that timeline,
I do need to establish some clear ground rules
for our discussion today. Go for it. The Shroud
of Turin is a deeply significant religious artifact
for millions of people around the world. Because
of that, it is crucial to clarify upfront that
this deep dive is strictly an impartial report
on the provided source material. Absolutely.
We are not here to endorse any religious viewpoints.
We're not validating miracles. And we're not
taking sides between believers and skeptics.
Our goal is strictly to unpack the historical
and scientific ideas contained in the text we
have. We are focusing entirely on the story of
the research project itself, the people who ran
it and the data they produced. And for you listening,
treating this objectively turns the story into
a master class in a few different areas. It's
an exploration of the intersection where quantitative
science meets historic. But perhaps more importantly,
it's a master class in evaluating who is conducting
the research. when we are presented with scientific
data, we always have to ask ourselves about the
people behind the instruments. Right, their backgrounds,
their potential biases. Exactly. Okay, let's
unpack this and go back to the origins of this
whole project starting in 1976. I want to introduce
you to the original trio who kicked this off.
The founders. Yep. We have a physicist named
John P. Jackson, a thermodynamicist named Eric
Jumper, and a radiographer named William Modern.
And just looking at their titles, these are individuals
dealing with the fundamental properties of matter
and energy. Yeah, a thermodynamicist studies
how heat and energy transfer, while a radiographer
uses radiation like X -rays or gamma rays to
see inside solid structures. They are heavily
credentialed individuals. Their day jobs involve
analyzing the physical universe in highly specialized
ways. And their connection to those day jobs
is the actual catalyst for this entire project.
This is where Eric Jumper enters the picture
with that aerospace technology we mentioned earlier.
He takes a piece of equipment called a VPA image
analyzer. Which is a fascinating piece of tech.
It really is. It was originally invented for
aerospace science to build three -dimensional
models of the lunar surface, or Mars. by analyzing
flat two -dimensional photographs. And Jember
decides to run photographs of the Shroud of Turin
through this device. He does. And according to
our source, this action marks the very first
scientific experiments ever performed on the
relic. To understand why that's so significant,
we have to look at how that technology actually
works. If you take a standard photograph of a
person and run it through a VP8 image analyzer,
the result is usually a distorted garbled mess.
Really? Why is that? Well, in a normal photograph,
light and shadow depend on where the light source
was placed, not on how close the object was to
the camera. The analyzer interprets image density,
the light and dark areas, as physical relief
or height. Oh, I see. So if the light was shining
from the left side of the room, the analyzer
would mistakenly think the left side of the face
was physically closer to the camera. Exactly
the problem with normal photos. But what Jumper
discovered when he input the shroud photographs
was something entirely different. What happened?
The analyzer produced an accurate, proportionally
correct, three -dimensional rendering of a human
shape. Wow. Yeah, it implied that the density
of the image on the cloth, the darkness of the
markings, correlated directly to the physical
distance between the cloth and a body. It was
basically a topographical map hidden in an ancient
piece of linen. That specific detail changes
the trajectory of everything. The fact that a
Mars mapping tool produced a perfect 3D human
form from this cloth becomes the rallying cry.
Use the spark they needed. Right. So fast forward
a few months to March 1977. Jackson, Jumper,
and Modern used this preliminary data to invite
other scientists to join them. They hold a meeting
in Albuquerque, New Mexico to form a dedicated
formal team for the analysis of the shroud. And
the most compelling aspect of this Albuquerque
meeting is the organizational structure, or rather,
the complete lack of it. Yeah, they had zero
official sponsorship. No university or government
agency was formally backing this investigation.
The scientists were funding their activities
out of their own pockets. But despite being entirely
self -funded and grassroots, they pulled off
a logistical miracle. They somehow managed to
secure gifts and loans of highly specialized
technical equipment with an estimated value of
over $2 million. And that is $2 million in 1970s
money. Which is closer to $10 million today.
They're convincing organizations to hand over
extremely delicate, state -of -the -art optical
and nuclear measuring instruments. The organizations
loaning this equipment clearly recognize the
scientific pedigree of the individuals making
the requests. You do not hand over that level
of hardware to amateurs. No, and looking at the
roster, amateur is the last word you would use.
I mean, they bring in Tom Demuhala, a nuclear
physicist, to lead logistics for Startby. A powerhouse.
They recruit Raymond N. Rogers, a thermal chemist,
to look at the behavior of the materials under
different temperature conditions. They bring
on a biophysicist named John Heller. The list
just keeps going. It does. We're talking about
optical physicist Sam Pellicori, forensic pathologist
Robert Bucklin, alongside electric power experts
and specialized photographers. These individuals
are coming from prestigious institutions like
the Los Alamos National Laboratory and the Jet
Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena. It is a phenomenal
assembly of quantitative minds. If you need to
know the exact spectral signature of a stain
or the elemental composition of a microscopic
fiber, this is the premier team you would want.
Absolutely. But reviewing that roster raises
an important question. What's fascinating here
is a massive blind spot. Look closely at the
specialties you just listed. Who is missing from
that room? Well, you have nuclear physicists,
thermal chemists, biophysicists, and pathologists.
It's entirely heavy on the hard sciences. I'm
not seeing any mention of historians, archaeologists,
or medieval art experts. They're studying an
ancient textile, but they didn't bring a textile
historian. They did not. Stirpers included no
experts on medieval art, archaeology, or ancient
textiles. I want you to consider the implications
of approaching a historical artifact with that
specific blind spot. It changes the whole dynamic.
Completely. A thermal chemist asks, what is the
elemental makeup of this pigment? An archaeologist
asks, was this specific elemental pigment available
to artists in the 14th century? That's a very
different question. A biophysicist asks, is this
human blood? A historian asks, how does the application
of this blood align with medieval artistic practices
of the era? But if you're trying to definitively
prove whether something is a physical anomaly
or just a painting, wouldn't a mass spectrometer
or a chemical test be far more reliable than
art historians' subjective opinion? Hard data
is essential, yes, but data requires context
for accurate interpretation. Let's say your spectrometer
finds traces of iron oxide. A physicist might
just log the presence of iron. An art historian
would recognize iron oxide as the primary component
of red ochre, a very common paint pigment used
during the Middle Ages. By only having hard scientists
in the room, they are measuring the physical
reality of the object with incredible precision.
But they are completely insulated from the historical
reality. They were treating a potentially ancient
cultural artifact the exact same way they would
treat a rock sample from Mars. That distinction
is going to be incredibly important when we look
at their final conclusions. But first, we have
to look at how they actually deployed this $2
million arsenal of equipment. Let's set the scene.
The year is late 1978. The city of Turin, Italy
is commemorating the 400th anniversary of the
shroud's arrival in the city. The atmosphere
is intense. The shroud is put on display, locked
safely behind bulletproof glass. And the crowds
were massive. Over the course of a few weeks,
from August 27 to October 8, approximately three
million visitors shuffled past it. The sheer
volume of humanity passing by this object highlights
the immense cultural and religious weight it
carries. Three million people in a matter of
weeks is a staggering logistical event in itself.
Truly. And while the public is paying their respects,
The STIRP team is waiting in the wings, prepping
for their window of opportunity. Once that public
exposition ends on October 8, the cathedral doors
lock, the millions of visitors disperse, and
STIRP moves in with their 72 crates of equipment.
What follows is a five -day, 120 -hour scientific
stakeout set up in the Royal Palace adjoining
the Turing Cathedral. You have to imagine the
tension and the exhaustion in that palace. They
were given a very strict non -negotiable window
of 120 hours. Not a minute more. The source notes
that the scientists worked around the clock and
carefully staggered shifts. Some would sleep
on cots nearby while the others operated the
machinery, ensuring not a single second of access
was wasted. And someone had to oversee all of
this, right? Yes. The entire operation was closely
supervised by a European scientist named Luigi
Cannella to ensure the artifact wasn't damaged.
So they're hitting this cloth with everything
they have. They're doing x -ray fluorescence
to map elemental compositions. They're using
infrared spectrometry. They're using thermography.
But amidst all of this incredibly advanced jet
propulsion lab level hardware, there is one detail
about their methodology that really stands out.
Oh, the tape. Yeah. When it came time to actually
gather physical samples from the shroud to take
back to the United States, their primary tool
was sticky tape. It sounds almost absurd when
contrasted with nuclear measuring devices, but
tape lifting is a foundational forensic technique.
I understand you can't exactly take a pair of
scissors to a priceless relic, but how does Scotch
tape hold up against peer -reviewed science?
Well, they weren't using off -the -shelf office
supplies. They use a specially designed Mylar
tape with a custom chemically inert adhesive.
Okay, that makes more sense. The goal was to
press this tape onto specific, carefully mapped
areas of the shroud, the image areas, the blood
stain areas, the clear areas, and peel it back.
This safely lifts microscopic fibers, surface
particulates, pollen, and debris without damaging
the structural integrity of the underlying ancient
linen. It's basically a non -destructive sample.
Exactly. They took dozens of these tape samples
to bring back to their respective laboratories
for deep chemical analysis. So the 120 hours
expire, they pack up their optical lasers and
their meticulously labeled sticky tape, and they
head back to the United States. Over the next
few years, the team members retreat to their
respective labs to analyze the data. Publishing
various localized results along the way. Right,
leading up to the release of their comprehensive
final report. Which brings us to 1981 and the
culmination of all this effort. Here's where
it gets really interesting. The 1981 STIRP final
report is where we have to look really closely
at the language they use. The conclusion they
present is dramatic. I will quote their findings
directly for you. We can conclude for now that
the shroud image is that of a real human form
of a scourged, crucified man. It is not the product
of an artist. That is a remarkably definitive
statement from a team of physicists and aerospace
scientists. To say it's not the product of an
artist. Yes. To state that unequivocally implies
they found no evidence of brush strokes, no binding
agents typical of paint, and no directional application
of pigment. And they back that claim up with
the specific chemical findings derived from those
mylar sticky tape samples. The biophysicists
on the team analyzed the reddish stains on the
cloth. The report states that they found these
stains were composed of hemoglobin and also gave
a positive test for serum albumin. To clarify
those terms for you, hemoglobin is the protein
molecule in red blood cells that carries oxygen,
and serum albumin is the most abundant protein
found in blood plasma. So it's real blood. Finding
both of these in the sample strongly suggests
the presence of mammalian blood, yes. It rules
out a scenario where an artist simply mixed up
some red ochre and water. So based on the hemoglobin
and serum albumin, they conclude it is real blood.
And based on the optical data, they conclude
it is a real human form and not a painting. It
sounds like they are closing the book on the
mystery entirely. If we only read that first
paragraph, it certainly seems that way. But scientific
reports are rarely that absolute. And the SERP
team immediately follows that definitive statement
with a massive caveat. What's the caveat? The
very next sentences in their conclusion admit
that the actual mechanism of how the image was
formed on the cloth remains an ongoing mystery.
They explicitly state that the problem remains
unsolved until further chemical studies are made.
They're drawing a very sharp line in the sand.
They are confident in saying what the image isn't,
it isn't a painting, and they are confident in
identifying the presence of blood, but they admit
they have absolutely no scientific model to explain
how a structurally perfect, 3D -encoded image
transferred from a human body onto a piece of
linen. And that unresolved gap between we found
blood and we don't know how the image was made,
leaves a wide opening for critical pushback.
Naturally. In the world of high -stakes historical
and religious artifacts, a report that bold is
going to face intense scrutiny. This introduces
us to the skeptics, specifically a gentleman
named Joe Nickel from the Committee for Skeptical
Inquiry. He steps in to provide a comprehensive
counterargument to this derp. findings. The Committee
for Skeptical Inquiry is an organization dedicated
to scientifically investigating controversial
and extraordinary claims. And Joe Nichols' critique
of the CERT project doesn't just attack the chemical
data, it attacks the very foundation of the team
itself. Nichols' investigation circles us perfectly
back to the ground rules we established at the
beginning of this deep dive. We talked about
the importance of evaluating who is doing the
research and what their potential biases might
be. And what did Nicol uncover? He incurred a
rather staggering conflict of interest regarding
the STIRP leadership. I remember seeing this
in the source material and it completely reframed
the story for me. Nicol points out that the leaders
of STIRPR, the men who organized the Albuquerque
meeting, who rallied the two million dollars
in equipment, and who directed the final report,
actually served on the executive council of something
called the Holy Shroud Guild. The Holy Shroud
Guild is an organization explicitly devoted to
the quote cause of the reputed relic. Their stated
purpose was to promote devotion to the shroud
and to encourage its study. So, the supposedly
objective scientists who designed the methodologies
and wrote the final report declaring the artifact
was not a painting were simultaneously sitting
on the board of a religious guild dedicated to
promoting that exact same artifact. They were.
And this asks you, the listener, to actively
engage with this information. What stands out
to you? Nickel's argument isn't necessarily that
the scientists maliciously faked their data.
There were highly respected professionals who
published in peer -reviewed journals. His argument
is about unconscious bias and interpretation.
If you go into a 120 -hour stakeout, deeply,
perhaps unconsciously, hoping to validate the
object you have devoted your free time to promoting,
you are going to interpret ambiguous data in
a very specific way. Precisely the point Nickel
makes. Let's look at the blood tests. Sterpi
found hemoglobin and serum albumin, concluding
it was real blood and therefore not a painting.
Right. Nicholl counters that finding blood does
not preclude an artist. An artist in the 14th
century could have easily used real blood or
a mixture containing animal blood to add realism
to a painted artifact. Or, tying back to the
missing experts we discussed earlier, an our
historian might point out that many medieval
tempera paints used organic binders, like egg
whites or animal glues, that contained proteins
which could potentially trigger false positives
in 1970s chemical tests looking for blood proteins
like albumin. That is exactly why Nicol heavily
criticized the composition of the team. By entirely
excluding art historians, medieval textile experts,
and skeptical forensic scientists from the initial
investigation, STIR created an intellectual echo
chamber. That makes total sense. They built a
team that was highly skilled at operating mass
spectrometers, but intellectually isolated from
alternative historical explanations. They saw
what their instruments told them, but their biases
may have dictated how they interpreted those
instrument readings. OK, let's unpack this and
look at the whole journey we've just taken. We
started with aerospace engineers taking topography
tech meant for the craters of Mars and applying
it to a flat photograph of an ancient clock.
A huge leap. Then we watched them hustle millions
of dollars in highly sensitive laboratory gear
and transport it to a royal palace in Italy.
We followed them through a 120 hour sleep deprived
scientific stakeout where their most crucial
evidence gathering tool was specially formulated
sticky tape. It's wild to think about. And it
culminated in a 1981 verdict that confidently
declared the image was not a painting and contained
real human blood while simultaneously admitting
they had no idea how the image was actually formed.
And finally, that confident verdict was immediately
thrown into question by skeptics who pointed
out that the scientists the research had deep
pre -existing ties to an organization devoted
to the relic, highlighting a massive potential
for interpretive bias. It is a story that ultimately
provides no easy answers, satisfying neither
side completely. If we connect this to the bigger
picture, the Sterp Saga is a profound lesson
in critical thinking. Definitely. We live in
an era where we are constantly presented with
scientific data as if it is absolute gospel.
We see a headline that says, scientists at the
Jet Propulsion Laboratory confirm X, and we just
accept it. But data never exists in a vacuum.
Raw numbers have to be interpreted by human beings.
And human beings have blind spots. Always. When
you are presented with research, you must always
look at the personal affiliations of the researchers.
You have to look at who funded the operation.
And crucially, you have to look at what disciplines
were missing from the room when the conclusions
were drawn. That's a great takeaway. A thermal
chemist can tell you with absolute certainty
what elements are present on a piece of cloth.
But if you don't invite a historian to the table,
you might completely misunderstand how those
elements got there in the first place. Context
is just as important as the data itself. Well,
we have covered a massive amount of historical
and scientific ground today. But before we wrap
up, I want to leave you with one final thought
to ponder on your own. Let's hear it. Think back
to that caveat in the 1981 STIRP report. They
explicitly noted that the mechanism of the image
would remain an unsolved mystery until some scientists
in the future conduct further studies with better
tools. A challenge to the future. Exactly. And
we are that future. I want you to imagine something.
If a ragtag group of self -funded aerospace scientists
could adapt 1970s Mars technology to cause this
much of a stir, what secrets would scientists
uncover today? Oh, wow. with modern tech. Yeah.
Imagine if an interdisciplinary team physicists,
archaeologists, art historians and skeptics were
locked in a room with the shroud right now. If
1970s sticky tape and early 3D models could decode
a topographical map, what would the artificial
intelligence, the molecular mapping and the hyper
advanced imaging technologies of our current
era reveal about those linen fibers? The tools
evolve, the disciplines expand, but the human
drive to solve the mystery endures. It certainly
does. Thank you so much for joining us on this
deep dive. Keep asking questions, always check
the context of your sources, and we will catch
you next time.