The post claims Tom di Mino, an amateur linguistics enthusiast with an AI engineering background, may have cracked Linear A by treating some Linear A signs as sharing phonetic values with their Linear B counterparts and then testing whether resulting word patterns fit an extinct Semitic language related to Hebrew. The writeup says Claude Code helped build Python tooling to query and organize the GORILA and SigLA corpora, then run large numbers of simulations to estimate whether the matches were luck. The missing piece is the one everyone wanted most: there is no public paper, no full table of proposed sound values, no released translation list for the claimed 300 words, and no code or prompts to inspect. That made the central question less "did AI solve Linear A" and more "is there enough here to evaluate anything at all".
People with background in ancient scripts and historical linguistics immediately pointed out why Linear A attracts false positives. The
corpus is tiny, about 7,500 characters across roughly 1,500 inscriptions, with most texts being short accounting lists, seal marks, or the recurring "
libation formula" that every decipherment attempt gravitates toward. That means there is very little held-out material to test against, and even basic assumptions are shaky. It is not certain every text labeled Linear A reflects the same language. Some words may be abbreviations. Even the common practice of borrowing Linear B sound values for overlapping signs is a heuristic, not a solved foundation. Several commenters said a Semitic reading should also leave clearer traces in later Greek
substrate vocabulary and place names than we currently see.
The sharpest pushback focused on method, not romance. A recurring example in the post hinges on isolating part of one libation-formula word, assuming an unknown sign begins with N, and then matching the remainder to a Semitic root. Linguistically literate readers saw that as far too permissive. If a decipherment cannot explain the rest of the word, let alone a broad slice of the corpus, it is still pattern hunting. That skepticism only hardened because "reviewed by experts at Rutgers and Cambridge" sounded like private informal circulation, not peer review or institutional endorsement. The mood was still curious rather than dismissive. Plenty of people thought the AI angle was plausible in a narrow sense: not as a black box translator, but as a fast way to build corpus tools, run combinatorial checks, and keep an amateur from drowning in data-cleaning. The consensus landing point was simple. A real result would need a public manuscript, a complete mapping, and predictions that survive contact with texts the method was not tuned on.