Mutant monkey brings hope, horror

BY KATE MASON

He doesn't look much like Frankenstein. He is considerably cuter and hairier than Mary Shelley's famed monster, with big ears and a tail, and he was born the old-fashioned way—from an egg and a sperm rather than a knife and a flash of lightning. But ANDi, the three-month old rhesus monkey with an inert jellyfish gene stuck in his DNA, is already stirring up so much hype and horror-movie buzz that he might as well be carrying off hysterical women and howling at the full moon rather than chasing after beach balls and scratching his navel.

COURTESY OREGON PRIMATE RESEARCH Got any jellyfish in ya? Want some?

Like Dolly the sheep three years before him, ANDi the monkey, who has the distinction of being the first primate to carry DNA from another species in his genome, has become an instant symbol of the potentially evil power of genetics, which, as everyone knows, will soon be churning out blond-haired, blue-eyed genius superchildren (but only to the rich). "If he were human, he'd be called a designer baby," Newsweek declared with unabashed hyperbole in its Mon., Jan. 22 issue. Newsweek was apparently referring to the hordes of parents lining up to grow babies with green-pigment genes hidden in their DNA. ANDi is hardly a designer baby. The gene he carries is not actually functioning; even if it were, the green protein it codes for would likely only succeed in making him look a little under the weather. Yet the usual hysteria that results from every major advance in genetic engineering has succeeded in making most people forget that the technology was created for good, not for evil, and that good is the only application to which scientists have attempted to put it.

Transgenic animals like ANDi have been around since before most current Yalies were born. Mice containing genes from humans and other organisms are regularly used in labs as models for human genetic conditions and have helped in isolating the genes for dozens of diseases. Meanwhile, cloned animals like Dolly have a multitude of noble purposes: aside from the potential to aid in human organ transplants and other medical exploits, they give humans a chance to undo some of the damage they've done to animals by repopulating endangered species.

But for most people, this is only all well and good so long as the technology doesn't extend to humans. For that is when a cool science experiment supposedly turns into a science fiction nightmare. As soon as it becomes possible to fiddle with the DNA of humans, Michael Crichton, Alfred Hitchcock, and God Himself will start duking it out in the streets while thousands of mini-Bill Gates with faces like Brad Pitt get busy taking over the world. Meanwhile, the poor wretches whose parents can't afford to shop at the baby store will be stuck struggling through the ABC's and eating square tomatoes. Yet as titillating as this scenario has been to novelists and ethicists, it is still science fiction and is likely to remain so.

The traits that scientists are now able to manipulate—and the ones they could potentially manipulate in humans—are generally derived from single genes that code for genetic diseases or, more often, for genetic predispositions to certain diseases. Were transgenic humans to be created, they would most likely first appear in the form of embryos that have had genes for single-gene diseases like cystic fibrosis or Huntington's Disease deleted from their genome. This would give parents with genes for these diseases the chance to permanently remove them from their blood line, thus saving all future generations from ever having to worry about contracting them. Then might come the elimination of genetic predispositions for diseases like cancer or Alzheimer's. While these advances would perhaps seem scary at first, they would hardly be evil.

Finding a way to decrease the potential for children to develop a deadly disease is not the same as creating a Frankenstein. It is just another form of preventative medicine, another way of preventing a normal human child from getting sick. On the other hand, knocking out the gene for irritability or adding the gene for chess-playing is not likely to happen anytime soon, if at all. The factors that go into these traits are much more complicated and plentiful than single-gene diseases; they are also not entirely genetically based. And contrary to popular opinion, there aren't really any mad scientists out there who are bent on finding a way to make them widely available.

The mythical world of the designer baby is not the world that monkeys like ANDi were bred to create. No one currently researching the technology that led to ANDi's birth is out to take over the world, or to let anyone else do such a thing either. Genetics is a tool like any other, and like any other medical tool—vaccines, drugs, etc.—it has its risks if not properly administered. Just as drugs meant for medical purposes can end up in illegal trade when they fall into the wrong hands, genetic tools meant to prevent and cure disease might cause problems if someone chooses to use them for less than noble purposes. But does that mean we should no longer produce life-saving drugs? Does that mean we should turn away from new ways to ease suffering?

Maybe in 50 or 100 years, a few of the genes promoting a predisposition to greater intelligence will be worked out, and someone evil and sinister will manage to market smart babies only to the rich. But no one knows if this is possible, let alone likely. What we do know is that someone kind and well-intentioned will probably manage to give a few ordinary babies a better chance of living a healthy life. And if those healthy babies qualify as Frankensteins, then I say let's bring on that dark and stormy night.

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