No one was excited about the Rael movement, a science-loving religious group (fictional, I might add) founded by a French racing driver named Rael, until it turned out that it was serious about cloning the first human in history and had already registered 2,000 candidates
Tamara Traubman
Two years ago a well-to-do businessman became terminally ill. The disease degenerates his body, and day by day he loses his ability to perform simple daily functions. He decided that a life without independence was not worth living, and stopped taking his medication.
The 58-year-old man has no children, but towards the end of his life he came to the conclusion that he wanted to immortalize himself, to leave something behind. Five years ago, he would have had to settle for the usual ways of commemorating the rich, such as establishing a department in his name at a children's hospital or building a cultural center. However, today, in an era where the genome was a cultural hero and is known as "the book of life", he wants to perpetuate his genetic baggage in a cloned child. The businessman will no longer be alive to raise his son, but he feels that his untimely death is the result of a "mishap", and his genes deserve a second chance in this world.
The businessman is not the only one, and other people share with him the metaphysical belief in the power of genes. One such group is the Raelian movement, a science-loving religious movement that has cloning as one of its core beliefs. About a year and a half ago, the businessman and the rales found each other (via the Internet, of course), in a meeting whose results should reopen the debate on the question of whether humans should ever be cloned, and if so, for what purpose.
The businessman joined as an investor the clone company founded by the Harelites, "Clonaid". The cost of the project is, according to them, about one million dollars. The Harels claim that they already have at least fifty enthusiastic believers, eager to donate their eggs and serve as surrogate mothers for the cloned embryo. For those interested, they offer a service of tissue preservation in freezing, until the technical and legal issues are resolved. Since the beginning of the last war in Afghanistan, they also offer it to the families of the American soldiers at a special price of 200 dollars per year.
A meeting with God
The desire for cloning is not just the domain of bio-megalomaniacs who think they can perpetuate themselves through genes. Many of those who place their hopes in the system are bereaved parents. They recognize that cloning cannot exactly recreate the child they lost, as it will grow up in a different time, in a different environment, and with people who have been irreversibly changed by their loss. And yet they yearn for a human tribe that will be painfully similar to their dead loved one, in the futile hope of bringing him back to life.
Do the rales have a chance to succeed? Cloning is a very inefficient method of reproduction, in which the number of failures far exceeds the number of successes: only two-three out of every hundred attempts to clone an animal end in the birth of a living offspring. "But for this very reason," says Prof. George Seidel, an expert in cloning from Colorado State University in Fort Collins, cloning is also a "numbers game", where luck and a large number of eggs and women in which the embryo will be implanted, play a role no less important than skill the technical. "It's likely that if you've done it enough times, it can work," Seidel says.
According to Prof. Don Wolff from the Primate Research Center in Oregon, who is also one of the most prominent scientists in the field of cloning, the Harals' project should be taken seriously. "When you look at the critical requirements necessary for cloning - money, eggs, surrogate womb, determination and patience - they have it all," he says.
But it is not always easy to take them seriously, especially when hearing the preachings of Rall, the leader of the movement, a former racing driver who was born in France as Claude Verillon and today wears white clothes in the style of Flash Gordon. On the phone, his voice is velvety as he tells in a soft accent how in 1973 he met an extraterrestrial who landed with his flying saucer on a volcano in the south of France: "He was about one meter and twenty centimeters tall. He had slightly slanted eyes, a bit like Asians." The extraterrestrial told Rel ("in a nice cut of speech, but a little fanciful") that life on Earth was created by extraterrestrials with advanced knowledge of genetic engineering.
The name of the extraterrestrials, says Ral, is "God" (so, in Hebrew) - a word that he claims means "those who came from heaven" in ancient Hebrew. The aliens took Ral to their planet, where he took "the most unforgettable bath of my life", in the company of "graceful" robotic females, who responded to his every desire. These experiences convinced the pleasure-loving leader of the movement that he had the mission to convey to the world the message he heard from the mouth of God.
Susan Palmer, a Canadian sociologist who has studied the Harelites, estimates that their number ranges from 20 to 30, common in eighty countries, including Israel. The Harelites are also not lacking in resources: Prof. Jeffrey Hadan, a sociologist from the University of Virginia who studies religious movements, estimates that the Harelites raised seven million dollars intended for the establishment of an embassy in Jerusalem, where, according to their belief, God began the creation of humans. The traffic office in Tel Aviv has a thick file containing repeated requests and refusals from the Israeli authorities.
The Israeli branch of the Haralim is headed by Leon Malol, whose official title in the movement is "Chief Guide". According to him there are 360 rals in Israel, who believe that life should be enjoyed, practice sensual meditation and meet once a month at the Habakkuk Hotel in Tel Aviv. The Harels are actually not particularly interested in cloning themselves, he says, because according to them, the current technique allows preserving the genetic load, but not the memories. This does not prevent them from encouraging others to clone.
Another taboo has been broken
Dr. Brigitte Bousilier, Clonaid's chief scientist, blows a cool breeze of professionalism. She says that she has a laboratory operating in "one of the countries where cloning is not prohibited", but refused to name it. "You understand, I don't want to see a new law passed in this country within a month", she laughs.
"Rales have a talent for attracting pleasant, attractive people with successful careers," said the sociologist Palmer in an interview with the CNN network about a year ago. Indeed, Bousilier has two doctorates, one in physical chemistry from the University of Dijon, the other from the University of Houston in Texas. Before joining the realist movement, she was the deputy research director of the French Chemical Society." "Air Liquide in Klonaid is the assembly, according to her, of a team of six scientists and doctors: two biologists, two biochemists and two doctors - one an IVF expert, the other an obstetrician.
From a legal point of view, there is still room for action for companies like Clonaid, because many countries have not yet finished enacting laws prohibiting cloning. For example, says attorney Gali Ben-Or from the Ministry of Justice, in the United States there is a ban on using federal research budgets for human cloning purposes. However, private companies are free to do as they wish. Last November, the American biotechnology company, Advanced Cell Technology, reported that it had cloned a human embryo. The experiment did end with limited success (the "embryo" only survived to a stage where it was made of only six cells), and the company made it clear that it did not intend to let the embryo develop into a baby anyway, but to use it to produce stem cells - but another taboo was broken.
In Israel, in 1998, the Knesset passed the "Cloning Law", which temporarily prohibits the use of cloning as a substitute for conventional fertilization methods. The ban will expire in two years; A committee that, according to the law, was supposed to monitor developments in the world and submit a report every year that includes its recommendations, has not yet submitted a single report.
The wording of the law implies that there is no substantial problem with cloning, but only a "temporary" problem, due to the high risk of giving birth to defective children. One of the supporters of this approach is Prof. Michel Rebel, winner of the Israel Prize in Medicine and chairman of the Advisory Committee on Bioethics of the National Academy of Sciences. According to him, the clone, if it is safe to use, will not harm human dignity. On the contrary, he says, if the method helps infertile couples, it can be well integrated with the mitzvah pro verbo. If we summarize the difference between the Harels and other cloning supporters, such as the Italian gynecologist Dr. Severino Antinori, and the law and the establishment in Israel, it is that the former call for "cloning now!" while the latter say "clone later".
Five years ago, when scientists from Edinburgh revealed the existence of Dolly, the cloned sheep, it was seen by many as the first step on the path to human cloning, and as evidence of a science out of control. Cloning was then seen as a far-fetched vision belonging to the realm of science fiction. But in a short time the public debate shifted from nightmarish fears of armies of cloned Hitlers to less disturbing possibilities, such as cloning human embryos to produce tissues to treat Alzheimer's, diabetes and other diseases.
The initial percolation from the very idea of cloning - what bioethicists call the "yikes factor" - is diminishing with the cloning of more mammal species. Along with the scientists cloning goats and cows in the hope that one day it will be possible to produce medicines from milk, or pigs whose organs will be used for transplantation into humans, private companies have also begun to operate offering people to clone their pets. One of these companies, "Clone" "Genetic Saving and" reported at the beginning of the year that it had cloned a kitten. The team's scientists described how the kitten was "full of life and playful playing with other cats," and sent video footage of her chasing a green pom-pom to television networks. Suddenly the clone seemed harmless, even cute.
second chance
"He wants a chance to live again through his genes," Bousilier says of the businessman who invested in Clonaid. "He gives himself a second chance." The hope from the man's foundation has grown on fertile ground, says Verdit Ravitsky, who is writing her doctoral thesis on ethics and genetics at Bar Ilan University. The "genetic revolution" and the project to decipher the human genome are changing our way of thinking, and are seen as striving towards "deciphering the secret of life", she says.
"The idea of 'immortalizing myself' by 'immortalizing my DNA' can have enormous symbolic and emotional weight," Ravitzky explains. "If there is a possibility that after my death there will be a person walking around the world carrying the genetic baggage, then in a certain sense 'I' continue to exist and my death is for me 'less final'. This idea continues a long human tradition of fighting Sufism and being mortal by 'leaving a mark': leaving behind descendants we educated, a book we wrote, a building we built, a painting we painted, some kind of 'message'. In this sense, leaving behind my DNA can be seen as another way of leaving something of myself. The problem is the ease with which people will probably start thinking not in terms of 'perpetuating themselves' but in terms of 'guaranteeing themselves eternal life' in the belief that 'the one who is cloned from me will actually be another me who will live after me.'"
Opponents of cloning argue that the technique encourages our cultural tendency not to accept death as a part of life. "According to these claims", says Ravitzky, "modern medicine has taught us that it is possible and necessary to fight death with the help of technology, has extended our lives incredibly, and cloning is another step in the direction of this thought: death is a 'mistake' that we can soon 'overcome'."
Dr. Bousilier says that there are about 50 applicants on the waiting list for Klonaid, about 24% of whom are infertile couples, but there are also many people who want to clone their dead loved ones ("some of them are from Israel, people who lost their loved ones in the war", she reveals) and Some gay couples. "In order to clone a lost child", she explains in an interesting tone, "we have to preserve his cells very quickly, ideally within less than XNUMX hours after death. People send us the cells by mail, using a kit, or we go to the place and collect the cells ourselves."
But who, or what, do the parents expect to receive? "They know it won't be the same person. We discussed this with them," says Bousilier, and begins with the kind of speech in which each individual argument sounds logical, but the totality of it is completely distorted: "When you are a parent, and you have a child, a very specific child with his own DNA, and you would not be able to raise the child until he can enjoy life and leave his mark on the world, you have the choice - to let him go to infinity, to dirt, or to preserve the DNA, this special DNA, and bring into the world a twin of this baby, born later, and try to raise the child And to see him blossom and become someone. That's how these people think."
The longing for cloning
Liz Catalan, for example, feels that cloning technology will fill some void in her life. Catalan markets water holiday packages in Miami. At the age of 36, a few years after marrying her husband Marko, she discovered that her ovaries had stopped producing eggs. Doctors have told her that her only way to conceive is by using egg donation, but she does not wish to carry another woman's child and prefers to have a genetic twin sister of her own.
A few weeks ago, Katlan said in an interview with the ABC network that she sent her medical records to Dr. Panos Zavos, a doctor who deals with in vitro fertilization in Kentucky, who announced his plan to clone a baby, in order to get on his waiting list. "Some of the people who say no - either to reproductive cloning or to cloning to produce stem cells for research - would have a different opinion if they were in my situation," Catalan said, explaining that the legal barrier will not stop those seeking cloning. "People are still going to do that, they're just going to go to other countries."
The website of a group called the "Human Clone Foundation" receives many requests expressing a longing for cloning. A doctor from Mexico sends urgent messages, where
He begs for someone to tell him where he can clone his dead son. "I had a three-year-old son, but he died last week. I need someone to help me find someone who is now engaged in human cloning, anywhere in the world." Another applicant, Jacqueline D., asks: "Does anyone have information on where research is being done for women who have reached the age of menopause, and still want a child with their genetic baggage?". N. Russell confesses her desire to carry a pregnancy with a cloned fetus, and is interested in where she can volunteer for this purpose.
Randy Wicker founded the "Human Clone Foundation" immediately after the announcement of Dolly's litter in 1997 and runs it from a computer in the back room of a shop selling antique lamps in the Village, Manhattan. He receives dozens of e-mails a month from people asking to order a clone. "Many people think cloning is already available," he says. He spends hours every day writing answers, explaining to applicants that cloning is not yet an option for humans, and encouraging them to try other options at this stage, such as adoption. But he also urges them to join his campaign, with the aim of convincing the public to withdraw its opposition to human cloning.
"I see cloning as a cure for the fundamental loneliness of every person," says Vikar. "Most people feel isolated and very lonely. There is a complete lack of communication between the generations. With cloning, we will have much closer families."
But what will happen to the cloned children, asks the American bioethicist Arthur Kaplan. "One of the problems with human cloning is that it will be created in the biological image of another person who lived before him. This will give rise to great expectations of him in others and very strong reactions to his appearance, especially in an appearance-conscious culture like ours. The cloned man may find that he has a terrible emotional burden to look like someone who is twenty, thirty, fifty or eighty years older than him."
Ravitzky adds a question about the problems that may arise in family relations: "The intergenerational boundaries will be blurred when it is not clear who is whose child and what are the family relationships that will be created as a result of the cloning: 'Father' is actually the 'identical twin' of his 'son'; A 'mother' gives birth to her own 'identical twin'; 'Grandparents' will be the genetic 'parents' of their 'children'. The confusion in family relations will be celebrated." And how will a father feel when next to him walks a girl who looks like her mother looked in her youth, when he fell in love with her?
Sometimes it works
So far, sheep, goats, pigs, mice, cows, rabbits and one cat have been cloned. The success rates vary from species to species "and the truth is," says Prof. Seidel, "we still don't know why sometimes it succeeds and sometimes it doesn't." But doesn't the fact that no one has so far succeeded in cloning monkeys, after many efforts invested in it, indicate that it would be impossible to clone humans as well?
Don Wolfe is not convinced. "From the technical point of view, it would actually be more difficult to clone monkeys than humans," he says. "We do not have hundreds of laboratories dealing with fertility treatments for monkeys, contrary to the extensive experience gained with humans. Some of the problems have been studied for a long time in humans, such as how to grow the embryo, what is the best method to transfer it to the uterus."
Is Busillier worried that defects that appear in a large proportion in the cloned animals will also appear in the cloned human embryo? "We will strictly monitor the development of the fetus. No sick baby will be born," she promises. But most scientists doubt the ability of the Harels to realize this promise. "So many things can go wrong with cloning," says Dr. Amir Arab from the Volcanic Institute. "Some of the cloned animals are born heavier than normal, others with defects in the lungs, heart and respiratory system, there are defects in the DNA, and it is clear that the existing tests will not be able to detect all of them."
Most of the cloned embryos do not reach this at all, because they are ejected from the womb in a natural abortion. Are the surrogate women aware of the high chances of having an abortion, or of the possibility that they will be required to abort the fetus in the event that defects are discovered? Yes, says Bousilier, and passes the phone receiver to her daughter, Marina Kokolios, a 23-year-old art student who was chosen to act as one of the surrogates. "I think it's so beautiful, I see it as a gift to humanity," says Kokolios. "I always wanted a child, but I never had time for it." *
Rall, formerly Claude Verilion, next to a model of the UFO in which he was taken on a magical visit to another planet. His movement established a society for human cloning
* The knowledge site was until the end of 2002 part of the IOL portal of the Haaretz group
