Extinction

We have seen the indirect ways that our actions aid and abet the origination and spread of pandemics. But what about cases where we have a much more direct hand in the process – where we deliberately use, improve or create the pathogens? Our understanding and control of pathogens is very recent. Just 200 years ago, we didn’t even understand the basic cause of pandemics – a leading theory in the west claimed that disease was produced by a kind of gas. In just two centuries, we discovered it was caused by a diverse variety of microscopic agents and we worked out how to grow them in the lab, to breed them for different traits, to sequence their genomes, to implant new genes and to create entire functional viruses from their written code. This progress is continuing at a rapid pace. The past 10 years have seen major qualitative breakthroughs, such as the use of the gene editing tool Crispr to efficiently insert new genetic sequences into a genome, and the use of gene drives to efficiently replace populations of natural organisms in the wild with genetically modified versions. This progress in biotechnology seems unlikely to fizzle out anytime soon: there are no insurmountable challenges looming; no fundamental laws blocking further developments. But it would be optimistic to assume that this uncharted new terrain holds only familiar dangers. To start with, let’s set aside the risks from malicious intent, and consider only the risks that can arise from well-intentioned research. Most scientific and medical research poses a negligible risk of harms at the scale we are considering. But there is a small fraction that uses live pathogens of kinds that are known to threaten global harm. These include the agents that cause the Spanish flu, smallpox, Sars and H5N1 or avian flu. And a small part of this research involves making strains of these pathogens that pose even more danger than the natural types, increasing their transmissibility, lethality or resistance to vaccination or treatment. In 2012, a Dutch virologist, Ron Fouchier, published details of an experiment on the recent H5N1 strain of bird flu. This strain was extremely deadly, killing an estimated 60% of humans it infected – far beyond even the Spanish flu. Yet its inability to pass from human to human had so far prevented a pandemic. Fouchier wanted to find out whether (and how) H5N1 could naturally develop this ability. He passed the disease through a series of 10 ferrets, which are commonly used as a model for how influenza affects humans. By the time it passed to the final ferret, his strain of H5N1 had become directly transmissible between mammals. The work caused fierce controversy. Much of this was focused on the information contained in his work. The US National Science Advisory Board for Biosecurity ruled that his paper had to be stripped of some of its technical details before publication, to limit the ability of bad actors to cause a pandemic. And the Dutch government claimed that the research broke EU law on exporting information useful for bioweapons. But it is not the possibility of misuse that concerns me here. Fouchier’s research provides a clear example of well-intentioned scientists enhancing the destructive capabilities of pathogens known to threaten global catastrophe. Of course, such experiments are done in secure labs, with stringent safety standards. It is highly unlikely that in any particular case the enhanced pathogens would escape into the wild. But just how unlikely? Unfortunately, we don’t have good data, due to a lack of transparency about incident and escape rates. This prevents society from making well-informed decisions balancing the risks and benefits of this research, and it limits the ability of labs to learn from each other’s incidents. Security for highly dangerous pathogens has been deeply flawed, and remains insufficient. In 2001, Britain was struck by a devastating outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease in livestock. Six million animals were killed in an attempt to halt its spread, and the economic damages totalled £8bn. Then, in 2007, there was another outbreak, which was traced to a lab working on the disease. Foot-and-mouth was considered a highest-category pathogen, and required the highest level of biosecurity. Yet the virus escaped from a badly maintained pipe, leaking into the groundwater at the facility. After an investigation, the lab’s licence was renewed – only for another leak to occur two weeks later. In my view, this track record of escapes shows that even the highest biosafety level (BSL-4) is insufficient for working on pathogens that pose a risk of global pandemics on the scale of the Spanish flu or worse. Thirteen years since the last publicly acknowledged outbreak from a BSL-4 facility is not good enough. It doesn’t matter whether this is from insufficient standards, inspections, operations or penalties. What matters is the poor track record in the field, made worse by a lack of transparency and accountability. With current BSL-4 labs, an escape of a pandemic pathogen is only a matter of time. One of the most exciting trends in biotechnology is its rapid democratisation – the speed at which cutting-edge techniques can be adopted by students and amateurs. When a new breakthrough is achieved, the pool of people with the talent, training, resources and patience to reproduce it rapidly expands: from a handful of the world’s top biologists, to people with PhDs in the field, to millions of people with undergraduate-level biology. The Human Genome Project was the largest ever scientific collaboration in biology. It took 13 years and $500m to produce the full DNA sequence of the human genome. Just 15 years later, a genome can be sequenced for under $1,000, and within a single hour. The reverse process has become much easier, too: online DNA synthesis services allow anyone to upload a DNA sequence of their choice then have it constructed and shipped to their address. While still expensive, the price of synthesis has fallen by a factor of 1,000 in the past two decades, and continues to drop. The first ever uses of Crispr and gene drives were the biotechnology achievements of the decade. But within just two years, each of these technologies were used successfully by bright students participating in science competitions. Such democratisation promises to fuel a boom of entrepreneurial biotechnology. But since biotechnology can be misused to lethal effect, democratisation also means proliferation. As the pool of people with access to a technique grows, so does the chance it contains someone with malign intent. People with the motivation to wreak global destruction are mercifully rare. But they exist. Perhaps the best example is the Aum Shinrikyo cult in Japan, active between 1984 and 1995, which sought to bring about the destruction of humanity. It attracted several thousand members, including people with advanced skills in chemistry and biology. And it demonstrated that it was not mere misanthropic ideation. It launched multiple lethal attacks using VX gas and sarin gas, killing more than 20 people and injuring thousands. It attempted to weaponise anthrax, but did not succeed. What happens when the circle of people able to create a global pandemic becomes wide enough to include members of such a group? Or members of a terrorist organisation or rogue state that could try to build an omnicidal weapon for the purposes of extortion or deterrence? The main candidate for biological existential risk in the coming decades thus stems from technology – particularly the risk of misuse by states or small groups. But this is not a case in which the world is blissfully unaware of the risks. Bertrand Russell wrote of the danger of extinction from biowarfare to Einstein in 1955. And, in 1969, the possibility was raised by the American Nobel laureate for medicine, Joshua Lederberg: “As a scientist I am profoundly concerned about the continued involvement of the United States and other nations in the development of biological warfare. This process puts the very future of human life on earth in serious peril.”