7-Opinion
M
y first introduction to the possible
future of genomic editing came
while reading Aldous Huxley’s
“Brave New World.” The novel begins in the
year 2540 at an embryo factory called the
Central London Hatching and Conditioning
Centre. The director of the facility describes
to a group of male students how eggs are
modified during the gestation period of
development to fit into five distinct castes:
Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta or Epsilon.
Beginning with Alphas as the predestined
leaders of the World State, each subsequent
class decreases in intelligence, rank and, by
consequence, contribution to the government.
As predesignated vocations become more
mundane and insignificant, intelligence must
be lowered so there will never be resistance
to the regimented class system. Under the
guise of creating a perfect society, the facility
had created a heavily regulated and dystopian
world.
In 2021, the sophisticated reproductive
technologies illustrated in “Brave New World”
do not seem as fanciful as they did when the
book was published in 1932. The test tube
embryos portrayed in the novel parallel
the relatively common process of in vitro
fertilization, which manually produces an
embryo by combining mature eggs and sperm
in a lab. Yet, a key difference remains, given that
there is no genetic manipulation of the human
genome during IVF. In pre-implantation
genetic screening, none of the DNA in embryos
is artificially manipulated, but certain embryos
can be chosen for implantation based on criteria
such as not carrying a specific disease trait. This
could soon change with Clustered Regularly
Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats gene
therapy, or CRISPR.
CRISPR technology is a fairly new genome
editing method which allows specific locations
in the human genome to be targeted using
guide RNA and a Cas9 protein. Together, RNA
and the Cas9 protein cleave a specific portion
of DNA which is then repaired by the cell
using a donor DNA template containing the
sequence of choice. While the manipulation
of genetic traits has had enormous societal
and economical benefits — as can be seen
in the Green Revolution — the altering of
human germ cells has numerous ethical and
moral concerns. To start, patient consent is
impossible and any mistakes made will be
hereditary, which may have a detrimental
effect following cell specialization.
The
ethical
limitations
of
CRISPR
gene editing were recently tested by
Chinese researcher He Jiankui in 2018. He
“manufactured” the first CRISPR-edited
babies through two twin girls, Lulu and Nana.
The experiment is now known as the Lulu
and Nana controversy — the global scientific
community has criticized He, claiming he took
advantage of the parents’ situation. Lulu and
Nana’s father was HIV-positive, so He decided
to target the CCR5 gene, which HIV can use
as an entrance into cells — despite Lulu and
Nana having virtually no risk of contracting
HIV. Moreover, the edits made on Lulu were
incorrect and incomplete, and the implications
will not be known until later in her life. He
blatantly disregarded worldwide standards
for genomic editing by operating under a
shroud of secrecy, not
properly obtaining
informed consent and miscategorizing the
experiment as an “AIDS-vaccine development
project.” Despite the amoral grounds of
He’s CRISPR-editing attempt, his partial
success in manipulating the human genome
foreshadows what is to come.
While experimenting with CRISPR-
editing techniques is complicated, the
possibilities of its development include
increased athleticism, intelligence and overall
health, which are alluring to many people.
Even still, public opinion often draws the line
between lessening the prevalence of diseases
and picking out traits; after all, ridding the
world of muscular dystrophy sounds much
better than simply wanting blue-eyed babies.
But even when it comes to tackling lifelong
diseases, it needs to be acknowledged that only
a minuscule fraction of global society will have
access to these specialized genetic treatments,
let alone be able to afford them. As methods
for gene editing are further explored and
made accessible, the possibility of particular
portions of society carrying the greatest
amount of disease prevalence increases.
The monetary cost of healthy embryos is
already a barrier for Americans wanting to
use IVF, considering each attempt can cost
anywhere between $10,000 and $15,000
depending on parents’ insurance and servicing
clinic. About 1.7% of births in the United States
are a product of IVF, compared to 4% and 5.9%
in Belgium and Denmark, respectively, where
reproductive assistance is publicly funded.
Consequently, Americans without disposable
income may not be able to access this method.
Now consider the cost of personally
designing a baby. How much would it cost
to increase intelligence or decrease heart
disease? Many people will not be able to afford
these individualized services when taking into
account that IVF itself is currently a luxury.
Alongside cost, numerous racial and ethnic
groups hold a stigma against infertility and
genetic disorders which further decreases
discussion and awareness of possible options.
In addition to cost and social acceptance,
an equally important issue is where the
treatment clinics offering these services
are placed. Embryo-processing facilities
require expensive laboratories and a well-
trained staff, meaning they will not likely
be found in low-income areas or in most
developing countries. The repercussions will
cause the carriers of disease to be decided
based on location, cultural background and
socioeconomic status.
Almost 90 years ago, Huxley clearly
warned of the multiple dangers to society that
can come with sophisticated technologies like
those he described in “Brave New World.”
While we are still far from the bleak dystopian
life found in Huxley’s novel, we risk the same
class characterization by genetics if we do not
provide the proper universal regulations and
equitable access as designer babies become
more of a reality.
Opinion
Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 17
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
MEERA KUMAR | COLUMNIST
C
ontent
Warning:
Sexual
harassment and assault.
My hands start shaking
when I think of going back to campus.
Shaking out of fear and anger. I can’t
help but feel furious when I realize how
naive and underprepared we all are as
freshmen trying to grapple with the
so-called “college experience.”
It all started with the staring. I was
desperate to make new friends after a
conspicuous lack of Welcome Week, the
series of parties and formal incoming
student events scattered across campus
at the beginning of every school year,
due to COVID-19. When a student asked
to sit with me at dinner after I felt his
eyes boring into my midriff in the dining
hall line, I hesitantly said yes — I needed
to start meeting people and making
friends.
It’s no secret that sexual harassment
and assault are widespread on college
campuses. The documentary “The
Hunting Ground” explored two former
students’ experiences with sexual
assault and their university’s failure to
help them. Many reports are released
every year from the University of
Michigan that highlight disturbing
statistics about this issue — from July
of 2019 to June of 2020, there were
157 reports of sexual assault and 135
other acts of harassment, misconduct
or stalking. While these statistics are
illuminating, they are incomplete — only
20% of female student victims report
their experience to law enforcement.
Still, I always thought with certainty I’d
be able to tell if I was in an inappropriate
situation … right?
After
the
staring
came
the
inappropriate questions within only an
hour of knowing each other, seeming so
innocuous at the time. Wow, I thought,
I’m finally making grown-up college
friends! So I talked to him again.
You’re probably thinking, “Why
would you put yourself in that situation?”
I ask myself that question too. All I can
tell you is that I was isolated. I didn’t
have a roommate and, due to COVID-19
housing restrictions, the only souls I saw
were dining hall workers and the cluster
of silverfish that scuttled across the floor
of my room at 4 a.m.
Then, the more I hung out with him,
the more I noticed the jokes. I saw the
smirks he traded around the group of
our mutual friends after he asked me,
“Tampons or pads?” Everyone laughed.
The guy who I thought was my friend
started making remarks to my face
about my chest, and eventually, he
started forcing “hugs” on me, trying to
feel me up while I stood still with shock.
I finally realized what was happening.
Once or twice a week, I would have to
choose: Should I continue living in total
isolation or get harassed?
People act like harassment is
something you immediately notice.
That’s not always true. In your
desperation
to
understand
what
happened, you try — and sometimes
succeed — to convince yourself it wasn’t
that bad. Our parents’ generation went
through this stuff all the time, right?
Confused, I made myself speak about
the issue with mutual friends; they were
eager to excuse him, telling me that “the
guys just didn’t know how to act around
girls.” Whatever. Upset, I confided in
a close friend whom I believed would
support me. “Oh,” she responded.
“That’s not that bad. Like it’s kinda bad,
but not terrible.” I suppose what my
friend was trying to say was, “I’ve heard
worse,” or “You’ll get over it.” She wasn’t
shocked or concerned because she had
heard of so many similar experiences. I
shut up.
If nobody believed that what I
experienced was worth talking about,
what was the point in making a fuss? I
didn’t have the energy to make a fuss. I
receded further into myself, only leaving
my bed in the middle of the night to
use the bathroom. My ever-present
anxiety increased ten-fold every time
those people I thought were my friends
called me in the middle of the night or
knocked forcefully on my door. Classes
seemed distant; I couldn’t convince
myself to work in between my multiple
teary anxiety attacks every day. While
the silverfish swarmed on the floor, I
fell further and further down a spiral
that never seemed to end. Embarrassed
by my terrible grades and disillusioned
with my classes, I floundered.
I went home after the fall semester.
When I was younger, I didn’t get along
with my family — our opinions clash
on everything under the sun. I couldn’t
wait to go to college and leave the lonely
suburb where I lived. But for now, I’m
just grateful to be in my childhood
bedroom, living with people I feel safe
being around. Ultimately, what helped
me move on was the critically acclaimed
episode of the TV series “Sex Education”
where Aimee’s friends help her come to
terms with her assault. Her friends insist
on taking the incident seriously. When I
rewatched the episode, I started crying.
Our peers can break us, but I won’t ever
stop believing they can build us up, too.
Still, that doesn’t change what
happened this year. I’m sick of college.
I know it may sound ridiculous that the
freshman who hasn’t even been here
a year has complaints. But I’m sick of
trusting the University of Michigan and
believing things will be okay.
The fact that countless professors
and administrators at the University
have been accused of sexual misconduct
or the fact that the director of the Office
of Institutional Equity, which handles
sexual assault cases, is facing multiple
lawsuits for mishandling cases doesn’t
surprise me. Stories of assault among the
few people I’ve met at the University are
common. In the short online seminar
required of all freshmen, incoming
students are “warned” against the
dangers of drinking, burnout and toxic
relationships, but the topic of sexual
assault is barely featured.
When things fell apart for me, I had
no concept of where to begin — I wasn’t
sure if I wanted to report the incident,
and even if I did, I had no idea of where
to go. My head spun when I looked at
the endless forms on the University’s
website — I had no idea where to
start, or what each option entailed.
Overwhelmed, I stopped looking. There
must be a better system of outreach for
those affected by sexual assault, but
this would require the University to
accept the pervasive culture of sexual
misconduct throughout campus, which
seems unlikely.
With the University’s desperation to
preserve their reputation, they ignore
issues that plague their student body.
Before my residence hall experience,
I used to define myself as a risk-taker
— now, I don’t fully know who I am
anymore.
I just want to feel safe again. I want to
be able to get a breath of fresh air without
being approached with comments about
my body. I want to be able to fall asleep
without being worried if people who
touch me without my consent are going
to knock on my door. I want to feel
supported. I worry that I won’t find this
support at the University of Michigan.
Residents of Ann Arbor, I’m sorry
that I can’t love your beautiful city.
Because of the University’s harmful
decisions affecting the student body and
their allowance of a prevalent sexual
assault culture, quite frankly, it’s hard to
believe that I could ever feel safe in Ann
Arbor.
I’m scared of Ann Arbor
TREVOR MCCARTY | OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR
The University should
change the status quo in
our food system
I
n its final recommendations, the University of Michigan’s
President’s Commission on Carbon Neutrality heavily focuses,
as expected, on carbon offsets, university infrastructure
changes and sustainable housing. But it also addresses a crucial yet
often-ignored piece of the puzzle: food. Importantly, our community
is increasingly recognizing animal agriculture as a significant
contributor to greenhouse gas emissions, global pandemics and
environmental injustice. To address food’s impact on our carbon
footprint, the PCCN’s recommendations include encouraging more
plant-based options and changes in choice architecture at dining
facilities.
Students, faculty and administrators should support these
changes because they are a key first step in challenging the
unsustainable status quo in America: cheap meat from factory
farms. The vast majority of the meat that any person (or institution)
purchases comes from industrial animal agriculture, rather than
a local or regenerative farm, which exacts an enormous toll on our
environment.
According to Science, around 57% of food’s greenhouse gas
emissions are attributable to this industry, yet animal products only
provide 18% of our calories. And if cows were a country, they’d be the
third-largest global greenhouse gas emitter. But the University has the
opportunity to kickstart a sustainable new default.
The subtle shifts in dining hall structures, menu options and food
defaults recommended in the PCCN can nudge students to eat more
sustainably while still preserving their ability to choose the food they
want. According to case studies, simply setting plant-based foods as the
default (while giving students the choice to opt in to animal products)
can lead to an over 80% increase in diners eating these options. This
strategy — which subverts our current destructive food norms —
aligns with a new, dynamic food initiative known as DefaultVeg. If the
University adopts these food policies, it would significantly reduce our
carbon footprint — the primary goal of the PCCN.
The University’s current dining policy, Sustainable Mondays, has
already shown itself to be an effective tool at curbing food-related
emissions. The PCCN provides an opportunity to amplify the impact
of these strategies with an ambitious yet simple, scientifically verified
approach that is compatible with different dietary preferences and
is more inclusive in general. An added benefit of defaults and choice
architecture is preserving food choice for students every day of the
week.
Food has long been left out of the climate conversation, including
in many climate neutrality plans. However, food is rightly gaining
momentum as one of the most pressing social challenges of our
time, including issues of food justice and access to more sustainable
procurement policies and the rise of plant-based products.
Locally, consider how the City of Ann Arbor’s carbon neutrality
plan, A2Zero, contains a call for more plant-forward food policies.
Institutions like the City and the University are now in a unique
position to spearhead crucial transformations in food policy.
This straightforward idea — making plant-based foods the
default to encourage more sustainable choices — is about more than
reducing carbon emissions. It’s also about reframing what we think
of as “normal food” and embracing an array of healthful, resilient and
versatile plant-based foods at the center of our plates.
As students of one of the country’s most prominent research
universities, we should encourage U-M to be a trailblazer in food
policy. If our leadership wants to seriously address the deep, systemic
flaws in our food system, they will begin by changing the status quo
and move toward a more just and sustainable approach.
KATHERINE KIESSLING | COLUMNIST
Designer babies may lead to further class division
Katherine Kiessling is an Opinion Columnist and
can be reached at katkiess@umich.edu.
Meera Kumar is an Opinion Columnist and
can be reached at kmeera@umich.edu.
Trevor McCarty is pursuing an MS in Environment and Sustainability at U-M
and is the Program Associate at the Better Food Foundation. He can be reached at
tmccarty@umich.edu.
SHUBHUM GIROTI | COLUMNIST
L
ast week’s shooting near
Indianapolis marked the sixth
straight week containing a
mass shooting. We see the same cycle
after every one. Thoughts and prayers
are followed by Democrats generally
calling for reform and Republicans
generally accusing the former of
politicizing personal injury. Then a few
weeks later, we all stop talking about it
and move on to something else we try
and care about for a bit.
It seems as though everyone you
talk to these days has their story of a
shooting scare, or someone they know
has such a story, ranging from the scare
on campus a few years back to any
number of mass shootings that have
occurred — totaling 417 just in the year
of 2019. What is even more disturbing
is the racial breakdown of shooting
victims, which is all too often left out of
the discourse on mass shootings.
We have said it for years, but I will
say it again: Enough is enough. With
talk of removing the filibuster still
kicking around, Democrats must force
Republicans to vote against common-
sense gun reform, which around 80%
of Americans support in one form or
another.
Following
the
Parkland,
Fla.,
shooting, I saw this cycle take place
in my own backyard. Politicians from
both sides swore such a shooting would
never happen again, but as we all
know, that was not the case. President
Joe Biden has fought for years to
implement gun control measures, but
one of the only substantive things he
has done was include $5 billion in his
infrastructure plan for community
violence prevention programs. It is a
start, but it is in no way enough.
What we need is a comprehensive
— and popular — gun control bill
that would leave the more ardent
Republicans with no choice but to cast a
nay vote and face their constituents who
would be in favor of implementing such
legislation. Moreover, if Democrats
remove the filibuster, they would be
less able to use gun control just as a
voting issue and doing next to nothing
once they are in power.
H.R. 1446 is on the docket for
the Senate, but it is expected to be
filibustered by Republicans. This bill
focuses on background checks for
gun purchases, which is a step in the
right direction, but it is missing more
aggressive forms of gun control. I
propose a complete assault weapons
ban and regulations on ghost guns.
The Assault Weapons Ban, which
lasted from 1994 to 2004, was found
to have decreased incidents of mass
shootings by 25% and fatalities by 40%.
This was a great piece of legislation
while it lasted because it prevented
people from purchasing military style
assault rifles, which are the commonly
used weapon for mass shootings in this
country. Incidents including, but not
limited to, the Pulse nightclub shooting
in Orlando, Fla., the Las Vegas concert
shooting and the Marjory Stoneman
Douglas High School shooting involved
assault weapons. These weapons must
be banned for the sake of saving lives,
and almost 70% of Americans agree
with this sentiment.
A new and huge loophole to
circumvent a lot of these regulations is
ghost guns. Ghost guns are weapons
that are assembled personally through
kits, meaning not by a corporate gun
manufacturer. This process has always
been legal; law enforcement never
deemed them to be too dangerous, since
they thought individuals usually lacked
the expertise to assemble such a device.
However, the actual ease and efficacy of
these ghost guns have troubled many.
Critically, these guns lack serial
numbers
or
any
other
tracking
mechanisms that law enforcement
could use to regulate them. The solution
to this problem is not an easy one,
but we can begin by placing the same
restrictions on buying ghost guns as are
placed on regular guns. California did
this and has had success in mandating
serial numbers and background checks
when applicable. New Jersey also
criminalized the 3D printing of guns,
another form of ghost guns. These
regulations are incredibly important
for preserving safety and reducing
the amount of unregulated guns and
subsequent violence in the United States.
These two states’ measures will not
end the gun crisis in the U.S., but they
will certainly save lives. The cycle of
American gun violence always spikes
right after a shooting and quickly
subsides, but the problems do not go
away for the communities affected.
Mass shootings and gun violence
have long wakes, filled with withspread
harm and fear. Democrats should take
initiative and finally accomplish a goal
they continuously run on.
Gun violence: Let’s actually do something about it
Shubhum Giroti is an Opinion Columnist
and can be reached at sgiroti@umich.edu.
AMBIKA TRIPATHI | CARTOONIST CAN BE REACHED AT AMBIKAT@UMICH.EDU
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