by John M. Curtis
(310) 204-8700

Copyright January 1, 2003
All Rights Reserved.

urning science fiction into reality, Clonaid, the reproductive wing of the way-out Raelian cult, claims to have cloned the first human—a 7-pound bouncing baby girl nicknamed "Eve," born to a 31-year-old mother in an unspecified country. "The baby is very healthy," said Clonaid spokeswoman and Raelian priestess Brigette Boisselier, telling a press conference at a beachfront hotel in Hollywood, Florida that her company made medical history at 11:55 am on Dec. 27. Skeptics had difficulty accepting Boisselier's claims, acknowledging that animal cloning was replete with failed experiments and birth defects. President Bush "believes, like most Americans, human cloning is deeply troubling," said deputy White House press secretary Scott McClellan, urging strong support for legislation banning all human cloning. Boisselier's unexpected announcement raised new concerns and reopened the national debate on human cloning.

      Boisselier offered neither proof nor released the identity of the first woman to give birth to a human clone, though she promised DNA evidence within 9 days. "You can still go back to your office and treat me as a fraud," Boisselier told skeptical journalists. "You have one week to do that." Boisselier jolted the scientific community, who, despite their public revulsion to human cloning, have feverishly pursued human cloning for some time. Like J. Craig Venter's historic race to map the human genome, reproductive scientists have been busy working on cloning the first human. Once Dolly-the-sheep was cloned in 1997 by Ian Wilmut at Roslin Institute in Edinburgh Scotland, the race to clone a human began. Anyone who believes otherwise doesn't understand science's obsession with breakthroughs. When former President Clinton banned federal funds for human cloning in 1997, scientists were even more galvanized to break new ground.

      Boisselier's announcement prompted swift reactions in the scientific community, proving, if nothing else, that double-standards—and possibly envy—exist in the biotech business. "What a sad day for science," said Dr. Robert Lanza, vice president Advanced Cell Technology, a Worchester, Mass. firm specializing in animal cloning and embryonic stem cell research, fearing a backlash would hurt his business. Scientists, in the forefront of cloning research—including Lanza—have been sharply criticized by social conservatives and the religious community. Lanza led scientists in criticizing Bush's decision to limit government funding to existing stem cell lines in 2001. Right wing critics view cloning as "tampering with God's laws," unleashing the dark side of science expressed in fiction like Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. "The backlash could cripple an area of medical research that could serve millions of people," said Lanza.

      Lanza and other scientists involved in embryonic stem cell research fear an outright ban would destroy their therapeutic cloning business. Like the abortion quagmire, some conservatives make exceptions for rape and incest. In the cloning biz, they make artificial distinctions between therapeutic and reproductive cloning. In reality, all cloning involves reproduction. You can't grow embryonic tissue without reproductive cloning. Scientists like Lanza see themselves as the "good guys" because they claim they're only interested in cloning to treat dreaded diseases like diabetes, Alzheimers and Parkinsons. Whether for reproduction or therapy, all scientists are genuinely interested in the prospect of cloning human beings. What irks Lanza and other scientists is the fact that a kooky religious cult stole all the headlines. Clonaid claims to be the "world's first cloning company," specifically addressing human infertility.

      Clonaid was founded by former French journalist Claude Vorlhon, who claims he was enlightened in central France by aliens in a UFO back in the '70s. Whether Vorlhon was using hallucinogens at the time is anyone's guess. Vorlhon now calls himself Rael, the leader the Raelians, a religious cult that believes extraterrestrials cloned human life 25,000 years ago. Sounds a bit like a mucked up version of Arthur C. Clarke's 2001: A Space Odyssey. In any case, Italian fertility doctor and reproductive cloning expert Severino Antinori said Clonaid's claim "makes me laugh," dismissing Boisselier's announcement as a twisted publicity stunt. Refusing to be outdone, Antinori claims his patient will give birth to the first human clone in the very near future. Boisselier, who says she holds a Ph.D. in chemistry, claims Clonaid has four more clones are on the way. Yet, the scientific community remains skeptical without proof.

      No government ban or prohibition can stop determined scientists from pushing the envelope. Artificial distinctions between reproductive and therapeutic cloning also won't stop researchers from passing the torch beyond Dolly-the-sheep. Without independent verification, Clonaid's claims won't be taken seriously. But one thing's for sure: Scientists won't be stopped by religious condemnations or government bans. "The very attempt to clone a human being is evil," said Stanley M. Haueverwas, professor of theological ethics at Duke University, mirroring the kind of backward thinking responsible for incarcerating Gallileo for believing that the world revolved about the sun. Whether it's for therapy or reproduction, human cloning holds the possibility of curing dreaded diseases and conquering insoluble infertility. It's one thing to be concerned about safety, but still another to call it evil.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He's a consultant and expert in strategic communication. He's the author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

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