Why the Pope Should Officially Embrace Biotechnology
[Editor's Note: This essay is in response to our current Big Question series: "How can the religious and scientific communities work together to foster a culture that is equipped to face humanity's biggest challenges?"]
In May 2015, Pope Francis issued an encyclical with the subtitle "On Care for Our Common Home." The letter addressed various environmental issues, such as pollution and climate change, and it reminded all of us that we are to steward the Earth, not plunder it.
Without question, biotechnology has saved the lives of millions – perhaps billions – of people.
The Pope's missive demonstrates that he is both theologically sound and scientifically literate, a very rare combination. That is why he should now author an encyclical urging the world to embrace the life-giving promise of biotechnology.
Without question, biotechnology has saved the lives of millions – perhaps billions – of people. Arguably, vaccines were the most important invention in the history of mankind. It is thought that, in the 20th century alone, at least 300 million people were killed by smallpox. Today, the number is zero, thanks to vaccination. Other killers, such as measles, diphtheria, meningitis, and diarrhea, are kept at bay because of vaccines.
Biotechnology has also saved the lives of diabetics. At one time, insulin was extracted from pig pancreases, and there were fears that we would run out of it. Then, in the 1970s, crucial advances in biotechnology allowed for the gene that encodes human insulin to be expressed in bacteria. Today, diabetics can get extremely pure insulin thanks to this feat of genetic modification.
Likewise, genetic modification has improved the environment and the lives of farmers all over the world, none more so than those living in developing countries. According to a meta-analysis published in PLoS ONE, GMOs have "reduced chemical pesticide use by 37%, increased crop yields by 22%, and increased farmer profits by 68%."
Even better, GMOs also could help improve the lives of non-farmers. In poor parts of the world, malnutrition is still extremely common. People whose diets consist mostly of rice, for example, often suffer from vitamin A deficiency, which can lead to blindness. Golden Rice, which was genetically modified to contain a vitamin A precursor, was created and given away for free in an act of humanitarianism. Other researchers have created a genetically modified cassava to help combat iron and zinc deficiencies among children in Africa.
Despite these groundbreaking advances, the public is turning against biotechnology.
Biotechnology has also helped women with mitochondrial disease bear healthy children. Children inherit their mitochondria, the powerhouses of our cells, solely from their mothers. Mitochondrial defects can have devastating health consequences. Using what is colloquially called the "three-parent embryo technique," a healthy woman donates an egg. The nucleus of that egg is removed, and that of the mother-to-be is put in its place. Then, the egg is fertilized using conventional in vitro fertilization. In April 2016, the world's first baby was born using this technique.
Yet, despite these groundbreaking advances, the public is turning against biotechnology. Across America and Europe, anti-vaccine activists have helped usher in a resurgence of entirely preventable diseases, such as measles. Anti-GMO activists have blocked the implementation of Golden Rice. And other activists decry reproductive technology as "playing God."
Nonsense. These technologies improve overall welfare and save lives. Those laudable goals are shared by all the world's major religions as part of their efforts to improve the human condition. That is why it is vitally important, if science is to succeed in eradicating illness, that it gets a full-throated endorsement from powerful religious leaders.
In his 2015 encyclical, Pope Francis wrote:
Any technical solution which science claims to offer will be powerless to solve the serious problems of our world if humanity loses its compass, if we lose sight of the great motivations which make it possible for us to live in harmony, to make sacrifices and to treat others well.
He is correct. Indeed, when people are protesting life-saving vaccines, we have lost not only our moral compass but our intellect, too.
Imagine the impact he could have if Pope Francis issued an encyclical titled "On Protecting Our Most Vulnerable." He could explain that some children, stricken with cancer or suffering from an immunological disease, are unable to receive vaccines. Therefore, we all have a moral duty to be vaccinated in order to protect them through herd immunity.
Or imagine the potential impact of an encyclical titled "On Feeding the World," in which the Pope explained that rich countries have an obligation to poorer ones to feed them by all means necessary, including the use of biotechnology. If Muslim, Buddhist, and Hindu scholars throughout Asia and Africa also embraced the message, its impact could be multiplied.
In order to be successful, science needs religion; in order to be practical, religion needs science.
In order to be successful, science needs religion; in order to be practical, religion needs science.
Unfortunately, in discussions of the relationship between science and religion, we too often focus on the few areas in which they conflict. But this misses a great opportunity. By combining technological advances with moral authority, science and religion can work together to save the world.
[Ed. Note: Don't miss the other perspectives in this Big Question series, from a Rabbi/M.D. and a Reverend/molecular geneticist.]
Viv spent nearly an hour choosing her body.
She considered going as her eight year-old self. She would stand eye-to-eye with her father in his hospital bed, shedding tears and crying: please don't go, daddy. But that was too obvious. It would offend him.
He became data coursing through a network, able to embody any form, to outlive physical decay.
She considered her eighteen year-old self. She would lean over him, scrawny and tall, her lips trembling with anger: you're being selfish, dad. But that would lead to shouting.
She considered every form, even reviving people from the past: her mother, her grandfather, her little sister Mary. How would her father react to Mary walking in? He would think himself dead. She could whisper a message to him: Stay alive, dad. God commands it.
In the end, Viv chose the look of her last days as a biological person. Thirty-one years old, her auburn hair cut short, her black eyes full of longing. She watched the body print in silicon over robotic armature.
When it blinked to life, Viv stood in front of a mirror. Her face was appropriately somber, her mind in sync with her new muscles. Without thinking, she stretched her arms, arched her body, twirled on her tiptoes. She had forgotten the pleasure of sensation.
"I should do this…" The voice resonated through her. She could not help but smile. "I should do this more often… often… often." Every repetition thrilled her with sound. She began to sing an old favorite: "Times have changed… and we've often…"
But she stopped herself. This was not a day for singing.
Viv clothed her body in a blue dress, packed her tablet in a briefcase, stood in front of the mirror one last time. "I'll be there in five," she said aloud, though she did not need to.
A man's voice answered in her mind: I'm not coming.
"Gabe…"
There's no point, said the voice. We know what he'll say.
"We have to try."
I won't see him dying, Viv.
The clenching of her jaw felt like the old days. Her brother made a habit of last-minute decisions, without concern for how they affected other people, most often her.
She remembered the day he became an everperson. It was soon after their mother's death. They were supposed to visit their father in mourning, but Gabe disappeared without explanation. Viv took the full burden of solace on herself. She sat with her father in a small room, with an old Persian rug and stale furniture. His mustache was beginning to gray, his eyes beginning to wrinkle. "She's with your sister now," he said. "Your mom and Mary, I can…" He leaned in to whisper, "I can almost hear them, at night, laughing on the other side. They tell me to wait… they tell me to wait." Viv nodded for him, pretending to believe, wishing she could.
Gabe did not return her calls that evening. The next day, she began to worry. The day after, she began to look. He made no effort to hide, he simply neglected to tell her the new plan.
Gabe had taken the money from his inheritance, and booked himself an everence. It was something new back then. Viv did not understand the science, but she knew it was a destructive process. His physical brain was destroyed by lasers that scanned it neuron by neuron, creating a digital replica. He became data coursing through a network, able to embody any form, to outlive physical decay. He became an everperson.
It took three days to complete. Viv went to the facility, a converted warehouse by the Bay Bridge. She watched the new Gabe being printed over robotic armature, taking the form of his last biological self, to help with the transition. When he blinked to life, she did not know if he would be the same person, or an imperfect copy of an imperfect copy. But Gabe was totally oblivious to the pain he caused her by disappearing in that way. No robot, she thought, could be so callous.
When Viv made her own decision to everize, she deliberated for weeks, thinking through the consequences and conversations to come. Afterwards, she sat with her father in that same small room, with the Persian rug older, the furniture staler, a new cat purring at his feet.
"But it's suicide," he said.
"It's the opposite, dad. It's eternal life."
"You'd be a robot. You wouldn't be you."
"Gabe's the same as he ever was," she noted the resentment in her voice. "He's just not… physical, until he wants to be."
Her father exhaled an Arabic phrase he was using more often in his old age. La hawla wa la quwata illa billah. She had never learned his native tongue, but she looked up the phrase to understand him better. It meant something like: there is no power except in God. It was a sigh of resignation.
"Vivian," he said eventually, "Your soul is not your brain. Your soul lives on. If you kill yourself, you... it's unforgivable. Don't you want to see mom in heaven? Mary? Me?"
She wanted to believe. She wanted painfully. But when she spoke, it was barely a whisper. "I don't think that will happen, dad."
Fewer biological people meant little need for hospitals, or doctors. It would close soon.
It was the first she had ever confessed to him about God or Heaven. In as steady a voice as he could manage, her father said: "You're an adult, Viv. You do what you think is best."
She came to visit sometimes, as an everperson. He could not tell at first. But as the years went by, as his eyes wrinkled, and his hair grayed, he noticed that Viv never aged. One day he stopped talking to her. Another she stopped coming.
Now he was waiting out the last days of his life alone in a hospital bed. Viv did not want to say goodbye. It seemed such a waste.
You don't have to, Gabe spoke into her mind. Get him to sign, say anything, say it's for selling the house. Once we have full power of attorney, we can decide for him.
"It's not right." She noticed herself speaking aloud on the hoverbus. Nine nervous faces turned to her.
It's not right, she continued in her mind. Dad never forced us to pray, never forced us to —
That was mom.
But he loved her. He never changed her mind, he raised us to question, and he quietly believed. He has every right to live his way, just like we did.
To live. Not to die... When he's an everperson, he'll thank us.
That gave her pause. It might be true. She remembered her first moments as an everperson, suddenly linked to countless other minds, waking to the full expanse of human knowledge like sunlight through an open window, breathless and unexpected.
Still, she said, it's not right.
So you want him to die?
I want to convince him.
And what if you don't? There was panic in his voice. Gabe steadied himself. You brought your tablet, Viv. You know what it's for. Get him to sign.
And what if I don't?
I'll figure something out, with or without you. I won't let him die, Viv. Not this day and age.
Viv kept quiet the rest of her way there. She played memories in her mind, of every conversation she ever had with her father, every time he read her a verse or taught her a parable. She looked for a way to convince him, some doubt, some chink in his armor of belief. But she got distracted by the world outside.
It was strange to pass for a time through physical space. It took longer than she expected. Now watching the sunlight refract through the hoverbus window, she was mesmerized. Every sensation felt more real, more vivid than her memory. "I should do this more often," she said aloud.
The hospital smelled like death. It had fallen into disrepair since her mother's illness. Fewer biological people meant little need for hospitals, or doctors. It would close soon, she thought. Her footsteps echoed through the halls, along with the sounds of old televisions playing old films to keep the patients company.
The room she entered had no sound, except the whirring machines. No light, except an eerie glow filtering through the curtains. The figure on the bed was her father, his breathing strained, his skin cracked like the desert. She closed the door behind her.
When her father turned, she saw a flicker of joy in his eyes. It disappeared.
"La hawla wa la… I thought it was her."
"I am her."
He winced. "She died some twenty years ago."
Viv sat next to him. The machines whirred around them, keeping his body alive another day, or hour, or minute. "It doesn't look good, dad."
"I know."
"You broke a promise."
He held her gaze. "I did?"
"You said we'd see the bats in Australia."
"You were scared of bats."
"And you said they were cute in Oz, the giant bats, like upside down puppies chewing bananas."
He smiled, but that was a long time ago. "Your mom was alive then… Gabe… You were alive…"
"I'm alive now, dad. Look at me. I'm Viv. Vivian Fatema. Your daughter. Half mom, half you. I'm the same person I was."
His eyes shifted. She sensed he wanted to believe. She held his hand and squeezed it. She felt him squeezing back. "I want you to stay, dad."
"There's nothing for me here."
"I'm here."
"You don't love me, Viv. You're a robot."
His hand let go. "You're there… I don't know where. I have a lot to answer for, Viv. I pray. I pray every day, five times a day, sometimes more. I pray that God forgive you for what you did, forgive me for my part, forgive Gabriel... I wish I could stay, love, but… Everyone I love is on the other side."
It hurt her to say the next words: "It's not real, dad."
"Of course you'd say that." He turned his body away from her.
"Please, dad."
She listened to his breathing.
"I love you," she said.
"You don't love me, Viv. You're a robot."
She lowered her head against the bed. She kneeled for countless breaths. It took all her strength to stand up again.
Viv took her briefcase, pulled out her tablet. She stood tapping at the screen for some time. The clenching of her jaw felt like the old days.
"Before I go, I need you to sign something. It's a power of attorney for the house. We can't sell it without you."
"You're selling the house?"
She shrugged. "It's no use to a robot."
His bony finger signed the screen without reading it. She kissed his forehead goodbye.
"Viv?" She stopped. "Before you go, could you open the curtains?"
She did. Her last image of him was a frail old body gazing at the moving clouds.
On the hoverbus home, Viv turned against the window outside. She pressed the briefcase to her like a hug, her mechanical heart thumping against it. Every heartbeat brought a memory back of her biological life. "I should do this more…" She whispered to herself, not caring who might hear. The sunset turned violet.
You made him sign. Gabe sounded like triumph.
"I did."
You did the right thing.
"I know."
Let me see.
She pulled out her tablet and, with a touch, uploaded the file.
Where's my name? Gabe asked. I only see your name.
"I changed it."
What do you mean you "changed it"?
"I changed my mind last minute, Gabe. I didn't think to tell you."
That's funny, sis. Very funny.
"It's not funny at all, Gabe. It's dead serious. I have power of attorney. I'm going to bury him next to mom and Mary."
No… There's no way.
"It's my choice now."
I can't watch him go, Viv. I can't. Don't be selfish.
"I'll miss him." She felt a pain in her chest. "I'll miss him too." Her voice was different now. "But it's what he wanted."
Gabe left her. She heard nothing but her thoughts. Unbearable thoughts.
Viv turned to the darkening world outside. She found her reflection instead, her reflection in tears. She saw her father's eyes.
The rise of remote work is a win-win for people with disabilities and employers
Disability advocates see remote work as a silver lining of the pandemic, a win-win for adults with disabilities and the business world alike.
Any corporate leader would jump at the opportunity to increase their talent pool of potential employees by 15 percent, with all these new hires belonging to an underrepresented minority. That’s especially true given tight labor markets and CEO desires to increase headcount. Yet, too few leaders realize that people with disabilities are the largest minority group in this country, numbering 50 million.
Some executives may dread the extra investments in accommodating people’s disabilities. Yet, providing full-time remote work could suffice, according to a new study by the Economic Innovation Group think tank. The authors found that the employment rate for people with disabilities did not simply reach the pre-pandemic level by mid-2022, but far surpassed it, to the highest rate in over a decade. “Remote work and a strong labor market are helping [individuals with disabilities] find work,” said Adam Ozimek, who led the research and is chief economist at the Economic Innovation Group.
Disability advocates see this development as a silver lining of the pandemic, a win-win for adults with disabilities and the business world alike. For decades before the pandemic, employers had refused requests from workers with disabilities to work remotely, according to Thomas Foley, executive director of the National Disability Institute. During the pandemic, "we all realized that...many of us could work remotely,” Foley says. “[T]hat was disproportionately positive for people with disabilities."
Charles-Edouard Catherine, director of corporate and government relations for the National Organization on Disability, said that remote-work options had been advocated for many years to accommodate disabilities. “It’s a little frustrating that for decades corporate America was saying it’s too complicated, we’ll lose productivity, and now suddenly it’s like, sure, let’s do it.”
The pandemic opened doors for people with disabilities
Early in the pandemic, employment rates dropped for everyone, including people with disabilities, according to Ozimek’s research. However, these rates recovered quickly. In the second quarter of 2022, people with disabilities aged 25 to 54, the prime working age, are 3.5 percent more likely to be employed, compared to before the pandemic.
What about people without disabilites? They are still 1.1 percent less likely to be employed.
These numbers suggest that remote work has enabled a substantial number of people with disabilities to find and retain employment.
“We have a last-in, first-out labor market, and [people with disabilities] are often among the last in and the first out,” Ozimek says. However, this dynamic has changed, with adults with disabilities seeing employment rates recover much faster. Now, the question is whether the new trend will endure, Ozimek adds. “And my conclusion is that not only is it a permanent thing, but it’s going to improve.”
Gene Boes, president and chief executive of the Northwest Center, a Seattle organization that helps people with disabilities become more independent, confirms this finding. “The new world we live in has opened the door a little bit more…because there’s just more demand for labor.”
Long COVID disabilities put a premium on remote work
Remote work can help mitigate the impact of long COVID. The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reports that about 19 percent of those who had COVID developed long COVID. Recent Census Bureau data indicates that 16 million working age Americans suffer from it, with economic costs estimated at $3.7 trillion.
Certainly, many of these so-called long-haulers experience relatively mild symptoms - such as loss of smell - which, while troublesome, are not disabling. But other symptoms are serious enough to be disabilities.
According to a recent study from the Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis, about a quarter of those with long COVID changed their employment status or working hours. That means long COVID was serious enough to interfere with work for 4 million people. For many, the issue was serious enough to qualify them as disabled.
Indeed, the Federal Reserve Bank of New York found in a just-released study that the number of individuals with disabilities in the U.S. grew by 1.7 million. That growth stemmed mainly from long COVID conditions such as fatigue and brain fog, meaning difficulties with concentration or memory, with 1.3 million people reporting an increase in brain fog since mid-2020.
Many had to drop out of the labor force due to long COVID. Yet, about 900,000 people who are newly disabled have managed to continue working. Without remote work, they might have lost these jobs.
For example, a software engineer at one of my client companies has struggled with brain fog related to long COVID. With remote work, this employee can work during the hours when she feels most mentally alert and focused, even if that means short bursts of productivity throughout the day. With flexible scheduling, she can take rests, meditate, or engage in activities that help her regain focus and energy. Without the need to commute to the office, she can save energy and time and reduce stress, which is crucial when dealing with brain fog.
In fact, the author of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York study notes that long COVID can be considered a disability under the Americans with Disability Act, depending on the specifics of the condition. That means the law can require private employers with fifteen or more staff, as well as government agencies, to make reasonable accommodations for those with long COVID. Richard Deitz, the author of this study, writes in the paper that “telework and flexible scheduling are two accommodations that can be particularly beneficial for workers dealing with fatigue and brain fog.”
The current drive to return to the office, led by many C-suite executives, may need to be reconsidered in light of legal and HR considerations. Arlene S. Kanter, director of the disability law and policy program at the Syracuse University College of Law, said that the question should depend on whether people with disabilities can perform their work well at home, as they did during Covid outbreaks. “[T]hen people with disabilities, as a matter of accommodation, shouldn’t be denied that right,” Kanter said.
Diversity benefits
But companies shouldn’t need to worry about legal regulations. It simply makes dollars and sense to expand their talent pool by 15% of an underrepresented minority. After all, extensive research shows that improving diversity boosts both decision-making and financial performance.
Companies that are offering more flexible work options have already gained significant benefits in terms of diverse hires. In its efforts to adapt to the post-pandemic environment, Meta, the owner of Facebook and Instagram, decided to offer permanent fully remote work options to its entire workforce. And according to Meta chief diversity officer Maxine Williams, the candidates who accepted job offers for remote positions were “substantially more likely” to come from diverse communities: people with disabilities, Black, Hispanic, Alaskan Native, Native American, veterans, and women. The numbers bear out these claims: people with disabilities increased from 4.7 to 6.2 percent of Meta’s employees.
Having consulted for 21 companies to help them transition to hybrid work arrangements, I can confirm that Meta’s numbers aren’t a fluke. The more my clients proved willing to offer remote work, the more staff with disabilities they recruited - and retained. That includes employees with mobility challenges. But it also includes employees with less visible disabilities, such as people with long COVID and immunocompromised people who feel reluctant to put themselves at risk of getting COVID by coming into the office.
Unfortunately, many leaders fail to see the benefits of remote work for underrepresented groups, such as those with disabilities. Some even say the opposite is true, with JP Morgan CEO Jamie Dimon claiming that returning to the office will aid diversity.
What explains this poor executive decision making? Part of the answer comes from a mental blindspot called the in-group bias. Our minds tend to favor and pay attention to the concerns of those in the group of people who seem to look and think like us. Dimon and other executives without disabilities don’t perceive people with disabilities to be part of their in-group. They thus are blind to the concerns of those with disabilities, which leads to misperceptions such as Dimon’s that returning to the office will aid diversity.
In-group bias is one of many dangerous judgment errors known as cognitive biases. They impact decision making in all life areas, ranging from the future of work to relationships.
Another relevant cognitive bias is the empathy gap. This term refers to our difficulty empathizing with those outside of our in-group. The lack of empathy combines with the blindness from the in-group bias, causing executives to ignore the feelings of employees with disabilities and prospective hires.
Omission bias also plays a role. This dangerous judgment error causes us to perceive failure to act as less problematic than acting. Consequently, executives perceive a failure to support the needs of those with disabilities as a minor matter.
Conclusion
The failure to empower people with disabilities through remote work options will prove costly to the bottom lines of companies. Not only are limiting their talent pool by 15 percent, they’re harming their ability to recruit and retain diverse candidates. And as their lawyers and HR departments will tell them, by violating the ADA, they are putting themselves in legal jeopardy.
By contrast, companies like Meta - and my clients - that offer remote work opportunities are seizing a competitive advantage by recruiting these underrepresented candidates. They’re lowering costs of labor while increasing diversity. The future belongs to the savvy companies that offer the flexibility that people with disabilities need.