Sustainable Urban Farming Has a Rising Hot Star: Bugs
In Sydney, Australia, in the basement of an inner-city high-rise, lives a mass of unexpected inhabitants: millions of maggots. The insects are far from unwelcome. They are there to feast on the food waste generated by the building's human residents.
Goterra, the start-up that installed the maggots in the building in December, belongs to the rapidly expanding insect agriculture industry, which is experiencing a surge of investment worldwide.
The maggots – the larvae of the black soldier fly – are voracious, unfussy eaters. As adult flies, they don't eat, so the young fatten up swiftly on whatever they can get. Goterra's basement colony can munch through 5 metric tons of waste in a day.
"Maggots are nature's cleaners," says Bob Gordon, Head of Growth at Goterra. "They're a great tool to manage waste streams."
Their capacity to consume presents a neat response to the problem of food waste, which contributes up to 8% of global greenhouse gas emissions each year as it rots in landfill.
"The maggots eat the food fairly fresh," Gordon says. "So, there's minimal degradation and you don't get those methane emissions."
Alongside their ability to devour waste, the soldier fly larvae hold further agricultural promise: they yield an incredibly efficient protein. After the maggots have binged for about 12 days, Goterra harvests and processes them into a protein-rich livestock feed. Their excrement, known as frass, is also collected and turned into soil conditioner.
"We are producing protein in a basement," says Gordon. "It's urban farming – really sustainable, urban farming."
Goterra's module in the basement at Barangaroo, Sydney.
Supplied by Goterra
Goterra's founder Olympia Yarger started producing the insects in "buckets in her backyard" in 2016. Today, Goterra has a large-scale processing plant and has developed proprietary modules – in shipping containers – that use robotics to manage the larvae.
The modules have been installed on site at municipal buildings, hospitals, supermarkets, several McDonald's restaurants, and a range of smaller enterprises in Australia. Users pay a subscription fee and simply pour in the waste; Goterra visits once a fortnight to harvest the bugs.
Insect agriculture is well established outside of the West, and the practice is gaining traction around the world. China has mega-facilities that can process hundreds of tons of waste in a day. In Kenya, a program recently trained 2000 farmers in soldier fly farming to boost their economic security. French biotech company InnovaFeed, in partnership with US agricultural heavyweight ADM, plans to build "the world's largest insect protein facility" in Illinois this year.
"The [maggots] are science fiction on earth. Watching them work is awe-inspiring."
But the concept is still not to everyone's taste.
"This is still a topic that I say is a bit like black liquorice – people tend to either really like it or really don't," says Wendy Lu McGill, Communications Director at the North American Coalition of Insect Agriculture (NACIA).
Formed in 2016, NACIA now has over 100 members – including researchers and commercial producers of black soldier flies, meal worms and crickets.
McGill says there have been a few iterations of insect agriculture in the US – beginning with worms produced for bait after World War II then shifting to food for exotic pets. The current focus – "insects as food and feed" – took root about a decade ago, with the establishment of the first commercial farms for this purpose.
"We're starting to see more expansion in the U.S. and a lot of the larger investments have been for black soldier fly producers," McGill says. "They tend to have larger facilities and the animal feed market they're looking at is potentially quite large."
InnovaFeed's Illinois facility is set to produce 60,000 metric tons of animal feed protein per year.
"They'll be trying to employ many different circular principles," McGill says of the project. "For example, the heat from the feed factory – the excess heat that would normally just be vented – will be used to heat the other side that's raising the black soldier fly."
Although commercial applications have started to flourish recently, scientific knowledge of the black soldier fly's potential has existed for decades.
Dr. Jeffery Tomberlin, an entomologist at Texas A&M University, has been studying the insect for over 20 years, contributing to key technologies used in the industry. He also founded Evo, a black soldier fly company in Texas, which feeds its larvae the waste from a local bakery and distillery.
"They are science fiction on earth," he says of the maggots. "Watching them work is awe-inspiring."
Tomberlin says fly farms can work effectively at different scales, and present possibilities for non-Western countries to shift towards "commodity independence."
"You don't have to have millions of dollars invested to be successful in producing this insect," he says. "[A farm] can be as simple as an open barn along the equator to a 30,000 square-foot indoor facility in the Netherlands."
As the world's population balloons, food insecurity is an increasing concern. By 2050, the UN predicts that to feed our projected population we will need to ramp up food production by at least 60%. Insect agriculture, which uses very little land and water compared to traditional livestock farming, could play a key role.
Insects may become more common human food, but the current commercial focus is animal feed. Aquaculture is a key market, with insects presenting an alternative to fish meal derived from over-exploited stocks. Insect meal is also increasingly popular in pet food, particularly in Europe.
While recent investment has been strong – NACIA says 2020 was the best year yet – reaching a scale that can match existing agricultural industries and providing a competitive price point are still hurdles for insect agriculture.
But COVID-19 has strengthened the argument for new agricultural approaches, such as the decentralized, indoor systems and circular principles employed by insect farms.
"This has given the world a preview – which no one wanted – of [future] supply chain disruptions," says McGill.
As the industry works to meet demand, Tomberlin predicts diversification and product innovation: "I think food science is going to play a big part in that. They can take an insect and create ice cream." (Dried soldier fly larvae "taste kind of like popcorn," if you were wondering.)
Tomberlin says the insects could even become an interplanetary protein source: "I do believe in that. I mean, if we're going to colonize other planets, we need to be sustainable."
But he issues a word of caution about the industry growing too big, too fast: "I think we as an industry need to be very careful of how we harness and apply [our knowledge]. The black soldier fly is considered the crown jewel today, but if it's mismanaged, it can be relegated back to a past."
Goterra's Gordon also warns against rushing into mass production: "If you're just replacing big intensive animal agriculture with big intensive animal agriculture with more efficient animals, then what's the change you're really effecting?"
But he expects the industry will continue its rise though the next decade, and Goterra – fuelled by recent $8 million Series A funding – plans to expand internationally this year.
"Within 10 years' time, I would like to see the vast majority of our unavoidable food waste being used to produce maggots to go into a protein application," Gordon says.
"There's no lack of demand. And there's no lack of food waste."
New Podcast: George Church on Woolly Mammoths, Organ Transplants, and Covid Vaccines
The "Making Sense of Science" podcast features interviews with leading medical and scientific experts about the latest developments and the big ethical and societal questions they raise. This monthly podcast is hosted by journalist Kira Peikoff, founding editor of the award-winning science outlet Leaps.org.
This month, our guest is notable genetics pioneer Dr. George Church of Harvard Medical School. Dr. Church has remarkably bold visions for how innovation in science can fundamentally transform the future of humanity and our planet. His current moonshot projects include: de-extincting some of the woolly mammoth's genes to create a hybrid Asian elephant with the cold-tolerance traits of the woolly mammoth, so that this animal can re-populate the Arctic and help stave off climate change; reversing chronic diseases of aging through gene therapy, which he and colleagues are now testing in dogs; and transplanting genetically engineered pig organs to humans to eliminate the tragically long waiting lists for organs. Hear Dr. Church discuss all this and more on our latest episode.
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Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.
Beyond Henrietta Lacks: How the Law Has Denied Every American Ownership Rights to Their Own Cells
The common perception is that Henrietta Lacks was a victim of poverty and racism when in 1951 doctors took samples of her cervical cancer without her knowledge or permission and turned them into the world's first immortalized cell line, which they called HeLa. The cell line became a workhorse of biomedical research and facilitated the creation of medical treatments and cures worth untold billions of dollars. Neither Lacks nor her family ever received a penny of those riches.
But racism and poverty is not to blame for Lacks' exploitation—the reality is even worse. In fact all patients, then and now, regardless of social or economic status, have absolutely no right to cells that are taken from their bodies. Some have called this biological slavery.
How We Got Here
The case that established this legal precedent is Moore v. Regents of the University of California.
John Moore was diagnosed with hairy-cell leukemia in 1976 and his spleen was removed as part of standard treatment at the UCLA Medical Center. On initial examination his physician, David W. Golde, had discovered some unusual qualities to Moore's cells and made plans prior to the surgery to have the tissue saved for research rather than discarded as waste. That research began almost immediately.
"On both sides of the case, legal experts and cultural observers cautioned that ownership of a human body was the first step on the slippery slope to 'bioslavery.'"
Even after Moore moved to Seattle, Golde kept bringing him back to Los Angeles to collect additional samples of blood and tissue, saying it was part of his treatment. When Moore asked if the work could be done in Seattle, he was told no. Golde's charade even went so far as claiming to find a low-income subsidy to pay for Moore's flights and put him up in a ritzy hotel to get him to return to Los Angeles, while paying for those out of his own pocket.
Moore became suspicious when he was asked to sign new consent forms giving up all rights to his biological samples and he hired an attorney to look into the matter. It turned out that Golde had been lying to his patient all along; he had been collecting samples unnecessary to Moore's treatment and had turned them into a cell line that he and UCLA had patented and already collected millions of dollars in compensation. The market for the cell lines was estimated at $3 billion by 1990.
Moore felt he had been taken advantage of and filed suit to claim a share of the money that had been made off of his body. "On both sides of the case, legal experts and cultural observers cautioned that ownership of a human body was the first step on the slippery slope to 'bioslavery,'" wrote Priscilla Wald, a professor at Duke University whose career has focused on issues of medicine and culture. "Moore could be viewed as asking to commodify his own body part or be seen as the victim of the theft of his most private and inalienable information."
The case bounced around different levels of the court system with conflicting verdicts for nearly six years until the California Supreme Court ruled on July 9, 1990 that Moore had no legal rights to cells and tissue once they were removed from his body.
The court made a utilitarian argument that the cells had no value until scientists manipulated them in the lab. And it would be too burdensome for researchers to track individual donations and subsequent cell lines to assure that they had been ethically gathered and used. It would impinge on the free sharing of materials between scientists, slow research, and harm the public good that arose from such research.
"In effect, what Moore is asking us to do is impose a tort duty on scientists to investigate the consensual pedigree of each human cell sample used in research," the majority wrote. In other words, researchers don't need to ask any questions about the materials they are using.
One member of the court did not see it that way. In his dissent, Stanley Mosk raised the specter of slavery that "arises wherever scientists or industrialists claim, as defendants have here, the right to appropriate and exploit a patient's tissue for their sole economic benefit—the right, in other words, to freely mine or harvest valuable physical properties of the patient's body. … This is particularly true when, as here, the parties are not in equal bargaining positions."
Mosk also cited the appeals court decision that the majority overturned: "If this science has become for profit, then we fail to see any justification for excluding the patient from participation in those profits."
But the majority bought the arguments that Golde, UCLA, and the nascent biotechnology industry in California had made in amici briefs filed throughout the legal proceedings. The road was now cleared for them to develop products worth billions without having to worry about or share with the persons who provided the raw materials upon which their research was based.
Critical Views
Biomedical research requires a continuous and ever-growing supply of human materials for the foundation of its ongoing work. If an increasing number of patients come to feel as John Moore did, that the system is ripping them off, then they become much less likely to consent to use of their materials in future research.
Some legal and ethical scholars say that donors should be able to limit the types of research allowed for their tissues and researchers should be monitored to assure compliance with those agreements. For example, today it is commonplace for companies to certify that their clothing is not made by child labor, their coffee is grown under fair trade conditions, that food labeled kosher is properly handled. Should we ask any less of our pharmaceuticals than that the donors whose cells made such products possible have been treated honestly and fairly, and share in the financial bounty that comes from such drugs?
Protection of individual rights is a hallmark of the American legal system, says Lisa Ikemoto, a law professor at the University of California Davis. "Putting the needs of a generalized public over the interests of a few often rests on devaluation of the humanity of the few," she writes in a reimagined version of the Moore decision that upholds Moore's property claims to his excised cells. The commentary is in a chapter of a forthcoming book in the Feminist Judgment series, where authors may only use legal precedent in effect at the time of the original decision.
"Why is the law willing to confer property rights upon some while denying the same rights to others?" asks Radhika Rao, a professor at the University of California, Hastings College of the Law. "The researchers who invest intellectual capital and the companies and universities that invest financial capital are permitted to reap profits from human research, so why not those who provide the human capital in the form of their own bodies?" It might be seen as a kind of sweat equity where cash strapped patients make a valuable in kind contribution to the enterprise.
The Moore court also made a big deal about inhibiting the free exchange of samples between scientists. That has become much less the situation over the more than three decades since the decision was handed down. Ironically, this decision, as well as other laws and regulations, have since strengthened the power of patents in biomedicine and by doing so have increased secrecy and limited sharing.
"Although the research community theoretically endorses the sharing of research, in reality sharing is commonly compromised by the aggressive pursuit and defense of patents and by the use of licensing fees that hinder collaboration and development," Robert D. Truog, Harvard Medical School ethicist and colleagues wrote in 2012 in the journal Science. "We believe that measures are required to ensure that patients not bear all of the altruistic burden of promoting medical research."
Additionally, the increased complexity of research and the need for exacting standardization of materials has given rise to an industry that supplies certified chemical reagents, cell lines, and whole animals bred to have specific genetic traits to meet research needs. This has been more efficient for research and has helped to ensure that results from one lab can be reproduced in another.
The Court's rationale of fostering collaboration and free exchange of materials between researchers also has been undercut by the changing structure of that research. Big pharma has shrunk the size of its own research labs and over the last decade has worked out cooperative agreements with major research universities where the companies contribute to the research budget and in return have first dibs on any findings (and sometimes a share of patent rights) that come out of those university labs. It has had a chilling effect on the exchange of materials between universities.
Perhaps tracking cell line donors and use restrictions on those donations might have been burdensome to researchers when Moore was being litigated. Some labs probably still kept their cell line records on 3x5 index cards, computers were primarily expensive room-size behemoths with limited capacity, the internet barely existed, and there was no cloud storage.
But that was the dawn of a new technological age and standards have changed. Now cell lines are kept in state-of-the-art sub zero storage units, tagged with the source, type of tissue, date gathered and often other information. Adding a few more data fields and contacting the donor if and when appropriate does not seem likely to disrupt the research process, as the court asserted.
Forging the Future
"U.S. universities are awarded almost 3,000 patents each year. They earn more than $2 billion each year from patent royalties. Sharing a modest portion of these profits is a novel method for creating a greater sense of fairness in research relationships that we think is worth exploring," wrote Mark Yarborough, a bioethicist at the University of California Davis Medical School, and colleagues. That was penned nearly a decade ago and those numbers have only grown.
The Michigan BioTrust for Health might serve as a useful model in tackling some of these issues. Dried blood spots have been collected from all newborns for half a century to be tested for certain genetic diseases, but controversy arose when the huge archive of dried spots was used for other research projects. As a result, the state created a nonprofit organization to in essence become a biobank and manage access to these spots only for specific purposes, and also to share any revenue that might arise from that research.
"If there can be no property in a whole living person, does it stand to reason that there can be no property in any part of a living person? If there were, can it be said that this could equate to some sort of 'biological slavery'?" Irish ethicist Asim A. Sheikh wrote several years ago. "Any amount of effort spent pondering the issue of 'ownership' in human biological materials with existing law leaves more questions than answers."
Perhaps the biggest question will arise when -- not if but when -- it becomes possible to clone a human being. Would a human clone be a legal person or the property of those who created it? Current legal precedent points to it being the latter.
Today, October 4, is the 70th anniversary of Henrietta Lacks' death from cancer. Over those decades her immortalized cells have helped make possible miraculous advances in medicine and have had a role in generating billions of dollars in profits. Surviving family members have spoken many times about seeking a share of those profits in the name of social justice; they intend to file lawsuits today. Such cases will succeed or fail on their own merits. But regardless of their specific outcomes, one can hope that they spark a larger public discussion of the role of patients in the biomedical research enterprise and lead to establishing a legal and financial claim for their contributions toward the next generation of biomedical research.