Cloning the Splendid Splinter

by Brandon Keim

I arrived at the Council for Responsible Genetics right when much of New England, and indeed America, was captivated by the sordid saga of Ted Williams’ body: whether Williams wanted to be cremated, the ashes scattered over his beloved Florida Keys, or cryogenically preserved.

Williams’ son, a failed businessman and borderline con artist accused of turning the stroke-devastated twilight of his father’s life into an endless procession of forced autograph signings and promotional appearances, insisted that his father wanted to be preserved, a claim denied by family and denounced by an outraged nation. The situation may have changed by the time this goes to press — but, as of now, the corpse of the Greatest Hitter Who Ever Lived, a genuine wartime hero and unstained symbol of mom-and-apple-pie America, is upside-down and frozen in an aluminum cylinder full of liquid nitrogen in a Scottsdale, Arizona industrial park, with memorabilia collectors clamoring to purchase DNA samples in the hope of someday cloning the Splendid Splinter.

The actual level of scientific debate over Ted Williams’ posthumous existence — especially when it came to cloning — was quite forgettable, but that was beside the point. For days, guys settling down to have a beer and watch Sportscenter were confronted by black-and-white Teddy Ballgame photographs juxtaposed with footage of futuristic laboratories where pale men who smiled too broadly laughed and said that cloning really wasn’t an option, at least not yet, and a clone really couldn’t be expected to hit .400 — but wouldn’t it be nice? For those to whom pictures of glowing rabbits and silk-producing goats were little more than water-cooler fodder, the Williams episode was a sobering reminder that the “future” has arrived.

Most of us are aware that the pace of biological and technological invention has accelerated beyond our ability to comprehend, much less adjust. However, it is often a surface awareness, unaccompanied by neither action nor contemplation. Sometimes this is understandable. There are bills to pay, things to do, and much of the genetic debate is conducted in a language as arcane as postmodern linguistic theory or Church Latin. And so the idea of a world transformed by genetic technologies remains a distant and immaterial thing — when in fact we are already there.

The question at hand is whether the development of genetic technologies will be driven by unrestrained market forces and foisted off on essentially captive consumers, or handled responsibly and accompanied by extensive public debate over the proper role of biotechnology in our lives. This debate, which extends to all technologies, is part of a much larger one: whether human beings are subservient to economic systems, with the dictates of consumer capitalism accepted as inevitable and natural, or whether a liveable alternative can be found. These themes, so central to our time, run throughout the articles in this issue, and indeed throughout the work of CRG. I am excited to be here.

I would like to express my gratitude to the outgoing editor, Suzanne Theberge, who with adeptness and patience handled the difficult task of preparing me to assume her duties. Whatever virtues this issue possesses should be attributed to Suzanne; and whatever mistakes I have made would have been worse without her help.