“The technology of genetic engineering poses a greater threat to the world than the advent of nuclear technology.” — Erwin Chargaff, a pioneering biochemist

If there’s one thing humans love, it’s pushing the boundaries of what’s possible—often without considering whether they should. Every great technological leap brings both promise and peril, reshaping the world in ways no one fully anticipates. Now we have CRISPR, gene editing’s equivalent of a scalpel-wielding toddler with a sugar rush. The question isn’t whether we can rewrite the code of life. It’s whether we have any idea what we’re doing—or what comes next.

Biotechnology offers miracles: curing genetic diseases, engineering drought-resistant crops, eradicating pests. It sounds like science fiction, except it’s happening right now. CRISPR-Cas9, the revolutionary gene-editing tool, allows precise alterations to DNA, from modifying embryos to creating designer plants and even de-extincting species (because what the ecosystem really needs is a resurrected woolly mammoth, apparently).

But here’s the problem: biology isn’t software. It’s not a neat sequence of code you can debug without consequences. Genes don’t operate in isolation; they’re part of complex, dynamic systems shaped by billions of years of evolution. Editing one gene can have ripple effects across entire organisms and ecosystems—effects we can’t fully predict, let alone control. It’s like replacing a single screw in a jet engine mid-flight because you think it’ll improve fuel efficiency.

Consider the case of genetically modified organisms (GMOs). Engineered crops like Bt corn produce their own pesticides, reducing the need for chemical sprays. Sounds great—until pests evolve resistance, “superweeds” emerge, and monoculture farming devastates biodiversity. As Michael Pollan details in The Omnivore’s Dilemma, industrial agriculture’s obsession with control leads to ecological fragility, not resilience.

Then there’s gene drives, which can force genetic traits to spread rapidly through wild populations. Scientists have proposed using them to eliminate malaria-carrying mosquitoes. Noble goal. But Releasing a gene drive into the wild is like launching a software update you can’t uninstall, without knowing if it’ll crash the whole operating system. Ecosystems are intricate webs of interdependence, and tinkering with one species can unravel the balance of many.

But the most unsettling frontier isn’t in fields or forests—it’s in the lab. Synthetic biology aims to create life from scratch, designing organisms with custom DNA sequences. The dream? Tailor-made microbes that produce biofuels, pharmaceuticals, even food. The nightmare? Bioengineered pathogens escaping containment, either by accident or as bioweapons. The COVID-19 pandemic showed how vulnerable global systems are to viral threats. Now imagine that vulnerability with pathogens designed for maximum spread or lethality. As Rob Wallace warns in Big Farms Make Big Flu, the intersection of industrial agriculture, globalization, and biotech increases the risk of pandemics we can’t control.

And it’s not just external threats. Biotechnology is reshaping what it means to be human. Gene editing promises to “fix” genetic disorders, but where’s the line between therapy and enhancement? In The Case Against Perfection, philosopher Michael Sandel argues that the pursuit of genetic enhancement reflects a deeper moral failure: an inability to accept human limitations. When we treat traits like intelligence, appearance, or athletic ability as defects to be corrected, we commodify our very essence.

This isn’t just hypothetical. In 2018, Chinese scientist He Jiankui announced the birth of gene-edited babies, engineered to be resistant to HIV. The global scientific community condemned the experiment—not because gene editing itself is inherently evil, but because Jiankui crossed an ethical Rubicon without understanding the long-term consequences. Those children aren’t experiments; they’re people. And we don’t know what unintended effects might emerge over their lifetimes—or in their descendants.

Biotechnology also risks deepening social inequality. Imagine a future where the wealthy can afford genetic enhancements for their children: superior health, intelligence, appearance. The gap between rich and poor wouldn’t just be economic; it would be biological. A caste system written into our DNA. This isn’t the plot of the dystopian novel Gattaca; it’s a plausible trajectory unless we intervene.

Nature operates through balance, not domination. In Taoism, the concept of wu wei—acting without force—teaches that true mastery comes from aligning with natural flows, not imposing control. Biotechnology, when wielded without humility, is an act of force—an attempt to outsmart systems we barely understand. The more we push, the more
unintended consequences push back.

Consider traditional agricultural practices like seed saving and crop rotation, which maintain biodiversity and resilience without genetic engineering. Or indigenous knowledge systems that manage ecosystems through observation, adaptation, and respect, rather than manipulation. These approaches aren’t anti-science; they’re anti-hubris. They recognize that living systems thrive not through control, but through dynamic equilibrium.

Regulation isn’t enough if it’s reactive, scrambling to contain disasters after they happen. We need proactive restraint—legal, ethical, and cultural frameworks that slow down the rush to innovate for innovation’s sake. Public oversight, not corporate patents, should guide decisions about genetic technologies. And some lines—like human germline editing—may simply be too dangerous to cross.

Therefore, under Folklaw:

The development and application of biotechnology shall be strictly limited to protect ecological integrity, human dignity, and public safety. Germline genetic modification in humans will be banned. Gene drives and synthetic organisms may not be released into the environment without exhaustive, transparent risk assessments and global consent.

Patenting of genetic material, including human genes, will be prohibited. All biotech research must undergo independent ethical review, with public participation in decision-making processes. Biotechnology companies will be held legally accountable for ecological or health harms resulting from their products.

Public investment will prioritize ecological restoration, traditional agriculture, and holistic health practices over genetic engineering.