Who should get a uterus transplant? Experts aren’t sure.

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Earlier this year, a boy in Sweden celebrated his 10th birthday. Reproductive scientists and doctors marked the occasion too. This little boy’s birth had been special. He was the first person to be born from a transplanted uterus.

The boy was born in 2014 after his mother, a 35-year-old woman who had been born without a uterus, received a donated uterus from a 61-year-old close family friend. At the time, she was one of only 11 women who had undergone the experimental procedure.

A decade on, over 135 uterus transplants have been performed globally, resulting in the births of over 50 healthy babies. The surgery has had profound consequences for these families—the recipients would not have been able to experience pregnancy any other way.

But legal and ethical questions continue to surround the procedure, which is still considered experimental. Who should be offered a uterus transplant? Could the procedure ever be offered to transgender women? And if so, who should pay for these surgeries?

These issues were raised at a recent virtual event run by Progress Educational Trust, a UK-based charity that aims to provide information to the public on genomics and infertility. One of the speakers was Mats Brännström, who led the team at the University of Gothenburg that performed the first successful transplant.

For Brännström, the story of uterus transplantation begins in 1998. While traveling in Australia, he said, he met a 27-year-old woman called Angela, who longed to be pregnant but lacked a functional uterus. She suggested to Brännström that her mother could donate hers. “I was amazed I hadn’t thought of it before,” he said.

According to Brännström, around 1 in 500 women experience infertility due to what’s known as absolute uterine factor infertility, or AUFI, meaning they do not have a functional uterus. Uterus transplants could offer them a way to get pregnant.

His meeting with Angela kick-started a research project that started in mice and eventually moved on to pigs, sheep, and baboons. Brännström’s team started performing uterus transplants in women as part of a small clinical trial in 2012. In that trial, all the donors were living, and in many cases they were the mothers or aunts of the recipients.

The surgeries ended up being more complicated than he had anticipated, said Brännström. The operation to remove a donor’s uterus was expected to take between three and four hours. It ended up taking between eight and 11 hours.  

In that first trial, Brännström’s team transplanted uteruses into nine women, each of whom had IVF to create and store embryos beforehand. The woman who was the first to give birth had IVF over a 12-month period, which ended six months before her surgery. It took a little over 10 hours to remove the uterus from the donor, and just under five hours to stitch it into the recipient.

The recipient started getting her period 43 days after her transplant. Doctors transferred one of her embryos into the uterus a year after her surgery. Three weeks later, a pregnancy test confirmed she was pregnant.

At 31 weeks, she was admitted to hospital with preeclampsia, a serious medical condition that can develop during pregnancy, and her baby was delivered by C-section 16 hours later. She was discharged from hospital after three days, although the baby spent 16 days in the hospital’s neonatal unit.

Despite those difficulties, her story is considered a success. Other uterus recipients have also experienced pregnancy complications, and some have had surgical complications. And all transplant recipients must adhere to a regimen of immunosuppressant drugs, which can have side effects.

The uteruses aren’t intended to last forever, either. Surgeons remove them once the recipients have completed their families, often after one or two children. The removal is also a significant operation.

Given all that, uterus transplants are not to be taken lightly. And there are other paths to parenthood. Some ethicists are concerned that in pursuing uterus transplantation as a fertility treatment, we might reinforce ideas that define a woman’s value in terms of her reproductive potential, Natasha Hammond-Browning, a legal scholar at Cardiff University in Wales, said at the event. “There is debate around whether we should be giving greater preference to adoption, to surrogacy, and to supporting children who already exist and who need care,” she said.

We also need to consider whether there is a “right to gestate,” and if there is, who has that right, said Hammond-Browning. And these concerns need to be balanced with the importance of reproductive autonomy—the idea that people have the right to decide and control their own reproductive efforts.

Further questions remain over whether uterus transplants might ever be an option for trans women, who not only lack a uterus but also have a different pelvic anatomy. I asked the speakers if the surgery might ever be feasible. They weren’t hugely optimistic that it would, at least in the near future.

“I personally think that the transgender community have been given … false hope for responsible transplantation in the near future,” was the response of J. Richard Smith of Imperial College London, who co-led the first uterus transplant performed in the UK. Even cisgender women who have needed surgery to create “neovaginas” aren’t eligible for the uterus transplants his team are offering as part of a clinical study. They have an altered vaginal microbiome that appears to increase the risk of miscarriage, he said.

“There is a huge amount of work to be done before this work can be translated to the transgender community,” Smith said. Brännström agreed but added that he thinks the surgery will be available at some point—just after a lot more research.

And then there are the legal and ethical questions, none of which have easy answers. Hammond-Browning pointed out that clinical teams would first need to determine what the goal of such an operation would be. Is it about reproduction or gender realignment, for example? And how might that goal influence decisions over who should get a donated uterus, and why?

Considering only 135 human uterus transplants have ever been carried out, we still have a lot to learn about the best way to perform them. (For context, more than 25,000 kidney transplants were carried out in 2023 in the US alone.) Researchers are still figuring out how uteruses from deceased donors differ from those of living ones, and how to minimize complications in young, healthy women. Since that little boy was born 10 years ago, only 50 other children have been born in a similar way. It’s still early days.


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The first birth following the transplantation of a uterus from a dead donor happened in 2017. A team in Brazil transferred the uterus of a 45-year-old donor, who had died from a brain hemorrhage, to a 32-year-old recipient born without a uterus. 

Researchers are working on artificial wombs—“biobags” designed to care for premature babies. They have been tested on lambs and piglets. Now FDA advisors are figuring out how to move the technology into human trials

An alternative type of artificial womb is being used to grow mouse embryos. Jacob Hanna at the Weizmann Institute of Science and his colleagues say they’ve been able to grow embryos in this environment for 11 or 12 days—around half the animal’s gestational period. 

Research is underway to develop new fertility options for transgender men. Some of these men are put off by existing approaches, which tend to involve pausing hormone therapy and undergoing potentially distressing procedures. 

From around the web

People on Ozempic, Wegovy, and similar drugs are losing their appetite for sugary, ultraprocessed foods. The food industry will have to adapt. (TIL Nestlé has already started a line of frozen meals targeted at people on these weight-loss drugs.) (The New York Times Magazine)

People who have a history of obesity can find it harder to lose weight. That might be because the fat cells in our bodies seem to “remember” that history and have an altered response to food. (The Guardian)

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. took leave as chairman of Children’s Health Defense, a nonprofit known for spreading doubt about vaccines, to run for US president last year. But he is still involved in legal cases filed by the group. And several of its cases remain open, including ones against the Food and Drug Administration, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and the National Institutes of Health—all agencies Kennedy would lead if his nomination for head of Health and Human Services is confirmed. (STAT)

Researchers are among the millions of new users of Bluesky, a social media alternative to X (formerly known as Twitter). “There is this pent-up demand among scientists for what is essentially the old Twitter,” says one researcher who found that the number of influential scientists using the platform doubled between August and November. (Science

Since 2016, a team of around 100 scientists have been working to catalogue the 37 trillion or so cells in the human body. This week, the Human Cell Atlas published a collection of studies that represents a significant first step toward that goal—including maps of cells in the nervous system, lungs, heart, gut, and immune system. (Nature)

Why the term “women of childbearing age” is problematic

This article first appeared in The Checkup, MIT Technology Review’s weekly biotech newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Thursday, and read articles like this first, sign up here.

Every journalist has favorite topics. Regular Checkup readers might already know some of mine, which include the quest to delay or reverse human aging, and new technologies for reproductive health and fertility. So when I saw trailers for The Substance, a film centered on one middle-aged woman’s attempt to reexperience youth, I had to watch it.

I won’t spoil the movie for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet (although I should warn that it is not for the squeamish, or anyone with an aversion to gratuitous close-ups of bums and nipples). But a key premise of the film involves harmful attitudes toward female aging.

“Hey, did you know that a woman’s fertility starts to decrease by the age of 25?” a powerful male character asks early in the film. “At 50, it just stops,” he later adds. He never explains what stops, exactly, but to the viewer the message is pretty clear: If you’re a woman, your worth is tied to your fertility. Once your fertile window is over, so are you.

The insidious idea that women’s bodies are, above all else, vessels for growing children has plenty of negative consequences for us all. But it has also set back scientific research and health policy.

Earlier this week, I chatted about this with Alana Cattapan, a political scientist at the University of Waterloo in Ontario, Canada. Cattapan has been exploring the concept of “women of reproductive age”—a descriptor that is ubiquitous in health research and policy.

The idea for the research project came to her when the Zika virus was making headlines around eight years ago. “I was planning on going to the Caribbean for a trip related to my partner’s research, and I kept getting advice that women of reproductive age shouldn’t go,” she told me. At the time, Zika was being linked to microcephaly—unusually small heads—in newborn babies. It was thought that the virus was affecting key stages of fetal development.

Cattapan wasn’t pregnant. And she wasn’t planning on becoming pregnant at the time. So why was she being advised to stay away from areas with the virus?

The experience got her thinking about the ways in which attitudes toward our bodies are governed by the idea of potential pregnancy. Take, for example, biomedical research on the causes and treatment of disease. Women’s health has lagged behind men’s as a focus of such work, for multiple reasons. Male bodies have long been considered the “default” human form, for example. And clinical trials have historically been designed in ways that make them less accessible for women.

Fears about the potential effects of drugs on fetuses have also played a significant role in keeping people who have the potential to become pregnant out of studies. “Scientific research has excluded women of ‘reproductive age,’ or women who might potentially conceive, in a blanket way,” says Cattapan. “The research that we have on many, many drugs does not include women and certainly doesn’t include women in pregnancy.”  

This lack of research goes some way to explaining why women are much more likely to experience side effects from drugs—some of them fatal. Over the last couple of decades, greater effort has been made to include people with ovaries and uteruses in clinical research. But we still have a long way to go.

Women are also often subjected to medical advice designed to protect a potential fetus, whether they are pregnant or not. Official guidelines on how much mercury-containing fish it is safe to eat can be different for “women of childbearing age,” according to the US Environmental Protection Agency, for example.  And in 2021, the World Health Organization used the same language to describe people who should be a focus of policies to reduce alcohol consumption

The takeaway message is that it’s women who should be thinking about fetal health, says Cattapan. Not the industries producing these chemicals or the agencies that regulate them. Not even the men who contribute to a pregnancy. Just women who stand a chance of getting pregnant, whether they intend to or not. “It puts the onus of the health of future generations squarely on the shoulders of women,” she says.

Another problem is the language itself. The term “women of reproductive age” typically includes women between 15 and 44. Women at one end of that spectrum will have very different bodies and a very different set of health risks from those at the other. And the term doesn’t account for people who might be able to get pregnant but don’t necessarily identify as female.

In other cases it is overly broad. In the context of the Zika virus, for example, it was not all women between the ages of 15 and 44 who should have considered taking precautions. The travel advice didn’t apply to people who’d had hysterectomies or did not have sex with men, for example, says Cattapan. “Precision here matters,” she says. 

More nuanced health advice would be helpful in cases like these. Guidelines often read as though they’re written for people assumed to be stupid, she adds. “I don’t think that needs to be the case.”

Another thing

On Thursday, president-elect Donald Trump said that he will nominate Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to lead the US Department of Health and Human Services. The news was not entirely a surprise, given that Trump had told an audience at a campaign rally that he would let Kennedy “go wild” on health, “the foods,” and “the medicines.”

The role would give Kennedy some control over multiple agencies, including the Food and Drug Administration, which regulates medicines in the US, and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which coordinates public health advice and programs.

That’s extremely concerning to scientists, doctors, and health researchers, given Kennedy’s positions on evidence-based medicine, including his antivaccine stance. A few weeks ago, in a post on X, he referred to the FDA’s “aggressive suppression of psychedelics, peptides, stem cells, raw milk, hyperbaric therapies, chelating compounds, ivermectin, hydroxychloroquine, vitamins, clean foods, sunshine, exercise, nutraceuticals and anything else that advances human health and can’t be patented by Pharma.”  

“If you work for the FDA and are part of this corrupt system, I have two messages for you,” continued the post. “1. Preserve your records, and 2. Pack your bags.”

There’s a lot to unpack here. But briefly, we don’t yet have good evidence that mind-altering psychedelic drugs are the mental-health cure-alls some claim they are. There’s not enough evidence to support the many unapproved stem-cell treatments sold by clinics throughout the US and beyond, either. These “treatments” can be dangerous.

Health agencies are currently warning against the consumption of raw unpasteurized milk, because it might carry the bird flu virus that has been circulating in US dairy farms. And it’s far too simplistic to lump all vitamins together—some might be of benefit to some people, but not everyone needs supplements, and high doses can be harmful.

Kennedy’s 2021 book The Real Anthony Fauci has already helped spread misinformation about AIDS. Here at MIT Technology Review, we’ll continue our work reporting on whatever comes next. Watch this space.


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The tech industry has a gender problem, as the Gamergate and various #MeToo scandals made clear. A new generation of activists is hoping to remedy it

Male and female immune systems work differently. Which is another reason why it’s vital to study both women and female animals as well as males

Both of the above articles were published in the Gender issue of MIT Technology Review magazine. You can read more from that issue online here.

Women are more likely to receive abuse online. My colleague Charlotte Jee spoke to the technologists working on an alternative way to interact online: a feminist internet.

From around the web 

The scientific community and biopharma investors are reacting to the news of Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s nomination to lead the Department of Health and Human Services. “It’s hard to see HHS functioning,” said one biotech analyst. (STAT)

Virologist Beata Halassy successfully treated her own breast cancer with viruses she grew in the lab. She has no regrets. (Nature)

Could diet influence the growth of endometriosis lesions? Potentially, according to research in mice fed high-fat, low-fiber “Western” diets. (BMC Medicine)

Last week, 43 female rhesus macaque monkeys escaped from a lab in South Carolina. The animals may have a legal claim to freedom. (Vox)

What’s next for reproductive rights in the US

This article first appeared in The Checkup, MIT Technology Review’s weekly biotech newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Thursday, and read articles like this first, sign up here.

Earlier this week, Americans cast their votes in a seminal presidential election. But it wasn’t just the future president of the US that was on the ballot. Ten states also voted on abortion rights.

Two years ago, the US Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, a legal decision that protected the right to abortion. Since then, abortion bans have been enacted in multiple states, and millions of people in the US have lost access to local clinics.

Now, some states are voting to extend and protect access to abortion. This week, seven states voted in support of such measures. And voters in Missouri, a state that has long restricted access, have voted to overturn its ban.

It’s not all good news for proponents of reproductive rights—some states voted against abortion access. And questions remain over the impact of a second term under former president Donald Trump, who is set to return to the post in January.

Roe v. Wade, the legal decision that enshrined a constitutional right to abortion in the US in 1973, guaranteed the right to an abortion up to the point of fetal viability, which is generally considered to be around 24 weeks of pregnancy. It was overturned by the US Supreme Court in the summer of 2022.

Within 100 days of the decision, 13 states had enacted total bans on abortion from the moment of conception. Clinics in these states could no longer offer abortions. Other states also restricted abortion access. In that 100-day period, 66 of the 79 clinics across 15 states stopped offering abortion services, and 26 closed completely, according to research by the Guttmacher Institute.

The political backlash to the decision was intense. This week, abortion was on the ballot in 10 states: Arizona, Colorado, Florida, Maryland, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New York, and South Dakota. And seven of them voted in support of abortion access.

The impact of these votes will vary by state. Abortion was already legal in Maryland, for example. But the new measures should make it more difficult for lawmakers to restrict reproductive rights in the future. In Arizona, abortions after 15 weeks had been banned since 2022. There, voters approved an amendment to the state constitution that will guarantee access to abortion until fetal viability.

Missouri was the first state to enact an abortion ban once Roe v. Wade was overturned. The state’s current Right to Life of the Unborn Child Act prohibits doctors from performing abortions unless there is a medical emergency. It has no exceptions for rape or incest. This week, the state voted to overturn that ban and protect access to abortion up to fetal viability. 

Not all states voted in support of reproductive rights. Amendments to expand access failed to garner enough support in Nebraska, South Dakota, and Florida. In Florida, for example, where abortions after six weeks of pregnancy are banned, an amendment to protect access until fetal viability got 57% of the vote, falling just short of the 60% the state required for it to pass.

It’s hard to predict how reproductive rights will fare over the course of a second Trump term. Trump himself has been inconsistent on the issue. During his first term, he installed members of the Supreme Court who helped overturn Roe v. Wade. During his most recent campaign he said that decisions on reproductive rights should be left to individual states.

Trump, himself a Florida resident, has refused to comment on how he voted in the state’s recent ballot question on abortion rights. When asked, he said that the reporter who posed the question “should just stop talking about that,” according to the Associated Press.

State decisions can affect reproductive rights beyond abortion access. Just look at Alabama. In February, the Alabama Supreme Court ruled that frozen embryos can be considered children under state law. Embryos are routinely cryopreserved in the course of in vitro fertilization treatment, and the ruling was considered likely to significantly restrict access to IVF in the state. (In March, the state passed another law protecting clinics from legal repercussions should they damage or destroy embryos during IVF procedures, but the status of embryos remains unchanged.)

The fertility treatment became a hot topic during this year’s campaign. In October, Trump bizarrely referred to himself as “the father of IVF.” That title is usually reserved for Robert Edwards, the British researcher who won the 2010 Nobel prize in physiology or medicine for developing the technology in the 1970s.

Whatever is in store for reproductive rights in the US in the coming months and years, all we’ve seen so far suggests that it’s likely to be a bumpy ride.


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My colleague Rhiannon Williams reported on the immediate aftermath of the decision that reversed Roe v. Wade when it was announced a couple of years ago. 

The Alabama Supreme Court ruling on embryos could also affect the development of technologies designed to serve as “artificial wombs,” as Antonio Regalado explained at the time.

Other technologies are set to change the way we have babies. Some, which could lead to the creation of children with four parents or none at all, stand to transform our understanding of parenthood.  

We’ve also reported on attempts to create embryo-like structures using stem cells. These structures look like embryos but are created without eggs or sperm. There’s a “wild race” afoot to make these more like the real thing. But both scientific and ethical questions remain over how far we can—and—should go.

My colleagues have been exploring what the US election outcome might mean for climate policies. Senior climate editor James Temple writes that Trump’s victory is “a stunning setback for climate change.” And senior reporter Casey Crownhart explains how efforts including a trio of laws implemented by the Biden administration, which massively increased climate funding, could be undone.

From around the web

Donald Trump has said he’ll let Robert F. Kennedy Jr. “go wild on health.” Here’s where the former environmental lawyer and independent candidate—who has no medical or public health degrees—stands on vaccines, fluoride, and the Affordable Care Act. (New York Times)

Bird flu has been detected in pigs on a farm in Oregon. It’s a worrying development that virologists were dreading. (The Conversation)

And, in case you need it, here’s some lighter reading:

Scientists are sequencing the DNA of tiny marine plankton for the first time. (Come for the story of the scientific expedition; stay for the beautiful images of jellies and sea sapphires.) (The Guardian)

Dolphins are known to communicate with whistles and clicks. But scientists were surprised to find a “highly vocal” solitary dolphin in the Baltic Sea. They think the animal is engaging in “dolphin self-talk.” (Bioacoustics)

How much do you know about baby animals? Test your knowledge in this quiz. (National Geographic)

How exosomes could become more than just an “anti-aging” fad

This article first appeared in The Checkup, MIT Technology Review’s weekly biotech newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Thursday, and read articles like this first, sign up here.

Over the past month or so, I’ve been working on a story about exosomes. You might have seen them advertised—they’re being touted as a hot new beauty treatment, a fountain of youth, and generally a cure-all therapy for a whole host of ailments.

Any cell biologist, though, will tell you what exosomes really are: tiny little blobs that bud off from cells and contain a mixture of proteins and other components. We’re not entirely clear what those components are or what they do, despite the promises made by medspas and cosmetic clinics charging thousands of dollars for exosome “therapies.” As one recipient of an exosome treatment told me, “I feel like it’s a little bit of health marketing bullshit.”

But there is some very exciting scientific research underway to better understand exactly what exosomes do. Scientists are exploring not only how these tiny particles might help cells communicate, but also how they might be used to diagnose or treat diseases. One company is trying to use exosomes to deliver drugs to the brains of people with rare neurological disorders.

It might take longer for these kinds of exosome applications to get to the clinic, but when they do, at least they’ll be evidence based.

Exosomes are a type of extracellular vesicle. This is a scientific way of saying they are basically little packages that bud off from cells. They were once thought to contain cellular garbage, but now scientists believe they convey important signals between cells and tissues.

Exactly what those signals are is still being figured out.  The contents of exosomes from cancer cells will probably be somewhat different to those from healthy cells, for example.

Because of that, many scientists hope that exosomes could one day be used to help us diagnose diseases. In theory, you could isolate exosomes from a blood sample, examine their contents, and figure out what might be going on in a person’s cells. Exosomes might provide clues as to how stressed or close to death a cell is. They might indicate the presence of a tumor.

Raghu Kalluri, a cancer biologist at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, is one of the researchers exploring this possibility. “I believe that exosomes are likely providing a forensic fingerprint of what the cells are undergoing,” he says.

But understanding these signals won’t be straightforward. Exosomes from cancer cells might send signals to surrounding cells in order to “subjugate” them into helping the cancer grow, says Kalluri. Cells around a tumor might also send distress signals, alerting the immune system to fight back against it. “There’s definitely a role for these exosomes in cancer progression and metastasis,” he says. “Precisely what [that role is] is an active area of research right now.”

Exosomes could also be useful for delivering drug treatments. After all, they are essentially little packages of proteins and other matter that can be shuttled between cells. Why not fill them with a medicine and use them to target specific regions of the body?

Because exosomes are made in our bodies, they are less likely to be seen as “foreign” and rejected by our immune systems. And the outer layer of an exosome can serve as a protective coat, shielding the drug from being degraded until it reaches its destination, says James Edgar, who studies exosomes at the University of Cambridge. “It’s a really attractive method for drug delivery,” he says.

Dave Carter is one scientist working on it. Carter and his colleagues at Evox Therapeutics in Oxford, UK, are engineering cells to produce compounds that might help treat rare neurological diseases. These compounds could then be released from the cells in exosomes.

In their research, Carter and his colleagues can change almost everything about the exosomes they study. They can alter their contents, loading them with proteins or viruses or even gene-editing therapies. They can tweak the proteins on their surfaces to make them target different cells and tissues. They can control how long exosomes stay in an animal’s circulation.

“I always used to love playing with Lego,” he adds. “I feel like I’m playing with Lego when I’m working with exosomes.”

Others are hopeful that exosomes themselves hold some kind of therapeutic value. Some hope that exosomes derived from stem cells, for example, might have some regenerative capacity.

Ke Cheng at Columbia University in New York is interested in the idea of using exosomes to treat heart and lung conditions. Several preliminary studies suggest that exosomes from heart and stem cells might help animals like mice and pigs recover from heart injuries, such as those caused by a heart attack.

There are certainly plenty of clinical trials of exosomes underway. When I searched for “exosomes” on clinicaltrials.gov, I got over 400 results. These are early-stage trials, however—and are of variable quality.

Still, it’s an exciting time for exosome research. “It’s a growing field … I think we will see a lot of exciting science in the next five years,” says Cheng. “I’m very optimistic.”


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You can read the piece about the costly exosome treatments being sold in aesthetic clinics and medspas in my longer piece, which was published earlier this week. 

It can be difficult to establish credibility in a medical field when you’re being undercut by clinics selling unapproved treatments and individuals making outlandish claims. Just ask the doctors and scientists trying to legitimize longevity medicine

Some treatments can take off culturally without the backing of rigorous evidence, only to go up in flames when the trial results come in. We saw this earlier this year, when FDA advisors rejected the use of MDMA (or ecstasy) for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) owing to “significant confounders” in the trials. 

For some people, unproven treatments might represent a last hope for survival. In those cases, how do we balance access to experimental medicine with the need to protect people who are vulnerable?

Stem cells from human embryos promised to “launch a medical revolution in which ailing organs and tissues might be repaired” when they were isolated just over 25 years ago. So why haven’t they?  

From around the web

Having a disability shouldn’t prevent you from getting married. But that’s exactly the conundrum facing some people in the US, as this heartbreaking short documentary shows. (STAT)

A Neuralink rival says its eye implant restored vision in blind people. Science Corporation’s retinal implant enabled some legally blind individuals to read from a book, play cards, and fill out crossword puzzles. (Wired)

Women in Texas are dying after doctors delay treating them for miscarriages. Doctors treating Josseli Barnica waited 40 hours for the heart of her fetus to stop beating, despite the fact that miscarriage was “inevitable.” Her husband says doctors worried that “it would be a crime to give her an abortion.” She died of a preventable infection three days later. (ProPublica)

Between 30% and 50% of twins share a secret language or mode of communication, a phenomenon known as cryptophasia. The Youlden twins call theirs Umeri. (BBC Future)

Can a machine express fear? Try your hand at creating AI-generated images frightening enough to “spook the machine” as part of a project to explore how machines might express humanlike emotions. It is Halloween, after all. (Spook the Machine)

Exosomes are touted as a trendy cure-all. We don’t know if they work.

There’s a trendy new cure-all in town—you might have seen ads pop up on social media or read rave reviews in beauty magazines. Exosomes are being touted as a miraculous treatment for hair loss, aging skin, acne, eczema, pain conditions, long covid, and even neurological diseases like Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s. That’s, of course, if you can afford the price tag—which can stretch to thousands of dollars.

“They’re magic!” claims one YouTube review. One US clinic exhorts: “Unlock the fountain of youth with exosome therapy.” “All aspects of skin health improve with exosome therapy,” states one UK clinic’s website, adding that “this is as cutting-edge as it gets.” Exosome particles could be used to treat “any inflammatory disease you could think about, which is almost all of them,” the founder of an exosome company says in a video on YouTube.

But there’s a big problem with these big promises: We don’t fully understand how exosomes work—or what they even really are

We do know that exosomes are tiny particles that bud off from cells and that their contents can vary hugely, depending on the source of the cell (some popular options include human umbilical cords, salmon testicles, and roses) and how healthy or stressed it is. Even cell biologists can’t agree on what, exactly, is inside them, and how beneficial—or dangerous—those contents may be.  

The world of exosome treatments is being likened to a “Wild West” by some researchers. Rigorous trials have not been conducted, so we don’t know how safe it is to spray on or inject these tiny mystery blobs. Exosome products have not been approved by regulatory agencies in the US, UK, or Europe, where the treatments are growing in popularity. Nor have they been approved for medical uses in Japan or South Korea, two other countries where exosome treatments are popular. Still, “exosomes have emerged as a sort of panacea for almost everything,” says Leigh Turner, a bioethicist and public health researcher at the University of California, Irvine, who tracks direct-to-consumer marketing of unapproved health products. “Risks are commonly minimized, and benefits are commonly exaggerated.”

This hasn’t stopped customers from flocking to the growing number of aesthetic centers, stem-cell clinics, and medspas offering exosome treatments, hoping for a miracle fix. The global market for exosome skin-care products was valued at $256 million in 2023 and is forecast to grow to $674 million in the next six years. 

Mystery blobs

Technically referred to as vesicles, exosomes are made inside cells before being released. They’ve long been mysterious. The term “exosome” was introduced in the 1980s. Before that, tiny particles that are now thought to have been exosomes were described as “platelet dust” or “matrix vesicles.”  

At first, scientists assumed that exosomes functioned as trash bags, shuttling waste out of the cell. But research in 1996 suggested that exosomes might also work to help cells communicate by delivering signals between them. If a cell is dying, for instance, it could perhaps send a signal to neighboring cells, giving them a chance to produce more protective substances in order to save themselves from the same fate. Cancer cells, on the other hand, could potentially use exosomes to send signals that co-opt other cells to support the growth of a tumor. Still, it’s not fully understood what signals are actually being sent.

Another major mystery is what, exactly, is inside exosomes. “It depends who you ask,” says James Edgar, who studies exosomes and similar vesicles at the University of Cambridge, UK. Cell biologists agree that exosomes contain proteins, lipids, and other molecules that result from cell metabolism. Some believe they also contain DNA and RNA, but not everyone is convinced. “It’s just very difficult to prove or disprove,” says Edgar.

That’s partly because exosomes are so small—only about 70 nanometers wide, around one-hundredth the size of a red blood cell. While the first images of them were published in the 1970s, we still don’t even know for sure what they look like; Raghu Kalluri at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston and his colleagues are studying the shape of exosomes to figure out if they are round, oval, or rod-like, for example.

Further complicating all of this, cell biologists don’t know what triggers the release of an exosome from a cell. Most cells release them at a relatively steady pulse. Some cells release a lot of exosomes; others release a relatively small number. Immune cells, for example, release more exosomes than cancer cells. “We don’t really understand why that’s the case,” says Edgar.

“Fundamentally, we don’t know enough,” he adds. “We don’t quite know yet where these things go when they hit cells, and if they’re released into that cell—or how any of it happens, basically.”

Exosome explosion

Despite these enduring questions, exosomes have taken off as a beauty and health treatment. Turner has been tracking stem-cell clinics both in the US and globally for years. When he and his colleagues assessed US clinics offering direct-to-consumer treatments in 2016, exosomes “just didn’t pop up at all,” he says. When he did the same analysis in 2021, he identified around 100 clinics in the US offering exosome therapies.

It’s not clear why exosomes are taking off now. “It’s not as though there’s an overwhelming amount of safety and efficacy data,” says Turner. “I think it might be more of a buzz kind of phenomenon. This seems to be kind of a moment for exosomes.”

There are many different types of exosomes available on the market. Some are from human cells, including those from the placenta or umbilical cord. Some companies are selling exosomes from plants and animals. In the US, exosomes are regulated as drugs and biological products when they are “intended for use in the diagnosis, cure, mitigation, treatment, or prevention of disease” and “intended to affect the structure of any function of the body of man or other animals,” according to the Food and Drug Administration, which regulates medicines in the US. 

Clinics get around this by using them as cosmetics, defined in law as “articles intended to be rubbed, poured, sprinkled, or sprayed on, introduced into, or otherwise applied to the human body … for cleansing, beautifying, promoting attractiveness, or altering the appearance.” What practitioners are not allowed to do is make claims about the health benefits of exosomes. After all, even anti-dandruff shampoo, which purports to treat a skin condition, is considered a drug by the FDA.

Dev Patel offers exosome treatments at his “anti-aging and skin rejuvenation” clinic, Perfect Skin Solutions, in Portsmouth, UK. Over the last 10 years, he says, he has noticed a trend: Customers are less interested in injectable treatments that merely give an impression of youth, like fillers and Botox, and more interested in the idea of treatments that can rejuvenate their skin. The demand for devices like lasers, which create heat on the skin and trigger repair, has “gone through the roof,” he says. Now, exosomes are catching on too.

Patel—who has a medical degree, served in the Royal Navy, and holds a postgraduate diploma in dermatology—left his job in the UK’s National Health Service to start his clinic around 10 years ago. He didn’t start offering exosome treatments until 2020, after he heard about them at a meeting for aesthetic clinicians. 

The first treatment he offered involved unapproved exosomes derived from human fat cells—making them illegal to sell in Europe, he says. Patel says that he didn’t realize this until after he’d bought the exosomes and started using them, partly because of the misinformation he’d been fed by the distributor. He says some of the sellers were telling doctors that they were allowed to use the exosomes topically (on a person’s skin) and then inject them as part of an “off-label” use. Patel won’t name the distributor he bought from, but he says the company continued to sell its exosome products to clinics in the UK for at least two years after that point.

Patel stresses that as soon as he found out about the regulations surrounding exosomes derived from human cells, he stopped using the product. “I had probably had £5,000 [around $6,500] worth of product sitting in my clinic, and it was just thrown away,” he says. Instead, he switched to exosomes from plant cells and, more recently, others derived from salmon testes.

For hair regrowth, Perfect Skin Solutions offers a course of five exosome treatments, each delivered during a half-hour appointment, at a total cost of £2,000. When it comes to skin treatments, Patel recommends two or three sessions—more for those who are looking to counter the signs of aging. “By harnessing the power of exosomes, you can achieve a more youthful and radiant complexion, while also addressing specific skin concerns and promoting overall skin health,” according to the company’s website.  

Patel says he uses the exosomes to treat clients for baldness around four times a week. He and his team members will first perform microneedling on the scalp. This technique uses tiny needles to make miniature holes in the skin—“80,000 holes a minute,” he says. Microneedling is often used to trigger a wound healing process that can improve the look of the skin. But after Patel performs the procedure on a person’s head, he uses a “jet propulsion device” that uses carbon dioxide to spray cooled salmon exosomes into the tiny indentations. “You basically create these … micro-icicles containing the product,” he says. “They pierce the skin, but you don’t feel it. It feels quite nice, actually.” After six to 10 weeks, customers can expect healthier skin and thicker, stronger hair, he says.

“The results are amazing,” says Patel. “I’ve had it done on my hair, which is probably why it’s looking out of control now,” he adds, pointing to his thick but neatly styled do, combed back and shaved at the sides. 

Not everyone is as enthusiastic. Sarah, who is being identified by a pseudonym to protect her professional image, tried exosomes last year, though not at Patel’s clinic. Now in her 30s, she had acne as a teenager, and her dermatologist suggested that rubbing exosomes from human umbilical-cord cells into her face after a microneedling treatment might reduce the scarring. But he didn’t fully explain exactly what exosomes are or what they were expected to do, she says. 

“I feel like it’s a little bit of health marketing bullshit,” she says. “I don’t really understand how they work.”

Sarah received three treatments, three months apart, as part of a trial her dermatologist was participating in. As a participant, Sarah didn’t have to pay for her treatment. In each of the sessions, the doctor numbed Sarah’s face with lidocaine cream before microneedling it. “Then they kind of dribbled the exosomes on with a syringe,” she recalls. She was advised to sleep on a clean pillow and avoid washing her face that evening. “There was some redness … but my skin was mostly back to normal the following day,” she says.

Her last treatment was a year ago. And she hasn’t seen a reduction in her scarring. “I don’t think I’d recommend it,” she says. “The results were very underwhelming.”

Safety in salmon?

In theory, exosomes should be safer than stem-cell therapies. Cells can be thought of as “living drugs,” while exosomes are non-living collections of biological molecules, says Ke Cheng at Columbia University in New York, who is doing more conventional research into potential applications of exosomes. Cheng is exploring the use of engineered exosomes for heart diseases. Exosomes are less likely than cells to trigger an immune response, and because they can’t replicate, the risk of tumor formation is also lower. 

But that, of course, does not make them risk-free. There are no established standards or regulations for the manufacture of exosomes to be used in people. This leaves plenty of room for companies to manufacture exosomes in different ways—and for disagreements over which method is the best and safest. 

The product Sarah tried that was derived from human umbilical-cord cells is called Age Zero. Erin Crowley and her father, Michael Crowley, who manufacture and sell the product, have a team that grows the cells and then harvests the exosome-containing liquid surrounding them at a clean lab in Rochester, New York. 

“We have in stock right now about $3.5 billion worth of exosomes,” says Michael Crowley. That’s enough for millions of treatments, he says, although the figure will depend on what they are used for: The pair have different companies that sell exosomes for experimental medical use (25 billion to 100 billion exosomes per treatment) and cosmetic use (5 to 10 billion). Cosmetic clinics can buy vials that the company says contain 5, 10, 50, or 100 billion exosomes. Those with 10 billion exosomes are sold in packs of nine for $1,999, according to the company’s website.

“Right now, we’re in about a little less than a thousand medspas, aesthetician offices, dermatologists, plastic surgeons with our cosmetic product,” Erin Crowley says. “We can sell direct to consumer, but the product really works great after microneedling or after laser or dermaplaning.” They have been selling in the US for the last year and half; she says the product is also available in the UAE, Pakistan, Lebanon, Canada, and Turkey. 

The Crowleys argue that because their exosomes come from human umbilical-cord cells, they are more effective than those from other sources, although again, rigorous side-by-side comparison studies have not been done. Exosomes from plant or fish cells “just don’t have the right language to speak to human cells,” says Erin Crowley, who has a background in mechanical engineering and quality control. She says that she analyzed the exosome market a couple of years ago and was “appalled” at what was on offer. 

“The industry now … is very, very confused, and the marketing is very confused,” she says. Across the board, production quality standards are low, she says, adding that she and her dad hold their product to higher standards by testing for potential sources of infections (which can arise from contamination) and using devices to count exosomes.

On the other hand, Primacure, the company that sells the product derived from salmon testicles, argues that fish exosomes are safer than those taken from human cells or from other animals. These exosomes are collected from cells grown in a medium that contains a mix of growth factors and peptides, and the team uses ultrasound to release the exosomes from the cells, according to a video presentation by Mike Lee, CEO of Primacure. “We want to refrain from using products that are human-derived, or maybe even animal-derived, that can transmit diseases to humans,” Lee says in the video. 

There are no known cases of exosomes causing such diseases in people. But some practitioners buy that argument: “Fish present a very low-risk option in terms of disease transmission,” says Patel. Turner, though, isn’t convinced: “I don’t see any reason why they would be [safer],” he says, adding that usually, biological materials from other animals are seen as posing a greater risk to patients. The use of animal cells or tissues in humans carries risks of infection, for example.

We can’t be sure either way, because rigorous research comparing these exosomes and their safety simply has not been done. “If they are from different sources, their outcomes and effects will be different,” says Cheng. “You need to have science; you need to know why they work.”

Exosomes derived from human cells will still have molecules that are foreign to a person’s body and could trigger an immune response, says Edgar. He is also concerned that because exosomes may hold the original cell’s waste, they could be introducing things that a recipient’s cells would rather be rid of. They might, for example, shuttle excess receptors for growth factors out of a cell. If another cell takes these up, it might end up with too many growth factor receptors, which could help drive cancer, he says. “We do need to understand the basics of what’s going on here before we jump into the clinic,” he adds.

At any rate, there are no rigorous human studies to support the safety or effectiveness of using exosomes for skin health, hair growth, or anything else. Look at any clinic website, and it will probably have some impressive-looking before-and-after photos of a customer or two. But these individuals are often having several treatments at the same time. Microneedling alone has been used for decades as an aesthetic treatment. And Patel says he delivers each vial of exosomes alongside a second vial containing a concoction of many other ingredients that are thought to be beneficial to skin health.

So how can a clinician be sure that the apparent effects are due to the exosomes? I put this question to Patel. “I can’t answer that,” he told me. “I’ve never just used the mix on its own to see [what it does]. You’d have to do countless patients with either [vial] to know.”

Beyond beauty

While many of the clinics offering exosome treatments are focused on their purported cosmetic benefits, a significant number claim that they can treat diseases. In the three months between November 2021 and January 2022, Turner and his colleagues identified 16 businesses that were marketing exosome-based therapies to treat or prevent covid-19 or long covid, for example. Others claim exosomes can treat sports injuries and even disorders like Alzheimer’s disease. Again, there is no rigorous research to support these claims.

There have been some promising early studies in animals, and a handful of small, weak phase I trials exploring the use of exosomes in medical treatments. But these fall way below the approval standards of the FDA. 

“There are currently no FDA-approved exosome products for any use,” Paul Richards, an FDA representative, wrote in an email to MIT Technology Review. Because of this, no exosome product should be marketed for any medical use.

“There is an abundance of misleading information in the public domain regarding regenerative medicine products, including exosome products,” wrote Richards. “The FDA continues to remind consumers to be cautious of any clinics, including regenerative medicine clinics, health-care providers, physicians, chiropractors, or nurses, that advertise or offer anything purported to be an exosome product. These products are not without risk and are often marketed by clinics as being safe and effective for the treatment of a wide range of diseases or conditions, even though they haven’t been adequately studied in clinical trials.” 

No exosome-based products have been approved by the UK’s Medicines & Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) or by the European Medicine Agency (EMA), either.

“They’re unproven technologies, at least from the perspective of the FDA,” says Dave Carter, head of research at the biotech company Evox, which is exploring the use of exosomes for drug delivery. “We don’t really understand [how they work] … I personally would be somewhat wary of these types of things outside of the context of proper clinical trials.”

The FDA has issued letters to some of the clinics providing these treatments. In 2020, for example, the organization wrote to Douglas Spiel, president of Regenerative Solutions of New Jersey, about its claims—being published on Facebook at the time—that exosomes could “mitigate, prevent, treat, or cure” covid. The company was also marketing exosome products for a range of other disorders, including spinal cord injury, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, lupus, and multiple sclerosis.The FDA letter listed the problematic posts and requested a response within 30 days. Spiel’s current clinic doesn’t make any claims about exosomes. 

Turner is concerned that letters like these have little impact. “It’s not terribly consequential,” he says. “No one has to surrender their medical license, and there are no automatic financial penalties.”

Beyond potential harm to individual patients, both scientists and regulatory agencies are concerned that unapproved, untested, and unregulated exosome “treatments” could set back an exciting field of research. Potential uses of exosomes to diagnose and treat diseases are being explored through lab-based research and early-stage clinical trials. Companies making unsubstantiated claims to sell products could undermine that progress.

These marketing claims are often “a mishmash of marketing froth, marketing hype, and some credible claims cut and paste[d] from [scientific] papers and websites,” says Turner. “It makes it more challenging for us to have any kind of meaningful public understanding or discussion.”

In the meantime, Turner is one of many scientists cautioning people against the use of exosomes. “I would say that it’s a bit of a Wild West out there with respect to how these are being used,” says Kalluri of MD Anderson Cancer Center. “Ultimately, some science needs to be done to show that this actually works.”

“From a very basic point of view, we don’t really know what they’re doing, good or bad,” says Edgar, from the University of Cambridge. “I wouldn’t take them, let’s put it that way.”

Even Sarah, who received three exosome treatments last year, agrees. “I think there needs to be more research around it … I would just hold on and see,” she says. “Maybe [I would feel] different if I looked a million years younger after using it. But that wasn’t the case.”

GMOs could reboot chestnut trees

Under a slice-of-heaven sky, 150 acres of rolling green hills stretch off into the distance. About a dozen people—tree enthusiasts, conservationists, research biologists, biotech entrepreneurs, and a venture capitalist in long socks and a floppy hat—have driven to this rural spot in New York state on a perfect late-July day. 

We are here to see more than 2,500 transgenic chestnut seedlings at a seed farm belonging to American Castanea, a new biotech startup. The sprouts, no higher than our knees, are samples of likely the first genetically modified trees to be considered for federal regulatory approval as a tool for ecological restoration. American Castanea’s founders, and all the others here today, hope that the American chestnut (Castanea dentata) will be the first tree species ever brought back from functional extinction—but, ideally, not the last.

Living as long as a thousand years, the American chestnut tree once dominated parts of the Eastern forest canopy, with many Native American nations relying on them for food. But by 1950, the tree had largely succumbed to a fungal blight probably introduced by Japanese chestnuts. “Now after hard work, great ideas, and decades of innovation, we have a tree and a science platform designed to make restoration possible,” American Castanea cofounder Michael Bloom told the people squinting in the sun.

As recently as last year, it seemed the 35-year effort to revive the American chestnut might grind to a halt. Now, federal regulatory approval is expected soon. And there’s millions of dollars in new funding coming in from private investors and the federal government. One conservation nonprofit is in discussions with American Castanea to plant up to a million of its chestnuts per year as soon as they’re ready and approved. 

Nothing like this has ever been tried before. But the self-­proclaimed “nutheads” believe the reintroduction of a GMO, blight-resistant American chestnut at scale could also become a model for how environmentalists can redeploy trees in general: restoring forests and shifting food production, all to combat climate change and biodiversity loss. 

“It’s a hard time to be a tree,” says Leigh Greenwood, director of the forest pest and pathogen program at the Nature Conservancy, which has been supportive of the GMO chestnut’s regulatory application. “But there’s some really interesting promise and hope.”  

Four billion trees dead 

“Charismatic megafauna” is the scientific term for species, like pandas and blue whales, that draw a disproportionate amount of love and, thus, resources. The nearly vanished American chestnut may be the most charismatic tree east of the Rockies. Because of its historical importance, fast growth, and abundant productivity of both nuts and timber, it’s drawn an exceptional amount of interest among biologists, conservationists, and a new crop of farmers. 

Trees that die back from blight occasionally resprout. Volunteer groups like the American Chestnut Cooperators’ Foundation have been working for decades to gather and crossbreed wild trees in the hopes of nudging along natural resistance to the blight. Meanwhile, the State University of New York’s College of Environmental Science and Forestry (ESF), with the support of a different group, the American Chestnut Foundation (TACF), has been pursuing genetic engineering in its labs and on its 44 wooded acres outside Syracuse. 

When ESF biologist Bill Powell and his colleagues began working with chestnut embryonic cells in 1989, it took them a decade just to optimize the growing process to make research practical. After that, researchers in the small lab inserted a wheat gene in embryos that inactivated oxalic acid, the toxin produced by the blight fungus. Gathering results on these transgenic trees takes time, because each generation has to grow for a few years before it produces the most useful data. But they eventually created a promising line, named Darling-58 after Herb Darling, a New York construction magnate who funded this research through TACF. Darling-58 was not perfect, and results varied from tree to tree and site to site. But eventually, the data showed slower infections and smaller cankers, the bulbous growths produced by the blight. 

In 2020, Darling-58 became, in all likelihood, the first genetically modified forest tree to be submitted for federal regulatory approval to the US Department of Agriculture’s Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service, the EPA, and the FDA to determine the safety of introducing it in the wild. 

“It’s a hard time to be a tree. But there’s some really interesting promise and hope.”

It is this genetically engineered strain of chestnut that American Castanea, too, is now planting and propagating in New York state, under a nonexclusive commercial license from ESF. They want to sell these trees, pending approval. And then they want to keep going, engineering ever-better chestnuts, and selling them first to enthusiasts, then to farmers, and finally to conservationists for timber, reforestation, maybe even carbon capture. 

To aid the effort, the company is looking for extraordinary wild specimens. In early 2024, it purchased an orchard that had been lovingly cultivated for three decades by a conservationist. The windy hilltop spot houses hundreds of trees, collected like stray kittens from a dozen states throughout the chestnut’s natural range. 

Most of the trees are homely and sickly with blight. They have bulging cankers, “flagging” branches sporting yellow and brown leaves, or green shoots that burst each season from their large root systems only to flop over and die back. “They make me a little sad,” admits Andrew Serazin, cofounder of American Castanea. But a few have shot up as tall as 40 feet, with only a few cankers. All these specimens have been sampled and are being analyzed. They will become the basis of a chestnut gene database that’s as complete as American Castanea can make it. 

From there, the plan is: Apply bioinformatics and AI techniques to correlate genetic signatures with specific traits. Borrow techniques developed in the cannabis industry for seedling production, cloning, and growth acceleration in high-intensity light chambers—none of which have yet been yet applied at this scale to forest trees. Develop several diverse, improved new strains of chestnut that are blight-resistant and optimized for different uses like forest restoration, nut production, and timber. Then produce seedlings at a scale previously unknown. The hope is to accelerate restoration, cutting down the time it would take resistant strains of the tree to propagate in the wild. “Tree growth takes a long time. We need to bend the curve of something that’s like a 30-year problem,” says Serazin.

The breadtree revival

The chestnut has not disappeared from the US: In fact, Americans eat some 33 million pounds of the nuts a year. These are European and Asian varieties, mostly imported. But some companies are looking to expand the cultivation of the nuts domestically. 

Among those leading the quest is a company called Breadtree Farms in upstate New York, named for a traditional nickname for the chestnut. In March, it won a $2 million grant from the USDA to build the largest organic chestnut processing facility in the US. It will be up to eight times larger than needed for its own 250 acres of trees. The company is dedicated to scaling the regional industry. “We have a list of over 100 growers that are, and will be, planting chestnut trees,” says Russell Wallack, Breadtree’s young cofounder.

Chestnuts have a nutritional profile similar to brown rice; they’re high in carbohydrates and lower in fat than other nuts. And unlike other nut trees, the chestnut “masts”—produces a large crop—every year, making it far more prolific.

That makes it a good candidate for an alternative form of agriculture dubbed agroforestry, which incorporates more trees into food cultivation. Food, agriculture, and land use together account for about one-quarter of greenhouse-gas emissions. Adding trees, whether as windbreaks between fields or as crops, could lower the sector’s carbon footprint.

Many different trees can be used this way. But Joe Fargione, science director for the Nature Conservancy’s North America region, says the chestnut is a standout candidate. “It’s great from a climate perspective, and there’s a lot of farmers that are excited about it,” he says. “Chestnuts end up being big trees that store a lot of CO2 and have a product that can be very prolific. They have the potential to pay for themselves. We want not just environmental sustainability but economic sustainability.”

The passion for chestnut revival connects the foresters and the farmers. Farmers aren’t waiting for the GMO trees to get federal approval. They are planting existing Chinese varieties, and hybrids between American and Chinese chestnuts, which thrive in the East. Still, Fargione says that if nut cultivation is going to scale up, farmers will need reliable seed stock of genetically improved trees. 

A Tennessee family poses at the base of a chestnut tree, circa 1920. A deadly fungus nearly drove the once mighty species extinct by 1940.
NEGATIVES OF GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS NATIONAL PARK

On the other hand, those foreign orchard varieties would be considered invasives if planted in the wild. And they wouldn’t feed wildlife in the same way, says Sara Fern Fitzsimmons, chief conservation officer of the American Chestnut Foundation. “Wild turkeys prefer American chestnuts,” she says. “And the blue jay—since the American chestnut is smaller, he can fit more in his crop,” a food storage area inside a bird’s throat. For forest restoration you need American chestnuts or something as close to them as possible. That’s where the genetic engineering and crossbreeding projects will be crucial. But that path has been full of pitfalls.

Switched at birth

In late 2023, a biologist at the University of New England discovered evidence that Darling-58 was not what people thought it was. For nearly 10 years, all the data that ESF had painstakingly gathered on the strain actually pertained to a different line, Darling-54, which has its wheat gene in a different place on the genome. The promising results were all still there. The trees had simply been mislabeled that entire time. 

 A few weeks later, in December 2023, the American Chestnut Foundation suddenly announced it was withdrawing its support of ESF’s Darling tree research, citing the 54-58 mix-up, as well as what it called “disappointing performance results” for 54. 

But Andy Newhouse, director of the American Chestnut Project at SUNY ESF, says the mislabeling is not a deal-breaker. The research doesn’t “need to start from scratch,” he says. “This is correcting the record, making sure we have the appropriate label on it, and moving forward.” Newhouse says the regulatory application is ongoing (the USDA and FDA declined to comment on a pending regulatory application; the EPA did not respond to requests for comment). 

Newhouse defends the documented blight response of the trees that, we now know, are actually Darling-54.

And besides, he says, they’ve got a potentially better strain coming: the DarWin. The “Win” stands for “wound-inducible.” In these trees, the anti-blight action turns on—is induced—only when the tree’s bark is wounded, working something like an animal’s immune response. This could be more efficient than continuously expressing the anti-blight gene, the way Darling-54 does. So DarWin trees might reserve more of their energy to grow and produce nuts. 

The DarWin trees are about three years old, meaning data is still being collected. And if the Darling trees are approved for safety, it should smooth the path for a much faster approval of the DarWin trees, Newhouse says.

There was another reason, though, that TACF dropped its support of the Darling regulatory petition. In a FAQ on its website, the foundation said it was “surprised and concerned” that ESF had made a licensing deal for the Darling and DarWin trees—potentially worth millions—with a for-profit company: American Castanea.

TACF said it had been supporting the project under the assumption that the results would be available, for free, to anyone, in the “public commons.” Commercialization, it says, could make the trees more expensive for anyone who might want to plant them. Fitzsimmons wouldn’t comment further. 

The biotech boys

American Castanea’s Andrew Serazin is a Rhodes scholar whose scientific background is in tropical disease research. He rose in the ranks in global philanthropy, running million-­dollar grant competitions for the Gates Foundation, funding projects like vitamin-­enhanced “golden rice” and HIV vaccines. 

He was president of the Templeton World Charity Foundation in 2020 when it gave a “transformational” $3.2 million grant to SUNY ESF’s chestnut project. Serazin became convinced that the chestnut could be the seed of something much, much bigger. It didn’t hurt that he had a sentimental chestnut connection through his wife’s family farm in West Virginia, which dates back to the time of George Washington. 

With pests and pathogens threatening so many different species, “there’s a huge potential for there to be precision management of forests using all of the same capabilities we’ve used in human medicine,” he says. 

For that, Serazin was convinced, they needed money. Real money. Venture capital money. “I mean, really, there’s only one system that we know about that works the best for this kind of innovation, and that’s using incentives for companies to bring together these resources,” he says. 

Serazin teamed up with his friend Michael Bloom, an entrepreneur who’s sold two previous companies. They incorporated American Castanea for certification as a public benefit corporation in Delaware, pledging to balance profit with purpose and adhere to a high degree of transparency on social and environmental impact. They went to “impact investors” to sell the vision. That was part of what was going on at the seed farm on that July day; the company has $4 million in seed financing and wants to raise $7 million to $10 million more next year. 

What he’s offering investors, Serazin says, isn’t quick returns but a chance to “participate in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to bring back a tree species from functional extinction, and participate in this great American story.” 

What they’re proposing, over the next several decades or more, is no less than replanting the entire Eastern forest with a variety of genetically superior breeds, on the scale of millions of trees. 

It sounds, at first blush, like a sci-fi terraforming scenario. On the other hand, Leigh Greenwood, at the Nature Conservancy, says every species group of tree in the woods is threatened by climate change. Pathogens are emerging in new territories, trees are stressed by extreme weather, and the coldest winter temperatures, which used to reliably kill off all manner of forest insects and diseases at the edges of their habitats, are getting milder.

Besides chestnut blight, there’s Dutch elm disease, the emerald ash borer, butternut canker, oak wilt, and white pine blister rust. The southern pine beetle now ranges as far north as Massachusetts because of milder winters. The spongy (formerly gypsy) moth is a champion defoliator, munching enough leaves “to make an entire forest look naked in June,” says Greenwood. A new nematode that attacks leaves and buds, previously unknown to science, has emerged near the Great Lakes in the last decade. Sick and dying trees stop sequestering carbon and storing water, are prone to wildfire, and can take entire ecosystems down with them. 

“Invasive species are moving faster than biological time,” Greenwood says. “What we have to do is speed up the host trees, their natural selection. And that is an enormous task that only in very recent times have we really developed the tools in order to figure out how the heck we’re going to do that.” 

By “recent tools,” Greenwood means, more or less, what American Castanea is trying: genetic analysis and advanced horticultural techniques that allow resistant trees to be propagated and introduced into the wild more quickly. 

Greenwood is quick to say that the Nature Conservancy also supports the American Chestnut Cooperators’ Foundation, which crossbreeds wild American chestnuts for blight resistance. They are a small, all-volunteer organization with no university affiliation. They mail their crossbred chestnuts out to hobbyist landowners all over the country, and president Ed Greenwell tells me they don’t really know exactly how many are growing out there—maybe 5,000, maybe more. He has seen some that are big and healthy, he says. “We have many trees of 40-plus years of age.” 

What they don’t have is a sense of urgency. “We’re self-funded, so we could do our breeding as we choose,” says Greenwell. “Our method is tried and true, and we have no pressure to take shortcuts, like genetic modification, which theoretically could have shortened the time to get trees back in the woods.” 

The whole idea of a GMO forest tests our concept of what “nature” is. And that may just be a marker of where we are at this point in the Anthropocene.

Greenwell is not the only one to object to GMO chestnuts. In 2023, Joey Owle, then the secretary of agriculture and natural resources for the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, told Grist magazine that while the group was open to introducing transgenic trees on its land if necessary, it was the “last option that we would like to pursue.”

Greenwood led the writing of an expert letter, something like an amicus brief, in support of SUNY ESF’s regulatory petition for the Darling tree. She takes such objections seriously. “If we do not address the human dimensions of change, no matter how good the biological, chemical designs are,” she says, “those changes will fail.” 

That July day out at the seed farm, sitting under a tent with plates of pork barbecue, the scientists, conservationists, and businesspeople started debating how deep these GMO objections really run. Serazin said he believes that what people really hate is corporate monopoly, not the technology per se. “It’s really about the exertion of power and capital,” he said. He’s hoping that by incorporating as a public benefit corporation and making the trees widely available to conservation groups and responsible forest product and nut producers, he can convince people that American Castanea’s heart is in the right place. 

Still, others pointed out, the whole idea of a GMO forest tests our concept of what “nature” is. And that may just be a marker of where we are at this point in the Anthropocene—it’s hard to envision a future where any living creature in the ecological web can remain untouched by humans. 

That responsibility may connect us more to the past than we realize. For centuries, Native people like the Haudenosaunee Nation practiced intentional land management to improve habitat for the chestnut. When the Europeans began clearing land for farming and timber, the fast-growing tree was able to claim proportionately even more space for itself. It turns out the forest those colonists embraced—the forest dominated by chestnut trees—was no true accident of nature. It was a product of a relationship between people and chestnuts. One that continues to evolve today. 

Anya Kamenetz is a freelance reporter who writes the Substack newsletter The Golden Hour.

These companies are creating food out of thin air

Dried cells—it’s what’s for dinner. At least that’s what a new crop of biotech startups, armed with carbon-guzzling bacteria and plenty of capital, are hoping to convince us. Their claims sound too good to be true: They say they can make food out of thin air.

But that’s exactly how certain soil-dwelling bacteria work. In nature, these “autotrophic” microbes survive on a meager diet of oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and water vapor drawn directly from the atmosphere. In the lab, they do the same, eating up waste carbon and reproducing so enthusiastically that their populations swell to fill massive fermentation tanks. Siphoned off and dehydrated, that bacterial biomass becomes a protein-rich powder that’s chock-full of nutrients and essentially infinitely renewable. 

Lisa Dyson is the founder of one of these startups, Air Protein. When she talks about the inspiration for her company, she often cites NASA research from the 1960s. Back then the agency, hoping to keep astronauts satiated on long-haul space journeys, explored the idea of growing bacterial cuisine on board before concluding, ultimately, that astronauts might not find it psychologically palatable. “Earth is actually like a spaceship,” Dyson explained in a 2016 TED Talk. “We have limited space and limited resources, and on Earth, we really do need to figure out how to recycle our carbon better.” Could these bacteria be the answer?

For now, the answer is a definite maybe. Some 25 companies worldwide have already taken up the challenge, hoping to turn abundant carbon dioxide into nutritious “air protein.” The ultimate goal of the people who work at these companies is to engineer a food source far lower in emissions than conventional farming—perhaps even one that could disrupt agriculture altogether. To do that, they’ll need to overcome some very real challenges. They’ll need to scale up production of their protein to compete commercially, and do it in a way that doesn’t create more emissions or other environmental issues. Even trickier: They’ll need to surmount the ick people may experience when contemplating a bacteria-based meal. 

Some of these companies are focused on industrial animal feed, fish meal, and pet food—products with slimmer profit margins but less exacting consumers and fewer regulatory hurdles. Human food, however, is where the real money—and impact—is. That’s why several companies, like Dyson’s Air Protein, are focused on it. In 2023 Air Protein opened its first “air farm” in San Leandro, California, a hub for the commercial food production industry, and announced a strategic development agreement with one of the largest agricultural commodity traders in the world, ADM, to collaborate on research and development and build an even larger, commercial-­scale plant. The company’s “Air Chicken” (which, to be clear, is not actual chicken) is slowly making its way toward grocery store shelves and dinner tables. But that’s only the beginning. Other companies are making progress at harnessing bacteria to spin air into protein, too—and someday soon, these microbial protein patties could be as common as veggie burgers. 

An alternative to alternative proteins

The environmental case for microbial protein is clear enough; it’s a simple calculus of arable land, energy, and mouths to feed. The global demand for protein is already at an all-time high, and with the population expected to grow to 9.7 billion by 2050, traditional agriculture will have a hard time keeping up, especially as it battles climate change, soil degradation, and disease. A growing global middle class is expected to raise levels of meat consumption, but factory-farmed meat is one of the leading drivers of greenhouse-­gas emissions. Although protein-rich alternatives like soy are far more sustainable, most of the soy grown in the world is destined for use as animal feed—not for human consumption. 

In contrast, bacterial “crops” convert carbon dioxide directly into protein, in a process that uses much less land and water. Microbial protein “farms” could operate year-round anywhere renewable electricity is cheap—even in places like Chile’s Atacama Desert, where farming is nearly impossible. That would take the strain off agricultural land—and potentially even give us the chance to return it to the wild. 

 “We are liberating food production from the constraints of agriculture,” Juha-Pekka Pitkänen, cofounder and CTO of the Finnish startup Solar Foods, explained in a recent company video. In April 2024 Solar Foods opened a demonstration factory in Vantaa, a short train ride from the Helsinki airport. It’s here, at Factory 01, that the company hopes to produce enough of its goldenrod-yellow protein powder, Solein, to prove itself viable—some 160 metric tons a year. 

Like Air Protein, Solar Foods begins its production process with naturally occurring hydrogen-­oxidizing bacteria that metabolize carbon dioxide, the way plants do. In sterile bioreactors similar to the fermentation vats used in the brewing industry, the bacteria flourish in water on a steady diet of CO2, hydrogen, and a few additional nutrients, like nitrogen, calcium, phosphorus, and potassium. As they multiply, the bacteria thicken the water into a slurry, which is continuously siphoned off and dehydrated, creating a protein-rich powder that can be used as an ingredient in alternative meats, dairy products, and snacks.

“We are liberating food production from the constraints of agriculture.”

Juha-Pekka Pitkänen, Solar Foods

As Pitkänen explains, his research team at Finland’s state-owned VTT Technical Research Centre knew these microorganisms existed in the wild. To find a viable candidate, they narrowed down the natural conditions where one might be found, and then—as is the Finnish way—put on some hiking boots and got out there. “In Finland, you don’t have to go very far to find nature,” he says, shrugging. “You can find something useful in a ditch.”

Still, not just any old ditch bacteria would do. Their target needed to both consume carbon dioxide and continue to thrive even after it was isolated from the microbial community it coexisted with, or competed against, in nature. “We were looking for a pacifist microorganism,” Pitkänen says. “It’s quite rare.” In a wet soil-dwelling bacterium of the genus Xanthobacter,they found their match: a nontoxic, lab-friendly microbe palatable enoughto slip into myriad food preparations.

At Solar Foods’ annual summer company party this year, their in-house chef served a bright-yellow lasagna made with Solein. The powder, Pitkänen says, makes an excellent flour for fresh pasta dough and works surprisingly well as a cream replacement in ice cream. It’s rich in carotenoids, so it can taste “carroty,” and it’s full of B12 and bioavailable iron, which makes it great for vegetarians. But the product isn’t a plug-and-play replacement for milk, eggs, or even meat. Rather, it’s an ingredient like any other, competing on nutritional value, cost, and texture. The company’s main competition, Pitkänen told me, isn’t other novel proteins—it’s soy meal. 

“In the last 10 years, the whole alternative-protein landscape has changed dramatically,” says Hannah Lester, an EU-based regulatory consultant to the novel-food industry. Soy patties and bean burgers are now ubiquitous to the point of being passé; today’s cutting-edge alternative proteins are cultivated from animal cells and coaxed from specially designed microorganisms using techniques originally developed to produce vaccines and other pharmaceuticals. “Molecular farmers” tend fields of bright-pink soybeans whose genetic makeup has been doctored so that they contain proteins identical to ones pigs make. “It’s really coming to the point where companies are utilizing the most incredible technology to produce food,” she says.

A fermentation process by any other name

The space Air Protein and Solar Foods occupy is so new that language hasn’t quite coalesced around it. Some in the alternative-protein industry evocatively call it “cellular agriculture,” but it’s also referred to as “gas fermentation,” emphasizing the process, and “biomass fermentation,” emphasizing the end product. These terms are distinct from “precision fermentation,” which refers to another buzzy bioprocess that employs genetically modified yeasts, other fungi, and bacteria to produce proteins indistinguishable from their animal-­derived counterparts. Precision fermentation isn’t a new technique: The US Food and Drug Administration approved its use to produce insulin in 1982, and 80% of the rennet used in cheese is now made this way, avoiding the need to harvest the enzymes from the stomach lining of calves. 

Rather than coaxing microorganisms to produce the animal-­derived proteins we’re already familiar with, companies like Air Protein and Solar Foods are proposing that we skip the intermediary and simply eat the microbes themselves, dried into a powder. Microbial biomass made with these new fermentation technologies is fibrous, vitamin-rich, and versatile. More important, these bacteria eat carbon, require very little land and water, and need no fossil-fuel-derived fertilizers. According to a life-cycle analysis produced by the University of Helsinki and the Natural Resources Institute Finland, microbial protein is between 53% and 100% more efficient to produce than animal protein.

Of course, that’s a wide range. Finland’s electricity mix favors renewables like hydropower and wind; in a country more reliant on fossil fuels, the environmental impact of making Solein, or any microbial protein, could be much higher. Growing microbes in bulk means creating the perfect conditions for them to thrive—and, as with any industrial production process, that requires factories, equipment, and power to run the entire system. It also requires a generous supply of elements like carbon dioxide and hydrogen. 

white cloud hovering over a sugar cone on blue sky background

ERIC MONGEON/MIT TECHNOLOGY REVIEW

Nearly all the world’s human-made hydrogen, a key element in the bacterial diet, comes from fossil-fuel production, and “green” hydrogen, which Solar Foods uses in its demonstration factory, comes from using renewable-powered electrolysis to split water, still an uncommon process. According to David Tze, CEO of the microbial-protein company NovoNutrients, which is currently working to branch out from industrial fish meal to human food, the segment of the microbial-protein industry powered by hydrogen is likely to set up shop wherever hydrogen is cheapest.

Carbon sources for this technology are likewise varied. If a company wants to use captured waste carbon, it will need to broker relationships with industries to connect its protein factories with those sources. Another alternative, sourcing carbon drawn from the atmosphere using direct air capture, or DAC, is still new, energy intensive, and expensive. For the time being, Air Protein uses the same commercially available carbon dioxide used in sparkling water, and while Solar Foods uses DAC for about 15% of the carbon it needs at its demonstration factory, the rest is sourced commercially. Both companies hope to adjust their carbon sources as they scale, and as DAC becomes more commercially available. 

Even if the bacteria were fed a diet of entirely captured carbon, they wouldn’t be permanently removing it from the atmosphere, since we release carbon when we digest food. Still, Tze says, “we’re giving a second life to CO2, and allowing it to add so much more positive value to the economy.” More important, the bacteria-based products drastically reduce the emissions footprint of protein. According to a 2016 study by the World Resources Institute, producing a single ton of beef creates around 2,400 metric tons of greenhouse-gas emissions. For plant-based sources of protein, like pulses, the number is much less than 300—but for microbial proteins it may ultimately be in the single digits. “If someone can eat a bite of our product instead of a bite of anything else,” Tze says, “it could be one or three orders of magnitude difference.”

Of course, none of this works if microbial protein remains a niche industry, or if the product is too expensive for the average consumer. Even running at capacity, Solar Foods’ demonstration factory can only produce enough protein to provide the entire population of Finland with one meal a year. From a business standpoint, Pitkänen says, that’s good news: There’s plenty of room to grow. But if they hope to make a dent in the long-term sustainability of our food systems, companies like Solar Foods and Air Protein will need to scale up by orders of magnitude too. It remains to be seen if they will be able to meet that challenge—and if consumers will be ready. 

Even though both the process (fermentation) and the material (living microorganisms) are as natural as the world and as old as time, the idea of whipping air and microbes together to make dinner will strike many people as unthinkably weird. Food is cultural, after all—and especially in the US, protein is political. In interviews, Dyson takes pains to call the bacteria behind Air Protein’s process “cultures,” emphasizing the connection to traditional fermented foods like yogurt, beer, or miso. On the Solar Foods website, chic people drink yellow Solein smoothies at tasteful Nordic tables. No bacteria are pictured.

Solar Foods is still awaiting final regulatory approval in the EU and the US, but Solein is already for sale in Singapore, where it’s been whipped into chocolate gelato and hazelnut-­strawberry snack bars. If Singaporeans took issue with eating powdered bacteria, they made little show of it. When it comes to food biotechnology, the most progressive countries in the world are those with the least arable land. Singapore, which imports nearly everything, hopes to meet 30% of its own nutritional needs by 2030. Israel, a semi-arid country with limited landmass, has invested heavily in biomanufacturing, as has the Netherlands, where farmland has been heavily depleted by chemical fertilizers. But even in less constrained countries, “agriculture is on its knees because of climate change,” says Lester, the regulatory expert. “At some point, sadly, we’re just not going to be able to produce food in the traditional way. We do need alternatives. We need government support. We need fundamental policy change in how we fund food.”

This sentiment seems to be resonating in the United States. In September 2022, President Joe Biden signed an executive order to advance biomanufacturing by expanding training, streamlining regulation, and bolstering federal investment in biotechnology R&D, specifically citing “boost[ing] sustainable biomass production” as a key objective. In 2021, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency launched the Cornucopia program, asking four research teams—one of which includes Dyson’s company, Air Protein—to create a complete nutrition system, small enough to fit on a Humvee, that can harvest nitrogen and carbon from the air and use it to produce microbial rations in the form of shakes, bars, gels, and jerky. Microbial protein may never be deployed on long-haul space trips as NASA dreams, but it seems that the government is betting it could keep us alive on Spaceship Earth—that is, if the crew doesn’t reject it outright.

Claire L. Evans is a writer and musician exploring ecology, technology, and culture.

Oropouche virus is spreading. Here’s what we know.

This article first appeared in The Checkup, MIT Technology Review’s weekly biotech newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Thursday, and read articles like this first, sign up here.

There have been plenty of reports of potentially concerning viruses this last year. Covid is still causing thousands of deaths, and bird flu appears set to make the jump to human-to-human transmission. Now there are new concerns over Oropouche, a virus largely spread by bites from insects called midges (sometimes called no-see-ums in the US).

There have been outbreaks of the Oropouche virus in Latin America for decades. But this one is different. The virus is being detected in all-new environments. It is turning up in countries that have never seen it before. The spread is being described as “unprecedented.”

It may also be causing more severe disease. People with Oropouche fever typically have a sudden fever, aches and pains, and nausea. Most cases are mild, but some people have developed encephalitis and meningitis. And this year, two otherwise healthy young women who caught the virus have died.

Oropouche can be passed from mother to fetus, and it has been linked to stillbirths and birth anomalies. There are no treatments. There are no vaccines, either. This week, let’s take a look at why Oropouche is spreading, and what we can do about it.

Oropouche virus was first identified in 1955, in a person and a pool of mosquitoes from the village of Vega de Oropouche in Trinidad and Tobago. It was found in a sloth in Brazil in 1960. Since then, there have been over 30 outbreaks—in those countries as well as Peru, Panama, Colombia, French Guiana, and Venezuela. At least 500,000 cases have been reported in South America, largely in areas close to forest.

That’s probably because of the way the virus is transmitted. Oropouche virus is thought to be carried by some populations of sloths, and potentially some nonhuman primates. These animals can host the virus, which can then spread to people via insect bites, usually from midges or some types of mosquitoes.

Since late 2023, outbreaks have been reported in a number of countries in South America, Central America, and the Caribbean, including Cuba, a first for the country. 

There has been an especially large surge of cases in Brazil. Since the beginning of this year, 10,275 cases of Oropouche have been confirmed in the Americas, according to a situation summary report published by the Pan American Health Organization (PAHO) earlier this week. And 8,258 of them were in Brazil. Travelers have also imported cases to the US and Europe for the first time—90 such cases have been reported in the US, and 30 in Europe.

Another change is that this time around, the virus has been infecting people in urban settings far from forests. It is not entirely clear why, but there are probably a few reasons. Climate change, for a start, has led to increased temperatures and rainfall, both of which can help create breeding grounds for the insects that transmit the virus. And deforestation and urbanization, both of which have caused people to encroach on the habitats of wild animals, have also raised the risk of transmission to people, says Ana Pereiro do Vale, a veterinarian and microbiologist at University College Dublin in Ireland.

The virus itself also appears to have changed, according to new research published this week. William de Souza at the University of Kentucky and his colleagues analyzed blood samples taken from people with an Oropouche diagnosis between 2015 and 2024, enabling them to compare the form of the virus that is currently circulating with a historical strain.

The team found evidence that the virus has swapped genetic material with a related one, creating a new “virus reassortment.” It is this new form of the virus that has spread since the end of 2023, the team says.

That’s not all. The genetic changes have endowed the virus with new features. The current reassortment appears to be better at replicating in mammalian cells. That might mean that infected people—and sloths—have more of the virus in their blood, making it easier for biting insects to pick it up and pass it on.

The new form of the virus also seems to be more virulent. The team’s lab tests suggest that compared with the historical strain, it appears to cause more damage to the cells it infects.

We are still getting to grips with how the virus can spread, too. We know midges and mosquitoes are responsible for spreading Oropouche, but the virus can also pass to a fetus during pregnancy, with potentially harmful consequences. According to the PAHO report, Brazil has reported “13 fetal deaths, three spontaneous miscarriages, and four cases of birth anomalies” linked to Oropouche infections.

In a separate study published earlier this week, Raimunda do Socorro da Silva Azevedo at the Evandro Chagas Institute in Ananindeua, Brazil, and her colleagues assessed 65 unexplained cases of microcephaly—a birth anomaly in which babies have an unexpectedly small head—that had been recorded in Brazil between 2015 and 2024. The team found evidence of an Oropouche infection in six of the babies—and in all three that had been born in 2024.

It’s still not clear whether or how the virus might affect fetuses and babies, and research is ongoing. But the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) recommends that pregnant travelers “reconsider non-essential travel” to Cuba

Some scientists worry that the virus might also spread via sex. In August, a 42-year-old Italian man who fell ill after returning from a trip to Cuba was found to have Oropouche virus in his semen. And it was still there 58 days later. The CDC currently recommends that men diagnosed with Oropouche should use condoms or not have sex for at least six weeks from the start of their symptoms. They should avoid donating semen, too, according to the organization.

There are a lot of unanswered questions when it comes to Oropouche. Some scientists have suggested that this is because outbreaks have historically been seen in poorer countries in the Global South.

“There is sufficient colonialism in disease research—if it doesn’t affect the industrial world and Western business interests, it’s not important,” Shahid Jameel, a virologist at the University of Oxford, told Gavi, an organization focused on global vaccination efforts. “Now that the virus has been found in Cuba—not far from Miami—the wheels of public health will turn.”

Let’s hope they get in gear quickly. As Vale says: “We don’t know what will happen with the virus, the mutation rate of the virus, or if the virus will jump to another host. We need to be careful and pay attention.”


Now read the rest of The Checkup

Read more from MIT Technology Review‘s archive

Oropouche infections can look similar to dengue—another viral disease, also spread by mosquitoes, that affects people in Brazil. The country is attempting to tackle the problem with bacteria-infected mosquitoes, Cassandra Willyard reported in March.

The spread of bird flu in dairy cattle in the US has virologists worried. The virus could stick around on US farms forever and is raising the risk of outbreaks in mammals—including humans—around the world.

Flu season is officially upon those of us in the Northern Hemisphere. This year, it could enable the creation of an all-new bird flu, too. 

Could gene editing help curb the spread of bird flu? Abdullahi Tsanni explored the possibility of using CRISPR to make chickens resistant to the virus.

Another option, of course, is vaccines. Most flu vaccines are made, ironically, in chicken eggs. mRNA vaccines could provide an alternative, egg-free approach.

From around the web

A fertility clinic in London has helped two transgender individuals have a baby in a process that involved egg freezing, donated sperm, IVF, embryo storage, and surrogacy. “To our knowledge this is the first report of family building by a transgender couple in which both partners had successfully achieved gender reassignment and the creation of a family through surrogacy,” write the team. (Reproductive BioMedicine Online)

“They showed me them in a mirror … and I looked like a witch,” says one woman who has experienced the horror of dental veneers gone wrong. Veneers have become as routine as Botox and lip filler. But what can people do when their dream of a perfect smile turns into a nightmare? (The Guardian)

Thinking about deleting your 23andMe data? The company will hold on to some of it regardless, to comply with legal regulations. Some of your genetic information, your date of birth and your sex, and data linked to your account deletion request will all be retained. (MIT Technology Review)

Pet dogs are spending more time indoors, in environments they aren’t suited to. Service dogs, on the other hand, are uniquely well adapted to life in the 21st century, say two researchers at the Duke Canine Cognition Center. Humans need to breed and train more puppies like service animals, they argue. (The Atlantic)

How to… delete your 23andMe data

MIT Technology Review’s How To series helps you get things done. 

Things aren’t looking good for 23andMe. The consumer DNA testing company recently parted ways with all its board members but CEO Anne Wojcicki over her plans to take the company private. It’s also still dealing with the fallout of a major security breach last October, which saw hackers access the personal data of around 5.5 million customers.

23andMe’s business is built on taking saliva samples from its customers. The DNA from those samples is processed and analyzed in its labs to produce personalized genetic reports detailing a user’s unique health and ancestry. The uncertainty swirling around the company’s future and potential new ownership  has prompted privacy campaigners to urge users to delete their data.

“It’s not just you. If anyone in your family gave their DNA to 23&Me, for all of your sakes, close your/their account now,” Meredith Whittaker, president of the encrypted messaging platform Signal, posted on X after the board’s resignation. 

“Customers should consider current threats to their privacy as well as threats that may exist in the future—some of which may be magnified if 23AndMe were sold to a new owner,” says Jason Kelley, activism director at the Electronic Frontier Foundation. “23AndMe has protections around this much of this. But a potential sale could put your data in the hands of a far less scrupulous company.”

A spokesperson for 23andMe said that the company has strong customer privacy protections in place, and does not share customer data with third parties without customers’ consent. “Our research program is opt-in, requiring customers to go through a separate, informed consent process before joining,” they say. “We are committed to protecting customer data and are consistently focused on maintaining the privacy of our customers. That will not change.”

Why deleting your account comes with a caveat

Deleting your data from 23andMe is permanent and cannot be reversed. But some of that data will be retained to comply with the company’s legal obligations, according to its privacy statement

That means 23andMe and its third-party genotyping laboratory will hang onto some of your genetic information, plus your date of birth and sex—alongside data linked to your account deletion request, including your email address and deletion request identifier. When MIT Technology Review asked 23andMe about the nature of the genetic information it retains, it referred us to its privacy policy but didn’t provide any other details.

Any information you’ve previously provided and consented to being used in 23andMe research projects also cannot be removed from ongoing or completed studies, although it will not be used in any future ones. 

Beyond the laboratories that process the saliva samples, the company does not share customer information with anyone else unless the user has given permission for it to do so, the spokesperson says, including employers, insurance companies, law enforcement agencies, or any public databases.

“We treat law enforcement inquiries, such as a valid subpoena or court order, with the utmost seriousness. We use all legal measures to resist any and all requests in order to protect our customer’s privacy,” the spokesperson says. “To date, we have successfully challenged these requests and have not released any information to law enforcement.”

For those who still want their data deleted, here’s how you go about it.

How to delete your data from 23andMe

  1. Log into your account and navigate to Settings.
  2. Under Settings, scroll to the section titled 23andMe data. Select View.
  3. You may be asked to enter your date of birth for extra security. 
  4. In the next section, you’ll be asked which, if any, personal data you’d like to download from the company (onto a personal, not public, computer). Once you’re finished, scroll to the bottom and select Permanently delete data.
  5. You should then receive an email from 23andMe detailing its account deletion policy and requesting that you confirm your request. Once you confirm you’d like your data to be deleted, the deletion will begin automatically and you’ll immediately lose access to your account. 

What about your genetic sample?

When you set up your 23andMe account, you’re given the option either to have your saliva sample securely destroyed or to have it stored for future testing. If you’ve previously opted to store your sample but now want to delete your 23andMe account, the company says, it will destroy the sample for you as part of the account deletion process.

What if you want to keep your genetic data, just not on 23andMe?

Even if you want your data taken off 23AndMe, there are reasons why you might still want to have it hosted on other DNA sites—for genealogical research, for example. And some people like the idea of having their DNA results stored on more than one database in case something happens to any one company. This is where downloading your data comes into play. FamilyTreeDNA, MyHeritage, GEDmatch, and Living DNA are among the DNA testing companies that allow you to upload existing DNA results from other companies, although Ancestry and 23andMe don’t accept uploads.

How to download your raw genetic data

  1. Navigate directly to you.23andme.com/tools/data/.
  2. Click on your profile name on the top right-hand corner. Then select Resources from the menu.
  3. Select Browse raw genotyping data and then Download.
  4. Visit Account settings and click on View under 23andMe data.
  5. Enter your date of birth for security purposes.
  6. Tick the box indicating that you understand the limitations and risks associated with uploading your information to third-party sites and press Submit request.

23andMe warns its users that uploading their data to other services could put genetic data privacy at risk. For example, bad actors could use someone else’s DNA data to create fake genetic profiles.

They could use these profiles to “match” with a relative and access personal identifying information and specific DNA variants—such as information about any disease risk variants you might carry, the spokesperson says, adding: “This is one reason why we don’t support uploading DNA to 23andMe at this time.” 

Update: This article has been updated to reflect that when asked about the nature of the genetic information it retains, 23andMe referred us to its privacy policy but didn’t provide any other details.

These are the best ways to measure your body fat

This article first appeared in The Checkup, MIT Technology Review’s weekly biotech newsletter. To receive it in your inbox every Thursday, and read articles like this first, sign up here.

This week, an office conversation turned to body weight. We all know that being overweight is not great for your health—it’s linked to metabolic diseases like diabetes and cardiovascular problems. But weighing yourself won’t tell you all you need to know about your disease risk.

A friend of mine is a super-fit marathon runner. She’s all lean muscle. And yet according to her body mass index (BMI), which is a measure of weight relative to height, she’s overweight. Which is frankly ridiculous.

I, on the other hand, have never been all that muscular. I like to think I’m a healthy weight—but nurses in the past have advised me, on the basis of my BMI, to eat more butter and doughnuts. This is advice I never expected to receive from a health professional. (I should add here that my friend and I are roughly the same height and wear the same size in clothes.)

The BMI is flawed. So what should we be using instead? There are several high-tech alternatives, but a simple measure that involves lying on your back could also tell you about how your body size might influence your health.

First, let’s talk about fat—the most demonized of all body components. Fat is stored in adipose tissue, which has some really important functions. It stores energy, keeps us warm, and provides protective cushioning for our organs. It also produces a whole host of important substances, from hormones that control our appetite to chemicals that influence the way our immune systems work.

Not all fat is equal, either. Our bodies contain white fat, brown fat, and beige fat. While white fat stores energy, brown fat helps burn calories. Beige fat tissue contains a mixture of the two. And white fat can also be broken down into two additional categories: the type under your skin is different from that which covers your internal organs.

It’s the visceral fat—the type surrounding your organs—that is thought to be more harmful to your health, if there’s too much of it. Having more visceral fat has been linked to an increased risk of diabetes and cardiovascular disease. (That relationship isn’t straightforward either, though; studies have shown that removing this “excess” fat doesn’t improve metabolic health.)

Either way, having a good idea of how much fat is in your body, and where it is, would be valuable. It might at least give us some idea of our risk of metabolic disorders. There are quite a few different ways of measuring this.

BMI is the most widely adopted. It’s the official measure the World Health Organization uses to define overweight and obesity. On the plus side, it’s very easy to calculate your BMI. Unfortunately, it doesn’t tell you very much about the fat in your body or how it corresponds to your health. After all, your body weight includes your bones, muscles, blood, and everything else, not just your fat. (And as we’ve seen, it can lead well-meaning health practitioners to recommend weight loss or weight gain when it’s really not appropriate.)

Scanners that can specifically measure fat are more useful here. Typically, doctors can use a DEXA scan, which relies on x-rays, to give an idea of where and how much body fat a person has. CT scanners (which also makes use of x-rays) and MRI scanners (which use magnets) can give similar information. The problem is that these are not all that convenient—they’re expensive and require a hospital visit. Not only that, but standard equipment can’t accommodate people with severe obesity, and people with some medical implants can’t use MRI scanners. We need simpler and easier measures, too.

Measuring the circumference of a person’s waist seems to yield more useful information than BMI. Both waist-to-hip and waist-to-height ratios can give a better idea of a person’s risk of developing diseases associated with excess weight. But this isn’t all that easy either—measuring tapes can stretch or slip, and it can be difficult to measure the exact same part of a person’s waist multiple times. And the measure seems to be a better indicator of health in men than in women.

Instead, Emma Börgeson, who studies cardiometabolic disease at Aarhus University in Denmark, and her colleagues recommend the SAD measure. SAD stands for sagittal abdominal diameter, and it’s a measure of the size of a person’s belly from back to front.

To measure your SAD, you need to lie on your back. Bend your knees at a 90-degree angle to make sure your back is not arching and is flush with the floor. Then measure how much your belly protrudes from the ground when you exhale. (The best way to do this is with a sliding-beam caliper.)

In this position, the fat under the skin will slide to the sides of your body, while the visceral fat will be held in place. Because of this, the SAD can give you a good idea of how much of the more “dangerous” kind of fat you have. The fat can be trimmed down with diet and exercise.

This measure was first proposed in the 1980s but never took off. That needs to change, Börgeson and her colleagues argue in a paper published in Nature Reviews Endocrinology a few months ago. “SAD is simple, affordable, and easier to implement than waist-to-hip based measurements,” the team writes. “We would argue for its extended use.”


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