Comment by Jean-Christophe Rabouin
August 6, 2002
I have read with attention your article published on August 6, 2002, regarding bacteriological weapons used by the Japanese in China. In your exposition, you describe a disease for which the presence of a disease gene on a single chromosome produces a sick individual, whereas the simultaneous presence of the gene on both chromosomes results in a healthy individual. However, I recently read an article (attached) explaining why such results can occur. I particularly draw your attention to the paragraph discussing the color of ranunculuses and those dealing with RNA fragments that inhibit gene expression, thereby rendering the genes effectively silent.
Sincerely,
Jean-Christophe Rabouin
The email from J.C. Rabouin was accompanied by an attachment representing a PDF copy of an article published in the European Wall Street Journal titled:
The Silent Treatment
Some Genes May Exist
Simply to Stop Others
(The "silent treatment." Some genes might exist solely to inhibit others.)
Article by Antonio Regalado
At the bottom of the page www.pressplus.com
To contact directly:
J.C. Rabouin
and obtain the full PDF file, which I will attempt to summarize here.
In my article on bacteriological weapons, I mentioned the gaps in biologists' knowledge regarding genetics, citing the example of a genetic sequence linked to glaucoma, and the fact that when this sequence appeared twice, the disease did not manifest. The paper that J.C. Rabouin sent me confirms all of this. In short, a biologist named Richard Jorgensen, conducting genetic manipulations on petunias, had the following idea. After identifying the genetic sequence responsible for red coloration in this plant, he wanted to see if the intensity of the color could be increased by cloning the gene twice. And this is what he obtained (which he immediately dubbed the "Cossack dancer"):
The flower did not become entirely white or entirely red, but displayed a peculiar pattern upon blooming. Later in the article, the discussion naturally turns to "gene interactions." It's as if biologists had just discovered that beyond the purely lexical functionality of these "words" of life—genes—there might exist syntactic, grammatical, or even semantic contexts. This discovery spread rapidly through laboratories like wildfire, and it was clearly seen as a sign that certain conditions associated with genetic sequences could potentially be treated by discovering, activating, or transplanting the "inhibitory gene." The article states that "when the complete human genome map was published last year, scientists realized they had no idea what role 98% of the identified genes played." These uncharacterized genes were dubbed "silent genes." The recent discovery suggests that many of these genes might actually have an inhibitory function. Further on, the article's author writes, "It was an almost retro process" (it almost seemed like a reverse reaction).
There are two ways to interpret this striking discovery. Incidentally, if we were to transpose the "Cossack dancer effect" to glaucoma, a child whose genome carried this sequence twice would not have normal vision or become blind, but could instead become "partially blind," with their retina responding only in certain areas corresponding to the figure of the "Cossack dancer."
Geneticists indeed now possess new keys to attempt to influence living organisms. But in passing, it becomes evident that different segments of a genome interact with one another, much like words in a sentence or sentences in a text. No one seems to pay attention to the potential negative aspects of these techniques. Up until now, the strategy was straightforward: a living being (including humans) lacks a certain biochemical product, which is considered a "genetic disease." So, no problem: simply graft the missing gene onto the genome. Testard, in "The Transparent Egg," notes that these techniques for treating genetic diseases through genetic engineering have so far yielded nothing in humans. All we know how to do is... make fluorescent mice. Yet apparently, things are far from simple. What emerges from these recent studies—something many people suspected (including me)—is that a genome is not merely a sequence of elementary commands that can be treated in isolation, just as a book is not merely a simple collection of words. Changing a single word in a sentence, procedure, or contract can completely alter the intended outcome. All of this calls for humility. Yet this is precisely not the impression conveyed by this article, where biologists once again seem to find themselves facing a new "wild west," where everything is possible and worth attempting. A dangerous game of the apprentice sorcerer, in every domain of life.
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