In 2024 we briefly considered – but rejected – a cheeky suggestion to bring back the provocative term ‘Frankenfoods’. The days of that kind of polemic may have passed but, as we note in our year-end reflection, the story of the Modern Prometheus still has something to teach us.
When the term “Frankenfoods” emerged in the 1990s to describe genetically modified organisms (GMOs), it was a weapon of rhetoric designed to invoke fear. Critics deployed it to align bioengineered crops with populist interpretations of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the tale of a creation run amok with disastrous consequences. Proponents dismissed the term as alarmist, unscientific and a crude attempt to derail technological progress.
But more than two centuries after the seminal fable about the tension between scientific innovation and social responsibility was first published – and more than 30 years since the term first emerged in relation to agriculture and food – its worth revisiting whether “Frankenfoods” might have been a more apt metaphor than either side imagined.
The broad interpretation of Shelley’s meisterwerk is that Victor Frankenstein’s failing is not his thirst for scientific discovery, but his blind pursuit of creation (what we would call ‘innovation’ today) without regard for its consequences.
While the novel does not explicitly condemn scientific progress, it suggests unease with the hubris of scientists who act without consideration of the ethical and existential implications of their work. This tension between human curiosity and the potential overreach of science is as fresh – and as unresolved – in today’s debates around biotechnology as it was in Shelley’s day.
His creation – “the creature” – is not intrinsically evil but becomes destructive due to the neglect of his creator. Concerns about neglect have also dogged the development of GMOs. While genetic engineering may have the potential to address critical challenges like food security and biodiversity loss, its development and commercial rollout were marked by corporate overreach, insufficient public engagement and uneven or absent regulation paralleling the absent ‘parental’ oversight of Victor Frankenstein.
In addition, bringing the creature to life is, in part, an attempt to fill a void left by the death of Frankenstein’s mother, revealing a personal dimension to his act of creation. His desire to overcome mortality reflects an all-too-human impulse: the desire to exert control over nature and transcend its limits.
Inasmuch as these things are true, the novel raises a more controversial question: are there boundaries that science itself should not cross? By creating life, Victor claims for himself a domain traditionally associated with nature or God – an action that some may deem egotistical and even dangerous.
This personal dimension complicates scientific ambitions, showing how human grief, self-interest and feelings of impotence can drive discovery in ways that are not always rational or benevolent. This is a significant theme for modern science, reminding us that innovation is not purely objective or detached but is often shaped by deeply human motivations.
The danger of unintended consequences
The near inevitability of unintended consequences when the desire to create and control life outweighs foresight and ethics is yet another of Frankenstein’s central themes. Victor’s inability to foresee the wider impacts of his experiment, for example, parallels early GMO blindspots around gene flow, biodiversity loss amongst non-target organisms and the monopolisation of seed patents.
But the fable also critiques fear-based responses to innovation. The creature’s suffering becomes amplified by societal prejudice and misunderstanding. In much the same way, the polarised GMO debate has been plagued by claims of ‘zombie crops’, corporate mind-control and total ecological collapse, which feed the media’s thirst for hype and controversy but make sensible debate almost impossible.
Responsibility towards the living world
Victor Frankenstein’s abdication of responsibility underscores a critical principle in innovation: responsibility does not end with creation. Within the realm of biotechnology – or ‘engineering biology,’ as it may soon come to be known – this responsibility to critically look forward is especially profound as these technologies interact with living ecosystems, agriculture and human communities.
This desire for foresight has dogged the GMO debate from the beginning. The 1975 Asilomar conference on recombinant DNA molecules attempted to provide an early framework for GMO governance. However, as scholars note, the organisers “deliberately narrowed discussions to technical risks, sidestepping broader societal and ethical challenges to make the issue more manageable for self-regulation.”
Little has changed. In the UK, the debates around the Genetic Technology Act (and the Deliberate Release Amendment that preceded it) focused almost exclusively on replacing application with self-certification and regulation with self-regulation. Peers complained that amendments to the draft Act were being rejected by the government – before they were even tabled – on the basis that they were “too burdensome a requirement for industry”.
Transparency and public engagement
Another of Victor Frankenstein’s perceived failings is the way he pursues his experiment in isolation, without consulting others. The development of genetic technologies, including gene editing, has fallen into similar traps. Proponents often prioritise scientific advancement over public dialogue, while critics engage in fearmongering rather than fostering constructive discussions about safeguards.
Unlike Victor’s secretive experiments, responsible innovation requires openness, inclusivity and a commitment to the long-term health of the living systems into which new technologies are introduced.
These values should have been hard-wired into the development of genetically engineered crops from the beginning. If they had been, public trust might have been bolstered through clear communication, transparent risk assessments, equitable access to benefits and meaningful engagement with diverse perspectives.
Reclaiming the term
Since the first publication of Frankenstein, many writers have explored the consequences of ignoring scientific responsibility. HG Wells’s The Island of Dr Moreau, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake examine similar themes of bioengineering and creation, while modern films such as the Jurassic Park franchise and television series like Black Mirror have tackled the way that carelessness can lead to unintended consequences.
Shelley’s seminal fable, however, started this long-running conversation calling for a balance between scientific ambition and ethical responsibility and distinguishing between “practical science, with modest ends and clear applications, and Frankenstein’s Promethean ambitions, which are awe-inspiring endeavours but lack an obvious pathway to improve human life.”
While many interpret it as supportive of the notion of scientific neutrality which supposes that innovations are only as virtuous or evil as we make them, innovation is inherently human, motivated by both altruism and selfishness. The power of creation comes with great responsibility, and although the Frankenstein myth has been raked over endlessly buy scholars, its enduring genius is, arguably, how clearly it shows what happens when a creator shirks that responsibility.
Genetic engineering’s potential to address global challenges will only be realised if guided by frameworks that prioritise ‘responsible innovation’, sustainability, equity and long-term accountability. These same themes have arisen around the development of artificial intelligence, emphasising the urgent and important work of designing AI systems that prioritise fairness, transparency and accountability.
While the term “Frankenfoods” was born of polemic, it encapsulates a range of multi-layered and nuanced considerations. For bioengineering and other transformative technologies, the challenge lies not in avoiding innovation, but in defining its intentions and living up to the responsibility of creation, ensuring it serves humanity wisely and ethically.