Me, My Clone, and I (or In Defense of Human Cloning).

Clone. To many people the word has sinister overtones; it's a disturbing amalgam of flesh and technology. A recent poll revealed that 88 percent of Canadians believe that human cloning should be illegal, and most governments are moving to concur.

Interested in this near-unanimous sentiment, I carried out my own impromptu survey of friends and strangers. Most said they agreed with the prohibition of human cloning. But when I asked them to explain exactly why they thought it should be illegal, the poll became much more revealing.

Many mumbled about the dangers of "cloning Hitler" or creating a subclass of slaves. Others brought up the specter of basketball teams full of identical seven-foot-tall players. A smaller, more thoughtful percentage believed it would be unnatural or the ultimate in narcissism. In general, however, public attitudes toward human cloning seem to be based on a diet of science-fiction B-movies and paperbacks.

But should human cloning be feared, as the next Frankenstein's monster of genetic engineering?

While undoubtedly fascinating, few people would perceive identical twins to be the least bit sinister. And yet identical twins are in fact natural clones, formed from the same egg and sharing the same genotype. If natural clones are not to be feared, why should we fear the deliberate ones?

Many of the attitudes concerning human cloning are reminiscent of the arguments against in vitro fertilization in the 1960s, when accusations of "playing God" and interfering with nature were common. Today, however, "test tube" babies are celebrated for their own individuality and as people in their own right. Exactly, say opponents of cloning. Babies born in vitro are unique individuals; clones are photocopies of people who already exist. What will happen to individuality if we can stamp out copies of ourselves like so many cookies on a tray?

Interestingly, many of those who make this argument also tend to emphasize nurture over nature and deny that our genes determine ourselves--whether it be IQ, athletic ability, or our favorite ice cream flavor. But these arguments contradict each other. For if nurture triumphs over nature, then a clone will be an individual as unique as any other, determined for the most part by the environment in which she or he was reared.

Perhaps the most weighty argument against cloning is that, by eliminating the mixing of genes that occurs during conventional reproduction, human biodiversity will be diminished and human evolution will cease. It is the serendipitous mixing of genes that produces the Einsteins and Mozarts of the world; take away this process and surely the potential for new genius will cease. However, the fact is that human biological evolution for all intents and purposes has become insignificant compared to cultural evolution.

At this point, it is appropriate that I reveal the source of my interest in this subject. For the truth is, I wish to clone myself. Before my gate is stormed by villagers wielding branding irons, let me explain why.

I am thirty-two years old and have cystic fibrosis, an inherited genetic disease that prohibits those who suffer from it from conceiving children and usually kills by the mid-thirties. My dream is to clone myself, repair my clone's genetic defect, and give him the opportunity to fulfill the potential that has been denied to me by a cruel quirk of nature.

Perhaps my clone will climb Mount Everest, singlehandedly sail around the world, or simply marry and raise a family without the fear that his children will be prematurely fatherless and his wife a widow. The clone will not be me, but perhaps he will be who I could have been.

My body, my self. Surely also my DNA, my self.

With the coming genetic revolution, we will be directing our own evolution rather than relying on a natural (and sometimes disastrous) lottery to do it for us. And surely cloning will remain an esoteric and unusual method of reproduction, with most people choosing to do it the old-fashioned (and far more pleasurable) way. But should government be able to tell me what I can or cannot do with what is, after all, an intrinsic part of what and who I am?

Criminalizing an activity may be easier than answering the thorny philosophical questions raised by it. But before government rushes to outlaw my dream, it should at least seriously consider whether the opposition to human cloning is based on real dangers.

Jonathan Colvin is a freelance technical writer who lives in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. He can be contacted by e-mail at [e-mail].