Globalists propose to eat artificial human meat
Source: (
https://bit.ly/3I2tzxK)
The MSM is currently pushing cannibalism
But human cannibalism
has been known to transmit debilitating diseases. So now, they are
adressing their propaganda with lab meat
In its lastest edition,
WIRED UK discusses about what if we would start eating lab-grown
human meat? Madness
Human cannibalism has been known to transmit debilitating diseases.
But what if it were lab-grown human meat? Human cannibalism has
been known to transmit debilitating diseases. But what if it were
lab-grown human meat.
What if you could tuck into a juicy human burger that was guaranteed
cruelty-free? No-one has to lose a shoulder for your Sunday roast;
no-one gets their leg sawn off for your signature slow-cooked tagine.
No-one even has to die these days. In the not-too-distant future, we
could all be tucking into lab-grown meaty cubes of our favourite
celebrities. Or eating a synthesised slab of newlyweds to mark the
special day.
"In the West, this is a huge taboo," says Dr. Bill Schutt, professor
of biology, research associate in residence at the American Museum
of Natural History and author of Eat Me: A Natural and Unnatural
History of Cannibalism. "Especially the medicinal cannibalism that
took place relatively recently in Europe. I think it was something
that people probably weren"t particularly proud of, once they
discovered that modern medicine had better solutions than eating
body parts."
In 2017, salves and tinctures made from people have fallen out of
fashion with pharmacists. But what about the restaurant up the road?
In 2013, scientists from the Netherlands proved that we can make
animal meat in a lab from cell cultures into beef burgers (the first,
which cost 215,000 to make was, apparently, "not that juicy"). But
there is a difference between eating a cow and eating cow.
The latter is a massive win for cows. Cheek swab beats boltgun. For
diners, too; once you factor in how much of your bill goes into
breeding and sustaining livestock. There"s also no animal cruelty
in a petri dish. With nothing more invasive than a cotton bud, anyone
could eat as much beef as they like without harming a single cow.
Dr. Koert Van Mensvoort, director of the Next Nature Network and
fellow at the Eindhoven University of Technology, is the man behind
what is probably the worst (but in a good way) cookbook you could
ever hope to buy. The In Vitro Meat Cookbook contains recipes for
over 40 dishes - none of which you can actually make. Yet. Each
entry is illustrated, with an accompanying list of ingredients (all
centred around lab-grown meat), a gleefully morbid description, and
a five-star rating system of scientific feasibility. One star: we're
a long ways off. Five stars: Set the table! And use the good cutlery
- we're eating guests.
"I started writing the book because I was already in contact with
some of the biotechnology companies that had been developing in
vitro meat for years," says Van Mensvoort. "And what was striking
was that they were trying to make the same kinds of sausages and
burgers that we already know. That sounded weird to me, like how
people called the first cars horseless carriages. So I decided to
step into their space and explore the creative design: what could
be on our plates in the future because of this new technology?"
The In Vitro Meat Cookbook is really a cookbook in name only. It's
an art project, a conversation starter. There's a recipe for knitted
meat ("a festive centrepiece" to replace the Christmas turkey, four
stars) and Dodo Nuggets ("The dodo has returned! To the dinner
table", also four stars).
Only towards the very end do things start turning shades of Soylent
Green. Would sir or madame care for a Celebrity Cube? Cells
swabbed from today's hottest stars, grown into cubic canapes and
speared on cocktail sticks. "Give European royalty a try before the
next coronation," the book suggests. Which would certainly change
the atmosphere on The Mall. Celebrity Cubes might be feasible - if
you can grow mutton, you can grow Miley - but even without
a sacrificial lamb, any company hoping to sell lab-grown human
flesh will, says Van Mensvoort, be selling to a market that is
exclusive and esoteric in equal measure.
"In general, I think there will be huge reluctance against in vitro
human meat," he says. "It will be very, very niche. Maybe a very
haute-cuisine restaurant will offer this once-in-a-lifetime, special
experience for which you pay a lot of money. Or it could be a ritual:
when you get married, you consume a piece of each other's meat,
just that once. I'm not promoting it, I just think it's a fascinating
conversation to have. The problems are much more social and
cultural than technical or medical."
But, providing the cell donor is informed and consenting, what is
the problem? What is it about the image of a half-dozen friends,
laughing and chatting in between mouthfuls of each other, that
makes it so innately ghoulish? One plausible answer is that it's
ingrained that eating members of our own species is bad for us.
Other animals - the list is longer and fluffier than you would hope
- do it all the time. But at least in mammals, cannibalism is
usually a product of extreme circumstance: food scarcity,
environmental stressors, or one group fighting another and then
eating infant usurpers.
The first labgrown meat was formed into a beef burger that cost
215000 but proponents of the technique are confident
But
cannibalism can still be inherently dangerous for the animal doing
the eating. The most successful diseases are specialists - adapted
over hundreds of thousands of years to thrive in a particular
species. Zoonotic diseases (diseases which jump from animals
to humans, such as Ebola) aside, a disease that is very good at
infecting a chicken is probably not going to be very good at
infecting a person. But if, as a person, you eat meat from another
person who was carrying a disease, you're in trouble.
Which brings us to the most infamous case of disease passed
through human-to-human cannibalism by the Fore (pronounced
'for-ay') people of Papua New Guinea. Kuru is a disease tied to
Fore funeral tradition, in which the family of the deceased ate
their remains rather than burn or bury them. It was considered
a deeply respectful practice, totally removed from the racist and
fictitious accounts of fearsome cannibal savages that made for
such good reading in colonial times. Kuru itself, however, is
fearsome. It is savage. And it is a product of cannibalism.
Kuru causes victims' muscles to spasm and seize. Dementia follows
with random and uncontrollable laughing or crying, and finally
death as the disease eats away at the connection between brain and
body. In the late 1950's, researchers at the National Institute for
Health in the US made two deeply unsettling discoveries: first, that
the samples from the deceased victims showed no trace of infection
- their bodies hadn't recognised Kuru as disease. And second: the
victims' cerebellums (the part of the lower brain that controls
coordination of the body's muscles) were riddled with holes.
Closer to home, the UK has seen outbreaks of similar diseases
- though thankfully not as a result of human cannibalism. BSE also
falls under the umbrella of transmissible spongiform encephalopathies
(TSEs) and presents similarly to Kuru. In 1987, an increase in the
reuse of cow remains being fed to cattle was declared the cause by
the British government, with stringent controls introduced the next
year. TSEs make for grisly warnings against eating your own,
whatever your species.
But the TSEs we know about are also all products of unsanitary food
production. Would we have to worry about them - or infections -
hiding in packets of lab-grown man-flank? "I don't think it would
happen, because you'd know that these were not diseased cells," says
Schutt, referring to any form of lab-grown meat. "So if you cultured
human cells, unless you cultured them from someone who was
infected with Kuru, then you wouldn't have that problem. There's
no contamination coming in from other cells, because you're starting
out with just a couple, and they are replicating. It ties into the idea
that you'd have less disease if you were culturing a chicken cutlet.
By the same token, you would probably have much less chance
of producing a diseased human tissue culture."
But even with the promise of clean human meat taken as read,
there's one final, potentially lethal (thankfully for the product,
rather than the consumer), problem: marketing. Or, as bioethicists
might put it: the yuck factor. "The yuck factor is an emotional,
not necessarily logical, response," says Dr. John Loike, director
of special programmes at Columbia's Centre for Bioethics. "So,
I think it would be more applicable to the use of human stem
cells to generate meat, and would not really apply to animals such
as fish or poultry."
The yuck factor has a contentious history in bioethics. It's a
philosophical dodge move; a way of agreeing that there might
be nothing logically wrong with the idea of, say, cloning a human
being (or even bits of one to make into burgers), it's just wrong
intuitively. But commodification of the human body is not a new
problem, says Loike. "We sell blood. We sell sperm. We sell eggs.
There's nothing you can do about it, even though it's not the ideal
situation. This whole process has been going for decades," he says.
And the potential uptake of lab-grown human meat, he adds, will
be entirely market-driven. "I think if something's not accepted well,
then the market is going to say, 'Well, we don't want this'. It's not
going to be an ethical or bioethical decision made by some
government or agency or scientific group. It's more to do with what
the culture and the population and the ultimately the consumers
believe. I would not support it, but I'd respect their personal
decision. There's no harm in doing this; one does not cause any
health risks or harm as far as we know, so I don't see any
problems."
In the not-so-distant future, then, there will be no obvious
technical hurdle to growing human meat for consumption. It will
probably be safe to eat and comparable to any other meat that comes
from a laboratory. An inherent horror will probably keep it off the
supermarket shelves and menus of all but the most curious individuals
and eccentric restaurants. But, if your really want to, you will be
able to have your steak and eat it.
