Epigenetic therapeutics could revolutionize medicine in the coming decades. (© kentoh/Adobe)
How exactly does your DNA make you who you are?
It's because of epigenetics that identical twins can actually look different and develop different diseases.
Just as software developers don't write apps out of ones and zeros, the interesting parts of the human genome aren't written merely in As, Ts, Cs and Gs. Yes, these are the fundamental letters that make up our DNA and encode the proteins that make our cells function, but the story doesn't end there.
Our cells possess amazing abilities, like eating invading bacteria or patching over a wound, and these abilities require the coordinated action of hundreds, if not thousands, of proteins. Epigenetics, the study of gene expression, examines how multiple genes work at once to make these biological processes happen.
It's because of epigenetics that identical twins – who possess identical DNA -- can actually look different and develop different diseases. Their environments may influence the expression of their genes in unique ways. For example, a research study in mice found that maternal exposure to a chemical called bisphenol A (BPA) resulted in drastic differences between genetically identical offspring. BPA exposure increased the likelihood that a certain gene was turned on, which led to the birth of yellow mice who were prone to obesity. Their genetically identical siblings who were not exposed to BPA were thinner and born with brown fur.
These three mice are genetically identical. Epigenetic differences, however, result in vastly different phenotypes.
(© 1994 Nature Publishing Group, Duhl, D.)
This famous mouse experiment is just one example of how epigenetics may transform medicine in the coming years. By studying the way genes are turned on and off, and maybe even making those changes ourselves, scientists are beginning to approach diseases like cancer in a completely new way.
With few exceptions, most of the 1 trillion cells that make up your body contain the same DNA instructions as all the others. How does each cell in your body know what it is and what it has to do? One of the answers appears to lie in epigenetic regulation. Just as everyone at a company may have access to all the same files on the office Dropbox, the accountants will put different files on their desktop than the lawyers do.
Our cells prioritize DNA sequences in the same way, even storing entire chromosomes that aren't needed along the wall of the nucleus, while keeping important pieces of DNA in the center, where it is most accessible to be read and used. One of the ways our cells prioritize certain DNA sequences is through methylation, a process that inactivates large regions of genes without editing the underlying "file" itself.
As we learn more about epigenetics, we gain more opportunities to develop therapeutics for a broad range of human conditions, from cancer to metabolic disorders. Though there have not been any clinical applications of epigenetics to immune or metabolic diseases yet, cancer is one of the leading areas, with promising initial successes.
One of the challenges of cancer treatments is that different patients may respond positively or negatively to the same treatment. With knowledge of epigenetics, however, doctors could conduct diagnostic tests to identify a patient's specific epigenetic profile and determine the best treatment for him or her. Already, commercial kits are available that help doctors screen glioma patients for an epigenetic biomarker called MGMT, because patients with this biomarker have shown high rates of success with certain kinds of treatments.
Other epigenetic advances go beyond personalized screening to treatments targeting the mechanism of disease. Some epigenetic drugs turn on genes that help suppress tumors, while others turn on genes that reveal the identity of tumor cells to the immune system, allowing it to attack cancerous cells.
Direct, targeted control of your epigenome could allow doctors to reprogram cancerous or aging cells.
The study of epigenetics has also been fundamental to the field of aging research. The older you get, the more methylation marks your DNA carries, and this has led to the distinction between biological aging, or the state of your cells, and chronological aging, or how old you actually are.
Just as our DNA can get miscopied and accumulate mutations, errors in DNA methylation can lead to so-called "epimutations". One of the big hypotheses in aging research today is that the accumulation of these random epimutations over time is responsible for what we perceive as aging.
Studies thus far have been correlative - looking at several hundred sites of epigenetic modifications in a person's cell, scientists can now roughly discern the age of that person. The next set of advances in the field will come from learning what these epigenetic changes individually do by themselves, and if certain methylations are correlated with cellular aging. General diagnostic terms like "aging" could be replaced with "abnormal methylation at these specific locations," which would also open the door to new therapeutic targets.
Direct, targeted control of your epigenome could allow doctors to reprogram cancerous or aging cells. While this type of genetic surgery is not feasible just yet, current research is bringing that possibility closer. The Cas9 protein of genome-editing CRISPR/Cas9 fame has been fused with epigenome modifying enzymes to target epigenetic modifications to specific DNA sequences.
A therapeutic of this type could theoretically undo a harmful DNA methylation, but would also be competing with the cell's native machinery responsible for controlling this process. One potential approach around this problem involves making beneficial synthetic changes to the epigenome that our cells do not have the capacity to undo.
Also fueling this frontier is a new approach to understanding disease itself. Scientists and doctors are now moving beyond the "one defective gene = one disease" paradigm. Because lots of diseases are caused by multiple genes going haywire, epigenetic therapies could hold the key to new types of treatments by targeting multiple defective genes at once.
Scientists are still discovering which epigenetic modifications are responsible for particular diseases, and engineers are building new tools for epigenome editing. Given the proliferation of work in these fields within the last 10 years, we may see epigenetic therapeutics emerging within the next couple of decades.
Insects for sale at a market in Cambodia.
The 21st century wave of entomophagy, or insect eating, first surged in the early 2010s, promoted by a research centre in Wageningen, a university in the Netherlands, conferences organized by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, and enthusiastic endorsements by culinary adventurers and celebrities from Europeanized cultures. Headlines announced that two billion people around the world already ate insects, and that if everyone adopted entomophagy we could reduce greenhouse gases, mitigate climate change, and reign in profligate land and water use associated with industrial livestock production.
Furthermore, eating insects was better for human health than eating beef. If we were going to feed the estimated nine billion people with whom we will share the earth in 2050, we would need to make some radical changes in our agriculture and food systems. As one author proclaimed, entomophagy presented us with a last great chance to save the planet.
In 2010, in Kunming, a friend had served me deep-fried bamboo worms. I ate them to be polite. They tasted like French fries, but with heads.
The more recent data suggests that the number of people who eat insects in various forms, though sizeable, may be closer to several hundreds of millions. I knew that from several decades of international veterinary work. Sometimes, for me, insect eating has been simply a way of acknowledging cultural diversity. In 2010, in Kunming, a friend had served me deep-fried bamboo worms. I ate them to be polite. They tasted like French fries, but with heads. My friend said he preferred them chewier. I never thought about them much after that. I certainly had not thought about them as ingredients for human health.
Is consuming insects good for human health? Researchers over the past decade have begun to tease that apart. Some think it might not be useful to use the all-encompassing term insect at all; we don’t lump cows, pigs, chickens into one culinary category. Which insects are we talking about? What are they fed? Were they farmed or foraged? Which stages of the insects are we eating? Do we eat them directly or roasted and ground up?
The overall research indicates that, in general, the usual farmed insects (crickets, locusts, mealworms, soldier fly larvae) have high levels of protein and other important nutrients. If insects are foraged by small groups in Laos, they provide excellent food supplements. Large scale foraging in response to global markets can be incredibly destructive, but soldier fly larvae fed on food waste and used as a substitute for ground up anchovies for farmed fish (as Enterra Feed in Canada does) improves ecological sustainability.
Entomophagy alone might not save the planet, but it does give us an unprecedented opportunity to rethink how we produce and harvest protein.
The author enjoys insects from the Dong Makkhai forest-products market, just outside of Vientiane, the capital of the Lao Peoples Democratic Republic.
David Waltner-Toews
Between 1961 and 2018, world chicken production increased from 4 billion to 20 billion, pork from 200 million to over 100 billion pigs, human populations doubled from 3.5 billion to more than 7 billion, and life expectancy (on average) from 52 to 72 years. These dramatic increases in food production are the result of narrowly focused scientific studies, identifying specific nutrients, antibiotics, vaccines and genetics. What has been missing is any sort of peripheral vision: what are the unintended consequences of our narrowly defined success?
If we look more broadly, we can see that this narrowly defined success led to industrial farming, which caused wealth, health and labor inequities; polluted the environment; and created grounds for disease outbreaks. Recent generations of Europeanized people inherited the ideas of eating cows, pigs and chickens, along with their products, so we were focused only on growing them as efficiently as possible. With insects, we have an exciting chance to start from scratch. Because, for Europeanized people, insect eating is so strange, we are given the chance to reimagine our whole food system in consultation with local experts in Asia and Africa (many of them villagers), and to bring together the best of both locally adapted food production and global distribution.
For this to happen, we will need to change the dietary habits of the big meat eaters. How can we get accustomed to eating bugs? There’s no one answer, but there are a few ways. In many cases, insects are ground up and added as protein supplements to foods like crackers or bars. In certain restaurants, the chefs want you to get used to seeing the bugs as you eat them. At Le Feston Nu in Paris, the Arlo Guthrie look-alike bartender poured me a beer and brought out five small plates, each featuring a different insect in a nest of figs, sun-dried tomatoes, raisins, and chopped dried tropical fruits: buffalo worms, crickets, large grasshoppers (all just crunchy and no strong flavour, maybe a little nutty), small black ants (sour bite), and fat grubs with a beak, which I later identified as palm weevil larvae, tasting a bit like dried figs.
Some entomophagy advertising has used esthetically pleasing presentations in classy restaurants. In London, at the Archipelago restaurant, I dined on Summer Nights (pan fried chermoula crickets, quinoa, spinach and dried fruit), Love-Bug Salad (baby greens with an accompanying dish of zingy, crunchy mealworms fried in olive oil, chilis, lemon grass, and garlic), Bushman’s Cavi-Err (caramel mealworms, bilinis, coconut cream and vodka jelly), and Medieaval Hive (brown butter ice cream, honey and butter caramel sauce and a baby bee drone).
The Archipelago restaurant in London serves up a Love-Bug Salad: baby greens with an accompanying dish of zingy, crunchy mealworms fried in olive oil, chilis, lemon grass, and garlic.
David Waltner-Toews
Some chefs, like Tokyo-based Shoichi Uchiyama, try to entice people with sidewalk cooking lessons. Uchiyama's menu included hornet larvae, silkworm pupae, and silkworms. The silkworm pupae were white and pink and yellow. We snipped off the ends and the larvae dropped out. My friend Zen Kawabata roasted them in a small pan over a camp stove in the street to get the "chaff" off. We made tea from the feces of worms that had fed on cherry blossoms—the tea smelled of the blossoms. One of Uchiyama-san’s assistants made noodles from buckwheat dough that included powdered whole bees.
At a book reading in a Tokyo bookstore, someone handed me a copy of the Japanese celebrity scandal magazine Friday, opened to an article celebrating the “charms of insect eating.” In a photo, scantily-clad girls were drinking vodka and nibbling giant water bugs dubbed as toe-biters, along with pickled and fried locusts and butterfly larvae. If celebrities embraced bug-eating, others might follow. When asked to prepare an article on entomophagy for the high fashion Sorbet Magazine, I started by describing a clip of Nicole Kidman delicately snacking on insects.
Taking a page from the success story of MacDonald’s, we might consider targeting children and school lunches. Kids don’t lug around the same dietary baggage as the grownups, and they can carry forward new eating habits for the long term. When I offered roasted crickets to my grandchildren, they scarfed them down. I asked my five-year-old granddaughter what she thought: she preferred the mealworms to the crickets – they didn’t have legs that caught in her teeth.
Entomo Farms in Ontario, the province where I live, was described in 2015 by Canadian Business magazine as North America’s largest supplier of edible insects for human consumption. When visiting, I popped some of their roasted crickets into my mouth. They were crunchy, a little nutty. Nothing to get squeamish over. Perhaps the human consumption is indeed growing—my wife, at least, has joined me in my entomophagy adventures. When we celebrated our wedding anniversary at the Public Bar and Restaurant in Brisbane, Australia, the “Kang Kong Worms” and “Salmon, Manuka Honey, and Black Ants” seemed almost normal. Of course, the champagne helped.