In April 2025, a biotech company made headlines when it announced that it had “brought back” the dire wolf. Colossal Biosciences is a self-professed de-extinction company whose stated goal is to revive species that have been extinct for a long time using gene-editing and cloning technologies. Shortly after it made its announcement, Colossal Biosciences was accused of “playing God.” Even before this announcement, Beth Shapiro, the chief science officer of Colossal Biosciences, received hate mail charging her with “playing God.”
Dolly Jørgensen observes that de-extinction is “an act some might label playing God” (original emphasis). Likewise, Ronald Sandler points out that de-extinction “is very likely to be subject to [the ‘playing God’] concern” because it “involves intensively engineering genomes, creating transgenic organisms, and using cloning for the purpose of bringing back long extinct forms of life.”
The “playing God” critique is often made when the morality of an emerging technology is in question. Take, for example, cloning technology, which, according to Ruth F. Chadwick, can “be seen as a playing God type of interference in the natural reproductive process, inasmuch as it may be a bid for a kind of immortality, with potentially disastrous consequences.” In other words, cloning technology disrupts the natural process of reproduction, which is why using cloning technology would amount to “playing God.” Since we should not “play God,” the argument goes, it follows that we should not use cloning technology for reproductive purposes.
In their study of the “playing God” critique, Adam Waytz and Liane Young understand it as an “aversion to human interference in the natural order.” Furthermore, they write, this aversion is grounded in “the perception that human intervention should [be] left to a higher or metaphysical agent, which, in some cases, is God explicitly and, in other cases, constitutes another entity altogether.” Among other questions, they asked study participants for their thoughts on genetic engineering of fruits and vegetables, finding a negative correlation between “playing God” and genetically modified organisms (GMOs). One participant reported, “The closest to playing God I’ve seen is the Gene-editing technology CRISPR.”
But why would “playing God,” that is, interfering in the “natural order,” be morally wrong? After all, humans often intervene in the natural order in morally unobjectionable ways. It could be argued, for instance, that when Emergency Medical Technicians (EMTs) administer cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) to a patient in cardiac arrest, they are “playing God.” If the EMTs were to do nothing and let nature take its course, the patient might die. Yet, we would probably agree, in the absence of a DNR order, that saving the patient’s life is the right thing to do.
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Georgiana Kirkham proposes that those who “play God” may be guilty of hubris. They might demonstrate “excessive pride or Promethean recklessness [and thus] should be treated with caution or discouraged,” she writes, and since excessive pride and recklessness are viewed as moral vices, it follows that the virtues of those who are “playing God” are compromised.
Alternatively, I have suggested that “playing God” is morally objectionable because it involves humans pretending to be something that they are not. Whether or not God exists, the concept of God is that of an all-powerful (omnipotent), all-knowing (omniscient), and all-good (omnibenevolent) being. By contrast, human beings aren’t all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-good. Humans can act in powerful, knowledgeable, and benevolent ways to some degree. But their power, knowledge, and benevolence are always limited, whereas God’s are maximal by definition. Accordingly, for human beings to play God is for them to pretend that they’re as powerful, wise, and good as God is supposed to be.
According to my interpretation of the “playing God” critique, then, the development or deployment of an emerging technology would count as “playing God” if it were to involve human beings acting as if they were as powerful, wise, and good as God is supposed to be. I propose that a “playing God” argument runs as follows.
Major premise: We should not “play God.”
Minor premise: Developing or deploying technology T counts as “playing God.”
Conclusion: We should not develop or deploy T.
Given this argumentation scheme, Colossal Biosciences’ pursuit of de-extinction by means of genetic engineering would count as “playing God” if it involved humans acting as if they are as powerful, wise, and good as God is supposed to be. Construed in this way, “playing God” arguments don’t presuppose the existence of God, which is why they can’t be dismissed simply by raising doubts about the existence of God.
Thus interpreted, the T in the “playing God” argument against de-extinction is de-extinction technologies, which include gene-editing and cloning technologies. Given that we shouldn’t pretend to be something that we’re not, we can grant the major premise of the “playing God” argument against de-extinction. Whether or not God exists, we shouldn’t pretend to be as powerful, wise, and good as God is supposed to be.
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As for the minor premise, to determine whether the use of de-extinction technologies would count as “playing God,” we need answers to the following critical questions. First, could de-extinction technologies get out of the control of (less than omnipotent) human beings? Second, could de-extinction technologies be misunderstood or have unforeseen consequences for (less than omniscient) human beings? Third, could de-extinction technologies be misused or abused by (less than omnibenevolent) human beings?
Unlike God’s divine attributes, human power, knowledge, and goodness are imperfect. Losing control over, misunderstanding, failing to foresee the unintended consequences of, and misusing or abusing emerging technologies are always significant risks for humankind. So, if the answers to the critical questions are affirmative, then deploying de-extinction technologies would count as “playing God.” Since we shouldn’t “play God,” we could conclude that we shouldn’t deploy de-extinction technologies, at least not until we can effectively mitigate the risks of loss of control, misunderstanding, unforeseen consequences, misuse, and abuse. In that case, the “playing God” argument against de-extinction would be strong. On the other hand, if the answers to the critical questions are negative, then deploying de-extinction technologies wouldn’t count as “playing God.” In that case, the “playing God” argument against de-extinction would be weak. Any other combination of affirmative and negative answers to the three questions above would make the “playing God” argument against de-extinction stronger or weaker.
Could humans lose control over de-extinction technologies?
While God is supposed to be omnipotent, humans are not. Given our limited power, we could lose control over emerging technologies either pre- or post-deployment. When it comes to transgenic biotechnology, scientists have to deal with complex and dynamic systems, including genomes, organisms, species, and ecosystems. Such systems are difficult to manage and control, and their complexity means that even small changes could have cascading knock-on effects that humans might be unable to manage effectively.
Contrary to Colossal Biosciences’ claim to have “brought back” the dire wolf, de-extinction would result in organisms whose genetic makeup resembles, but isn’t identical to, that of extinct species. The procedures would involve mixing the genetic material of an extinct species, likely found in preserved DNA from fossils, with the genetic material of a close living relative of the extinct species. The result, as Sandler points out, would be a hybrid that would be a close approximation of the extinct species’ genome but potentially very different from the species we were trying to revive. Such genetic hybrids probably wouldn’t have the same natural-historical, biological, and ecological properties of the extinct species. So, their behavior could be difficult for us to manage and control. If hybrids escape captivity or are released into the wild, they could also have unmanageable effects on ecosystems into which they escaped or were reintroduced.
It’s important to note that, in fact, Colossal Biosciences didn’t actually use any dire wolf DNA, as Beth Shapiro herself subsequently admitted, which is why scientists questioned the company’s claim that it “brought back” the dire wolf. In other words, the company didn’t create genetic hybrids from dire wolf and grey wolf DNA. Instead, it merely made twenty edits to the genome of grey wolves. The resulting organisms were genetically modified grey wolves, not genetic hybrids that could be considered a genetically close approximation of the extinct dire wolf. Despite Shapiro’s admission, the company doubled down on its claim to have successfully achieved the de-extinction of the dire wolf.
Be that as it may, there is a risk of losing control over de-extinction whether the organisms in question are close genetic approximations of the extinct species or just genetically modified extant species. The escape or release of either one could result in ecological imbalances and unforeseen interactions with extant species that we humans, who aren’t all-powerful, could find impossible to manage and control.
Could humans misunderstand or fail to foresee the consequences of de-extinction technologies?
While God is supposed to be omniscient, humans are not. Given our limited knowledge, we could misunderstand emerging technologies or be blindsided by the unforeseen consequences of deploying them. In particular, tinkering with the genomes of extinct or extant species could have unintended consequences that we would fail to foresee. These include adverse genetic mutations, health issues in the revived species, and unintended impacts on biodiversity.
The long-term effects of reintroducing extinct species into ecological niches vastly different from the ones they used to exist in might be difficult for us to understand and predict. There’s a significant risk that the revived animals could behave differently from their ancestors, which could lead to unexpected and poorly understood ecological outcomes.
For instance, according to the company’s website, Colossal Biosciences’ “landmark de-extinction project will be the resurrection of the woolly mammoth.” The announcement claims that a genetically modified woolly mammoth “will be able to inhabit the same ecosystem previously abandoned by the mammoth’s extinction.” But the ecosystem in which the woolly mammoth once existed is likely no more, given that this animal thrived during the last Ice Age, approximately between 120,000 and 12,000 years ago, and went extinct after the end of that last glacial period. The steppe-tundra ecosystems in which many woolly mammoths lived have disappeared or been fragmented (e.g., Wrangel Island). The Earth’s climate is now much warmer and wetter than the climate of the Pleistocene epoch, which would probably make the thick fur and fat layers of the woolly mammoth disadvantageous adaptations. Combined with the loss of grassland habitats, this would probably make it difficult for the large woolly mammoth to find suitable food and shelter sufficient for its survival. The same point applies to the ecosystem of the dire wolf.
Could humans misuse or abuse de-extinction technologies?
Cloning and gene-editing technologies of de-extinction are dual-use; that is, they can be (mis)used (or abused) in ways other than their intended or designed use. Given humanity’s limited goodness, humans might be tempted to misuse or abuse such dual-use technologies. Colossal Biosciences professes to have species conservation as its primary mission, but de-extinction technologies could be used for other purposes. For instance, biotech companies might deploy them for the creation of designer pets for sale or for the commercial exploitation of hybrid or genetically modified organisms.
Moreover, as Sandler points out, “de-extinction is not itself a significant species conservation strategy because it does not prevent species from going extinct.” De-extinction doesn’t address the underlying causes of extinction, which include habitat destruction, climate change, pollution, natural resource extraction, and more. To deploy de-extinction technologies as if they constitute an effective species preservation strategy is to misuse them. Confusing de-extinction with species conservation means that the underlying causes of extinction aren’t addressed with the urgency with which they ought to be and that vital resources are diverted away from efforts to preserve endangered species.
In other words, treating de-extinction as a “techno-fix” for the problem of biological extinction and biodiversity loss runs the risk known as “moral hazard.” As Mihnea Tanasescu observes, it’s “the idea that we can destroy because we can later restore.” That is, the embrace of de-extinction technologies could lead to the false impression that endangered species need no protection because they can always be revived. This, in turn, could lead to abuse of ecological niches.
From these affirmative answers to the critical questions above, we can conclude that deploying de-extinction technologies would count as “playing God.” The pursuit of de-extinction by means of cloning and genetic engineering, whether by Colossal Biosciences, Revive & Restore, or some other biotech company, could get out of control, be poorly understood, have unforeseen consequences, or be misused or abused by beings like us who fall short of the omnipotence, omniscience, and omnibenevolence we suppose God to embody. While the “playing God” critique against de-extinction is a forceful one, it doesn’t necessarily mean that de-extinction is categorically morally wrong and should never be pursued, but it does mean that we should think very carefully about the morality of de-extinction before deploying cloning and gene-editing technologies for that purpose.
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