Live very long and prosper? Transhumanist visions and ambitions in 2021 and beyond…

Introduction: defining transhumanism

‘The unexamined life is not worth living.’ (Socrates)

‘Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.’ (Shakespeare)

In 2005 the lead guest editor of this special issue came upon a book by Ray Kurzweil and Terry Grossman entitled Fantastic Voyage: Live Long Enough to Live Forever. The title borrows from the 1966 science fiction adventure film later novelised by Isaac Asimov in 1966 which, to be completely honest, was why she chose to purchase it. Excitedly she began reading its contents on the subjects of genomics, biotechnology, nanotechnologies, life extension and health preservation strategies and took, what she thought, was her first plunge into the world of transhumanist visions and ambitions, conveniently forgetting teenage years spent consuming vast amounts of futuristic science narratives crammed with superhuman characters. In the film Fantastic Voyage (1966), a team of scientists, against a backdrop of international political intrigue, are miniaturised and injected into the bloodstream of a critically ill, comatose researcher in order to remove a blood clot from his body with a laser device. During this perilous, nanotech expedition they are under constant threat of being attacked by the body’s white corpuscles but, against all odds, end up succeeding; they eliminate the clot and heal the patient. Asimov’s fascination with miniaturisation, as argued by Kurzweil and Grossman (2005) and the guest editors of this special issue, was prophetic. Today, scientists are using nanobots, (robots whose key features are measured in nanometres or billionths of a metre) for highly effective drug delivery within the body (Bowman et al., 2010; Toumey, 2013; Unciti-Broceta, 2015). In 2015, researchers based in Germany, published their nanotechnology findings on ‘spermbots’, tiny metallic helices that fit around the tail of a sperm, delivering it to an egg for possible fertilisation (Medina-Saánchez et al., 2016). This type of ‘cellular cargo delivery’ (Medina-Saánchez et al., 2016) that assist patients with low sperm motility is evidence of the fantastic, potentially life-creating voyages that are miraculous to behold and which we invite our readers to witness visually.¹ The same ‘cellular cargo delivery’ technology now offers a promising alternative to brutal chemotherapy (Kuo & Kuo, 2006; Cheded et al., 2022); scientists are now harnessing sperm-driven micromotors that work as guided missiles carrying anticancer drugs to destroy malignant cells in the female reproductive tract (Xu et al., 2018). In 2021 sperm can now be technologically induced to fertilise human eggs in vitro and act as powerful anticancer agents in reproductive medicine. Science is in the process of ‘swallow(ing) the surgeon’ (Feynman, 1960, p. 23) as tiny machines, synthetic rods, helices and cages as small as a cell, enter our bodies to diagnose conditions, transport drugs and perform complex, life-saving operations.

The technologies, such as these we have mentioned, are encompassed within transhumanism, which ‘is a patchwork of beliefs about how technology will enhance the human condition, maybe radically so’ (Regalado, 2019, p. 72) or, in our view, a hyper-optimistic-techno world view seeking to fundamentally emancipate humans from their corporeal constraints. As Antonio Regalado, MIT Technology Review’s senior editor for biomedicine, points out in his appraisal of far-out transhumanist ventures and experiments in America, there often is a palpable sense of urgency in such ventures because of their potential to extend human life by decades, even centuries, in disease-free and super-able ways (Regalado, 2019). In order to further clarify and delineate what transhumanism is for our readers, we would like to put forward four vignettes of prominent, contemporary transhumanist thinkers, Raymond Kurzweil, Max More, Natasha Vita-More and Nick Bostrom to uncover some of the fundamental beliefs and practices around transhumanism today. This is by no means an exhaustive list but one that aims to shed light on the ‘transhumanist movement’, the perceived idiosyncrasies of these singular personalities, their arguably outlandish lifestyles, prognostications about the future and contributions to improving the human condition or at the very least offering ideas to better our terrestrial existence.

Raymond Kurzweil, https://www.kurzweilai.net/, born in 1948 is a recognised American futurist, entrepreneur, techno-optimist inventor, computer scientist, transhumanist icon and author of books including Spiritualities, Ethics and implications of Human enhancement and artificial intelligence (2020), and The Singularity Is Near: When Humans transcend biology (2006). He has popularised the concept of the ‘Singularity’, the idea that humans and artificial intelligence will merge and transcend our biological limitations (Kurzweil, 2009). He is currently employed by Google as Director of Engineering and predicts that by 2029 computers will be able to do all the things humans can do and more (Kurzweil, 1999). He holds 19 honorary doctorates and is heralded as a genius in the Silicon Valley circuit. In order to avoid death Kurzweil, now aged 73, takes 100 supplements daily, down from the 250 he used to take in 2005, and has a half dozen intravenous therapies, ‘extra nutritionals’, delivered directly to the bloodstream to ensure optimal absorption (Kurzweil & Grossman, 2005). He believes nanobots hold the key to life longevity, predicting that they will augment our immune systems to combat disease. Kurzweil upholds that death is a fixable design flaw in the human body and given the speed at which biotechnologies are developing, he is confident that bodily glitches will be remedied effectively in the near future. By 2045, argues Kurzweil, mind-uploading or whole brain emulation (WBE) will be a reality: ‘An emulation of the human brain running on an electronic system,’ he writes in The Singularity Is Near, ‘would run much faster than our biological brains. Although human brains benefit from massive parallelism (on the order of 100 trillion interneuronal connections, all potentially operating simultaneously), the rest time of the connections are extremely slow compared to contemporary electronics’ (Kurzweil, 2006, p. 122). Kurzweil currently resides in California. His net worth is estimated to be around 35 million USD (Bleznak, 2021).

Max More, (né Max T. O’Connor), PhD, https://www.maxmore.com/, is a British-born transhumanist now based in the US, and former CEO of Alcor Life Extension Foundation. Alcor’s website states that ‘calling someone “dead” is merely medicine’s way of excusing itself from resuscitation problems it cannot fix today’ (https://www.alcor.org/library/introduction-to-alcor-procedures/, 2021). Alcor believes that the dying process can be paused and that cryonics, the deep-freezing of bodies of people who have just died with the prospect of reviving them in the future, offers patients second-life possibilities. With 184 patients from all over the world, the foundation offers full-body cryopreservation and neurosuspension (head cryopreservation). More gives talks and presentations world-wide championing the idea and practice of human cryopreservation or vitrification, calling it ‘medical time travel’ (More, 2013). He also developed the philosophy of extropy, known as extropianism, a techno-optimist belief system aiming to improve the human condition (https://web.archive.org/web/20131015142449/http://extropy.org/principles.htm, 2003).

Natasha Vita-More, (née Nancie Clark), PhD, https://natashavita-more.com/, born in 1950, has been labelled the ‘the matriarch of the transhumanist movement’ (ARTE, 2015). She was formerly Professor of Design at the University of Advancing Technology, Arizona, USA and is co-founder for the Institute for Transhumanism as well as serving as chairperson for Humanity +, also known as the World Transhumanist Association ‘that advocates for the ethical use of technologies to improve the human condition’ (https://humanityplus.org/ 2021). Vita-More is the conceptual designer of the Primo Posthuman a ‘stylised cyborg that combines the ideal of perfection with the machine’ (Vita-More, 2011, p. 71); this whole-body prosthetics model includes a nano-engineered spinal communication system, gender options and cyberconsciousness. She has published widely and lectures on the aesthetics of human enhancement and the transhumanist movement (More & Vita-More, 2013; Vita-More, 2008, 2010a, 2010b, 2011, 2012, 2014, 2018). As a cancer survivor, and after another significant near-death experience (Vita-More, 2014), she argues that it is more urgent than ever to think and implement solutions for human longevity and improved body design (Vita-More, 2014). In her 2018 manifesto Transhumanism. What is it? Vita-More maintains that ‘transhumanists who carefully aim to protect their lives have a Plan B for radical life extension. Knowing that anything could occur at any time, having a life insurance policy for cryonics is the best protection against death’ (Vita-More, 2018, p. 45). She is married to Max More.

Nick Bostrom, PhD, https://www.nickbostrom.com/, is a Swedish-born, transdisciplinary academic based in Oxford University where he directs the Future of Humanity Institute. Born in 1973 he is interested in and has been affiliated with the transhumanist movement (Bostrom, 2003). He has published on topics such as the ethics of human enhancement (Bostrom, 2009) and artificial intelligence, AI, (Bostrom & Yudkowsky, 2014; Bostrom, 2014a). Some of the key concepts he has developed include Superintelligence (2014a) and existential risk (Bostrom, 2002, 2011, 2013, 2014b) which both involve making critical assessments about risky future, technology-related scenarios, the rise of artificial intelligence and how these might be circumscribed in the event of potential extreme disruption to society at large. In the same vein as Kurzweil, though making no firm predictions nor offering definite timelines, Bostrom argues that humanity will likely develop a superintelligence, defined as ‘any intellect that greatly exceeds the cognitive performance of humans in virtually all domains of interest’ (2014a, p. 52), sometime within our lifetimes and it will rise rapidly. In Superintelligence 2014, the majority of Bostrom’s book maintains that artificial intelligence will likely pose a severe existential risk to humanity, earning him the epithet of the ‘Doomsday Philosopher’ (Khatchadourian, 2015). If Superintelligence is not managed correctly argues Bostrom, humanity risks engineering its own extinction (Bostrom, 2014a), a positioning famously/infamously endorsed by Elon Musk: ‘Worth reading Superintelligence by Bostrom. We need to be super careful with AI. Potentially more dangerous than nukes’ https://twitter.com/elonmusk/status/495759307346952192 (Musk, 3 August 2014). Bostrom has expressed interest in cryogenics but chooses not to divulge his funeral arrangements (Adams, 2016); he has not disclosed any affiliation with Alcor though has collaborated on academic, transhumanist projects with More and Vita-More (More & Vita-More, 2013).

These profiles might leave our readers thinking the following thoughts: that the transhumanist commitment to tech-mediated meliorism highlights the nature and limits of the self; transhumanism is a quasi-medical ideology and that transhumanists are seeking utopia and make predictions about the future (see Kurzweil); transhumanists are uncomfortable in their bodies and are terrified of death. About the last two possible extrapolations, More (2013) argues that they are common misconceptions about transhumanism (p. 15). ‘The body is a flawed piece of engineering’ maintains More (2013, p. 15) and Kurweil and Vita-More. Transhumanists are keen on altering and improving the human body; ‘transhumanists typically want to choose its form and be able to inhabit different bodies, including virtual bodies’ (2013, p. 15). We, the guest editors, believe that the contemporary transhumanist thinkers showcased here demonstrate how much anticipation and faith is being placed in biotechnologies. This brings us to one of our core objectives in developing this special issue which was/is to encourage marketing scholars to interrogate geneticised markets and the idea of perfectible bodies, to think about our current biotech century and the biotechnologies already in use that consumers benefit from daily, around the world.

On biotechnologies and perfectible consumers: a call to marketing researchers

Scholars from a wide and diverse range of academic disciplines–sociology, critical feminist studies, law, medicine, bioethics, engineering, rehabilitation sciences, etc.–have critically appraised biotechnological advances with rigorous responses. The comparative paucity of scholarship among marketing scholars is a gap we would like to address in this special issue. In the global marketplace of the twenty-first century, few of us can escape a life that does not quietly celebrate the salvation of biotechnological enhancements. Indeed, these modern miracles of science not only elevate, but also define our very existence. On a daily basis, our consumption rituals involve the undervalued lifeline of pharmaceuticals that protect us from the irksome markers of contemporary life – hypertension, anxiety, depression, high cholesterol, and diabetes – to name just a few. Thanks to advances in vaccine development since the eighteenth century, most of us will rarely face the ruthless reality of smallpox, polio, measles, tuberculosis, hepatitis B, or typhoid, etc. – unless we live in countries where such vaccines are not available, or we choose to forego the protections they provide (Hussein et al., 2015; Plotkin & Plotkin, 2011). And now, as the global COVID-19 virus continues to captivate our daily existence, a new breed of mRNA vaccines promises the hope of a return to normalcy in the foreseeable future (Jackson et al., 2020; Nabel, 2013; Verbeke et al., 2021). Depending upon the circumstances of our lives, many of us also willingly adopt the use of prosthetics – eyeglasses, contact lenses, hearing aids, dental implants, and even breast implants, etc. – to cope with the humbling limitations of our less-than-perfect bodies. Indeed, thanks to the wonders of modern science and the related calls for healthier lifestyle choices, the human life span – at least in most developed countries – continues to increase. And, as an inevitable result of this expanded lifespan, we embrace the use of even more biotechnological enhancements including assisted reproductive technologies, erectile dysfunction and hormone replacement therapies, cataract surgery, knee and hip replacements, and pacemakers – all to ease the predictable realities of lives extended far beyond what nature may have intended. As we strive to overcome the many limitations of our human existence, however, we rarely take time to reflect upon how much and how far we are willing to go to satisfy our endless quest for perfectibility.

As this special issue begins to explore and unpack the nature of this quest, it is important to acknowledge the impact of biotechnological enhancements and the critical role they play in the marketplace, our lives, and our futures. As part of the ‘Bio Revolution’ (Chiu et al., 2020) they are marked by the confluence of advances in the biological sciences and the accelerating development of engineering, computing, automation, and artificial intelligence. This revolution significantly impacts our lives in ways unimaginable at the beginning of the twentieth century. While countless biotechnological advances mark the promises and pitfalls of transhumanism, three striking examples – assisted reproductive technologies (ARTs), biomedical engineering, and genetic engineering – make note of its profound impact on the marketplace and the lived experience of consumers.

Assisted reproductive technologies (ARTs), as noted by Takhar and Houston (2021), have changed the reproductive possibilities of women for over forty years. An estimated 8 million babies globally have been born from ARTs since the birth of the world’s first test-tube baby, Louise Brown, in 1978 (Kushnir et al., 2017; Reigstad & Storeng, 2019). Not only have ARTs continued to expand the boundaries of women’s reproductive potential at an unbelievable pace, but also they continue to alter the possibilities for men and other marginalised groups – including those with devastating illnesses or those who choose to delay childbearing for social reasons (Baldwin et al., 2014, 2018; Baldwin, 2017, 2018, 2019; Bhatia & Campo-Engelstein, 2018; De Groot, 2012; Houston, 2002, p. 2004; Jones et al., 2018; Leibetseder, 2018; Pralat, 2018; van de Wiel, 2020). Those who use egg freezing for social reasons, catalysed by the growing cultural fear of ‘running out of time’ and encouraged by improvements in vitrification technologies, are freezing their eggs during their twenties so they can use them once their careers have become more established. Cryopreservation not only provides the hope of extending their reproductive windows, but also supports the possibility of ‘going it alone’ if a suitable partner is not found in time (Baldwin, 2019; Gurtin et al., 2019; Takhar & Houston, 2021; van de Wiel, 2020). In addition to egg freezing, ARTs also play a crucial role in ‘fertility tourism’ from developed countries to developing countries as infertile couples and individuals pursue donor gametes and surrogates, especially those who can help them to reproduce ‘whiteness’ at a fraction of the price they would pay for such ARTs in their native countries (Inhorn, 2020; Robertson, 2016; Salama et al., 2018; Speier, 2016). (See Speier, 2016, for a revealing ethnographic study of fertility tourism in the Czech Republic.) Preimplantation genetic testing, a reproductive technology often used to screen and circumvent heritable genetic diseases, involves a complex decision-making process that takes place within the context of distorted marketing and media frameworks (Franklin & Roberts, 2006). And, for women who carry genetic disorders caused by defects in mitochondrial DNA (passed down to offspring only through the mother), mitochondrial replacement therapies can offer the chance to have a normal, healthy child (Farnezi et al., 2020). However, this assisted reproductive technology has proved controversial with the recent birth of a three-parent baby (González Santos et al., 2018; Hamzelou, 2016; Zhang et al., 2016). In 2016, a New York-based physician worked with a couple who had already lost two previous children due to the mitochondrial disease called Leigh syndrome. Such procedures are illegal in the United States, so the physician carried it out at a sister clinic in Mexico (González Santos et al., 2018). Ultimately, the reconstructed egg was the combination of the spindle (which holds the nuclear DNA) of the mother and the healthy mitochondrial DNA of the donor. Therefore, once fertilised, the embryo transferred for gestation had three parents – the mother, the donor, and the father (Feltman 2016, González Santos et al., 2018; Hamzelou, 2016; Neimark, 2017; Zhang et al., 2016). This is a complicated conundrum rife with all the bioethical and moral controversies it manufactured, but similar cases continue to emerge and, while they are still banned in the United States, an international moratorium does not yet exist (Stein, 2018; Pompeii 2019). As these examples illustrate, the commodification of reproduction is typically both controversial and liberating at the same time. Coupled with the now normalised status of ARTs in our global and cultural landscape, it has prompted considerable commentary among critical feminist theorists (Corea, 1987; Dworkin, 1983; Edwards et al., 1993; Franklin, 2013; Martin, 2010; Thompson, 2005, 2011). It has also sparked the interest of scholars in medicine, law, bioethics, and other disciplines (Brezina & Zhao, 2012; Campo-Engelstein & Burcher, 2018; Hull, 2005; Kroløkke et al., 2020; Niederberger & Pellicer, 2018; Saniei & Kargar, 2021). When one considers the profound impact of ARTs upon the cybernetic and social construction of families, markets, and cultures, what is most perplexing, however, is the lack of research in marketing and consumer behaviour on these profound and evolving biotechnologies. While a few exceptions certainly exist (Bokek-Cohen, 2015, 2016; Fischer et al., 2007; Houston, 2004; Mimoun et al., 2022; Takhar & Houston, 2021; Takhar & Pemberton, 2019; Hartman & Coslor, 2019; Takhar, 2020, 2022) the gap is nevertheless a conspicuous one and the lack of critical perspectives on this complex topic is even more confounding.

As advances in assisted reproductive technologies continue to push the boundaries of human reproduction, advances in biomedical engineering help us to restore lost function to injured bodies and even unlock new potential for the rest of us (Buchanan, 2017; Naam, 2010; Piore, 2018). This, no doubt, is welcome news for those who struggle with limb loss and seek a quality of life that mirrors normality and provides a sense of wholeness. In 2017, an estimated 57.7 million people worldwide were living with limb amputations (McDonald et al., 2021). And, in the United States alone, an estimated 185,000 people a year have a limb amputated with a predicted total of 3.6 million by the year 2050 (Jacob, 2015; Ziegler-Graham et al., 2008). The primary causes – vascular disease, accident or injury, cancer – are perhaps a distressing reflection of life in contemporary society, but the use of prosthetics to improve the functionality and quality of life for amputees has a long history that can be traced back to at least 3,000 BC (Hernigou, 2013; Manero et al., 2019). Nonetheless, as the population of amputees continues to grow, the impetus for designing better and more lifelike prostheses has sparked the interest of a growing cadre of researchers in biomedical engineering, medicine, rehabilitation sciences, bioethics, and beyond (Clement et al., 2011; Cruz et al., 2020; Koch, 2010; Popovic, 2019; Pullin, 2009; Rogers et al., 2021; Rosen, 2019; Wang et al., 2020; Yang et al., 2017; Yang, 2014; Zhang et al., 2018). This heightened interest has also accelerated growth in biomechatronics, a multidisciplinary field that combines biological sciences with mechanical and electrical engineering, as well as computer and information systems (Salem & Mafouz, 2016). This complex field has revolutionised the design of human-machine enhancements such as ‘soft robot’ exoskeletons and advanced prosthetic devices integrated with complex actuator technologies, neural interfaces, and soft tissue tactile sensor skin (Cianchetti et al., 2018; Cruz et al., 2020; Jacob, 2015; Popovic, 2019; Powell et al., 2020; Rich et al., 2018; Yin et al., 2018; Zhang et al., 2018). Biomechatronic technologies, in short, not only offer the opportunity to restore a sense of wholeness to those who have lost a limb or were born without one, but they can also help others to surpass the boundaries of natural human ability. Aided by significant advances in 3D imaging, modelling, and printing, we are already producing higher quality and lower cost prostheses that are customisable, user-specific, and – very importantly – capable of augmenting the abilities of the able-bodied (Buchanan, 2017; Clement et al., 2011; Dhar, 2019; Naam, 2010; Piore, 2018; Rogers et al., 2021; Stuart, 2018). Like assisted reproductive technologies, biomechatronic technologies – especially in such extraordinary forms – have made a significant impact upon the global and cultural landscape. They have also strongly impacted and altered the lived reality of consumers as they cope with the related challenges of loss, identity, rituals, and transformation. And yet, like assisted reproductive technologies, the virtual silence in marketing and consumer behaviour scholarship on these life-altering and life-enhancing technologies is troubling – especially in the context of the growing literature in other disciplines such as engineering, medicine, and bioethics (Clement et al., 2011; Cruz et al., 2020; Koch, 2010; Popovic, 2019; Pullin, 2009; Rogers et al., 2021; Rosen, 2019; Wang et al., 2020; Yang et al., 2017; Yang, 2014; Zhang et al., 2018). So once again, while a few connected exceptions exist (Belk, 2013, 2014a, 2014b, 2018; Buchanan-Oliver & Cruz, 2009, 2011; Buchanan-Oliver et al., 2010; Duus et al., 2014; Giesler & Venkatesh, 2005; Kristal et al., 2020; Lai, 2012), the overall dearth of interest and related research in marketing and consumer research seems short-sighted and problematic.

Last but not least, few biotechnological advances herald the promise of transhumanism more than the breathtaking advances in genetic engineering fuelled by the ongoing work of the Human Genome Project and the discovery of the CRISPR-Cas9 genetic engineering technology (Collins & McKusick, 2001; Doudna & Sternberg, 2018; Gleick, 2016; Houston, 2018; Mukherjee, 2016; Steinberg, 2015; Zhang, 2021). The historical chain of successive genomic discoveries since Gregor Mendel (1866) study of pea plants – a trajectory fraught with backstage rivalry, politics, and manoeuvres that continue to this day – contradicts the measured and objective image of the academic and scientific world that is typically portrayed to the global public (Mendel, 1866; Mukherjee, 2016). As a relatively recent part of this history, through a joint effort of the publicly funded International Human Genome Project (HGP) Consortium and the privately funded, US-based company Celera Genomics, a draft sequence of the human genome was published with considerable fanfare in 2001 (Gibbs, 2020; Mukherjee, 2016). This celebrated announcement signalled the ‘end’ of a decades-long quest of scientific investigation and discovery, but the draft sequence was not yet complete (Gates 2021). After an additional twenty years of sustained research, aided significantly by a concurrent revolution in computing and computational biology, the sequencing of the complete human genome was officially announced in June 2021 (Marshall, 2021; Zhang, 2021; Zimmer, 2021). In the meantime, however, the wealth of contributions resulting from the ongoing work of the Human Genome Project and the genomic era it signalled continues to foster impressive advances in the biological sciences such as mRNA vaccines, gene therapy, and precision medicine (Collins & McKusick, 2001; Delhove et al., 2020; Gibbs, 2020; Ginsburg & Phillips, 2018; Verbeke et al., 2021). And, while genome engineering has been applied for several decades, the scientific discovery and development of the CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing technology (CRISPR) in the early 2010s has revolutionised research that hopes, among other things, to eliminate diseases, produce disease-resistant plants, and wipe out deadly pathogens (Doudna & Sternberg, 2018; Jinek et al., 2012; Ledford & Calloway, 2020; Sternberg & Doudna, 2015; Wirth et al., 2013). Clinical trials are already underway for CRISPR-Cas9 applications to eliminate sickle-cell anaemia, hereditary blindness, and cancer, to name just a few (Doudna & Charpentier, 2014; Ledford & Calloway, 2020; Moss, 2014; Stein, 2019). Since CRISPR technology can be used to add, edit, or replace genes, however, such applications can be both transformative and controversial (Cribbs & Perera, 2017; Delhove et al., 2020; Doudna & Sternberg, 2018; Howard et al., 2018). A recent case in China, for example, involved the combined use of CRISPR technology and assisted reproductive technologies to edit the DNA of human embryos in a lab setting. The biological father was HIV positive, so the goal of the gene editing was to prevent any resulting children from inheriting the human immunodeficiency virus (Cyranoski, 2019; Raposo, 2019). The subsequent birth of twin girls Lulu and Nana in November 2018 – initially announced via YouTube – created an international outcry, as well as eventual prison sentences and fines for He Jiankui and the two other scientists involved (Cyranoski & Ledford, 2018; Cyranoski, 2019, 2020; Normile, 2018; Ryder, 2018; Wee, 2019). In 2019, in partial response to this experiment, an international group of scientists called for a global moratorium on all clinical uses of human germline editing (heritable DNA in sperm, eggs, or embryos) to create genetically modified children (Lander et al., 2019). While the future role and impact of the genetic revolution is yet to be determined, the notion of ‘designer babies’ is no longer a distant science fiction fantasy (Janssens, 2016; Wang, 2017). And, in our transhuman quest for perfectibility, it captures our imagination and desire regardless of the many unintended consequences of such pursuits. If we can use genetic engineering to eliminate heritable diseases in human embryos, can we use it to make genetic enhancements for height or eye color? Does this quest for perfectibility lead us to dystopian eugenics that ultimately determines who and who does not get born? (Davies, 2020; Doudna & Sternberg, 2018; Elizondo et al., 2015; Janssens, 2016; Metzl, 2020; Wahlberg & Gammeltoft, 2018; Wang, 2017). The answers to such questions are complex and perpetually evolving in nature but, as evidenced above, the scholarly research in the biological sciences, bioethics, philosophy, and other fields is engaging in these issues and leading the conversation. Again, the engagement of marketing and consumer behaviour scholars on these emerging transhuman issues is largely missing and therefore perplexing. Fortunately, however, recent scholarship on direct-to-consumer genetic tests offers the tiny promise of potential interest in these emerging issues (Daviet et al., 2022; Patsiaouras, 2017). And, furthermore, a recent study contemplates critical issues about sexual reproduction and what we are really selecting when we utilise the advances in genetic and reproductive science discussed above (Wahlberg, 2022). As reflected in the articles and commentaries in this special issue of the Journal of Marketing Management, the opportunity to explore the myriad of issues that emerge from the ‘Bio Revolution’ are unlimited. These issues define our daily existence, protect us from illness and disease, rework our markets and cultures, redefine our families and kinship systems, restore lost function to our bodies, alter our DNA and our identities, and help us to transcend the very limits of human ability beyond our wildest imagination. As illustrated above, scholars from many, divergent disciplines are exploring and reflecting upon these issues. The time for marketing and consumer behaviour scholars to do the same is long overdue and it is our hope that this special issue can foster that conversation as a springboard for future research and theory-building in the discipline.

Overview of special issue contributions

The contributions in our special issue assess transhumanisms and genetic markets through marketing, literary, and sociological prisms, also highlighting lived market/consumer experiences (autoethnography). They explore how human bodies are being wilfully manipulated or bio-hacked, letting us into an experimental world where consumers tinker with their own DNA or insert microchips into their bodies, or microdose non-approved drugs to improve various corporeal functions. We read about how consumers attempt to resist assisted reproductive technology (ART) market dictates and their dubious messaging. We also learn how ART consumers transform themselves, often arduously, into public health activists harnessing creative tools to disseminate their ideas. Some of the questions asked in the five commentaries and four original, multimethod articles in this special issue include: How do reproductive tourism markets develop? What does ‘human perfectibility’ mean in the context of selective reproductive technologies (SRTs)? How do patients with a genetic predisposition to cancer navigate their bodies and decision-making in ‘previvor’ markets? What is the connection between contemporary wearable technologies and transhumanism?

The first commentary by Russell Belk (2022) unpacks the deeper dilemmas of transhumanism through four speculative fiction novels – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus (1818/2003), Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake (2003), Gwyneth Jones’s The Universe of Things (2011), and Stanley Bing’s Immortal Life (A Soon to be True Story) (2017). There is something to be said about how literary analysis can be used to predict future scenarios and ‘dangerous (transhumanist) ideas’ (Fukuyama, 2004) argue the guest editors of this issue. ‘Project Cassandra’, a research collective based in Germany, argues that books as containers of ‘emotional experiences, traumas, fears and hopes that drive and mobilise people’ are valuable indicators of what crises we may encounter in the coming years (https://www.projekt-cassandra.net/Project-Cassandra-English/Project-Cassandra-About/). Accordingly in his literary analysis, Belk notes that the four novels he surveys involve the creation, destruction, perpetuation, transfer, annihilation, and extension of human lives. As speculative fiction (as opposed to science fiction), he continues, they are among the many tales we use to tell ourselves about our technological hopes and fears involving transhumans. Is Dr. Victor Frankenstein ‘playing God’ when he creates human life from dead body parts? Is Crake doing the same when he uses genetic engineering to create the ‘perfect’ children of Crake (Crakers)? Does man-made technology have to play the defining role in transhumanism or can we instead experience it through encounters with beings from another universe – benign but superior to us in every way? And, finally, when does the transhumanist quest for perfectibility through cyborgian life extensions reach its limits? Through an acute exploration of the transhumanist ideas in these four novels, Belk (2022) not only poses provocative questions, but also identifies and discusses six common threads – religious mythos, individual ethics, capitalism and corporate ethics, transhumanist ethics, humanity and the humanities, and love, sex, and murder. In closing, Belk reminds us that while others may draw different meanings from the same tales, these four particular stories offer a compelling glimpse into some of the key dilemmas of transhumanism. Indeed, they can be viewed as ‘what if’ stories to help us imagine future scenarios. And, as indicated by recent trends in transhumanist bio(technologies) as discussed in this editorial essay and in the remaining commentaries and articles in this special issue, many of these imagined scenarios are already taking place.

In the second invited commentary, Tsigdinos (2022) uses autoethnography to explore the multi-layered insights and personal experiences of IVF survivorship. The promise of biotechnologies marketed to transcend the limitation of human reproductive capabilities, she notes, ignores the devastating suffering and stigma that IVF survivors experience. In short, ARTs are widely advertised but their failure rates [a startling 80%] are not (Zoll & Tsigdinos, 2013). And, while marketing has become a clear competitive advantage within the ART industry, the physical, mental, emotional, social, and financial trauma experienced by its consumers has been conveniently overlooked. Embedded within the critically important historical context of the ARTs industry, replete with its intensive political lobbying and strategic suppression of negative publicity, Tsigdinos (2022) reveals how the industry has carefully curated a ‘baby dream provider’ narrative that operates with little external independent oversight or regulatory scrutiny to this day. Subsequently fuelled by significant social, economic, and cultural changes in the US workplace and homes during the 1960s – and a rapidly declining birth rate after the introduction of the birth control pill – ‘career women’ encountered a growing message warning them about the ‘biological clock’. And, as new advances in science and (bio)technology began to push the boundaries of nature in the 1970s and 1980s, the ARTs industrial complex successfully used marketing to shift the public fixation on birth control to a new fixation on birth anxiety. As this transhumanist-fuelled agenda continues to grow and even expand its marketing to younger, fertile women seeking to preserve their future fertility through oocyte preservation, new dangers emerge. Nevertheless, ART survivorship – the health and well-being of a person who has tried and failed in a transhuman-fuelled environment – remains a novel and underexplored concept (Tsigdinos, 2022).

Takhar’s commentary (2022) re-examines Tsigdinos’ concept of ‘IVF survivorship’ through an appraisal of in vitro fertilisation memoirs by three IVF patient-authors: Tsigdinos, Miriam Zoll and Jessica Hepburn. She emphasises how IVF memoirs, an overlooked genre of life writing, are rich literary, autobiographical sources that uncover the lived experiences of patients undergoing in vitro fertilisation for whom reproductive technologies become a ‘way of life’, albeit often chronic, complex ones. Importantly, she reveals that IVF memoirs can serve as vital sources of fertility awareness for prospective patients, underlining the unpredictability of biotechnological assistance. She also calls attention to IVF memoirs as powerful, embodied health activist tools wielded by consumers of assisted reproductive technologies.

In her invited commentary, Rene Almeling reflects upon the critical importance of historical and social context for any genuine scholarly analysis of the relationship between transhumanism, markets, and consumption (Almeling, 2022). Working within the long and rich tradition of interdisciplinary scholarship on the politics of reproduction, she reflects upon our social beliefs about gender and how they have shaped both scientific knowledge-making and cultural understandings of reproduction. Why is it, she asks, that after more than a century of biomedical research about every possible aspect of how women’s age, bodies, and behaviours impact reproductive outcomes, we are just now learning the most basic information about how men’s health impacts these outcomes? (Almeling, 2020) And, why is it, she continues, that from the earliest days of medical specialisation, physicians [the medical establishment] have positioned the male body as the neutral medical ‘standard’ and the female body as ‘reproductive’? While the male body was positioned as the ‘standard body’ for biomedical research throughout the 20^th Century, regular medical visits for women – then and now – centre on having their reproductive organs examined. Not only do such practices reinforce the cultural belief that gender is binary, but they also signify that women are reproductive and men are not. Marketing and media campaigns perpetuate this myth by reminding women that their ‘biological clocks’ are running out of time, while ignoring men to the point that most men have no idea how their own health can affect reproductive outcomes (Almeling, 2020, 2022). For example, while the options for birth control continue to expand for women, the options for men remain limited to condoms and vasectomies – the same options they had a hundred years ago. This is a surprising fact, notes Almeling (2022), when one considers the current transhumanist claims of techno-optimism about modifying gendered reproductive bodies. Discussing critical lessons that can be gleaned from the history of non-knowledge about and inattention to men’s reproductive health, Almeling (2022) commentary adeptly emphasises the need for transhumanism to contend with the historical and social processes through which the human body comes to be known, understood, and treated. The intersecting inequalities associated with gender, race, class, and sexuality, she concludes, shape biological approaches – not only in the realm of human reproduction but also in the realm of transhumanist aspirations.

Our final commentary comes from Ayo Wahlberg (2022) who calls for a substantial dose of humility from transhumanists, biologists, bioethicists, social scientists, and science journalists in pursuit of ‘perfectibility’ through the considerable breakthroughs and developments in the reproductive sciences. While these biotechnologies have primarily been aimed at assisting (in)fertile couples in their quest for a baby, he notes, they have also introduced the possibilities for reproductive selection at every step. Sperm banks and egg agencies, for example, begin by carefully recruiting, screening, and selecting their donors – recruited primarily from university campuses – according to biological, medical, and social criteria constructed to ensure ‘good quality’ gametes. Thanks to assisted reproductive technologies, gametes fertilised in vitro by embryologists can be further screened to determine gender or to identify unwanted genetic mutations – and discarded if the desired criteria are not met. Once sufficiently developed in IVF laboratories, embryos can be implanted and, if a successful pregnancy results, be subjected to prenatal screenings to detect abnormalities, serious genetic diseases, or (again) the gender of the foetus. Expecting couples, at least those who can access and afford to pay for these additional tests, can presumably use the information to make decisions about whether or not to terminate their pregnancies – at least if it is legal in their countries. Embedded within a multi-billion-dollar industry overflowing with a vast assortment of products and services, Wahlberg (2022) points to the stark commonality shared by these selective reproductive technologies (SRTs). In short, they have all been developed to influence birth outcomes in very specific ways and with conscious efforts to prevent or promote the birth of certain kinds of children including female foetuses and those with other undesirable genetic traits or abnormalities (Wahlberg & Gammeltoft, 2018). In his provocative commentary, Wahlberg (2022) provides cautious rationale for resisting the unchallenged hyping of SRTs and their purported [transhumanist] claims that we can now control our own perfectibility through such (bio)technologies.

ARTICLE: The Promethean Biohacker: On Consumer Biohacking as a Labour of Love, by Vitor Lima, Luís Alexandre Grubits de Paula Pessôa, and Russell Belk

In the first article of this special issue, Lima et al. (2022) explore how and why biohackers have been integrating technologies into their bodies. Most consumer technology research to date, the authors propose, has viewed technology as a purely instrumental means to an end – an entity to be used by consumers to do an activity. However, this perspective fails to capture the complexity of technological consumption (e.g. biohacking) involving actual human-technology integration. Using insights from a three-year netnographic study, phenomenological interviews, and an autoethnography, the authors identify the sentiment of love as the primary motif for accounts of the Promethean biohacker engaging in DIY biological self-experiments. Drawing on transhumanism, biohacking, and consumer sentiments literature, as well as integrating Soble’s (1989) portrayals of love, they derive three avatars of Promethean biohackers – the agapic act of heroes, the erotic play of tricksters, and the philial coalition of comrades. Through these Promethean ideals, the authors theorise biohackers as part heroic figures who sacrifice themselves for humanity, part selfish tricksters who seek to become deities, and part insolent rebels who defy norms for the sake of their fellow biohackers. This study not only offers a broadened transhumanist perspective on technological consumption, but also calls for deeper ethical scrutiny of the emerging as well as the underregulated consumer practices of biohacking and any related activities in the transhumanist pursuit of ‘intelligent evolution’ (Sharma, 2019; Vita-More, 2020).

ARTICLE: Reproduction as Consumption: Unravelling the Sociological Shaping of Reproductive Tourism Marketing in China, by I-Chieh Michelle Yang, Aminath Shaba Ismail, and Juliana Angeline French

In the second article, Yang et al. (2022), explore the sociology of markets by conceptualising the emergence of the reproductive tourism market in China. Commonly recognised as a subcategory of medical tourism, reproductive tourism involves infertile individuals or couples who travel to a foreign country in pursuit of fertility treatments such as assisted reproductive technologies (ARTs) or surrogacy. Drawing from the historical trajectory that extends from the Maoist era through the Reformation and Post-Reformation eras in China, the authors demonstrate how the reproductive tourism market emerged as a result of the institutional interplay between the historical, political, cultural and sociological forces that epitomise the social process of market development. Adopting the view of [reproductive] markets as cultures embedded within a local context that is historically, socio-culturally, and politically institutionalised (Houston, 2004), the authors reveal how localised, socially embedded beliefs shape the reproductive tourism market in China. And, drawing from the three pillars of Scott’s (1995) institutional theory – regulative, normative, and cultural-cognitive – the authors propose two research questions: (1) how does each institutional pillar influence fertility norms and demand for reproductive tourism? and (2) how does the interplay of the three institutional pillars constitute a sociological process? In the regulative context, shifting policies and practices throughout different periods [e.g. the one-child policy] have created direct consequences for China’s normative systems regarding childbearing practices and the use of ARTs. In the normative context, this interplay has contributed greatly to an identity conundrum as Chinese women negotiate around and through shifting policies that support traditional Confucian doctrines, egalitarian communist doctrines, and an evolving postmodern approach prescribed by globalisation. This study advances the existing marketing scholarship by exploring the sociological shaping of markets and drawing upon institutional theory to conceptualise the underexplored market for reproductive tourism in China. It also demonstrates how the proliferation of ARTs and consumer culture in China has contributed to the emergence of a new form of conspicuous consumption tied to geneticized markets. And, last but not least, this study provides useful insights into the notion of consumer mobility and how global mobility provides an alternative route for consumers to reclaim their agency when conventional routes [e.g. consumer advocacy or resistance] are not available.

ARTICLE: Dead Metaphors and Responsibilised Bodies-in-Transition: The Implication of Medical Metaphors for Understanding the Consumption of Preventative Healthcare, by Mohammed Cheded, Chiling Liu, and Gillian Hopkinson

In their article, Cheded et al. (2022) propose that metaphorical formulations around genetic categories have important implications for individuals’ experiences of their at-genetic-risk bodies vis-à-vis the market for preventative healthcare. Drawing on Derrida’s (1982) concept of usure, the authors analyse data from both the highly influential New York Times op-ed by Angelina Jolie (2013) and interactions from the biosocial community called FORCE. Their findings unpack three central biomedical metaphors – the container, the omnipresent danger, and the battle and journey – that shape the ways in which ‘previvor’ women with the BRCA (breast and ovarian cancer) gene mutation manage and experience their ‘risky’ body-in-transition against the market for healthcare prevention. This study expands previous consumer research that largely frames the body-in-transition as risk-free, voluntary, and rewarding. Such research tends to privilege concepts such as ‘control’ and/or ‘consumer sovereignty’ to achieve positive self-transformation. Also, the authors note, it generally conceptualises risk-taking as exciting or thrilling rather than something that is a struggle. Furthermore, in contrast to previous consumer research on the body-in-transition, the authors show that beyond social acceptance and pain, risk-taking may be bound up with the lived experience of ‘losing control’ and the role of consumption in preventing the body-in-transition from getting out of control. Claiming membership in the ‘previvor’ category, they reveal, prompts women with the BRCA gene mutation to subscribe to a set of rights and duties that shape their engagement and coping strategies in the market for prevention. Their findings not only expand our understanding of risk-taking and the body-in-transition, but also shed light on the effects of metaphors – in this case biomedical metaphors about genetic risk – in shaping the lived experiences of the body-in-transition and consumer practices of managing/preserving/coping with risk. By being aware of the prescribed sets of rights and duties attached to these biomedical metaphors, the authors maintain that practitioners and consultants in the market for healthcare prevention can develop more compassionate encounters with their ‘customers’ and communicate their offerings with more inclusive, diverse ways of framing previvorship.

ARTICLE: Wearable Technologies, Brand Community and the Growth of a Transhumanist Vision, by Duygu Akdevelioglu, Sean Hansen, and Alladi Venkatesh

In the fourth and final article of this special issue, Akdevelioglu et al. (2022) explore the collective experiences of an online brand community of Fitbit wearable technology consumers. Wearable technologies, they note, are a leading front in the emergence of a transhumanist vision that supports movement towards ‘a view of the body as a techno-organic entity’ (Beloff, 2013). Furthermore, wearable technologies such as Fitbit are distinctive among the plethora of consumer technologies in the marketplace due to the diverse types of physiological and behavioural data that they capture and the degree to which they can be unobtrusively integrated into a user’s quotidian experience (Laput et al., 2016; Neis & Blackstun, 2016). The authors propose that such ubiquitous data collection will play a critical role in AI-enabled life enhancement and whole-brain emulation central to the transhumanist vision of digital immortality. Drawing on the foundational concepts of brand communities, the quantified self, and transhumanism, the authors propose two research questions: (1) what are the structural underpinnings of consumer ties and experiences of the quantified self in online wearable communities? and (2) how do dynamic processes in online brand communities enable a transhumanist perspective by influencing the ways in which individuals perceive the conscious development of themselves and others around wearable technologies? Their analysis reveals two structural dynamics–material agency and quantitative anchoring – that create a foundation for ‘accidental transhumanism’ – a transitional movement towards a transhumanist vision based on self-quantification, self-extension, and integration with technology. Leveraging social engagement mechanisms that are built upon this foundation, the authors propose the novel phenomenon of ‘quantified-self-in-community’ – brand community centred on self-quantification – and consider both the beneficial and potentially deleterious impact that it presents.

Resisting the lure … concluding thoughts

Transhumanism or self-directed human evolution is not a fault-free philosophy. What is often left out of the seductive treatises about human enhancement, better brains, stronger bodies, longevity, disease eradication, heightened intelligence and resuscitating the dead is the trivialisation of human identities and the inherent elitism of the movement, (only the most affluent can afford to self-enhance) which would lead to a genetic divide between the haves and the have nots, a type of extreme inegalitarianism that is a common trope in speculative literature (Belk, 2021) and film. Giesen argues that the tranhumanist emphasis on body modification represents a form of hyperconsumerism, ‘an additional commodification of human life’ (our translation, 2018, p. 189) and a negative offshoot of advanced capitalism. We, the guest editors see a connection here with the exponential growth of today’s self-care and wellness economies that tout publications like The Longevity Bible (Small & Vorgan, 2006) which also recall the fatigued, mortality-obsessed, hyperconnected consumers depicted in Don de Lillo’s dystopic novel White Noise (1985), who inhabit a world, much like the one we live in, ultra-conditioned to buy into therapeutic chemical cures, life-enhancement and the allure of transhumanist dream visions.

We think it is fitting to conclude our thoughts with a citation by Olivier Rey, a French critic of transhumanism who decries the incessant championing of technology in transhumanism and the unquestioning belief that things will get exponentially better and that the right attitude to adopt is to just let progress take its course (Rey, 2020). In short, he writes, we, mere mortals, must give way to superior intelligence, it is our inescapable destiny, effectively we have no choice: ‘Transhumanism is being thrust upon us. And throughout this nightmare everyone gets swept up in the movement, whether they like it or not’ (our translation, Rey, 2020, p. 9). In response to Rey’s vehement wording, we hope this special issue will encourage further critical marketing research on the alleged, irresistible rise of transhumanism (Rey, 2020) which is likely to be a bumpy ride where consumers and markets will continue to undergo significant transformations.

Acknowledgements

We would sincerely like to thank the Journal of Marketing Management for allowing us to explore our transhumanist, biotechnological predilections and interrogations in the field of marketing. A special thank you to Dr Anne Foy and Fiona Lees in the administrative office at JMM who have been with us all the way, offering consistent, kind assistance throughout. We have also been blessed with brilliant reviewers from the fields of marketing and social sciences. Their input and critical readings have been crucial in shaping this special issue as well as being a joy to read.

Finally, an immense thank you to the authors in this issue who offer us highly original, transdisciplinary insights and analyses on transhumanisms, biotechnologies, consumer sovereignty, health activism and bodies (enhanced, non-enhanced, subfertile, infertile, risk-laden, quantified).

It has been a real pleasure and privilege to read your work and see your thoughts come to fruition.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=isRaHszrPc4.