Aug 20th 2020  
    I    The outsiders inside  
    HUMANS ARE    lucky to live a hundred years. Oak trees may live a thousand;    mayflies, in their adult form, a single day. But they are all    alive in the same way. They are made up of cells which embody    flows of energy and stores of information. Their metabolisms    make use of that energy, be it from sunlight or food, to build    new molecules and break down old ones, using mechanisms    described in the genes they inherited and may, or may not, pass    on.  
    It is this endlessly repeated, never quite perfect reproduction    which explains why oak trees, humans, and every other plant,    fungus or single-celled organism you have ever seen or felt the    presence of are all alive in the same way. It is the most    fundamental of all family resemblances. Go far enough up any    creatures family tree and you will find an ancestor that sits    in your family tree, too. Travel further and you will find what    scientists call the last universal common ancestor,    LUCA. It was not the first living thing. But it    was the one which set the template for the life that exists    today.  
    And then there are viruses. In viruses the link between    metabolism and genes that binds together all life to which you    are related, from bacteria to blue whales, is broken. Viral    genes have no cells, no bodies, no metabolism of their own. The    tiny particles, virions, in which those genes come    packagedthe dot-studded disks of coronaviruses, the sinister,    sinuous windings of Ebola, the bacteriophages with their    science-fiction landing-legs that prey on microbesare entirely    inanimate. An individual animal, or plant, embodies and    maintains the restless metabolism that made it. A virion is    just an arrangement of matter.  
    The virus is not the virion. The virus is a process, not a    thing. It is truly alive only in the cells of others, a virtual    organism running on borrowed hardware to produce more copies of    its genome. Some bide their time, letting the cell they share    the life of live on. Others immediately set about producing    enough virions to split their hosts from stem to stern.  
    The virus has no plan or desire. The simplest purposes of the    simplest lifeto maintain the difference between what is inside    the cell and what is outside, to move towards one chemical or    away from anotherare entirely beyond it. It copies itself in    whatever way it does simply because it has copied itself that    way before, in other cells, in other hosts.  
    That is why, asked whether viruses are alive, Eckard Wimmer, a    chemist and biologist who works at the State University of New    York, Stony Brook, offers a yes-and-no. Viruses, he says,    alternate between nonliving and living phases. He should    know. In 2002 he became the first person in the world to take    an array of nonliving chemicals and build a virion from    scratcha virion which was then able to get itself reproduced    by infecting cells.  
    The fact that viruses have only a tenuous claim to being alive,    though, hardly reduces their impact on things which are    indubitably so. No other biological entities are as ubiquitous,    and few as consequential. The number of copies of their genes    to be found on Earth is beyond astronomical. There are hundreds    of billions of stars in the Milky Way galaxy and a couple of    trillion galaxies in the observable universe. The virions in    the surface waters of any smallish sea handily outnumber all    the stars in all the skies that science could ever speak of.  
    Back on Earth, viruses kill more living things than any other    type of predator. They shape the balance of species in    ecosystems ranging from those of the open ocean to that of the    human bowel. They spur evolution, driving natural selection and    allowing the swapping of genes.  
    They may have been responsible for some of the most important    events in the history of life, from the appearance of complex    multicellular organisms to the emergence of DNA    as a preferred genetic material. The legacy they have left in    the human genome helps produce placentas and may shape the    development of the brain. For scientists seeking to understand    lifes origin, they offer a route into the past separate from    the one mapped by humans, oak trees and their kin. For    scientists wanting to reprogram cells and mend metabolisms they    offer inspirationand powerful tools.  
    II    A lifestyle for genes  
    THE IDEA of a    last universal common ancestor provides a plausible and    helpful, if incomplete, answer to where humans, oak trees and    their ilk come from. There is no such answer for viruses. Being    a virus is not something which provides you with a place in a    vast, coherent family tree. It is more like a lifestylea way    of being which different genes have discovered independently at    different times. Some viral lineages seem to have begun quite    recently. Others have roots that comfortably predate    LUCA itself.  
    Disparate origins are matched by disparate architectures for    information storage and retrieval. In eukaryotescreatures,    like humans, mushrooms and kelp, with complex cellsas in their    simpler relatives, the bacteria and archaea, the genes that    describe proteins are written in double-stranded    DNA. When a particular protein is to be made,    the DNA sequence of the relevant gene acts as a    template for the creation of a complementary molecule made from    another nucleic acid, RNA. This messenger    RNA (mRNA) is what the cellular    machinery tasked with translating genetic information into    proteins uses in order to do so.  
    Because they, too, need to have proteins made to their    specifications, viruses also need to produce    mRNAs. But they are not restricted to using    double-stranded DNA as a template. Viruses store    their genes in a number of different ways, all of which require    a different mechanism to produce mRNAs. In the    early 1970s David Baltimore, one of the great figures of    molecular biology, used these different approaches to divide    the realm of viruses into seven separate classes (see diagram).  
    In four of these seven classes the viruses store their genes    not in DNA but in RNA. Those of    Baltimore group three use double strands of RNA.    In Baltimore groups four and five the RNA is    single-stranded; in group four the genome can be used directly    as an mRNA; in group five it is the template    from which mRNA must be made. In group sixthe    retroviruses, which include HIVthe viral    RNA is copied into DNA, which    then provides a template for mRNAs.  
    Because uninfected cells only ever make RNA on    the basis of a DNA template,    RNA-based viruses need distinctive molecular    mechanisms those cells lack. Those mechanisms provide medicine    with targets for antiviral attacks. Many drugs against    HIV take aim at the system that makes    DNA copies of RNA templates.    Remdesivir (Veklury), a drug which stymies the mechanism that    the simpler RNA viruses use to recreate their    RNA genomes, was originally developed to treat    hepatitis C (group four) and subsequently tried against the    Ebola virus (group five). It is now being used against    SARS-CoV-2 (group    four), the covid-19 virus.  
    Studies of the gene for that RNA-copying    mechanism, RdRp, reveal just how    confusing virus genealogy can be. Some viruses in groups three,    four and five seem, on the basis of their    RdRp-gene sequence, more closely    related to members of one of the other groups than they are to    all the other members of their own group. This may mean that    quite closely related viruses can differ in the way they store    their genomes; it may mean that the viruses concerned have    swapped their RdRp genes. When    two viruses infect the same cell at the same time such swaps    are more or less compulsory. They are, among other things, one    of the mechanisms by which viruses native to one species become    able to infect another.  
    How do genes take on the viral lifestyle in the first place?    There are two plausible mechanisms. Previously free-living    creatures could give up metabolising and become parasitic,    using other creatures cells as their reproductive stage.    Alternatively genes allowed a certain amount of independence    within one creature could have evolved the means to get into    other creatures.  
    Living creatures contain various apparently independent bits of    nucleic acid with an interest in reproducing themselves. The    smallest, found exclusively in plants, are tiny rings of    RNA called viroids, just a few hundred genetic    letters long. Viroids replicate by hijacking a host enzyme that    normally makes mRNAs. Once attached to a viroid    ring, the enzyme whizzes round and round it, unable to stop,    turning out a new copy of the viroid with each lap.  
    Viroids describe no proteins and do no good. Plasmidssomewhat    larger loops of nucleic acid found in bacteriado contain    genes, and the proteins they describe can be useful to their    hosts. Plasmids are sometimes, therefore, regarded as detached    parts of a bacterias genome. But that detachment provides a    degree of autonomy. Plasmids can migrate between bacterial    cells, not always of the same species. When they do so they can    take genetic traits such as antibiotic resistance from their    old host to their new one.  
    Recently, some plasmids have been implicated in what looks like    a progression to true virus-hood. A genetic analysis by Mart    Krupovic of the Pasteur Institute suggests that the Circular    Rep-Encoding Single-Strand-DNA    (CRESS-DNA) viruses, which infect    bacteria, evolved from plasmids. He thinks that a    DNA copy of the genes that another virus uses to    create its virions, copied into a plasmid by chance, provided    it with a way out of the cell. The analysis strongly suggests    that CRESS-DNA viruses,    previously seen as a pretty closely related group, have arisen    from plasmids this way on three different occasions.  
    Such jailbreaks have probably been going on since very early on    in the history of life. As soon as they began to metabolise,    the first proto-organisms would have constituted a niche in    which other parasitic creatures could have lived. And biology    abhors a vacuum. No niche goes unfilled if it is fillable.  
    It is widely believed that much of the evolutionary period    between the origin of life and the advent of    LUCA was spent in an RNA    worldone in which that versatile substance both stored    information, as DNA now does, and catalysed    chemical reactions, as proteins now do. Set alongside the fact    that some viruses use RNA as a storage medium    today, this strongly suggests that the first to adopt the viral    lifestyle did so too. Patrick Forterre, an evolutionary    biologist at the Pasteur Institute with a particular interest    in viruses (and the man who first popularised the term    LUCA) thinks that the RNA world    was not just rife with viruses. He also thinks they may have    brought about its end.  
    The difference between DNA and    RNA is not large: just a small change to one of    the letters used to store genetic information and a minor    modification to the backbone to which these letters are stuck.    And DNA is a more stable molecule in which to    store lots of information. But that is in part because    DNA is inert. An RNA-world    organism which rewrote its genes into DNA would    cripple its metabolism, because to do so would be to lose the    catalytic properties its RNA provided.  
    An RNA-world virus, having no metabolism of its    own to undermine, would have had no such constraints if    shifting to DNA offered an advantage. Dr    Forterre suggests that this advantage may have lain in    DNAs imperviousness to attack. Host organisms    today have all sorts of mechanisms for cutting up viral nucleic    acids they dont like the look ofmechanisms which    biotechnologists have been borrowing since the 1970s, most    recently in the form of tools based on a bacterial defence    called CRISPR. There is no reason to imagine    that the RNA-world predecessors of todays cells    did not have similar shears at their disposal. And a virus that    made the leap to DNA would have been impervious    to their blades.  
    Genes and the mechanisms they describe pass between viruses and    hosts, as between viruses and viruses, all the time. Once some    viruses had evolved ways of writing and copying    DNA, their hosts would have been able to purloin    them in order to make back-up copies of their    RNA molecules. And so what began as a way of    protecting viral genomes would have become the way life stores    all its genesexcept for those of some recalcitrant, contrary    viruses.  
      III      The scythes of the seas    
      IT IS A      general principle in biology that, although in terms of      individual numbers herbivores outnumber carnivores, in terms      of the number of species carnivores outnumber herbivores.      Viruses, however, outnumber everything else in every way      possible.    
      This makes sense. Though viruses can induce host behaviours      that help them spreadsuch as coughingan inert virion boasts      no behaviour of its own that helps it stalk its prey. It      infects only that which it comes into contact with. This is a      clear invitation to flood the zone. In 1999 Roger Hendrix, a      virologist, suggested that a good rule of thumb might be ten      virions for every living individual creature (the      overwhelming majority of which are single-celled bacteria and      archaea). Estimates of the number of such creatures on the      planet come out in the region of      1029-1030. If the whole Earth were      broken up into pebbles, and each of those pebbles smashed      into tens of thousands of specks of grit, you would still      have fewer pieces of grit than the world has virions.      Measurements, as opposed to estimates, produce numbers almost      as arresting. A litre of seawater may contain more than 100bn      virions; a kilogram of dried soil perhaps a trillion.    
    Metagenomics, a part of biology that looks at all the nucleic    acid in a given sample to get a sense of the range of life    forms within it, reveals that these tiny throngs are highly    diverse. A metagenomic analysis of two surveys of ocean life,    the Tara Oceans and Malaspina missions, by Ahmed Zayed of Ohio    State University, found evidence of 200,000 different species    of virus. These diverse species play an enormous role in the    ecology of the oceans.  
    A litre of seawater may contain 100bn virions; a kilogram    of dried soil perhaps a trillion  
    On land, most of the photosynthesis which provides the biomass    and energy needed for life takes place in plants. In the    oceans, it is overwhelmingly the business of various sorts of    bacteria and algae collectively known as phytoplankton. These    creatures reproduce at a terrific rate, and viruses kill them    at a terrific rate, too. According to work by Curtis Suttle of    the University of British Columbia, bacterial phytoplankton    typically last less than a week before being killed by viruses.  
    This increases the overall productivity of the oceans by    helping bacteria recycle organic matter (it is easier for one    cell to use the contents of another if a virus helpfully lets    them free). It also goes some way towards explaining what the    great mid-20th-century ecologist G. Evelyn Hutchinson called    the paradox of the plankton. Given the limited nature of the    resources that single-celled plankton need, you would expect a    few species particularly well adapted to their use to dominate    the ecosystem. Instead, the plankton display great variety.    This may well be because whenever a particular form of plankton    becomes dominant, its viruses expand with it, gnawing away at    its comparative success.  
    It is also possible that this endless dance of death between    viruses and microbes sets the stage for one of evolutions    great leaps forward. Many forms of single-celled plankton have    molecular mechanisms that allow them to kill themselves. They    are presumably used when one cells sacrifice allows its sister    cellswhich are genetically identicalto survive. One    circumstance in which such sacrifice seems to make sense is    when a cell is attacked by a virus. If the infected cell can    kill itself quickly (a process called apoptosis) it can limit    the number of virions the virus is able to make. This lessens    the chances that other related cells nearby will die. Some    bacteria have been shown to use this strategy; many other    microbes are suspected of it.  
    There is another situation where self-sacrifice is becoming    conduct for a cell: when it is part of a multicellular    organism. As such organisms grow, cells that were once useful    to them become redundant; they have to be got rid of. Eugene    Koonin of Americas National Institutes of Health and his    colleagues have explored the idea that virus-thwarting    self-sacrifice and complexity-permitting self-sacrifice may be    related, with the latter descended from the former. Dr Koonins    model also suggests that the closer the cells are clustered    together, the more likely this act of self-sacrifice is to have    beneficial consequences.  
    For such profound propinquity, move from the free-flowing    oceans to the more structured world of soil, where potential    self-sacrificers can nestle next to each other. Its structure    makes soil harder to sift for genes than water is. But last    year Mary Firestone of the University of California, Berkeley,    and her colleagues used metagenomics to count 3,884 new viral    species in a patch of Californian grassland. That is    undoubtedly an underestimate of the total diversity; their    technique could see only viruses with RNA    genomes, thus missing, among other things, most bacteriophages.  
    Metagenomics can also be applied to biological samples, such as    bat guano in which it picks up viruses from both the bats and    their food. But for the most part the finding of animal viruses    requires more specific sampling. Over the course of the 2010s    PREDICT, an American-government project aimed at    finding animal viruses, gathered over 160,000 animal and human    tissue samples from 35 countries and discovered 949 novel    viruses.  
    The people who put together PREDICT now have    grander plans. They want a Global Virome Project to track down    all the viruses native to the worlds 7,400 species of mammals    and waterfowlthe reservoirs most likely to harbour viruses    capable of making the leap into human beings. In accordance    with the more-predator-species-than-prey rule they expect such    an effort would find about 1.5m viruses, of which around    700,000 might be able to infect humans. A planning meeting in    2018 suggested that such an undertaking might take ten years    and cost $4bn. It looked like a lot of money then. Today those    arguing for a system that can provide advance warning of the    next pandemic make it sound pretty cheap.  
    IV    Leaving their mark  
    THE TOLL which    viruses have exacted throughout history suggests that they have    left their mark on the human genome: things that kill people    off in large numbers are powerful agents of natural selection.    In 2016 David Enard, then at Stanford University and now at the    University of Arizona, made a stab at showing just how much of    the genome had been thus affected.  
    He and his colleagues started by identifying almost 10,000    proteins that seemed to be produced in all the mammals that had    had their genomes sequenced up to that point. They then made a    painstaking search of the scientific literature looking for    proteins that had been shown to interact with viruses in some    way or other. About 1,300 of the 10,000 turned up. About one in    five of these proteins was connected to the immune system, and    thus could be seen as having a professional interest in viral    interaction. The others appeared to be proteins which the virus    made use of in its attack on the host. The two cell-surface    proteins that    SARS-CoV-2 uses to    make contact with its target cells and inveigle its way into    them would fit into this category.  
    The researchers then compared the human versions of the genes    for their 10,000 proteins with those in other mammals, and    applied a statistical technique that distinguishes changes that    have no real impact from the sort of changes which natural    selection finds helpful and thus tries to keep. Genes for    virus-associated proteins turned out to be evolutionary    hotspots: 30% of all the adaptive change was seen in the genes    for the 13% of the proteins which interacted with viruses. As    quickly as viruses learn to recognise and subvert such    proteins, hosts must learn to modify them.  
    A couple of years later, working with Dmitri Petrov at    Stanford, Dr Enard showed that modern humans have borrowed some    of these evolutionary responses to viruses from their nearest    relatives. Around 2-3% of the DNA in an average    European genome has Neanderthal origins, a result of    interbreeding 50,000 to 30,000 years ago. For these genes to    have persisted they must be doing something usefulotherwise    natural selection would have removed them. Dr Enard and Dr    Petrov found that a disproportionate number described    virus-interacting proteins; of the bequests humans received    from their now vanished relatives, ways to stay ahead of    viruses seem to have been among the most important.  
    Viruses do not just shape the human genome through natural    selection, though. They also insert themselves into it. At    least a twelfth of the DNA in the human genome    is derived from viruses; by some measures the total could be as    high as a quarter.  
    Retroviruses like HIV are called retro because    they do things backwards. Where cellular organisms make their    RNA from DNA templates,    retroviruses do the reverse, making DNA copies    of their RNA genomes. The host cell obligingly    makes these copies into double-stranded DNA    which can be stitched into its own genome. If this happens in a    cell destined to give rise to eggs or sperm, the viral genes    are passed from parent to offspring, and on down the    generations. Such integrated viral sequences, known as    endogenous retroviruses (ERVs), account for 8%    of the human genome.  
    This is another example of the way the same viral trick can be    discovered a number of times. Many bacteriophages are also able    to stitch copies of their genome into their hosts    DNA, staying dormant, or temperate, for    generations. If the cell is doing well and reproducing    regularly, this quiescence is a good way for the viral genes to    make more copies of themselves. When a virus senses that its    easy ride may be coming to an end, thoughfor example, if the    cell it is in shows signs of stressit will abandon ship. What    was latent becomes lytic as the viral genes produce a    sufficient number of virions to tear the host apart.  
    Though some of their genes are associated with cancers, in    humans ERVs do not burst back into action in    later generations. Instead they have proved useful resources of    genetic novelty. In the most celebrated example, at least ten    different mammalian lineages make use of a retroviral gene for    one of their most distinctively mammalian activities: building    a placenta.  
    The placenta is a unique organ because it requires cells from    the mother and the fetus to work together in order to pass    oxygen and sustenance in one direction and carbon dioxide and    waste in the other. One way this intimacy is achieved safely is    through the creation of a tissue in which the membranes between    cells are broken down to form a continuous sheet of cellular    material.  
    The protein that allows new cells to merge themselves with this    layer, syncytin-1, was originally used by retroviruses to join    the external membranes of their virions to the external    membranes of cells, thus gaining entry for the viral proteins    and nucleic acids. Not only have different sorts of mammals    co-opted this membrane-merging trickother creatures have made    use of it, too. The mabuya, a long-tailed skink which unusually    for a lizard nurtures its young within its body, employs a    retroviral syncytin protein to produce a mammalian-looking    placenta. The most recent shared ancestor of mabuyas and    mammals died out 80m years before the first dinosaur saw the    light of day, but both have found the same way to make use of    the viral gene.  
    This is not the only way that animals make use of their    ERVs. Evidence has begun to accumulate that    genetic sequences derived from ERVs are quite    frequently used to regulate the activity of genes of more    conventional origin. In particular, RNA    molecules transcribed from an ERV called    HERV-K play a crucial role in providing the stem    cells found in embryos with their pluripotencythe ability to    create specialised daughter cells of various different types.    Unfortunately, when expressed in adults HERV-K    can also be responsible for cancers of the testes.  
    As well as containing lots of semi-decrepit retroviruses that    can be stripped for parts, the human genome also holds a great    many copies of a retrotransposon called    LINE-1. This a piece of DNA with    a surprisingly virus-like way of life; it is thought by some    biologists to have, like ERVs, a viral origin.    In its full form, LINE-1 is a 6,000-letter    sequence of DNA which describes a reverse    transcriptase of the sort that retroviruses use to make    DNA from their RNA genomes. When    LINE-1 is transcribed into an    mRNA and that mRNA subsequently    translated to make proteins, the reverse transcriptase thus    created immediately sets to work on the mRNA    used to create it, using it as the template for a new piece of    DNA which is then inserted back into the genome.    That new piece of DNA is in principle identical    to the piece that acted as the mRNAs original    template. The LINE-1 element has made a copy of    itself.  
    In the 100m years or so that this has been going on in humans    and the species from which they are descended the    LINE-1 element has managed to pepper the genome    with a staggering 500,000 copies of itself. All told, 17% of    the human genome is taken up by these copiestwice as much as    by the ERVs.  
    Most of the copies are severely truncated and incapable of    copying themselves further. But some still have the knack, and    this capability may be being put to good use. Fred Gage and his    colleagues at the Salk Institute for Biological Studies, in San    Diego, argue that LINE-1 elements have an    important role in the development of the brain. In 2005 Dr Gage    discovered that in mouse embryosspecifically, in the brains of    those embryosabout 3,000 LINE-1 elements are    still able to operate as retrotransposons, putting new copies    of themselves into the genome of a cell and thus of all its    descendants.  
    Brains develop through proliferation followed by pruning.    First, nerve cells multiply pell-mell; then the cell-suicide    process that makes complex life possible prunes them back in a    way that looks a lot like natural selection. Dr Gage suspects    that the movement of LINE-1 transposons provides    the variety in the cell population needed for this selection    process. Choosing between cells with LINE-1 in    different places, he thinks, could be a key part of the process    from which the eventual neural architecture emerges. What is    true in mice is, as he showed in 2009, true in humans, too. He    is currently developing a technique for looking at the process    in detail by comparing, post mortem, the genomes of different    brain cells from single individuals to see if their    LINE-1 patterns vary in the ways that his theory    would predict.  
    V    Promised lands  
    HUMAN EVOLUTION    may have used viral genes to make big-brained live-born life    possible; but viral evolution has used them to kill off those    big brains on a scale that is easily forgotten. Compare the    toll to that of war. In the 20th century, the bloodiest in    human history, somewhere between 100m and 200m people died as a    result of warfare. The number killed by measles was somewhere    in the same range; the number who died of influenza probably    towards the top of it; and the number killed by    smallpox300m-500mwell beyond it. That is why the eradication    of smallpox from the wild, achieved in 1979 by a globally    co-ordinated set of vaccination campaigns, stands as one of the    all-time-great humanitarian triumphs.  
    Other eradications should eventually follow. Even in their    absence, vaccination has led to a steep decline in viral    deaths. But viruses against which there is no vaccine, either    because they are very new, like    SARS-CoV-2, or    peculiarly sneaky, like HIV, can still kill    millions.  
    Reducing those tolls is a vital aim both for research and for    public-health policy. Understandably, a far lower priority is    put on the benefits that viruses can bring. This is mostly    because they are as yet much less dramatic. They are also much    less well understood.  
    The viruses most prevalent in the human body are not those    which infect human cells. They are those which infect the    bacteria that live on the bodys surfaces, internal and    external. The average human microbiome harbours perhaps    100trn of these bacteria. And where there are bacteria, there    are bacteriophages shaping their population.  
    The microbiome is vital for good health; when it goes wrong it    can mess up a lot else. Gut bacteria seem to have a role in    maintaining, and possibly also causing, obesity in the well-fed    and, conversely, in tipping the poorly fed into a form of    malnutrition called kwashiorkor. Ill-regulated gut bacteria    have also been linked, if not always conclusively, with    diabetes, heart disease, cancers, depression and autism. In    light of all this, the question who guards the bacterial    guardians? is starting to be asked.  
    The viruses that prey on the bacteria are an obvious answer.    Because the health of their hosts hostthe possessor of the    gut they find themselves inmatters to these phages, they have    an interest in keeping the microbiome balanced. Unbalanced    microbiomes allow pathogens to get a foothold. This may explain    a curious detail of a therapy now being used as a treatment of    last resort against Clostridium difficile, a bacterium    that causes life-threatening dysentery. The therapy in question    uses a transfusion of faecal matter, with its attendant    microbes, from a healthy individual to reboot the patients    microbiome. Such transplants, it appears, are more likely to    succeed if their phage population is particularly diverse.  
    Medicine is a very long way from being able to use phages to    fine-tune the microbiome. But if a way of doing so is found, it    will not in itself be a revolution. Attempts to use phages to    promote human health go back to their discovery in 1917, by    Flix dHrelle, a French microbiologist, though those early    attempts at therapy were not looking to restore balance and    harmony. On the basis that the enemy of my enemy is my friend,    doctors simply treated bacterial infections with phages thought    likely to kill the bacteria.  
    The arrival of antibiotics saw phage therapy abandoned in most    places, though it persisted in the Soviet Union and its    satellites. Various biotechnology companies think they may now    be able to revive the traditionand make it more effective. One    option is to remove the bits of the viral genome that let    phages settle down to a temperate life in a bacterial genome,    leaving them no option but to keep on killing. Another is to    write their genes in ways that avoid the defences with which    bacteria slice up foreign DNA.  
    The hope is that phage therapy will become a backup in    difficult cases, such as infection with antibiotic-resistant    bugs. There have been a couple of well-publicised one-off    successes outside phage therapys post-Soviet homelands. In    2016 Tom Patterson, a researcher at the University of    California, San Diego, was successfully treated for an    antibiotic-resistant bacterial infection with specially    selected (but un-engineered) phages. In 2018 Graham Hatfull of    the University of Pittsburgh used a mixture of phages, some    engineered so as to be incapable of temperance, to treat a    16-year-old British girl who had a bad bacterial infection    after a lung transplant. Clinical trials are now getting under    way for phage treatments aimed at urinary-tract infections    caused by Escherichia coli, Staphylococcus    aureus infections that can lead to sepsis and    Pseudomonas aeruginosa infections that cause    complications in people who have cystic fibrosis.  
    Viruses which attack bacteria are not the only ones genetic    engineers have their eyes on. Engineered viruses are of    increasing interest to vaccine-makers, to cancer researchers    and to those who want to treat diseases by either adding new    genes to the genome or disabling faulty ones. If you want to    get a gene into a specific type of cell, a virion that    recognises something about such cells may often prove a good    tool.  
    The vaccine used to contain the Ebola outbreak in the    Democratic Republic of Congo over the past two years was made    by engineering Indiana vesiculovirus, which infects    humans but cannot reproduce in them, so that it expresses a    protein found on the surface of the Ebola virus; thus primed,    the immune system responds to Ebola much more effectively. The    World Health Organisations current list of 29    covid-19 vaccines in clinical trials features    six versions of other viruses engineered to look a bit like    SARS-CoV-2. One is based on a    strain of measles that has long been used as a vaccine against    that disease.  
    Viruses engineered to engender immunity against pathogens, to    kill cancer cells or to encourage the immune system to attack    them, or to deliver needed genes to faulty cells all seem    likely to find their way into health care. Other engineered    viruses are more worrying. One way to understand how viruses    spread and kill is to try and make particularly virulent ones.    In 2005, for example, Terrence Tumpey of Americas Centres for    Disease Control and Prevention and his colleagues tried to    understand the deadliness of the influenza virus responsible    for the pandemic of 1918-20 by taking a more benign strain,    adding what seemed to be distinctive about the deadlier one and    trying out the result on mice. It was every bit as deadly as    the original, wholly natural version had been.  
    The use of engineered pathogens as weapons of war is of    dubious utility, completely illegal and repugnant to almost    all  
    Because such gain of function research could, if    ill-conceived or poorly implemented, do terrible damage, it    requires careful monitoring. And although the use of engineered    pathogens as weapons of war is of dubious utilitysuch weapons    are hard to aim and hard to stand down, and it is not easy to    know how much damage they have doneas well as being completely    illegal and repugnant to almost all, such possibilities will    and should remain a matter of global concern.  
    Information which, for billions of years, has only ever come    into its own within infected cells can now be inspected on    computer screens and rewritten at will. The power that brings    is sobering. It marks a change in the history of both viruses    and peoplea change which is perhaps as important as any of    those made by modern biology. It is constraining a small part    of the viral world in a way which, so far, has been to peoples    benefit. It is revealing that worlds further reaches in a way    which cannot but engender awe.   
    Editors note: Some of our covid-19 coverage is free for    readers of The Economist Today, our daily newsletter. For    more stories and our pandemic tracker, see our hub  
    This article appeared in the Essay section of the print edition    under the headline "The outsiders inside"  
See the original post here:
Viruses have big impacts on ecology and evolution as well as human health - The Economist