I. INTRODUCTION
A. Background
In 1985, when Svante Pääbo extracted and analyzed a short segment of DNA from a 2400-year-old mummy, he demonstrated that DNA analysis could be systematically applied to archaeological samples, and the cloning of mitochondrial DNA sequences could allow diachronic studies of genes in the Egyptian population since Neolithic times. Pääbo removed samples from 23 mummies and mummy fragments from the Sixth Dynasty (circa 2370–2160 BC) to the late Roman period. One sample contained DNA that could be molecularly cloned in a plasmid vector. He found that it is feasible to clone substantial pieces of genomic DNA from ancient biological remains.Footnote 1 Since Pääbo's discovery, DNA analysis has been used on ancient remains to establish everything from familial lines and identity to the paleoepidemiology of disease.Footnote 2 With an increasing interest in tissue analysis of ancient remains, the Manchester Museum in Manchester, England, created the International Ancient Egyptian Mummy Tissue Bank to act as a repository and custodian of mummy tissue for scientific research.Footnote 3 The bank ensures that tissue is made available for studies, including DNA analysis, and stores the results of those studies in the bank's records.Footnote 4
Historically, mummies such as those with deposits in the International Ancient Egyptian Mummy Tissue Bank have been treated as cultural artifacts and therefore fall within the property laws of that category, though generally, there are no property rights in dead human bodies. However, with the increasing desire to sequence DNA from the tissue samples of ancient remains and the development of ancient tissue banks, it is timely to discuss how ancient samples and the DNA chains extracted from them will be controlled under the law. Although most discussions of property rights of DNA center their attention on samples collected from living (or recently deceased) donors, perhaps examining these rights in a framework of antiquity will shed new light on the conversation.
Paradise and Andrews recognized the unique legal and ethical problems of extracting and analyzing DNA from ancient (or otherwise culturally important) artifacts in their 2007 article, “Tales from the Crypt.” Paradise and Andrews examined current biological research being performed on the remains of historical figures, like the Medicis, Abraham Lincoln, Billy the Kid, Albert Einstein, and the like.Footnote 5 (In this article, I often address ancient DNA or ancient bodies as being culturally important or culturally relevant. By cultural importance, I mean that within a particular culture, there is a significance assigned to the artifact that makes it particularly valuable to that culture above any other.) Paradise and Andrews examined current biological research being performed on the remains of historical figures, like the Medicis, Abraham Lincoln, Billy the Kid, Albert Einstein, and the like. They analyzed potentially applicable federal statues, case law, and codes and guidelines from 26 professional organizations and societies informative to the field of biohistory (an area that combines historical and biological research).Footnote 6 They used the legal and ethical precedents to propose ways to avert abuses in five areas they identified as important: (1) promotion of research, (2) access to samples or artifacts, (3) scientific integrity and dissemination of results, (4) informed consent and rights of participants, and (5) avoidance of conflicts of interests.Footnote 7 In all, though their summaries of various codes of ethics provide excellent professional guidance in the field of biohistory, there have been little to no binding legal precedents for dealing with ancient DNA.Footnote 8 Little scholarship has been written with such a unique perspective in mind. In this article, I have taken up part of the problem revealed by Paradise and Andrews's work, and I explore how concepts of property and ownership influence the legal policies governing DNA analysis of artifacts that have a perceived cultural value.
B. Defining the Problem
Commonly, tissue to be used for research purposes is taken from a living donor and stored in a tissue bank. The ability for researchers to return to those samples for further data collection often requires informed consent from the donor, or in cases where the donor has recently died, the next of kin must provide informed consent.Footnote 9 Similarly, museum and universities often house tissue samples such as bones, preserved skin, and hair samples from archeological excavations and anthropological studies. Yet, in most circumstances, genetic (and other) research can be performed on these remains without seeking the informed consent of the dead person's descendants.Footnote 10 This is because the identities of the remains are likely unknown, descendants are unknown, and even cultural affiliation is difficult to establish because ancient ancestral groups often give rise to a number of different descendent groups.Footnote 11 When researchers do not know anything about the donor or their culture, then it is difficult to attribute any preference with regard to the treatment of their tissue or of their body, which is compounded by the broader issue that researchers working with these samples generally have no legal obligation to report how they treat the samples, especially with regard to ancient remains and their possible descendents.Footnote 12 But, when a descendent can be traced, or a body has a distinguishable cultural affiliation, the descendent or representatives of the culture often become a proxy decision maker for the deceased.Footnote 13 In this capacity, they may proscribe scientific research. Effectively, when the identity of the body is established, genetic research can only be performed on samples taken from the body when the proxy decision maker consents to the testing.
When a proxy decision maker cannot be established and remains may be tested without any informed consent, or when a proxy decision maker grants consent for genetic testing, the proxy's custodianship of the remains does not equate to ownership of the DNA sequence extracted from those samples. It would be a mistake to assume that DNA from these samples automatically follows the custodianship of the body and thus becomes the property of the proxy decision maker, because DNA sequences obtained from living donors are currently considered by the law to be something between private property and common heritage.Footnote 14
The purpose of this article is to analyze the legal and ethical issues of applying property rights to ancient DNA when the DNA was extracted from samples of cultural artifacts, like those from Egyptian mummies housed in the International Ancient Egyptian Mummy Tissue Bank. In other words, when DNA sequences are extracted from ancient remains, who should control rights to those sequences for research, preservation, and commercial purposes?Footnote 15 First, this article will trace the interests of property rights in the human body, both of nonancient and ancient remains. Part of this includes analyzing whether proxy decision making over research samples (by an individual or by a cultural representative) implies a proxy ownership over the remains. Second, it will look at whether assigning property rights over the DNA sequence of ancient remains to proxy decision makers is in the best interest of the deceased themselves, their descendant communities, and humanity as a whole.
II. THE BODY
A. Property Interests in Dead Bodies
The legal status of dead bodies first developed in the common law of seventeenth-century England when grave robbing threatened the dignity of the deceased. The value in grave robbing prior to the introduction of anatomical studies in medicine, was not in the body itself. Rather, grave robbers would loot graves for the burial clothing or other items interred with the deceased.Footnote 16 Grave robbers would exhume a recently interred body to sell to medical colleges, anatomists, and surgeons for use in medical training. Prior to anatomical study as a part of medical training, dead bodies had little (if any) commercial value.Footnote 17 With no value in a dead body, English law historically saw no point in recognizing a property right in a human corpse.Footnote 18
But the definition of property is dynamic. What was not property in the past is capable of becoming property in the future. Before the development of travel by air, a landowner's right to use the airspace above his property extended to what would be ordinary use and enjoyment of his land.Footnote 19 In 1997, the English court reconsidered the no-property principle in Dobson v. North Tyneside Health Authority.Footnote 20 A deceased's next of kin brought suit against (1) the North Tyneside Health Authority for failing to diagnose the brain tumor of the deceased and (2) the Newcastle Area Health Authority for failing to preserve the brain of the deceased. The coroner in the matter requested a postmortem examination. and during the autopsy, the deceased's brain was removed and fixed in paraffin, to later potentially be used for research purposes. Although English common law maintained a no-property rule in human bodies, the plaintiff sought relief for conversion.Footnote 21 When the court of appeal reviewed the case, the court recognized two exceptions to the historic no-property rule: First, there was a right to possession of a body for the purpose of burial or disposition. Second, “the lawful exercise of work or skill so dealt with a human body or part of a human body in a person's lawful possession such that it has acquired some attributes differentiating it from a mere corpse awaiting burial” possibly creates a property right in the body.Footnote 22 So although English common law still finds no proprietary rights in the human body, if the brain has been removed from the body and prepared on slides, those slides and the brain matter they contain are capable of becoming property.Footnote 23
The development of anthropological institutes and cultural museums also reflects the changing conception of property rights of bodies. Museums all over the world that house collections of mummies and biological material are now facing requests (if not lawsuits) to return these collections to their country of origin (or to a representative of their cultural affiliation) who believe they have an intrinsic proprietary interest in the material.Footnote 24 So how does the law treat ancient dead bodies with respect to proprietary rights? Is there a fundamental difference in the proprietary right of ancient dead bodies versus nonancient dead bodies? Jurisdictions differ when answering these questions.
English law's recognition of property rights created through the application of the work or skill exception (established in Dobson and reaffirmed in Kelly) does not directly state how ancient dead bodies can become property. But, it is evident from those cases that the courts were not hesitant to create a property interest in a body. Their creation of the work or skill exception meant that the dissection or preservation of dead bodies for exhibition or teaching purposes was a sufficient investment of the scientists' time, energy, and knowledge deserving of a legal right in the body itself.Footnote 25 Then, in 2004 the Human Tissue Act (HTA 2004) codified the work or skill exception of the common law and gave special attention to ancient dead bodies. Under the HTA 2004, consent is the fundamental principle governing the storage and use of any material that contains human cells.Footnote 26 Appropriate consent must be obtained to both store and use this material, with several exceptions, the foremost being that consent is not required to store and use material where the body or bodily material comes from a person who died 100 years or more before the HTA 2004 became effective.Footnote 27 The specific language in the HTA 2004 exception indicates the English legislature had a conscious desire to distinguish between a mere (nonancient) dead body and what could be considered an ancient dead body, for the purpose of establishing legal interests in the body.
American jurisprudence, in contrast, is more willing to find an interest in a dead body, though the reality of this right is that it only exists as a quasi-property right to facilitate burial. It will not support a claim of conversion. In this sense, it is similar to the English no-property principle. In Ritter v. Couch, descendants of those buried in a town burial place brought suit to prohibit the removal of their ancestors from their graves. The Ritter court tried to distinguish American jurisprudence from its English counterpart by articulating that although old English law does not recognize the body as property, American courts do recognize a quasi-property right over which the relatives of the deceased have rights.Footnote 28 Yet, we find from other common law cases, the courts are only willing to extend that right for the limited purpose of seeing that the body is decently interred or disposed of.Footnote 29 In Culpepper v. Pearl Street Building, Inc., parents brought an action for conversion when their son's body was mistakenly cremated.Footnote 30 On review, the Supreme Court of Colorado explicitly held that a property right did not exist in a dead body that would support an action for conversion. Because the quasi-property right arose to facilitate recovery for the desecration of a dead body, the plaintiff avoided needing to prove emotional distress. In reality, the primary concern of the right was not injury to the dead body itself, but to the emotional pain suffered by surviving family members. Thus, the courts created a nonproprietary right in dead bodies to ease the burden of family members who would otherwise have to appear in court to prove emotional distress.Footnote 31 The American possessory interest for burial is clearly a limited legal interest, distorted by an American court system applying the term quasi-property. Even under health code laws, next of kin are prevented from exhuming of bodies without legal approval from the state or another state-regulated health authority.Footnote 32 As such, it is evident that “property” rights in the body exist only as illusory rights.
The differences between English and American law is really only one of language. English law, in essence, finds no property rights in a body unless there has been an application of work or skill. American law, on the other hand, finds a quasi-property right in the body but only for the purposes of burial. This quasi-property right is a legal fiction and toys with language to give an impression of ownership where none actually exists. The resistance in American law to conform to English law and mimic the language of the no-property principle (even acknowledging of the right to possession for burial) is puzzling. Nonetheless, American law may have distinguished itself from English law in characterization but not entirely in principle. The question then remains, do exceptions exist in American jurisprudence, like those in the English common law, that create a nonfictional proprietary right in dead bodies or materials removed from the dead body similar to the work or skill exception? There appears to be a gap in both case law and scholarship on this point. The primary case that addresses the question of proprietary rights of human tissue samples is Moore v. Regents of the University of California, though Moore was a living supplier of tissue rather than a dead body. John Moore underwent treatment for hairy-cell leukemia at the University of California's Medical Center. On October 20, 1976, Moore's physician removed Moore's spleen. Thereafter, Moore's physician conducted extensive research on Moore's cells, from which they were able to establish a cell line and applied for a patent of the cell line. Moore's physician then negotiated agreements for the commercial development of the cell line and products to be derived from it. Moore brought suit for conversion, claiming a property right in his excised cells, but the court refused to find a proprietary interest in his cells due to a lack of precedent establishing a proprietary right in human cells and policy concerns that hold scientific research as a socially useful activity.Footnote 33
Because Moore explicitly found there was no property right in excised tissue from living suppliers, it is easy to assume that there also is no property right in excised tissue from dead bodies. However, this would be a mistake. Although American case law does not distinguish between tissue samples of living suppliers and tissue samples of dead bodies in the application of proprietary interest, the law does discriminate between dead bodies with cultural value and dead bodies without cultural value. Thus, tissues excised from culturally relevant bodies may be capable of becoming property, whereas tissues excised from nonculturally relevant dead bodies cannot.
In State v. Redd, the Utah Supreme Court discussed Utah Code Ann. § 76–704(1)(a)(1995), which provided:
A person is guilty of abuse or desecration of a dead human body if the person intentionally and unlawfully:
Removes, conceals, fails to report the finding of a dead body to a local law enforcement agency, or destroys a dead body or any part of it.
The court found that the legislature intended the statute to “protect partial remains of many people buried long ago in crude graves such as pioneers, war dead, or victims of horrendous accidents or crimes” whether those crimes or accidents occurred in the near or far past.Footnote 34 In other words, there is no distinction based on the age of remains. Under this law, remains from the far past and remains from the near past have equal protection from desecration.
In 2004 the U.S. Supreme Court decided Bonnichsen v. U.S., also known as the Kennewick Man case, which relied, in part, on the Native American Graves Protection and Reparation Act (NAGPRA) and the Archaeological Resources Protection Act (ARPA).Footnote 35 ARPA was created in 1979 after a century of congressional concern for the protection of archaeological resources.Footnote 36 It attempted to make “abundantly clear” statutory language prohibiting the trafficking of valuable archaeological resources and to preserve these resources, so that through the cooperation of government authorities, the archaeological community, and private individuals valuable information could be exchanged.Footnote 37 However, the ARPA granted no property rights over these resources. For example, in Matter of Shivers, Shivers sought the return of 50 metal tokens which he found in the Angelina National Forest. They had been seized by the government under warrant suggesting he had violated federal law by removing archaeological resources from a national forest.Footnote 38 In 1990, the U.S. government enacted the NAGPRA, which explicitly classified Native American human remains as cultural objects and vested control over those remains in the descendants of the Native Americans.Footnote 39 The Bonnichsen Court held that in order to fall under the protection of NAGPRA, human remains must bear some relationship to a presently existing tribe, people, or culture to be “Native American” and in the present case, 9000-year-old remains found off the waters of Kennewick, Washington, could not be classified as such. The cultural group to which he belonged either died out or was “unknowable.”Footnote 40 This case exemplifies that though the U.S. Code does not differentiate between ancient dead bodies and nonancient dead bodies, the courts are willing to recognize a proprietary interest in dead bodies that are culturally important.Footnote 41 However, often the very fact that the remains are ancient renders them culturally important.
English and U.S. courts use different terms to discuss interests of dead bodies and biological samples taken from those bodies, and rights to possession in both jurisdictions vary in degree from a mere duty to bury through complete dominion and control. Nevertheless, each regulation, statute, act, or case attempts to allocate proprietary and nonproprietary rights that ensure the dignity of the deceased and are allocated to those who generally best represent that interest. Yet, who has the best representative interest when the dispute is between religious tenets and scientific inquiry? The United Kingdom has developed a proprietary right that protects the work (or application of skill) created by scientists, researchers, or preservationists over the religious beliefs of the nation or culture associated with particular remains, regardless of whether those remains are ancient or not. For example, when scientists apply their “skills” to tissue, such as creating slides of tissue samples, the U.K. courts have routinely found that those scientists own those slides and likewise own the tissue on those slides. Yet, the individual from whom the tissue originated has no right of ownership over that excised tissue even though it is their biological matter. The United States, likewise, protects scientific inquiry into nonancient remains by (1) refusing to give property rights to living donors of excised tissue, (2) allowing the commercialization of information extracted from that tissue, and (3) repeatedly affirming that only a nonproprietary right of custody for burial purposes only exist for the next of kin of a recently deceased body. However, when the remains are ancient (as opposed to a recently deceased dead body), the United States' model, NAGPRA, promotes religious sanctity above scientific value, but only if the remains are Native American. If a Native American descendent can be located, the remains become the property of that descendent, but when a descendent cannot be located, tribal or cultural affiliation is treated as a descendent and becomes the proxy owner of the remains.
I think the reason why science is given a paramount right probably has to do with social norms. As a whole, society is seeking answers about their origins and their future, which they feel can be answered by scientific inquiry. Yet, NAGPRA is an exception to that desire to drive forward scientific inquiry. Why? Perhaps it represents a legacy of guilt based on the actions of our colonist ancestors. In other words, the positions in NAGPRA suggest that no profound leap in our understanding of our biological origin (as humans) gained through the study of these remains can justify the disrespect of cultural values of Native American tribes, who have endured near annihilation through the writing of this country's history. Because any ancient remains discovered in the borders of the United States are likely to be the ancestor of a Native American tribe, NAGPRA serves to preserve the values of a minority class who occupy a unique place in our country's past.
B. Assignment of Property Rights Over the Body
The establishment of cultural affiliation is a complex issue. In the Kennewick Man case, the remains were over 9000 years old and the right to proxy decision making was contested. Native American tribes claimed ownership of the remains under NAGPRA, while scientists argued NAGPRA did not apply. The court examined both historical records and genetic analysis to establish the final claim of right to Kennewick Man's remains and found that the remains were so old, and the information about his era was so limited, that they could not reasonably conclude Kennewick Man “shared any special and significant genetic or cultural features with presently existing indigenous tribes, people, or cultures.”Footnote 42 Thus, legally Kennewick Man's remains were not Native American and therefore did not fall within the meaning of NAGPRA. Because NAGPRA is the only act in American jurisprudence that bestows a clear proprietary right in dead bodies, Kennewick Man's remains by default fell within ARPA and were protected as an item of national heritage though they do not belong to any particular person.Footnote 43 In essence, the U.S. government became the proxy decision maker of Kennewick Man's remains under 16 U.S.C.A. §470dd, which allowed the U.S. government to control the future of the remains.Footnote 44 Establishing a property right based on nationality became the default for a failure to unearth a better cultural identity or lineal descendant who could become a proxy decision maker for the remains.
Yet, even national identity is not a bright-line category. The issue becomes more complex when the remains are found close to national borders. In the Kennewick Man case, the court observed a limitation in NAGPRA, finding that the term “Native American” could not equate to any remains that predate European settlers but only to remains that relate to a “tribe, people or culture that is indigenous to the United States” (emphasis retained).Footnote 45 Further, the court found that the “United States” is a political entity that dates back to 1789, and the use of the present tense (“that is indigenous”) referred to tribes, peoples, and cultures that exist in modern time but not those that may have existed thousands of years ago but do not exist now.Footnote 46 In contrast to the statutory definition of “Native American,” the statutory definition of “Native Hawaiian” under NAGPRA means “any individual who is a descendant of the aboriginal people who, prior to 1778, occupied an exercised sovereignty in the area that now constitutes the State of Hawaii” (emphasis added).Footnote 47 Thus, Congress has consciously chosen to define Native American as it relates to the borders of a political entity rather than a geographic location as they do when defining Native Hawaiian.
This is a common position taken by nations after World War II, and it is one of cultural nationalism; objects belong within the physical boundaries of the nations within which they are found or with which they are historically associated (i.e., Egyptian mummies belong in Egypt, Greek marble statues belong in Greece, etc.).Footnote 48 This has been the guiding principle behind the development of international legislation affecting cultural property, including UNESCO and UNIDROIT.Footnote 49 Yet, nationalism is limited by political stability. When borders change, nations change. Nationality becomes a fluid term that appeals to the emotions, while the epithet of nationality overshadows other forms of heritage (such as religious heritage). The Egyptian mummy stirs images of the pyramids and pharaohs who began to expand the borders of the nation we now know as Egypt, a country that we believe to have unchanging geographic borders and that will, in 50 years, remain just as we left it on the map in 2009. Yet, Egyptian mummy means so much more. It represents the religious past of pharaonic Egypt, where preservation of the dead ensured a chance in the afterlife. Does present-day Egypt—a geographic region inhabited first by Rmt Kmt (the people of Kemet); invaded by the Greeks, Romans, and then a succession of Islamic rulers; also experienced a French occupation and a British occupation; and is now 90% Muslim—have the best right to a pharaonic mummy?Footnote 50 In other words, does national identity represent the best means for establishing cultural heritage? This is not to say nationality and cultural identity should be mutually exclusive. Each serves an important function in the development of the other. It is surely pragmatic to use nationality as a default when a better cultural identity is impossible to ascertain. And, using nationality has its benefits. When artifacts are culturally unidentifiable but nonetheless have historical value, using nationality generates historical pride and unity among those who live within the borders of the nation. Although it is doubtful that many Egyptians want to be identified exclusively as “the county with all the pyramids and mummies,” there is a sense of honor in the recognition of the marvels of ancient Egyptian ingenuity.
The case of Otzi (also known as the Iceman) reveals the danger of using nationality as a default tool for assigning property rights. Otzi's remains were found 100 meters from the border between Austria and Italy in 1991, and the controversy over the ownership of his remains became an international dispute as discussed by Brenda Fowler in her book, Iceman. Otzi (named after the region in which he was found) was approximately 5200 years old when he was discovered. This means he had lived during the late Neolithic or early Copper Age, before the nations of today were established. Historically, Tyrol (the area where Otzi was found) had been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.Footnote 51 But after the empire's defeat in World War I, Austria ceded the portion of Tyrol south of the main Alpine ridge to Italy, and the 1919 Treaty of Saint-Germain established the new border between Austria and Italy along the watershed of the Austrian river Inn and the Italian river Adige.Footnote 52 Mussolini sponsored the settlement of thousands of ethnic Italians in the region in 1935, but in 1939, on the eve of World War II, Hitler (who respected Mussolini's desire to hold onto the region) allowed the population to accept German citizenship and emigrate to Germany or keep Italian citizenship. At least 70% of the population voted to leave. In 1969 Austria and Italy agreed on a set of terms for a largely autonomous province called Sudtirol (South Tyrol) in German and Alto Adige (High Adige) in Italian. By 1991, the 440,000 people living in the province were 65% German, 26% Italian, and 4% Ladin. When the discovery of Iceman occurred, both Austria and Italy sought ownership, and the governor of Austrian Tyrol stressed that either way one looked at it, the discovery had been made in Tyrol. In other words, although Austria and Italy argued for their own proprietary rights, Otzi was most likely the cultural heritage of neither, but rather a nation that did not exist at the time he was discovered.Footnote 53
The issue was resolved when both Austrian and Italian officials agreed to survey the land where Otzi was discovered make a final determination whether the land belonged to Austria or Italy. Though the 1919 Treaty of Saint-Germain had defined the border between Austria and Italy, it had done so only in language. Between 1921 and 1923, an international team mapped out the watershed between the Inn and the Adige rivers and set the border stones. However, because the mountains were covered in part by glaciers, the commission directed that where the land was concealed by ice, a straight line would be drawn between the two closest identifiable border points. In 1990, the surveyors determined the site where Otzi was discovered indeed lay on the Italian side of the border by 101 yards. However, much to everyone's surprise, the glacier melt in the preceding 70 years had shown more of the true watershed, which swung out more than 100 meters to the west of the actual border and around the site of the find. Otzi had actually lain inside the Austrian river Inn's watershed. Had the original surveyors seen the present view, the border would have been marked accordingly, and Otzi would now be the property of Austria.Footnote 54
The battle for Otzi demonstrates the potential for controversy when using nationality to establish property rights, but is there a better way when a lineal descendant or cultural representative cannot be found? Probably not. If rights were not based on nationality but through a system that only found rights in individuals, only the next of kin (or in the case of ancient remains, a lineal descendant) would have a right. Because the courts have established that a lineal descendant or cultural representative already has the best right, nationality only becomes proxy when either of the two cannot be located. If a descendent or tribe (or cultural) is unknowable from the remains, and the nation in which the discovery was made is eliminated from eligibility, then who remains to make decisions with regard to the future of the remains? I offer no better solution to the problem, but challenge academic and legal community to devise a methodology that accounts for the fluidity of international or even interstate borders in a more appropriate and just manner than measuring how far valuable ancient remains lie from a series of boulders or GPS markers.
III. GENETIC INFORMATION
A. Property Interests in DNA
Establishment of proprietary rights of dead bodies, ancient dead bodies, and biological tissue samples from both demonstrates the fluidity of state, federal, and even international law. Cultural importance transforms a dead body that is not capable of becoming property into a cultural artifact that is capable of becoming property in any number of ways. Yet a new wrinkle in the fight for property rights over dead bodies has emerged, DNA. Deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) is found in the nuclei of cells, where it stores the blueprint for the human body. However, a small amount of DNA can also be found in the mitochondria, where it is called mitochondrial DNA, or mtDNA.Footnote 55 Each strand of DNA or mtDNA contains a sequence that differs among individuals. By analyzing these sequences, it is possible to trace paternity, determine predisposition to disease, or even establish physical traits of an individual. Thus, DNA can be scrutinized in two forms: physical and informational. The genetic information (made visual by a computer printout of the base pair sequences) is distinct and separate from the genetic samples themselves (i.e., blood, cheek swabs, etc.)Footnote 56 Because it is probably legitimate to analogize genes in their physical form to other physical parts of the body, property rights might follow the same pathways.Footnote 57 But can someone have a property right to genetic information? Maybe.
Currently American courts seem to prefer using terms like privacy and confidentiality as opposed to property when considering the legal rights in connection with DNA.Footnote 58 However, with the increasing commercial value of genetic information, two models have emerged as proposals for finding legal rights: the common heritage model and private property model. Generally speaking, DNA sequences have been extracted from tissue supplied by living and willing donors, but does the treatment of property rights change when the sequences are extracted from tissue of ancient remains, specifically cultural artifacts? Should the proxy decision makers of ancient remains, like those of Kennewick Man or of an Egyptian mummy, “own” not only the remains and any samples taken from them but also the genetic sequence extracted from them? Or, in contrast to the American and British law on bodies, should cultural relevancy have no bearing on DNA ownership?
1. Common Heritage
The common heritage of mankind is an international legal concept that conveys equal property interests to all people.Footnote 59 It includes four characteristics: (1) No country can appropriate for itself the territory in question; (2) all states share responsibility for managing the territory; (3) all states share in the benefits from exploitation of the territory or its resources; and (4) all countries must use the territory for exclusively peaceful purposes.Footnote 60 The United Nations has applied the common heritage doctrine to deep seabeds, Antarctica, the Moon, other celestial bodies, and certain worldwide historical sites.Footnote 61
Proponents argue that the human genome is also within the common heritage of mankind, like other natural resources. There are two reasons for regarding the human genome as common heritage: We all share a common ancestry through the genome, and human beings have almost all of their genes in common (humans share over 99% of their genes with one another).Footnote 62 UNESCO stated, “The human genome underlies that fundamental unity of all members of the human family … in a symbolic sense, it (the human genome) is the heritage of humanity.”Footnote 63 Although there would be no property right in a particular person or institution, any individual, company, or country could benefit from it, provided each abided by a moral obligation vis-à-vis that resource. For example, anyone is able to conduct research on the ocean's seabeds, yet each person has a moral obligation to use the oceans fairly and wisely, and to protect them for future use.Footnote 64 In this sense, benefits are shared throughout the world.Footnote 65
However, there are fundamental problems with the common heritage doctrine reasoning. First, the common part of the common heritage reasoning is ambiguous. There is no single, identifiable thing that constitutes the human genome. Although humans share most of their DNA, SNPs (single nucleotide polymorphisms) vary from person to person.Footnote 66 Also, there is not a single identifiable set of people who inherit the human genome. Although human beings share 99% of their genes with each other, they also share 98.5% of their genes with chimpanzees, 95% with other primates, and a great deal with other species, including fruit flies and yeast.Footnote 67 Thus, if only 1.5% of the human genome is actually common to humans, could the remaining 98.5% also be considered the common heritage of chimpanzees? It makes little sense to say a nonhuman species has any property interest in DNA.
Second, it may be misleading to label the human genome as heritage. To say something is inherited in a legal sense, there must be (1) an identifiable thing (or set of things) to be inherited, (2) an identifiable person (or set of persons) to inherit, and (3) an identifiable person (or group of people) from which the thing is handed down (whether by intention or default).Footnote 68 I have already discussed concerns of what constitutes the human genome. Yet, if the genome can be identified as a particular thing, then DNA patenting would be, for all practical purposes, illegal without the consent from every human being, because every human being would have a property interest in the genome.Footnote 69
In connection with (but distinguished from) the common heritage model, proponents of a family property standard argue that DNA by its nature carries a significant amount of a family's genetic secret, and it is reasonable to regard a family's genetic makeup as a shared property interest (though not necessarily with all of humanity).Footnote 70 A person acquires his or her genetic profile because of the biological membership in a given family. If any exclusionary right were given to any particular family member with respect to his or her genetic data, it would have the effect of converting what was part of the commons of the family's property into “private” property.Footnote 71 In essence, no one person could have an exclusive right to their genes, because it is only by virtue of their membership within a particular family that their particular gene sequence exists. Yet, this does not bar granting a type of property right to families exclusive of the rest of humanity, because within each family there are patterns shared by the members, yet unique to the rest of humanity.Footnote 72
In either the common heritage model or the family property model, DNA sequences (extracted from modern sources) are not and cannot be owned by an individual. So, does a DNA sequence that has been extracted from an ancient cultural artifact qualify it for an exception to that rule? Both American and British laws have exceptions to the no-property principle in the human body when the body is ancient because of its cultural importance. But will the cultural importance of ancient DNA sequences save it from the common heritage doctrine and create an exception that would allow culturally important DNA to be the subject of property rights?
Interestingly, the common heritage language was actually first codified in relation to the protection of cultural property. Formulated during the Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict, the preamble of the UNESCO treaty states that “damage to cultural property belonging to any people whatsoever means damage to the cultural heritage of all mankind, since each people makes its contribution to the culture of the world.”Footnote 73 Although the treaty does not recognize an explicit property right in other's cultural heritage, it articulates an interest of all people in protecting and preserving the cultural heritage of others.
In essence, the cultural property of any culture impacts the cultural (common) heritage of us all, and therefore each person has an interest (though a nonproprietary one) in ensuring that property survives. It seems, therefore, that ancient DNA sequences (along with the ancient samples themselves) represent a cultural property that has contributed to the cultural heritage of humankind and thus should be protected under the common heritage doctrine in the same manner that DNA sequences from living donors would be protected. Consequently, culturally important DNA is not saved from the no-property principle of the common heritage doctrine. Yet, under the common heritage reasoning, even culturally important bodies could not be the subject of property rights, because we all have an interest in preserving all artifacts of the past; but this is not fully in harmony with American and British law, which does allow bodies to become the subject of (some) property rights.
By using cultural importance to test each of these theories, it is easy to see a disconnection between the treatment of DNA and the treatment of bodies. Why would the legal, scientific, and academic communities create policies for the treatment of genetic information in a way that differs so greatly from the policies for the treatment of bodies, when both the samples and bodies are culturally important? Specifically, why should cultural importance protect a property right in the body, but not the blueprint to the body? Perhaps the law has simply not yet evolved to answer questions about genetic information. Without a solid foundation of legal precedent over nonancient DNA, it is difficult to imagine how the cultural importance of ancient DNA could impact the assignment of property rights over it. Perhaps asking questions like these before a clear legal standard has been established will help inform the development of legislation over nonancient DNA, which in turn will make property rights over ancient DNA apparent.
The case for applying the common heritage doctrine is substantial considering the variety of uses of ancient DNA in current research. The use of genetic data has greatly increased the world's knowledge of evolution and, in some instances, has helped to reconstruct history by confirming migratory patterns, the spread of disease, or by showing the effect of diet on human populations.Footnote 74 These data are not limited to information extracted from DNA sequences in the modern population. The International Ancient Egyptian Mummy Tissue Bank has studied the genetic markers of Egyptian mummies to understand the origins and migration patterns of ancient populations.Footnote 75 Individual familial memberships are being tested with a range of markers to derive the genetic fingerprints of supposedly related individuals.Footnote 76 Paleoepidemiology of parasitic diseases like schistosomiasis (caused by a species of Schistosoma, which is also known as Bilharzia), which affects 200–300 million people worldwide today, and the human immune system's response to it were analyzed using DNA.Footnote 77
In the case of Otzi the Iceman, a battery of tests were run to discover more about his origin, including the isotope composition of his bones, intestinal contents, and mtDNA analysis.Footnote 78 Mitochondrial DNA is inherited from the mother and is extremely useful in tracking ancestry through the female line. Researchers extracted molecules from Otzi's surviving tissue, and although most of the DNA was degraded, the researchers were able to amplify some mtDNA. The sequence showed that the mitochondrial type of Otzi fits into the genetic variation of contemporary Europeans, and it was most closely related to mitochondrial types determined from central and northern European populations.Footnote 79 When this sequence was combined with other information obtained by examining his tools and bone fragments, it was determined that Otzi lived within the Alpine valleys of central Europe, roughly 60 kilometers from the site where he was found.Footnote 80
In 2007, the Supreme Council of Antiquities in Egypt, lead by Dr. Zahi Hawass, extracted usable nuclear DNA from KV60A, a mummy thought to be Hatshepsut. The Council sought genetic confirmation that this was indeed the pharaoh queen through the comparison with two other sources, Thutmose I and Ahmose Nefertari (Hatshepsut's maternal grandmother.)Footnote 81 It turned out that the nuclear DNA extracted from Thutmose I was unusable, but the mtDNA from Ahmose Nefertari had remained relatively intact. The lab is still completing its work, but initial reports indicate that the mtDNA being sequenced from KV60A is most likely that of Hatshepsut.
The DNA sequences extracted from Otzi, Hatshepsut, and the other Egyptian mummies may be a part of the cultural heritage of the world that all people are morally obligated to protect, in the same manner that they are obligated to protect DNA sequences from modern sources (according to the common heritage doctrine). Yet, the moral obligation proposed in the doctrine does not have the power of legal obligation. It is reasonable to assume that, without a controlling authority (international laws, treaties, or agreements), the ability for a person or entity to misuse genetic information is at least a moderate threat. Likewise, a moral obligation (rather than a legal obligation) fails to ensure protection against the areas of abuse identified by Paradise and Andrews (described earlier), namely, fair access to samples, informed consent and rights of participants, and the avoidance of conflicts of interests. We see this problem today with the protection of culturally important bodies under the doctrine. Though the bodies represent a valuable resource that should be shared among all peoples, their value has actually made them a commodity, which has led to concealment by research institutions and governments. This hinders proper research and fails to provide rights for the participants. It would be difficult to imagine the treatment of ancient DNA would follow any other pattern.
If international courts adopt the common heritage doctrine to protect DNA sequences, it will likely apply without discrimination based on the age of the sequence, just as it applies to bodies. Moreover, similar to the treatment of bodies, genetic information will likely be unfairly distributed among researchers and governments. The protection of ancient DNA has no greater or lesser interest to the cultural heritage to humankind than does the protection of DNA from modern sources, because the kind of information that can be extracted from DNA is equal across the age of the DNA. The only limitation for mining useful information from any kind of DNA is the physical sample size of the DNA. In the case of ancient sources, obtaining a sample size large enough to sequence may be problematic because of degradation over time; yet modern sources also can face the problem of adequacy due to a variety of circumstances, including problems with contamination or collection. Accordingly, ancient DNA would have no special protection under the doctrine. Rather, DNA sequences (both ancient and nonancient) could be the property of none, but the resource of all. One can only hope that this information will be used for the benefit of humanity rather than being exploited as it has with bodies.
2. Private Property
In contrast to the common heritage model, proponents of the private ownership model argue for a property right in genetic information that follows other models of property rights including the ability to buy, sell, and transfer the right.Footnote 82 This is usually accomplished through a patent.Footnote 83 As of 2008, over 4000 human genes were patented, totaling almost 20% of the roughly 24,000 genes shared among humans.Footnote 84 The current policy in the United States, as set forth by Congress, the Patent and Trademark Office, and the federal court system, allows the patenting of human genes as similar to any other chemical found in nature. Patents can be issued for “anything under the sun that is made by man” but not for “laws of nature, physical phenomena, and abstract ideas.”Footnote 85 The isolation and purification of DNA sequences means that a generally nonpatentable phenomenon (DNA) is turned into a patentable one. Yet, this method only creates a property right in the DNA sequence for the patent owner, who does not necessarily coincide with the DNA supplier. Thus, only those who have the technical ability to isolate and purify DNA have the ability to transform the sequence into property. But this may not entirely roadblock DNA ownership by the individual.
Private property rights in genetic information may be established two ways: (1) Property rights of genetic information follow similar rights over other kinds of research and discovery and are associated with intellectual property (as with patent protection), or (2) property rights over genetic information follow rights assigned to tissue ownership because the genetic information is sourced from the tissue. But, these two paths do not have to be mutually exclusive. If intellectual property rights are merged with tissue ownership, individuals (and not just research entities) may establish a claim of right over DNA sequences. Although this may add to the complexity of the system (though not unduly), I believe it is necessary to create the most appropriate and just result for both the individual and society as a whole.
Ownership of a purified and isolated gene, such as BRCA1 (also known as “the breast cancer gene”), was established through a patent protection following the research and discovery of that gene.Footnote 86 Yet, humans are composed of thousands of genes. Naysayers believe that institutions and research facilities will eventually eat up the patent rights for every human gene, and though this may be true, it does not mean that there will be no self-ownership over the contents in the individuals' own cells. What we are really talking about when we discuss the private property right of our DNA is not the individual genes themselves, but the unique pattern in which they exist in our bodies. As I stated earlier, DNA as a whole shares 99% of its components with other species, and of the 1% remaining that all humans share, only a tiny bit distinguishes each person as an individual. It stands to reason that people should not be able to own the entire code, given that it is so vastly shared, but why should an individual not be able to have a property interest in the sequence or mutations that is unique to him or her?
Genes like BRCA1, or those for eye and hair color, height, and so on, are not unique. They are common genes in the portion of DNA unique to humans. Yet, it is the combination of those genes that are unique to the individual. This is the pattern the individual should have a right to protect. In other words, individuals do not have the right to protect individual genes themselves, but they do have an interest in the protection of the particular order of those genes and their unique genetic variations. This may eventually translate into an individual's right to own his or her genetic fingerprint and thus prevent the duplication of that particular sequence of genes by any other entity. The value (which will be different for every person and may be economic, scientific, etc.) would then be protected by the same laws as those that govern personal property.Footnote 87 The individual parts of shared DNA would belong to the common, but the whole sequence (composed of unique variations alongside the standard shared genes) could belong to the individual.
Researchers, however, have an interest in protecting their scientific work. This includes methods of isolation, purification, and modification, but should not include the naturally occurring gene sequence itself.Footnote 88 So far, the courts have been unwilling to apply property rights over naturally occurring DNA sequences for the individual. Rather, they have imagined a property model based only on patent law and intellectual property, and have ignored claims by individuals who believe they are entitled to some right over the sequence derived from their tissue sample. But through their reasoning, it is evident that the courts support some kind of right to property over the DNA code. Though the courts seem to draw a bright line against the patent protection argument for the individual (and patent protection of naturally occurring DNA coding), they have not yet stated a bright-line conclusion prohibiting an individual's right to ownership of his or her DNA sequence. Because there is no case precedent on an individual's right to own his or her naturally occurring DNA sequence, it is difficult to theorize how ancient DNA would measure up against the standard. Thus, the only comparison that can be made at this time is against the intellectual property standard.
So, will the design of the intellectual property–based standard be appropriate for classifying property rights in ancient DNA? Because analyzing any DNA transforms it (through the isolation and purification requirement of patent law) into something that can become property according the current U.S. case precedents, ancient DNA would easily fall into this model. Genes from ancient DNA would become the property of any institution or research facility that makes a unique gene discovery and seeks a patent on that gene. An individual's attempt (or likewise a cultural representative's or proxy decision maker's attempt) to establish a proprietary right over the sequence is still probably in vain unless in-home isolation and purification kits are developed. Accordingly, the DNA sequence extracted from Egyptian mummies or from Kennewick Man will not be protected as the personal or private property of Egypt or a lineal descendent, but rather as patent or intellectual property for institutions and researchers.
The intellectual property model for DNA ownership, as it currently stands, allows for genetic ownership but weights the scales heavily in favor of research institutions and large (well-funded) companies at the sacrifice of individuals' autonomy. Yet, there is more than the symbolic value of autonomy at stake. The value of human genetic codes (particularly ones of desirable mutations) is real and can be quantified. When research institutions begin to patent genetic mutations that are unique to a particular individual, then there is a threat that the institution may own or control parts of the individual. If, sometime in the future, the courts and Congress allow a property right in genetic sequences that are accessible by individuals, then individuals could protect themselves against what could essentially be genetic slavery by research institutions who control the use of, experimentation with, and commercialization of any genetic code contained in a tissue sample they posses, regardless of the individuals' wishes.
The application of the common heritage model or the private property model works equally as well with respect to ancient and nonancient DNA. Under the common heritage model, there can be no particular owner. Under the private property model, as it currently stands, anyone can theoretically be an owner, though the reality is that only well-funded research entities are able to meet the patent qualifications. Accordingly, cultural importance would have little legal impact on the application of property rights over DNA. Although this model would allow for descendants, tribes, or nations to establish a proprietary right over the genetic information, the road to acquiring this proprietary right raises the spectrum of concerns of Paradise and Andrews. If a system is set up that is exceedingly unequal in the manner in which property rights are assigned, then concerns will remain about the integrity and dissemination of the results, as well as the consent and rights of participants. A free-for-all pool of genetic information, from which anyone can obtain a property right if they have isolated and purified a gene, neglects to recognize a descendant's birthright to that genetic information or a tribe's shield for religious reasons. In other words, the intellectual property approach fails in nearly the same manner that the common heritage doctrine fails. Under both doctrines, the individual's preference is lost, usually to the wealthy and resourceful nation or research institution.
B. Assignment of Property Rights: A Model
The International Ancient Egyptian Mummy Tissue Bank of the Manchester Museum bridges the channels between the special treatment of cultural artifacts and the rights over genetic information. Depositors to the bank must verify that they possess legal title in the remains and thus are the legal proxy decision makers regarding the possession and control of the body.Footnote 89 The museum agrees that the samples remain the property of the depositor, and in turn, the depositor grants the museum license to use the samples in the bank.Footnote 90 However, the agreement notes:
If commercially useful developments result from any use of the sample(s) of mummy tissue in the Bank, the Parties agree to notify each other promptly negotiate on fair and reasonable terms and conditions independent of this Agreement.
Through this agreement, the property interest created by being a proxy decision maker over a piece of cultural heritage may be transferred to the genetic information extracted from the item. It appears that proxy decision makers have, at minimum, a future property interest in any commercially useful (genetic) development based on their interest in the ancient remains. Thus, if researchers using tissue from the bank purify and isolate a gene or sequence of genes, they do not have a sole right to commercialization from that research. The proxy decision makers (or individuals) have, in essence, a property right in genetic information because they have a property right in cultural property.
This model allows for research that benefits modern populations (e.g., research regarding Bilharzia), it provides a benefit or compensation to the DNA supplier (or proxy) in addition to the researcher, and it preserves the dignity of dead bodies. Thus, this model addresses the policy concerns for proprietary rights of ancient DNA in a workable and fair form. Rights over ancient DNA are not be limited to a single person, but rather are weighed by a scale accounting for a variety of legal and ethical rights. Returning to the original problems posed by Paradise and Andrews, the model of the International Ancient Egyptian Mummy Tissue Bank averts the abuses facing professional organizations in this field. The model promotes research, allows scientists access to samples, promotes scientific integrity and dissemination of results, accounts for the rights of all participants, and attempts to avoid conflicts of interest. The one obstacle the bank's model does not address is how to best establish the property rights over the remains.
Any future legislation mirroring this model should account for a property right over the body before addressing any rights over DNA. Accordingly, if a claimant is found to have no right to the body, then they would be barred from establishing a claim to the genetic information within that body. Only when a property right to the body is recognized could a claimant pursue a right over the genetic information. However, the rights are not concurrent but rather sequential; the right over genetic information must be given separate consideration after a finding of a right over the body. In the case of DNA supplied by a living donor, the donor's right to possess or control his own body is sufficient to establish a right over his body, and therefore the donor could pursue a claim over his own genetic information. In the case of DNA that was taken from an already deceased person (or a taken from person who was living but now is deceased), there must be a right to possess, control, or own the dead body under current law before a claim of right over the genetic information from that body could be found.
This model combines the idealism of both the common heritage doctrine and the private property model by ensuring equal access for all but also recognizing that an investment in the genetic analysis of remains should not be without compensation. More importantly, though, it preserves the autonomy of the individual who retains a voice in the use of the remains.
IV. CONCLUSION
This article has confirmed that a proprietary interest can exist in ancient DNA when the DNA was extracted from a cultural artifact, just as property rights may exist in DNA extracted from modern sources. However, because the current law is in flux regarding the application of property rights over modern supplied DNA, establishing who has the best right of property over ancient DNA remains tricky. Although there is a general no-property principle for dead bodies, the cultural importance of ancient dead bodies establishes a proprietary right over the remains. This right may go to a descendent, or an entire nation. However, because DNA is from an ancient source does not grant it an exception to the property rules based on its cultural importance alone. Under the common heritage doctrine, all DNA is subject to a no-property principle, whether it is ancient or not. Under the intellectual property model, DNA can be the subject of property only once it is in a nonnaturally occurring form. In other words, neither ancient DNA nor modern DNA can be property until it has been subjected to purification and isolation, which by its nature limits the pool of people who are capable of transforming body tissue and its DNA into property. Thus, these theories recognize no distinction or special needs of ancient DNA. This is where the theories are incomplete. As a new science, policies and theories concerning genetic analysis are shortsighted and limited in scope. They have failed to account for variety in the forms of DNA and instead have created generic policies that do not address peculiarities in the various disciplines. However, models like those of the International Ancient Egyptian Mummy Tissue Bank provide a more useful prototype for how ancient DNA should be treated to protect against as many abuses as possible. As a consequence of the inconsistencies in the law, the dispute of who has the best interest to any DNA has yet to be resolved. Whether the best interest in ancient DNA (like that of ancient bodies) rests in the nation or in the culture, I leave to be answered by another.
Although the scope of this article was to be limited to the property rights of ancient DNA, it is impossible to achieve a thorough analysis while current policy for controlling DNA from nonancient sources remains ambiguous. Models like the donor agreement for the International Ancient Egyptian Mummy Tissue Bank show that research, preservation, and commercialization of ancient DNA do not have to be sacrificed. Society may derive the maximum benefit, while the dignity of the remains can be preserved. Thus, this model serves as an excellent place to begin a discussion of ways in which the individual's right can be protected without abandoning the interests of mankind as a whole.
