Reborn, but ethically torn: The real debate behind de-extinction

They look like escapees from Jurassic World — or better yet, Game of Thrones. Romulus, Remus, and Khaleesi aren’t your average pampered pups. They're the modern reincarnations, at least in silhouette, of the dire wolf or Canis dirus:  A burly, heavy-jawed predator that ruled Ice Age landscapes over 10,000 years ago.

 

Now, thanks to ancient DNA and advanced bioengineering, researchers at Colossal Biosciences -- a US-based startup calling itself a “de-extinction company” —have achieved the extraordinary by resurrecting something uncannily close to the long-lost beast.

 

The story begins underground. Fossils unearthed from tar pits -- a 13,000-year-old tooth, a 72,000-year-old skull -- yielded snippets of DNA. From these remnants, scientists reconstructed the dire wolf’s genome. Then using CRISPR gene editing, they spliced key traits — skull dimensions, jaw force, fur density — into the DNA of modern grey wolves. These modified embryos were cloned and implanted into surrogate dogs. The result: Three pups, each born in separate litters, each a genetic remix of the Ice Age.

 

The act of reversing extinction is powerfully symbolic, a sort of species-level apology. Humans snuffed out numerous animals and perhaps we owe them a second act.

 

So, is de-extinction redemption? Or reckless tampering?

 

Reintroducing creatures like the woolly mammoth, proponents of de-extinction argue, could help restore ecosystems. According to Colossal, it aims to rewild the Arctic tundra by creating cold-resistant mammoth-elephant hybrids, and their trampling may compact snow, preserving permafrost and reducing greenhouse gas emissions. In theory, at least.

 

In Australia, reviving the Tasmanian tiger could help control invasive species, such as rabbits.

 

In India, a similar ambition is underway -- the Indian cheetah, wiped out in 1952 by hunting and habitat loss, may soon return. A joint project between the Birbal Sahni Institute of Palaeosciences and the Zoological Survey of India is nearing the final phase of whole genome sequencing.

 

What’s more, these resurrected creatures could act as “flagship species”, capturing the public’s imagination and galvanising support and funds for broader conservation initiatives.

 

The science itself may spin off technologies applicable to endangered species, or even human medicine. The tools being forged to rewrite genomes might one day help save those still clinging to existence.

 

But not everyone is convinced.

 

Sceptics warn that the science is still murky. Many extinct animals lack complete DNA records, meaning what gets revived is a best-guess approximation— a genetic chimera rather than a faithful replica. Today’s dire wolf may resemble its ancestor, but functionally and behaviourally, it’s something new: A doppelgänger.

 

There are also deeper ethical questions. These creatures aren’t returning to the world they once knew. They’re emerging into a planet irrevocably altered by human hands because of climate change, deforestation, and habitat loss. We are living through the sixth mass extinction, a period of rapid biological collapse, driven largely by us. Some species may adapt. Others will vanish.

 

Should we reintroduce extinct animals only to have them face the same grim odds?

 

There’s also the matter of suffering. Engineered animals might carry health complications, struggle with behaviour, or endure psychological stress — especially if raised in captivity. If a new dire wolf is neither fully wild nor fully domestic, does it have a place? A pack?

 

The ecological unknowns are just as worrying. Releasing genetically modified organisms into fragile ecosystems is a gamble, the long-term consequences of which we can barely fathom.

 

Also, there’s the philosophical slippery slope. If extinction becomes reversible, does it lessen our incentive to prevent it? If a species can be brought back with enough funding and a genome archive, what pressure remains to protect those on the brink? We cannot solve extinction by playing God. We need to address its root causes: Habitat destruction, climate change, pollution, and overexploitation. De-extinction may offer a powerful alternative, but it is not a substitute for real conservation. Still, it’s tough not to be awed by de-extinction. To even contemplate un-extincting a species speaks to our growing power over biology — and to  our extraordinary audacity. It’s Promethean: The human impulse to undo the irreversible.

 

In the end, the debate over de-extinction isn’t really about wolves or mammoths or cheetahs. Or even science. It’s about us, about who we are, and who we wish to become in the Anthropocene: Are we the destroyer? The redeemer? The restless tinkerer?

 

Or, inevitably, a combination of all three.