 On April 21st, 2008, then-presidential candidate Barack Obama made a campaign stop at the Glider diner in Scranton, Pennsylvania. After ordering waffles, sausage, and a glass of orange juice, he was hounded by members of the press corps, asking about a recent meeting between Jimmy Carter and members of Hamas. Now, this prompted Obama to respond plaintively, why can't I just eat my waffle? The retort went viral, and within hours so did his breakfast. He was posted on eBay, and the seller described the half-eaten waffle as, quote, guaranteed authentic. Obama's DNA is still on the silverware. Now, the so-called waffle gate prompted bioethicists to imagine a futuristic scenario in which someone purchased the half-eaten waffle, sequenced Obama's genome, and posted the results online within days of the election. The results could have been devastating. If, for example, they determined that Obama had an increased risk of Alzheimer's, the election could have been completely derailed. Now, this didn't actually happen, but in an age when genetic sequencing is faster and cheaper than it ever has been before, such a scenario is not only likely, but perhaps also inevitable. And this has prompted some bioethicists to describe the current moment as the dawn of the age of genetic McCarthyism. Now, in April 2010, WikiLeaks posted secret cables from then secretaries of state rice and Clinton directing foreign embassies to collect biogenetic data from foreign heads of state and potential security risks. Such genomic information would include not only disease susceptibility, but also tribal and clan affiliations. Obviously, each of us sheds DNA in our wake every day. Shed hairs, used tissues, wads of gum, empty coffee cups, et cetera. Now, while anxiety might attend the genetic collection of information from foreign heads of state and dignitaries, none of us is immune to such gene sweeps. So the question then is, is such non-consensual DNA collection a violation of our genomic privacy? Now, the jury is still out. In most states in the United States, there are no laws governing such collection of DNA without someone's consent. And every year, thousands of laboratories perform clandestine genomic tests, most often to find out about paternity. Now, I also want to say that I am not here equating identity with one's genome. I know that I am not the sum total of what my annotated genome says about me. Nonetheless, the question remains, do private citizens have the right to protect themselves against genetic surveillance? This question isn't limited to genetics. In the age of NSA surveillance, we know that every time we go online, make a purchase or phone call or send an email, our private information ceases to be private, or perhaps it was never private to begin with. That being said, once DNA sequencing becomes even ever faster and cheaper, it's going to further the commoditization and marketability of biogenetic data. What I mean by that is collecting not just where we go and who we talk to, but also where we come from and what our bodies might disclose about us. So, what then is to be done? Some synthetic biologists suggest that if we sequence everyone's genome, the problem won't be a problem anymore because it will no longer be surprising. It will be kind of swept away in a genomic data deluge. For example, Craig Venter and James Watson were the first biologists to post their genomes freely online, as were members of the Personal Genome Project. These are the initial 10, but there are now over 4,000 members who have all sequenced their genomes, posted them online, alongside medical histories, allergies, drug interactions, and other private information. And they do so in hopes of turning that private information into a public resource. Now, there is another possible solution, which is to double down on genomic privacy by trying to spoof one's genetic identity. For example, biohacker Heather Dewey-Hagborg's artistic provocation invisible promises to erase your genetic residue from any surface and replace it with a slurry of DNA from other people in hopes of hoodwinking would-be genetic thieves. Obviously, neither of these solutions is enough. In a moment in which cyber data merges with bio data to create marketable metadata, all of us will have stakes in this matter. And the press will remain hungry for genomic revelations about the rich and powerful, even as they're disinterested in the genomes of a few Harvard professors. But what will it say, if such information is posted online, that a politician, for example, has 2% Neanderthal DNA, or the BRCA gene, or is twice as likely as a general population to become an alcoholic? The issue here is that we are aligning our humanistic selves, a kind of authentic identity with our genomes. And if we disaggregate how we think about ourselves from the vicissitudes of our nucleotides, the problem will cease to be a problem. But that, too, will take work. Thank you.