Jay Keasling (left), speaking with Rajit Sapar at the
Joint BioEnergy Institute, is pioneering a technique to
develop diesel fuel from yeast.
Courtesy of
Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory
What if we could get our gasoline, diesel fuel and jet fuel
from yeast instead of from oil wells? That's not as crazy as it
sounds. In fact, it's already happening on a small scale. And
there's a vigorous research effort to ramp this up on a massive
scale.
One of the more innovative approaches uses a new technology
called "synthetic biology." Jay Keasling is one of the leaders
in this hot field.
With his supershort crew cut and friendly demeanor, Keasling
would fit in nicely where he grew up — on a corn farm in
Nebraska that's been in his family for generations. But these
days you'll find him in a glistening building in Emeryville,
Calif., home to several of his many endeavors.
Among the many hats Keasling wears is that of associate
laboratory director for biosciences at the Lawrence Berkeley
National Laboratory. He's also CEO of the Joint BioEnergy
Institute, director of the Synthetic Biology Research Center,
and a professor at the University of California, Berkeley.
Not to mention founder of three biotechnology companies —
Amyris, LS9 and Lygos.
"My research [focus], since I've been at Berkeley for the past
20 years, is, 'How do you engineer chemistry within cells?' "
Keasling says. "I really believe you can use microbes as little
chemical factories to produce almost anything we want."
This is the basis of synthetic biology — genetic engineering
taken to a whole new level. Instead of tweaking one or two
genes, Keasling and his colleagues change a bunch of genes, so
microbes such as yeast can be transformed into chemical
factories.
His most successful project to date doesn't have to do with
energy. Keasling and his team inserted or tweaked a dozen genes
in yeast cells and turned them into tiny factories that churn
out a partially synthetic version of artemisinin, a key drug in
the leading treatment of malaria. (The usual source of
artemisinin is a tree known as sweet wormwood, and there are not
enough to meet the global demand.)
Keasling's group licensed the synthetic version to a drug
company called Sanofi, which has since produced 35 tons of
artemisinin, enough for 70 million people. And this spring, the
World Health Organization approved the new version as a malaria
treatment.
Surprisingly, it's not such a leap from making the artemisinin
to churning out fuels. The drug and diesel are both basically
hydrocarbons — hydrogen and carbon atoms cobbled together. So
Keasling remembers thinking, "if we can just make a few more
tweaks to that yeast that produces artemisinin, we can get it to
spit out diesel fuels, or maybe even jet fuels, or gasoline."
Sure enough, they made those tweaks.
And now Amyris, one of the companies Keasling founded, "has a
factory in Brazil that's using the engineered yeast, taking in
sugar and spitting out a product that's a diesel fuel," Keasling
says. Already, that diesel is in buses in Rio and Sao Paulo.
There is, of course, a catch: "This diesel is still more
expensive than petroleum-based diesel by quite a long shot."
The yeast produces a hydrocarbon called farnesene, which can
not only be converted to diesel but also turned into other much
more lucrative chemicals. That's how Amyris can afford to make
this pricey fuel.
The challenge now is to drive down the price. One way Keasling
can do that is to make yeast much more efficient at churning out
fuel molecules. Another way to make the end product cheaper is
to start with a plentiful, less expensive starting material —
raw plant matter instead of purified sugar.
"It turns out that all plants are roughly two-thirds sugar,"
Keasling explains. It's tied up in a molecule called cellulose."
Lots of biotechnology companies have been working on the
problem of breaking down cellulose with some modest success.
Synthetic biology could possibly crack it wide open.
Under ideal circumstances, there's enough raw plant material —
especially agricultural waste — to supply about a third of the
liquid fuel we use. (Though there are when you grow crops for
fuel instead of food.)
These cleaner fuels would help reduce the buildup of carbon
dioxide in the air, at least a bit. But ultimately, the
challenge of reducing global emissions has to be met on many
fronts, researchers say.
"In terms of technology the big lever is to improve the
efficiency of the vehicles," says Doug Chapin, director of MPR
Associates, an engineering firm in Alexandria, Va. Chapin was
chairman of a recent report by the National Research Council,
which looked at what it would take to reduce vehicle emissions
by 80 percent by midcentury.
"The other big lever is [that] none of this happens unless the
nation has the will to decide that this is the thing they want
to achieve, almost more importantly than anything else," Chapin
says.
Americans and others would need to accept fuels that cost more
at the pump in exchange for the much less tangible benefit of a
healthier planet. And governments would have to institute that
not very popular idea.
Of course, making biofuels cheaper would make that sort of
transformation an easier proposition, and that's what drives
Keasling.
"There are some huge challenges, but there are huge
opportunities," he says. "Imagine if we replaced a third of our
transportation fuels and made them renewable. And maybe through
other means we could decrease the use of petroleum-based fuels
so we were putting much less carbon into the atmosphere. That
would be a huge benefit."
Of course, it's intellectually stimulating to figure out how to
engineer microbes to do your bidding. But it's also gratifying
to feel like you're solving a problem that will help humanity.
And Keasling says there's a personal bonus in this for him, too.
His father in Nebraska now grows corn for ethanol, which is a
very inefficient way to make fuel from crops. Maybe someday
he'll be able to switch to a better crop for biofuel.
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