Ottawa’s approval of unlabelled gene-edited pork is a policy mistake

Once again, without public notice or meaningful explanation, Health Canada has cleared a food technology that remains poorly understood by consumers. In recent days, the agency approved the sale of gene-edited pork in Canada—without any labelling requirements.

This is not a trivial decision. It follows a familiar pattern in Canadian food regulation: scientific assessments are completed, approvals are granted quietly, and consumer communication is treated as an afterthought. Health Canada does not appear to have learned from its recent experience with cloned animal products. Last fall, the agency approved meat derived from the offspring of cloned animals—again without a public announcement. When the information inevitably surfaced, consumer reaction was swift and negative, forcing Health Canada to pause the process entirely.

Gene-edited pork is now being treated differently only in appearance, not in substance. Gene editing involves making precise changes to an animal’s DNA—often using techniques such as CRISPR—to introduce traits like disease resistance or improved productivity, without inserting foreign genes. From a scientific standpoint, the consensus is clear: the technology is safe, well-understood, and offers real benefits for agricultural efficiency, resilience to climate stress, and potentially even price stability over time.

But safety is not the issue. The issue is consumer trust.

As with cloning, Canadians want to know what they are buying. Transparency is not an attack on innovation; it is a basic principle of consumer respect. Over the past several decades, regulators and industry alike have tended to shield consumers from information about production technologies, fearing that disclosure would provoke backlash. Ironically, this approach has often produced the opposite outcome—undermining confidence when information eventually emerges.

This inconsistency is difficult to justify. As of January 1, Health Canada now mandates prominent front-of-package labels for fat, sugar, and sodium content. If consumers are entitled to that information, it is hard to argue that identifying gene-edited meat at the point of purchase is excessive or dangerous. Information itself does not harm consumers; withholding it does.

There are also important market implications. Organic and niche producers who choose not to use gene-editing technologies lose the ability to clearly differentiate their products. Well-functioning markets depend on differentiation and informed choice. Innovation thrives not only when technologies evolve, but when consumers are able to understand, compare, and assign value to those differences.

Blending gene-edited meat into the conventional supply without disclosure effectively forces the industry into a single production standard—one that prioritizes cost efficiency over consumer preference. The result is regulatory uniformity that suppresses choice while doing little to address the underlying pressures driving meat prices higher. Canadians are already paying more for meat; opacity will not improve affordability or confidence.

Gene editing is not new to agriculture. It has been used in crops for years—rice, canola, tomatoes, among others. But livestock is different. Food is not evaluated solely on scientific risk; it is also shaped by perception, ethics, and values. Regulators and industry must acknowledge that reality rather than dismiss it.

The conclusion is straightforward: gene-edited and cloned food products should be clearly labelled. Not because they are unsafe—but because transparency is essential for trust, market integrity, and long-term acceptance.

Full stop.