Who Speaks for the Dead? Rethinking Consent for Ancient DNA Research

Who Speaks for the Dead? Rethinking Consent for Ancient DNA Research

Would you want a fragment of your body — a tooth or a bone — to continue contributing information after you die? That question is familiar in organ donation. Ancient DNA (aDNA) research raises a different but related question: how should we decide whether genetic material from people who lived generations ago can be analysed, stored and reused?

DNA is the unique biological code carried by every organism. Once sequenced, genomic information can be preserved indefinitely in digital libraries and reused for many purposes, from academic studies to commercial development. Because a single genome also reveals information about relatives, aDNA research can affect living families, communities and populations — and it carries risks, including misuse by law enforcement or commercial actors.

What is ancient DNA and why does it matter?

Ancient DNA (aDNA) refers to genetic material recovered from organisms that lived long ago. Geneticists, archaeologists, anthropologists and historians use aDNA to illuminate human history in unprecedented ways. African populations are particularly important for these studies because Africa holds the deepest human genetic diversity, making both modern and ancient African DNA invaluable for understanding human origins and variation.

But aDNA research can be destructive: it typically requires sampling small, irreplaceable pieces of bone or tooth. It also raises ethical and legal questions that current national frameworks rarely address. No country has widely adopted standards specific to aDNA, and ethical guidance must therefore protect past, present and future generations.

Why conventional informed consent is insufficient

The clinical model of informed consent assumes individual autonomy — that a single living person can make decisions for themselves. That model does not easily apply to people who are deceased or to cultures where decision-making is communal. Over the past two decades, consent has been discussed more frequently in aDNA research, but it is not yet universally required or obtained.

Informed proxy and relational autonomy consent

In our recent paper we advocate adopting informed proxy consent or relational autonomy consent for human aDNA studies. Under this approach, living people who are connected to the deceased by ancestry, culture, geography, custodianship or other social relationships can act as legitimate representatives and give consent on the deceased person's behalf. This recognises that the dead are embedded in living communities, and that the effects of research are social as well as individual.

Guiding principles

Because contexts differ widely, a universal checklist is not feasible. Instead we propose four broad principles to guide practice:

• Honesty — full transparency about aims, methods, risks, benefits and funding.
• Accountability — clear lines of responsibility for researchers and institutions.
• Professionalism — standards for sample handling, analysis and reporting that respect remains and communities.
• Stewardship — long-term responsibility for how data and samples are stored, shared and used.

Practical recommendations

We outline practical steps to implement community-driven, proxy-informed consent:

• Initiate consultation during project planning by sharing draft proposals and incorporating community feedback.
• Be transparent about funding sources, laboratory techniques and possible commercial or law-enforcement uses.
• Provide information in local languages and accessible formats, and give communities time and space to deliberate.
• Recognise that consent is a process: obtain ongoing agreement, share findings before publication, and seek renewed consent for new uses of data.
• Ensure communities retain meaningful control over data storage, access and future sharing arrangements.
• Advocate for funders and institutions to resource pre-research consultation and long-term engagement.

Examples and lessons

There are precedents for community-centred approaches. In South Africa, the Sutherland Nine restitution reunited nine San and Khoekhoe ancestors with their community nearly a century after their remains were removed for research and teaching. In Malawi, the Ancient Lifeways and Peoples Project normalised community engagement through site visits and consultations, prompting local leaders to explore how aDNA might support restitution and historical reconstruction.

Studying the past also shows that continuity cannot be assumed everywhere; identifying appropriate descendant communities and authority to consent can be complex. Nonetheless, local communities have a right to high-quality information about research that affects them. Building trust and durable partnerships may take time, but these investments make the science more ethical, robust and socially valuable.

Bottom line: aDNA research can transform our understanding of human history, but it must be pursued with community-driven consent, transparency, and long-term stewardship to protect the interests of the dead, the living and future generations.