Creating the right conditions for biosolutions to take root | Biosolutions

Even the best biosolutions won’t scale if people can’t see, understand or trust them — so what makes them take root?

In this final part of a three-part series, we explore what it takes for a new way of producing to gain acceptance. Trust, familiarity, and public perception can be just as important as science and regulation. Biosolutions hold immense promise. Yet their wider adoption remains uneven, shaped by challenges that are not always immediately visible.

In part two, Biology, Regulation, and the pace of progress, we traced one of these: how a history shaped by fear, uncertainty, and earlier experiences with industrial chemicals continue to influence how biotechnology is regulated today, and in turn, how biosolutions are used and deployed. But regulation is only part of the story. There are other forces at play that are less tangible but just as influential. They lie in how we understand biology, how societies, policymakers and consumers respond to what feels unfamiliar, and how new ways of producing are communicated, interpreted, and trusted over time.

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We all know how hard it is to create a new habit, break an old one, or open our minds to new ways of thinking – particularly when we’re entrenched in the ease of familiarity. 

In this episode of the Biosolutions Bulletin by Novonesis we explore what it takes for a new way of producing to gain acceptance. Trust, familiarity, and public perception can be just as important as science and regulation. 

Biosolutions hold immense promise. Yet their wider adoption remains uneven, shaped by challenges that are not always immediately visible. 

In Biology, Regulation, and the pace of progress, we traced one of these : How a history shaped by fear, uncertainty, and earlier experiences with industrial chemicals continues to influence how biotechnology is regulated today, and in turn, how biosolutions are used and deployed. But regulation is only part of the story. There are other forces at play that are less tangible but just as influential. They lie in how we understand biology, how societies,  policymakers and consumers respond to what feels unfamiliar, and how new ways of producing are communicated, interpreted, and trusted over time.  

Addressing these challenges requires more than changes in policy or process. It calls for a more holistic and deeply human approach — one that becomes clearer as we explore what needs to change.  

One of the first of these challenges is visibility.  

Out of sight, out of mind 

If someone asked you to picture a factory, chances are a certain image would come to mind: large machines moving in rhythm, furnaces burning at high temperatures, and smoke rising from chimneys. Even without technical knowledge, most people can picture a car factory, a steelworks, or a large-scale manufacturing plant. 

These familiar images shape how we imagine industrial production — making it feel tangible, even without firsthand experience. Over time, this has become our default way of imagining industrial production.  

But this clarity begins to fade when we turn to biosolutions. Take for instance, a biofuel production facility. Do you have any associated imagery for a biofuel facility that converts plant material such as corn, sugarcane, or agricultural waste into fuel for cars or airplanes? For many people, there isn’t one. Not because such facilities do not exist, they have in fact been around for decades, but because they do not align with the visual language we have come to associate with industrial production. 

This is where the difference begins to matter. 

Production sites that rely on biosolutions look and operate very differently from what we are used to imagining. Instead of furnaces and heavy mechanical systems, they are built around fermentation tanks, sterilization chambers, filtration units, and a range of processes that rarely feature in conventional industrial settings. The work itself is no less complex, but it unfolds in a way that is quieter, less visible, and far less dramatic than the imagery we typically associate with industry.  

At the same time, there is relatively little public visual record of these facilities, which are newer and less embedded in our collective imagination than century-old, conventional factories. As a result, biosolution-based production units often remain outside our mental picture of what production looks like. 

Beyond this, there is another layer to this invisibility — at the heart of many biosolutions are microbes such as bacteria and fungi, along with the enzymes they produce — which cannot be seen with the naked eye. They do not create the kind of visible, immediate transformation that we instinctively associate with manufacturing.  

Their impact, however, is very real. Enzymes, for example, can perform many of the same functions as industrial chemicals, breaking down or transforming materials, often using far less energy and fewer resources.  The outcome is similar, but the process is fundamentally different from that of conventional industrial chemistry, as is the environmental footprint they leave behind. Yet because these differences are not immediately visible, they are easy to overlook. This creates a subtle but important challenge: when something cannot be easily seen, it becomes harder to picture — and when it is harder to picture, it becomes more difficult to understand. 

Over time, that gap in understanding can also shape how it is perceived and trusted.  

“Bad bugs” 

In many cases, this is reinforced by the way microbes are commonly viewed. They are often associated with disease, contamination, and hygiene concerns. While that is one part of the story, it is only a small part. Microbes also play a central role in producing many of the things we rely on, including medicines that help us fight harmful bacteria. You can listen to “Microbes: Invisible life forces that hold the key to our future” to explore this in more detail.  

That broader role, however, is far less visible in everyday thinking. As a result, biosolutions often find themselves in an unusual position. They are effective, they are already in use across multiple industries, and they form a part of modern industrial production. Yet they remain largely out of sight, and when something stays out of sight for long enough, it often slips out of mind. 

Unfamiliarity makes acceptance difficult 

What happens when something remains out of sight for too long? It does not simply remain unseen. Over time, it becomes unfamiliar, and unfamiliarity makes acceptance difficult.  

When we encounter something that feels familiar, we rarely stop to question it. A factory, an oil refinery, or a power plant may be complex systems, but they feel understandable because they fit into a mental picture we have built over time. Familiarity creates comfort, even without detailed understanding. 

Without a clear mental picture, understanding becomes harder — and the questions we ask begin to shift. Instead of focusing on what a technology does, attention shifts toward what it might do: Is it safe? Is it natural? Who controls it? Who benefits? 

These questions reflect deeper concerns about risk, fairness, and control. 

This is something that research on biotechnology has consistently shown, particularly in food systems. Public responses are shaped not only by perceived risks and benefits, but also by ethical concerns and value-based judgments. In other words, people are not just asking whether a technology works or whether it is safe. They are also asking whether it feels right.  

This is where ideas such as “unnaturalness” begin to matter.  

Studies show that many people react to biotechnology not only by weighing its advantages, but by considering whether it aligns with their sense of how nature should function. Perceptions of “unnaturalness” or overstepping natural boundaries often influence comfort with the technology. 

These reactions are not necessarily about rejecting science. Rather, they reflect a broader way of making sense of the world, where decisions are shaped by a combination of knowledge, values, and intuition.  

As a result, even when scientific evidence points in one direction, public responses can vary widely, because people are not only evaluating the technology itself, but also what it represents.  

Research describes this in terms of “worldviews” — frameworks through which people interpret risks, benefits, and the role of technology — leading to differing perspectives and sometimes polarization, or even policy gridlock. 

This becomes even more pronounced when familiarity is low. When this is the case, uncertainty grows. Less-understood technologies are often seen as “unknown risks,” which can reduce comfort even without outright rejection. In such situations, people rely not only on knowledge, but on trust. 
 
FUN FACTS 

1. The “terrible ideas” we cannot live without today: Some of today’s most essential technologies were once dismissed as useless, or even dangerous. Early mobile phones were mocked as overpriced “brick phones,” bulky gadgets for the rich with little real purpose. In the 1990s, the internet was casually described as just another fad, unlikely to go mainstream. And automobiles? In the early days, they were labeled as “devil-wagons” and an infamous law in 1865 required a person to walk ahead of them waving a flag, as they were seen as risky and disruptive.  
    
2. A brainless organism that can solve complex problems: The scope of challenges biology can help us understand and tackle is vast. Take Physarum polycephalum, a slime mold with no brain and no nervous system, and yet an ability to solve problems that look strikingly complex. Scientists study its ability to find the shortest path to food and apply these insights to everything from designing transport networks to computing, electronics, and even modelling space exploration. The mold neither thinks nor plans, and yet, it finds a way. 
    
3.  Turning carbon dioxide into food: What if we could turn the carbon dioxide driving climate change into food? That is exactly what researchers are now exploring — converting captured carbon dioxide into protein using biosolutions. The process involves transforming CO₂ into acetate (a compound also found in vinegar), which is then fed to microbes to produce edible protein, without relying on farmland, crops, or animals. It is easier said than done, and efforts are still ongoing. But it points to a striking shift: taking something we treat as a problem, and turning it into a resource. 

Familiar, understandable, and relatable 

Research shows that most people do not have detailed knowledge of biotechnology, and instead depend on trust in institutions — scientists, regulators, and companies — to interpret risks and benefits on their behalf. This trust plays a central role in shaping perception: when present, technologies are seen as less risky; when absent, skepticism persists, even when scientific assessments indicate low risk3. Acceptance, therefore, is shaped by the interplay of knowledge, perception, and trust. 

Large-scale studies across Europe reinforce this picture. Public attitudes toward biotechnology are shaped by a combination of perceived benefits, risks, ethical considerations, and confidence in governance systems. When people evaluate new technologies, they do not only ask what the risks and benefits are. They also want to know who benefits, who bears the risks, and how the technology is regulated.  

In other words, biotechnology is not evaluated in isolation. It is understood as part of a broader social and institutional context. This helps explain why the same innovation can be accepted in one context and resisted in another. The science may remain the same, but the meaning attached to it changes depending on cultural context, prior experience, and familiarity.  

And familiarity, in this sense, plays a defining role.  

Technologies that people encounter regularly, or that have been part of everyday life for long enough, tend to become easier to accept over time. They move from being questioned to being taken for granted. Others, particularly those that operate quietly in the background, take longer to reach that point. Biosolutions fall into this latter category.  

This is despite the fact that biosolutions are born from fermentation — a biological process that has been used by humans for thousands of years in everyday practices such as baking, brewing, and food preservation. 

For biosolutions to scale, success will depend not only on performance, but on becoming familiar, understandable, and relatable. 

This pattern is not unique — history shows many innovations were resisted before becoming accepted - — not because they lacked value, but because they did not fit into how people understood the world. 

We shall now take a small detour and look at the story of potatoes in Europe, which holds important lessons for biosolutions. 

The story of potatoes 

When the Spanish conquistadors returned from Peru in the 1500s, they brought back many things. Among them was the potato. At the time, however, the potato was not quite what we know today. It was smaller, often bitter in taste, and unfamiliar in both form and use. But taste was only a small part of the problem. The larger challenge lay elsewhere, in something far less tangible, yet far more influential — potatoes were unfamiliar and did not fit into the world people understood. 

Also, potatoes were not just unfamiliar. They were misaligned with existing ideas of what food should be.  

In many ways, much like today, food in Renaissance Europe was more than nourishment. It was shaped by cultural norms and social hierarchies. An informal but influential way of categorizing foods was by where it was grown. Crops that grew above the ground were often associated with refinement, while those that grew beneath the soil were viewed as inferior, like potatoes, onions, and garlic.   

As a result, potatoes were widely viewed with suspicion, and in some cases, even considered unclean.  

For many, this discomfort extended beyond culture and into belief systems. Some believed it to be “impious” to cultivate potatoes as they did not find a mention in the Bible, with some groups even actively protesting against potatoes and seeking its ban. In some regions, the unease took on more vivid forms. In Russia, for instance, potatoes were referred to as the “Devil’s Apple”. 

Unsurprisingly, when potatoes arrived in Europe, people did not rush to embrace them. Despite their ability to produce high yields and grow in a variety of conditions, they were largely ignored as a food source and mostly grown to feed pigs. 

Scientific developments did not immediately help normalize potatoes. Swiss botanist Caspar Bauhin classified potatoes as part of the nightshade family, a group of plants that includes several poisonous species. While this classification was scientifically accurate, it reinforced existing fears rather than dispelling them. 

And then came something even more damaging — unscientific beliefs and opinions. A widespread notion, unsupported by evidence, emerged that eating potatoes could cause diseases such as leprosy. The fear became so strong that, in some regions of France, potato cultivation was banned altogether. 

So here was a crop that could grow abundantly, withstand difficult conditions, and provide nourishment, and yet it remained largely rejected. Not because it lacked value, but because it lacked public acceptance. 

A slow shift in perception 

And yet, today, potatoes are deeply embedded in European cuisine. What changed was not the potato itself, but how it was understood. 

In France, much of that change can be traced to Antoine-Augustin Parmentier — an army pharmacist and agriculturalist who had seen something others had not. During the Seven Years’ War, he had been imprisoned in Prussia, where he survived largely on potatoes.  

When he returned to France, he began a long and deliberate effort to change how people saw potatoes. Looking back, what is striking is not just that he succeeded, but how he did it — the shift did not come from a single breakthrough but from a combination of forces working together, each addressing a different layer of resistance to something essential yet unfamiliar. 

First, there was the scientific inquiry. At a time when myths and misinformation were widespread, Parmentier focused on establishing facts. He conducted experiments to study the chemical and nutritional properties of potatoes and, in 1773, published Examen chymique des pommes de terre, demonstrating that they were safe and comparable to wheat as a source of carbohydrates. 

Then came the institutional and regulatory validation because science alone could not change minds. Parmentier’s work even convinced the Paris Faculty of Medicine declaring potatoes safe for consumption, followed by lifting of the ban on their cultivation, and winning him an award from the Academy of Besançon. 

For change to take hold, there must be political willingness too. Parmentier understood this well. He engaged directly with the French royal court, presenting potato flowers to Marie Antoinette, who wore them in her wigs, and to King Louis XVI, who pinned them to his lapel. What had once been dismissed began, slowly, to acquire prestige. 

But policies and symbolism still did not guarantee adoption. 

There needed to be public acceptance too. Parmentier worked to build this in creative ways. After being granted land by the king, he cultivated potatoes and placed guards around the fields during the day, creating the impression that they were valuable. At night, the guards were withdrawn, and people began to steal the potatoes as curiosity gradually replaced hesitation and stigma. 

Parmentier understood that communication too plays a key role. So, he did not confine his work to academic circles. He shared his personal experiences of surviving on potatoes and promoted their benefits. He published accessible materials, including Traité sur la culture et les usages des pommes de terre, which included practical guidance and recipes, helping people see how potatoes could become part of everyday life. 

And finally, there was situational urgency. France was facing repeated food shortages. The late 17th and 18th centuries were marked by famine, rising wheat prices, extreme weather conditions, and population growth. There was a pressing need for a crop that could grow reliably under difficult conditions, and potatoes gradually became that answer. 

Why this story matters 

Wondering why we took the detour to potatoes? Well, it was not really about potatoes. It is to understand how change happens. 

If you look again, the parallels with biosolutions are difficult to ignore. In many ways, biosolutions find themselves today in a position not unlike that of the potato in Europe centuries ago — proven in capability, yet inconsistent in acceptance across regions, shaped as much by perception and context as by performance.  

What delayed the adoption of potatoes was not a lack of usefulness or scientific evidence. It was the absence of alignment across science, regulation, politics, public perception, communication, and urgency. 

The same pattern is visible today. 

The story of biosolutions is not only about scientific progress. While the underlying science has advanced, and its case continues to strengthen, that alone is rarely enough to bring about change. What will make a difference is what happens around this science.  

Regulatory systems need to keep pace, learning to respond to new innovations and ways of producing. Political support can help signal legitimacy and define the playing field, turning something that feels distant into something that feels possible. But even that is not where the transition is completed.  

For change to take hold, biosolutions have to make sense to people. Just as Parmentier brought potatoes into everyday life, biosolutions need to move beyond technical spaces and become something people can understand and relate to. This is where communication matters — not just to inform, but to make the unfamiliar feel closer. 

And then there is urgency. 

In the case of potatoes, urgency was immediate and visible. With biosolutions, it already exists in the form of climate pressures, resource constraints, and the need for more sustainable production, which for many people, is less tangible in everyday life. 

Alignment across all these elements is essential.  

A shift already underway 

Across our three articles — Rethinking Industrial Production in the Age of Biology, Biology, Regulation, and the pace of progress, and this one — we have traced a journey from how industrial production came to be shaped by extraction and transformation, to how biology offers a different way of producing, and finally, to the less visible forces that determine whether that shift takes place. 

What emerges is not a story of constraint, but of change already in motion. 

Biosolutions are already part of how industries operate, and their influence is set to grow. But as history reminds us, transitions of this scale are not driven by capability alone. They take hold when science, policy frameworks, systems, perception, and communication begin to move together, allowing what once felt unfamiliar to become understood, accepted, and eventually, taken for granted. 

That process is happening. The question is no longer whether biosolutions will shape the future of production, but how quickly the conditions around them will align in order for them to take root.