No Metropolis without Smallville: BioMADE turns 5 as its scale-up revolution unfolds

The light always comes in sideways in Smallville—long, clean, and gold—casting tractor silhouettes across the barn wood like stained glass. You can almost smell the hay and motor oil, hear a screen door slap shut somewhere. One of those evenings when nothing changes, and then everything does. Jonathan Kent didn’t quite understand what he was seeing at first.

The old Massey Ferguson tractor wasn’t parked anymore. It was hovering—three feet off the ground—in the uncertain hands of a boy who looked more surprised than proud.  It wasn’t the lift that startled Jonathan and Martha—it was the limitlessness. This wasn’t a feat. It was a beginning. A sign that power without guidance could be lost—or cultivated. Someone had to prepare him. Someone had to build the place where a kid from Smallville could grow into someone the world could depend on.

And strangely, that moment reminds us of another—almost 70 years later, and 936 miles southwest of the Kent farm.

A conference room near Gate C-17, George Bush Intercontinental Airport, Houston. No corn. No tractors. But the same kind of revelation. BioMADE CEO Doug Friedman remembers it clearly—it was 2019, before BioMADE was even official, before funding, before the acronym meant anything outside a few circles.

“We invited anyone in the industry who cared about commercialization,” Friedman told me. “Small startups, big defense contractors, fermentation scientists, supply chain people, university folks—everyone. We said, ‘If we ever get one shot to build something meaningful for biomanufacturing… what should it be?’”

They went around the room. One by one. And instead of the usual fragmentation, they kept saying the same thing.

“We need pilot and demo-scale infrastructure,” he said. “It was not 20% of the room— it was ninety percent. Everyone said the same thing. We’re stuck—we can’t learn to scale—unless we build the place to do it.”

Then came the twist. The federal Request for Proposals at the time explicitly prohibited using the initial funds for infrastructure. Not limited—prohibited. “It was underlined,” Friedman said, laughing slightly. “Not allowed. Not a penny for physical facilities. They all knew we needed it—but the rules wouldn’t let us build it.”

That was the Smallville moment. A boy lifts a tractor. A room lifts a truth. There is power here. But nowhere to let it grow. So Friedman made a promise. “I told them—if we build this Institute, we won’t forget this conversation. We’ll find a way to build the infrastructure.” BioMADE was founded in 2020. It did not forget.

What followed wasn’t just negotiation; it was policy choreography. By 2023, Congress approved language in the National Defense Authorization Act authorizing the Department of Defense to support “pilot- and demo-scale bioindustrial infrastructure,” and then backed it with an initial $300 million appropriation to get that network started.

“That $300 million was the down payment,” Friedman said. “And that’s when we knew—we weren’t just talking about capacity anymore. We were building it.”

The stakes are huge. The U.S. bioeconomy is already worth at least $950 billion, more than 5% of GDP, and could reach $2–4 trillion globally by 2040.  Yet only a sliver of that future will stay domestic unless we build the infrastructure to anchor it here.

The First Flights — The Three Facilities

This isn’t Clark Kent in flight, yet. This is Clark testing powers—speed, precision, control. Friedman explained it simply:

“Fermentation… is fermentation,” he said. “What differentiates facilities is everything after fermentation—downstream processing, purification, material handling, security protocols, safety envelopes.” And that’s how three different missions emerged:

Minnesota – The Energetic Crucible (Built to Metropolis Standards)
122,000 square feet | Two 25,000-liter reactors | Demo scale | High-security energetics

Where security clearances meet stainless steel, and where downstream processing isn’t just technical—it’s protective. Built not to scale one product, but to test national readiness.

“This one had to be hardened,” Friedman said. “We’re talking energetic materials, volatile liquids, things that require special security and containment. Not theoretical—actual commercialization work.” Two 25,000-liter fermenters. Crystallization. Membrane filtration. Drying. Liquid and solid products. Steel, safety, and security. A Smallville experiment, built to Metropolis standards.

Iowa – Where Smallville Meets Scale
Up to 10,000-liter tanks | Food-grade compliance | Agricultural interface

The only facility in the network where corn and crops—Smallville’s currency—are directly converted into food-grade proteins, materials, and agricultural bioproducts ready for industrial use. Where rural know-how meets industrial scale.

“It’s a bridge facility,” said Friedman. “It sits right next to CCUR—the Center for Crops Utilization Research at Iowa State. You can produce proteins, food-grade systems, materials directly from agricultural inputs. It’s where you prove rural feedstocks can feed industrial scale.” And he added: “Governor Reynolds drove $10 million of state investment into this. Iowa State University President Wendy Wintersteen was right there—she got it immediately.”

California – The Quick Iteration Hangar
Smallest footprint | Fastest iteration | Broadest product palette

Not the biggest—but the fastest. Built for iterative testing, modular equipment, pilot runs, and quick commercial validation. Less Fortress of Solitude—more flight simulator. “Hayward is our smallest—but extremely flexible,” he said. “Multiple aerated tanks up to 4,000 liters, spray drying, evaporation, membrane filtration—perfect for companies that need to run iterative batches, test, refine, repeat.”

Earlier this year, Under Secretary Emil Michael at the Department of Defense/ Department of War announced that biomanufacturing is now one of just six critical technology areas, alongside applied AI, hypersonics, microelectronics, space, and integrated sensing. In other words, this isn’t just a manufacturing experiment—it’s a national capability.

Why? Because shifting from finished products to intermediates—precursors, proteins, specialty molecules—means resilience. 

“We’re seeing more companies trying to manufacture modest quantities of intermediates near the customer,” Friedman said. “Not everything needs to be shipped across oceans anymore. Sometimes the smartest product is the one you canmake nearby.”

Governance — The Kent Model

Friedman took care to clarify that BioMADE isn’t building and forgetting.  It’s building a permanent mentorship institution, designed to train future Supermen and Superwomen — not to become one itself.

“We will own and operate the facilities ourselves,” he said. “Not for profit—because we exist only to advance commercialization of the U.S. bioeconomy. Any revenue goes back into R&D or into the facilities. Nobody can ‘capture’ it.”

“That’s the safeguard. Because if you let one company own the scale-up pathway, you limit the ecosystem. We’re here to build the field—not pick the winners. As a nonprofit operator, BioMADE can guarantee that every dollar—state, federal, or industry—is reinvested into expanding access, refining capabilities, and maintaining shared infrastructure integrity.

As Friedman notes, “BioMADE was started in the first Trump administration, grew through the Biden administration, and continues to expand. The work has always been completely nonpartisan. We have more than 300 members participating in the governance,” he said. They vote on priorities. They decide—collectively—what gets built, tested, funded.”

Return to Smallville

There’s a scene—somewhere between the hayloft and the workshop—where Jonathan Kent doesn’t say much. He just looks at his son, looks at the bent axle in his hands, looks at the ground where it fell. He doesn’t tell him what it means. He just says, “Be careful with that.”

It’s the Smallville principle: you don’t scale a miracle; you steward it. That’s why BioMADE isn’t racing to build a fourth facility. “We’ve allocated all our current capital across these three,” Friedman said. “We’re not expanding yet. We’re preparing.”

Without this Smallville—that careful preparation—there’s no Metropolis at all. We’re no longer debating whether biomanufacturing has potential.  Not Metropolis yet. So yes—BioMADE turns five. It has some altitude now. It hasn’t cleared the horizon, and it isn’t meant to—not yet. This isn’t Metropolis. It’s the field where Clark learns, and proves. And that’s the only way anyone ever learns to fly.