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Beneath North Dakota's amber waves, the roots of resistance to genetic engineering and corporate power run deep
(Monday, May 15, 2006 -- CropChoice news) -- 1. Shareholdersa ask for GMO measures 1. Shareholdersa ask for GMO measures 05/15 14:54
NEW YORK (Dow Jones) -- Shareholder proposals asking companies to evaluate
"Frankenfood" scenarios as a financial risk are having limited success -
despite their new, financially savvy vocabulary. A proposal on DuPont Co.'s 2006 proxy, which 7.3 percent of shareholders
voted for at the company's recent annual meeting, exemplifies a new breed of
proposal from environmentally concerned shareholders. It asked DuPont's board to
report by its 2007 meeting on internal controls related to potential adverse
impacts from genetically modified organisms, or GMOs, sometimes referred to
as "Frankenfoods."
Specifically, the proposal asked DuPont to determine whether there are
adequate systems to monitor its modified seed products once they're in the
marketplace; to retain an independent environmental expert to review the
effectiveness of its risk management processes; and to examine the possibility that
genetically modified seed, through inadvertent cross-pollination, can affect all
seed product.
The proposal raises the issue of what companies need to disclose about
environmental risks and related internal controls. Proposals on such issues have
proliferated this proxy season. Already, around 180 such proposals have been
put forth, up from 169 in 2005, according to the Social Investment Forum. In
past years, proposals on GMOs asked companies to label all products that might
contain GMOs - a measure that companies said was unnecessary and
unreasonable - or to stop producing them altogether.
"Many more of the environmental resolutions are couched not just in
environmental good policy terms, but as what's good for shareholder value," said Tim
Smith, president of the Social Investment Forum, the trade association for
socially concerned investors. "These relate to directors' fiduciary duty."
Aside from DuPont, there are at least three other companies that have faced
proposals to disclose more about their internal controls over GMOs. Dow
Chemical Co. shareholders rejected a similar proposal at the company's annual
general meeting last week, and Archer Daniels Midland Co. saw 7.7 percent of
shareholders vote for such a proposal at its November meeting.
After failing to reach the 6 percent approval threshold to be reinstated on
this year's proxy, a resolution that has been on Monsanto Co.'s proxy for two
years running won't reappear this year, though shareholder groups say they
are still in dialogue with the company on the issue.
DuPont didn't return calls for comment on whether it viewed the request to
assess issues related to GMOs as part of its compliance with internal
controls.
In its recommendation that shareholders vote against the proposal, the
company said it believes that the concerns raised in the proposal are already
being satisfied, listing extensive premarket testing, subjection to Department of
Agriculture and Environmental Protection Agency approval requirements, and
work with the Food and Drug Administration.
Auditing experts say the items brought up in DuPont's proposal wouldn't
likely need to be disclosed under internal-controls rules of the Sarbanes-Oxley
Act because they relate to operational controls rather than financial
controls.
"To make sure the company doesn't get into trouble and lose money because
it's doing bad things - that really doesn't relate to financial reporting
controls except that they need to make sure that any liabilities that could occur
are properly reflected in the financial statements," said Rick Steinberg,
founder and principal of Steinberg Governance Advisors Inc., a governance
consulting firm. Such issues would more likely need to be included in disclosure of
significant risk factors in the company's 10-K filing with the Securities
and Exchange Commission, he said.
Christian Brothers Investment Services, or CBIS, which wrote the DuPont
proposal, noted that the shares voted in favor of the resolution represented $1.5
billion in shareholder equity and said the vote result was a big step
forward in what is usually a multiyear process of building support for such issues.
By garnering more than 6 percent of the votes, the proposal is guaranteed to
make it onto DuPont's proxy again in 2007.
But the GMO proposals are still getting thumbs down from most shareholders,
as well as Institutional Shareholder Services, the largest proxy adviser.
Companies and ISS say there's no proven link between GMOs and financial risk.
But the 2006 proposals argue that perceived risks have already translated into
real risks.
For instance, DuPont's proposal notes that insurers in Germany, the U.K. and
elsewhere have refused to issue liability coverage for genetically
engineered crops because of perceived risks. And concerns about the safety of GMOs
have already led to the inability to partake in European markets, which steer
clear of GMOs despite the recent World Trade Organization decision deeming that
the 25-nation bloc has been violating trade rules by doing so.
Concerns about being shut out of foreign markets has already led to lawsuits
from organic growers, restauranteurs and other parties that claim their
products have been trespassed upon or contaminated with genetic seed.
For instance, the Saskatchewan Organic Directorate, an organization that
represents many of the Canadian province's certified organic grain farmers filed
a lawsuit in 2004 against Monsanto and Aventis Pharma Ltd. that seeks
damages resulting from genetically engineered canola crops and an injunction to
stop the launch of genetically engineered wheat into Saskatchewan.
DuPont is attracting extra attention because of its recent issues with
perfluorooctanoic acid, or PFOA, which was recently deemed a likely carcinogen by
a panel of EPA advisers. DuPont has agreed to pay $16.5 million to settle
government allegations it hid the dangers of the synthetic chemical used in
making nonstick Teflon coating and may yet face a class-action lawsuit.
In a letter addressing a request that it study the possibility of a
phase-out of PFOAs, DuPont said it is "not technologically feasible" to eliminate
PFOAs in its manufacturing and "the alternative - halting production of those
products in which it is employed - would have a serious negative impact on both
societal benefits and shareholder value."
The 2006 proposals argue that by demonstrating internal control over GMOs,
companies could avoid similar binds.
"Our sole goal here is to avoid a repeat of the Teflon controversy, which
was brought about when DuPont inaccurately asserted the safety of PFOA over
many decades," Christian Brothers said in a statement. "At a minimum, DuPont has
an obligation to start acknowledging to its shareholders that there are
valid concerns here about potential risks associated with GMOs."
(This story originally appeared in Corporate Governance, a biweekly email
newsletter that covers company management, shareholder relations and the
regulatory environment in which businesses operate. Dow Jones Newswires, publisher
of Corporate Governance, runs select stories from the newsletter.)
(SK) 2. Beneath North Dakota's amber waves, the roots of resistance to genetic
engineering and corporate power run deep
This article has been abridged for the web.
To read the full article, _Click Here _
http://www.oriononline.org/pages/om/ManageSub_om.html to receive a Free Trial copy
of the current issue of Orion magazine.
IN THE NEW RED-BLUE LEXICON of American politics, the Red River Valley of
North Dakota seems aptly named. This is football-on-Friday-night country, where
Clear Channel Radio sets the tone, and patriotic themes blend smoothly with
corporate ones. Broad and pancake-flat, with topsoil measured in feet rather
than inches, it possesses some of the most prized agricultural land in
America. The roads run straight, the pickup trucks are big, and the immense Massey
Ferguson tractors that ply the fields come equipped with global positioning
system guidance, satellite radio, and quadraphonic sound. In 2004, George
Bush carried North Dakota with 63 percent of the vote. It seems like the last
place that one might go looking for a revolt against the powers that be.
Nor does a man like Todd Leake seem like the type of person to participate
in any such uprising. "Extreme traditionalist" might be closer to the mark.
Lean and soft-spoken, Leake has spent the past twenty-eight years farming the
homestead established by his great-grandfather, a Canadian immigrant who
arrived here over 120 years ago. "I guess you'd describe me as an
umpteenth-generation wheat farmer," he says, "because as far back as we can tell, on both
sides of the family, it's been farmers. And as far back as we can tell, it's
also been wheat."
On a crisp, windy November day, Leake reflects on the events that turned him
into a thorn in the side of the agribusiness establishment, especially the
Monsanto Company. He gestures toward two symbols. The first, just visible
through his kitchen window, is the outline of the North Dakota Mill, the only
grain-handling facility owned jointly by the citizenry of any state. "Sort of
the epitome of farmers cooperating," he notes.
The other symbol offers a less inspiring vision, one of farmer fragmentation
and disempowerment. It is a simple refrigerator magnet inscribed with the
words, "MONSANTO CUSTOMER SUPPORT 800-332-3111."
"They call it customer support," says Leake. "It's actually a snitch line,
where you report that your neighbor is brown-bagging. Or where somebody
reports you, and a week or two later you find a couple of big guys in black
Monsanto leather jackets standing in your driveway."
Brownbagging is an old term in rural America. It refers to replanting seed
from your own harvest, rather than buying new seed. Lately the term has come
to possess a second meaning, that of a crime, a consequence of the U.S.
Supreme Court's 1980 decision in _Diamond v. Chakrabarty_
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diamond_v._Chakrabarty) allowing private companies to obtain patents
for lifeforms, and the Court's 2001 decision in _J.E.M. Ag Supply v. Pioneer_
(http://neuro.law.cornell.edu/supct/search/display.html?terms=patent&url=/supct
/html/99-1996.ZS.html) affirming that the saving of seed constituted a
patent violation.
When Todd Leake first became aware of genetic engineering in the mid-1990s,
the prospects sounded enticing, including heady promises that new biotech
crops capable of producing industrial chemicals and even pharmaceuticals would
expand agricultural markets and thereby raise farm incomes. "But when they
finally came out with actual product," he said, "it was all about selling more
Roundup."
_Roundup_
(http://www.mindfully.org/Pesticide/Monsanto-Roundup-Glyphosate.htm) , Monsanto's leading product, is the trade name of an herbicide based on
the chemical glyphosate. By using genetic engineering to create glyphosate
resistance in common crops, Monsanto made it feasible for farmers to apply
Roundup directly to fields at any time in the growing season, killing weeds without
killing crops.
By 2000, Monsanto had successfully introduced "Roundup Ready" corn,
alfalfa, canola, soybeans, and cotton in the United States and elsewhere.
Meanwhile, the company began field-testing and pursuing USDA permits for Roundup
Ready spring wheat. Wheat is the world's most widely cultivated food, and
Monsanto wanted to introduce it as the crown jewel of genetically modified (GM)
crops. North Dakota, which accounts for 47 percent of the U.S. acreage for
spring wheat, was vital to the company's plans.
But Leake wondered whether the new seed would end up actually hurting
farmers. One worrisome possibility was that "Frankenfood"-averse European or
Japanese markets would reject GM wheat, causing the price to collapse. Something
similar had happened in the late 1990s, when the Japanese had begun rejecting
soybean shipments containing transgenic material.
Another concern was Monsanto's record of suing scores of farmers whose crop
was found to contain patented genetic material, even miniscule amounts that
had arrived via spillage, wind-blown seed, or pollen drift. He found himself
sympathizing with _Percy Schmeiser_
(http://www.mindfully.org/GE/GE4/Heartbreak-In-The-Heartland21jul02.htm) , the Canadian farmer who had been sued by
Monsanto in 1998 for violating the company's patent on Roundup Ready canola.
Schmeiser had never bought Monsanto's seed. He had only planted seed saved from
his own fields. Apparently, his fields had been contaminated through seed
blown from passing trucks, but it didn't matter: brown-bagging had turned him
into a common thief.
When Leake talks about wheat, his tone shifts subtly, becoming almost
reverential. "Wheat's an amazing plant," he notes. "It's a combination of three
Middle Eastern grasses, and that gives it a huge genome. In many languages, the
word for 'wheat' is the same as the word for 'life.' There's a
ten-thousand-year connection between wheat and human beings, each generation saving seed.
Now it's in our hands."
In January 2000, Leake began urging various organizations in North Dakota
to oppose the introduction of genetically modified wheat. One of the groups he
approached was the _Dakota Resource Council_ (http://www.drcinfo.com/) , a
network of local groups that originally formed in the late 1970s to deal with
strip mines and power plants. (For full disclosure, I should note that I
spent several years working for the council in the early days, first as a field
organizer and later as staff director, until I left in 1982.)
Leake's concern about GM wheat fit naturally within the DRC's scope, but
questions remained: what tactics should be adopted, and what objectives should
be pursued? A reasonable political strategy might start from the assumption
that GM wheat would inevitably come to be a presence in fields, freight cars,
and grain elevators; hence, those concerned about negative effects would try
to shore up protective regulations so that GM wheat would not contaminate
non-GM wheat.
But Leake and the DRC opted to seek a different solution: an outright ban on
GM wheat in North Dakota until all outstanding concerns were addressed. In
the end, the radical strategy worked; the organizers had enough support to
thwart Monsanto's plans. The story of why Leake and other opponents of GM
wheat chose the riskier and more militant goal, and how they fought to achieve
it, is one with implications beyond the issue of genetic engineering. It is
also a story about a little-known strain of U.S. history, and about the ability
of Americans to control their destinies.
AMERICA'S PRIMARY decision-making system, known as representative democracy,
is two centuries old. Structured according to the terms and judicial
interpretations of the U.S. Constitution, it nominally governs decisions on all
elements of public life, from elections and schools to privacy and environmental
regulations. But whatever its strengths, the Constitution leaves a
fundamental issue open to interpretation: who controls important economic decisions,
and how will they be made?
This ambiguity allowed the rise of America's other major form of decision
making, corporate capitalism, which emerged between the Civil War and the
First World War. That system is not democratic, nor does anyone claim it to be.
It has given the managers of a few hundred large corporations the power to
make many of the big decisions that will shape the future—what energy
technologies should be invested in, what medical research should be turned into
pharmaceutical products, how aggressively timber or mineral resources should be
extracted, how workplaces should be organized, whether hundreds of independent
radio stations should be consolidated, and so forth.
According to the generally accepted rationale, corporate managers respond to
markets, and markets in turn respond more or less to public preferences as
expressed through buying decisions. At times one even hears markets described
as a sort of democracy, with customers voting via their dollars. But because
for-profit corporations are legally mandated to maximize shareholder return,
their managers tend to shut out considerations vital to the larger society.
In the revealing language of neo-classical economics, social effects of a
product are labeled "externalities," or marginal considerations rather than
central ones.
In any case, as the conventional wisdom goes, what's the alternative? Surely
a market system, whatever its imperfections, is preferable to an economy
rigidly controlled by monolithic bureaucracies: that is, state socialism. And
here the conversation typically ends.
Today, we rarely hear such simple questions as, "What is an economy for?" or
"Should we trust our future to corporations?" But these were exactly the
sort of questions that farmers in North Dakota decided to ask during the debate
over GM wheat. As one farmer, Steve Pollestad, expressed it, North Dakotans
had a choice. They could put the future of wheat "in the hands of people who
are accountable to the citizens of North Dakota. Or, we could let Monsanto
decide. And maybe we also could get Enron to run our utilities and Arthur
Anderson to keep the books."
It's no coincidence that such sentiments grow out of the fields of North
Dakota. Beneath the state's conservative surface are surprising currents of
history, some quite radically divergent from the American mainstream. North
Dakota's economy cannot be described as corporate, but neither can it be
described as socialist. Perhaps the best way to describe it is with a term that
doesn't appear too often in economics textbooks: democratic.
For residents from Amidon to Walhalla, civic participation means not just
serving on political bodies such as the county commission or the school board,
but also taking part in running economic institutions such as the local
electric co-op or grain elevator. Farmers see nothing extraordinary in buying gas
from a co-operative gas station, buying electricity from a rural electric
co-operative, borrowing college money from the publicly owned Bank of North
Dakota, and selling their milk to a producer co-operative. The theme of
noncorporate economics pervades the state, extending even to agricultural processing
co-operatives handling everything from noodles to tilapia. Indeed, as a
matter of state law, corporate-owned farms are banned in the state.
North Dakota's unique economic arrangement grew out of a strain of radical
populism that swept the state from 1915 to 1920. The revolt ignited in 1915
when a North Dakota state legislator named Treadwell Twichell told an
assembled group of farmers seeking relief from the state, "Go home and slop the
hogs." One of those farmers, A.C. Townley, couldn't go home to his hogs; he had
already lost his farm in bankruptcy court. Instead, Townley and his friend Fred
Wood sat down in Wood's farmhouse kitchen and drafted an audacious political
platform. In essence, their call to arms urged farmers simply to bypass the
corporate agricultural system altogether by creating their own grain
terminals, flour mills, insurers, and even banks.
Townley was a charismatic speaker. Farmers flocked to his fledgling
organization, the _Non-Partisan League_
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-Partisan_League) . To the delight of crowds, Townley shouted, "If you put a banker, a
lawyer, and an industrialist in a barrel and roll it down a hill, you'll always
have a son of a bitch on top."
Within three years the Non-Partisan League had completed its conquest of
North Dakota's state government, capturing both the legislature and the
governor's office. The league then proceeded to reorganize the infrastructure of
agriculture—particularly finance, grain storage, and grain milling—taking the
reins away from the corporate players and handing them over to new publicly
owned institutions.
The ascendancy of the Non-Partisan League was relatively short, its decline
a casualty of attacks by business groups and newspapers that branded the
organization as socialist, the jailing of A.C. Townley on sedition charges, and
infighting among its leaders. But the institutions of that era survived, and
a populist undercurrent persisted. The most significant populist reform—the
exclusion of corporations from farming—arrived via a 1932 ballot initiative in
response to farm foreclosures, over a decade after the end of formal NPL
rule. Once again, angry farmers, after examining the options, chose the most
militant and far-reaching. Rather than passing laws to shield farms from
corporate takeover, the 1932 initiative simply legislated corporations out of the
picture entirely, making it illegal not just for banks to seize the land of
bankrupted farmers, but for any corporation to hold any farmland whatsoever.
IN EARLY 2000, Todd Leake and the Dakota Resource Council launched their
anti-GM wheat campaign from the steps of the North Dakota Mill in Grand Forks,
the epicenter of the original farmer revolt. In choosing the mill, the
council's aim was to signal that the anti-GM struggle and the original populist
revolt were essentially about the same thing: preventing outside corporations
from controlling wheat, the core of North Dakota's livelihood.
By January 2001, when the anti-GM campaign rolled into Bismarck, the
state capital, it had collected tremendous momentum. Farmers, many of whom had
traveled hundreds of miles despite rough winter driving, gathered in clusters
in the halls of the state capitol. With scores of parka-clad men and women
crowding the art-deco atrium, exchanging newspaper clippings and Internet
downloads before filing into the hearing rooms of legislative committees, the
sense of business-as-usual was broken. On near-unanimous votes, both houses of
the state legislature enacted a new law making it illegal for corporate agents
to arbitrarily enter and inspect farmers' fields.
That victory served as a prelude to the action still to come: the proposal
for a ban on GM wheat until all lingering issues were resolved. Here, too, the
farmer-led juggernaut seemed unstoppable. In January 2001, Todd Leake and
others testified before the House Agriculture Committee on the need for the
moratorium, and the mood among the legislators was so overtly favorable that
when the beleaguered Monsanto lobbyist rose to testify, the chairman of the
committee handed him a bottle of whisky, commenting, "Jim, I think you're going
to need this." The committee voted 14-0 to support the ban, and several days
later the entire North Dakota House of Representatives followed the
recommendation of the Agriculture Committee, with Republicans and Democrats alike
overwhelmingly voting to put the kibosh on GM wheat.
The polity had spoken. Democracy had flexed its muscle. Or so it seemed. By
March 2001, Monsanto had marshaled its allies to block the ban in the state
senate, aided by the timely intervention of U.S. Agriculture Secretary Ann
Veneman, a former board member of Monsanto subsidiary Calgene, and President
George Bush, who met personally with Republican members of the North Dakota
state senate during a brief visit to Fargo that month. In the wake of that
pressure, the ban on GM wheat was watered down to a study of the issue.
It seemed to many that agribusiness had won the day, that the populist
impulse had fallen short; worse, it appeared that the efforts of Leake and
company had served merely to provoke Monsanto. After the senate vote, the company
began flying legislators on special "fact-finding" junkets, working its vast
network of grain-marketing organizations, seed and herbicide dealers, research
contracts, public relations firms, and pro-agribusiness farm organizations
such as the Farm Bureau. The goal: to build public support for Monsanto's
GM-wheat proposal, and to head off any ban in future legislative sessions.
But the anti-GM activists hadn't given up. In between the other demands of
farming life, they crisscrossed the state, holding town meetings and forums,
writing letters to the editor, raising the issue with grain elevator boards
and wheat marketing associations, and speaking to as many farmers as would
listen.
By all the conventional ways that political resources are measured, Monsanto
had the advantage, and yet in those small-town cafés where the political
conversation never ends, the anti-GM advocates sensed they were winning. And if
farmers themselves turned against GM wheat, then all of Monsanto's political
success in blocking a legislative ban would be rendered meaningless. While
Monsanto had experienced across-the-board rejection of its genetically
engineered food products throughout Europe and Japan, the company had never faced
heavy opposition from U.S. farmers themselves. It was absolutely crucial
that North Dakota farmers accept Roundup Ready spring wheat. But it wasn't
happening. And during the election cycle following the defeat of the GM-wheat
ban, three pro-GM legislators, including Monsanto's leading ally in the state
senate, Terry Wanzek, were ousted by anti-GM opponents.
Meanwhile, North Dakota farmers had joined forces with a wide network of
activists across the globe. One North Dakota farmer, Tom Wiley, traveled to
Europe, Australia, and even Qatar to spread the message of revolt. In Torun,
Poland, he told a radio audience, "You fought hard for your independence.
Don't give up your freedom to the biotech corporations. Saving seed is a basic
human right."
On May 10, 2004, Monsanto bowed to the prevailing political sentiment. It
issued a curt press release announcing the withdrawal of all its pending
regulatory applications for Roundup Ready wheat and the shifting of research
priorities to other crops. The main factor in the decision, the company noted
obliquely, was "a lack of widespread wheat industry alignment."
IT IS FEBRUARY in the Red River Valley, the desolate core of winter, with
snow blowing like sand across the stubble-tufted fields. Although preparation
of those fields remains months away, Todd Leake seems restless to begin
planting. More than a year has passed since Monsanto announced its abandonment of
Roundup Ready wheat, and farming has returned to normal. Yet Leake knows that
the central issues—Monsanto's power to introduce genetically modified wheat,
and the fate of seed-saving—are far from settled.
Ultimately, Leake insists, conventionally accepted notions of law and
property must be challenged, particularly the idea that lifeforms can be patented.
"Whatever rights corporations are claiming so that they can try to control
our seed stocks," he says, "have to be subordinated to the right of farmers to
plant and replant this seed."
"Seed?" he continues, "That's literally the future of humanity. Patents?
Corporations? Those are just inventions on paper."
(http://www.booksense.com/product/info.jsp?affiliateId=orion&isbn=1576753190)
TED NACE founded Peachpit Press, the world's leading publisher of books on
digital graphics. His most recent book is _Gangs of America: The Rise of
Corporate Power and the Disabling of Democracy_
(http://www.booksense.com/product/info.jsp?affiliateId=orion&isbn=1576753190) . He lives in San Francisco.Breadbasket of Democracy by Ted Nace
Beneath North Dakota's amber waves, the roots of resistance to genetic
engineering and corporate power run deep.
3. US: Organic farmers debate genetic engineering of crops
Monday, February 13, 2006
At the 26th annual Ecological Farming Conference in Pacific Grove in
late
January, Dave Henson, director of the Occidental Arts and Ecology
Center in
Occidental and a steering committee member of the Californians for
GE-Free
Agriculture campaign, and Charles Benbrook, chief scientist at the
Organic
Center,
addressed the question.
Arguing the case for genetically modified crops were Martina
Newell-McGloughlin, director of the University of California's
Systemwide
Biotechnology
Research and Education Program, and Autar Mattoo, plant physiologist
with the
USDA's Agricultural Research Service.
The National Organics Program, which stipulates what materials and
systems
organic growers may use, prohibits the use of genetically modified
crops.
Henson and Benbrook say they approve of this position, at least until
multi-generational peer-review studies demonstrate otherwise.
Genetic modification (also called genetic engineering) refers to the
manipulation of an organism's genes. Inactive genes may be turned on,
active
genes
turned off or genes from distantly related species or species in
different
kingdoms of life spliced in. Crop plants have been genetically modified
to
withstand applications of herbicides and to produce proteins toxic to
some
classes
of insects.
The long-term implications of genetically modified crops for human and
environmental health and for food system security are too profound to
be left to
a
handful of corporations subject to the pressures of quarterly earnings
reports to evaluate, say Henson and Benbrook. The power to shuffle
genes within
and
among species is unprecedented, and the science is too young to make
informed decisions about the risks of the technologies.
"There is not a sufficient foundation of science to conclude that food
safety and environmental problems will not result from the mixing in of
foreign
DNA into crop genomes," says Benbrook.
Newell-McGloughlin and Mattoo say that nature already has set the
precedent
for transferring genes between dissimilar organisms, as evidenced by
genetic
sequences in plants that are the same as those found in other species.
Even
our own genetic sequencing, says Mattoo, has partially developed
through
interaction with other genomes. "The human genome for vision was
brought to us
from
very old photosynthetic bacteria. Nature mixes genes among species; it
just
takes time. The scientists are trying to do it faster."
Mattoo, who has studied genetically modified tomatoes, says that he has
not
found any evidence of chemical differences between regular tomatoes and
modified tomatoes. "Work should continue with genetically modified
crops,"
Mattoo
says, "because we can't comprehend what the future will hold and need
to keep
an open view." He suggests that genetic modifications that benefit
organic
growing systems -- like high-producing cover crops that senesce early
and
decompose quickly -- may soon be possible.
Henson asserts that cross-species exchange occurring during the course
of
evolution is no argument for making this happen through entirely
different
means. The unintended environmental consequences and the human health
concerns
that have emerged in the 10 years since the commercialization of the
first
genetically modified crops should cause not only organic growers, but
agricultural scientists, conventional farmers and consumers to demand
rigorous
scientific study of the matter. "Organics is one of the last lines of
defense
for all
time," says Henson.
The USDA, EPA and FDA had the mandate and the opportunity to test the
safety
of patching genetic sequences into crop plants before authorizing the
commercialization of the first modified crops in the mid-1990s. But the
regulatory
agencies decided that genetic engineering was simply the continuation
of crop
improvement that began when the first Fertile Crescent farmers began
saving
seed 10,000 years ago.
They ruled that these new crops were substantially the same as any
other
crop variety we had developed and required no special regulation. When
Monsanto
and other developers of genetically modified crops assured the
regulators that
the new crops were not acutely toxic, federal agencies asked few other
questions.
Benbrook cites the case of the genetically modified field pea developed
in
Australia that was found, just prior to commercialization, to trigger a
"pronounced and sustained immune response" in mice. Australia's
Commonwealth
Scientific and Industrial Research Organization, which developed the
pea,
canceled
its release late last year. "Not a single one of the genetically
engineered
crops already on the market have been tested with this type of
state-of-the-art assay process," says Benbrook..
Newell-McGloughlin and Mattoo say that rather than the pea
demonstrating the
failure of regulatory systems, the case showed that the science of
evaluating modified crops was improving. But Henson says the risks are
too great
to
release these crops first and ask questions later. After the debate,
Henson
elaborated upon the implications of genetically modified crops for
environmental
and human health and food system security.
Because pollen drifts and is undiscriminating about where it lands,
genetically modified crops can transfer their characteristics to weedy
relatives.
Monsanto has modified canola to tolerate applications of glyphosate
herbicides.
Roundup, Monsanto's brand of glyphosate herbicide, is the most widely
used
agricultural herbicide in the world. Canola, meanwhile, is in the
Brassicaceae
family, which includes not only most of the world's winter vegetables
like
cabbage, broccoli, turnips and kale but wild radish and mustard as
well.
"Tolerance to Roundup," says Henson, "is being conveyed through
cross-pollination to weedy relatives (of canola), and that leaves the
Caltrans
of every
state and county and country unable to kill the weeds -- as they have
to do
for fire protection -- along the freeways anymore. What do they have to
use
now? 2,4-D. A far more persistent toxic pesticide than Roundup."
Drifting pollen also contaminates unmodified varieties of the same
species.
For example, it is difficult to maintain buffer zones between a field
of
modified corn and a field of unmodified corn sufficient to eliminate
the risk of
pollen transfer. Contamination jeopardizes the grower's marketing
options
because many foreign markets ban genetically modified foods.
Since seed doesn't stay in place any better than pollen does,
genetically
modified crops jeopardize the genetic diversity of crops. Seed travels
in the
digestive tracts of birds and animals, on muddy boots and truck tires,
on wind
and in the cheeks of mice and ground squirrels. It is also carried
around the
world in the form of food aid. Which is probably how corn in Oaxaca,
Mexico,
became contaminated despite Mexico's ban on planting genetically
modified
corn..
The thousands of native corn varieties that grow in Oaxaca --
considered the
center of diversity of corn -- comprise a genetic library to which the
world
turns when it needs varieties naturally adapted to niche environments,
or
with resistance to new pests or diseases, or with a preferred texture
and
flavor. If every "book" in the library becomes imprinted with the same
story,
the
world will lose the options embedded in the varieties.
Then there is the question of who owns the books. The lawyers are
having a
field day arguing who is liable and who owns the contaminated crop when
modified plants sprout up where they shouldn't. The patents for
genetically
modified
crops are written such that the seed company has a legal claim not
only on
the seed it sells but also on the plants grown from the seed, wherever
those
plants crop up. One of the reasons that the developers of genetically
modified
crops are so eager to force their global use is to avoid the
"liability
train wreck" that is fast approaching, says Henson.
When interviewed after the debate, Newell-McGloughlin acknowledged that
pollen floats but said she believes the risks of crop contamination are
manageable and, in many cases, worth taking for the sake of crop
improvement,
especially in an increasingly hungry world that will require either the
farming
of
more acres to feed or higher yields from existing acres. "It's all a
question
of checks and balances and of cost-benefit analysis,"
Newell-McGloughlin says.
The spread of genetically modified crops can also increase the speed
with
which agricultural pests evolve resistance to controls. The use of
Roundup
herbicides on the more than 80 million acres planted to
Roundup-resistant crops
in the United States has created a situation where only weeds that are
naturally resistant to glyphosate herbicides survive to reproduce --
the
so-called
"superweeds." "This has happened in spades already," says Henson.
"Mare's tail,
a weed in the Southeast and East Coast of the United States, grows 5
to 7
feet tall and has 200,000 seeds per plant, and in just eight years it
has
become resistant to Roundup."
Beyond the environmental issues, we know little about the long-term
impacts
of consuming genetically modified food crops on human health, says
Henson. We
don't know, for example, what plant health or nutritional qualities we
are
compromising when we force a plant to withstand herbicides or to
produce its
own insecticides. No matter how many tricks they can perform, plants
have only
a finite amount of energy to spend during their life cycle.
We also don't know how safe it is to incorporate modified plants into
our
diet and into that of our animals. Advocates of genetic-engineering
argue that
we have nothing to fear from consuming these crops because the new
genes
ultimately express themselves as proteins, lignins and carbohydrates.
However, as in the case of the Australian pea, not all proteins are
created
equal, and worrisome results are emerging from feeding trials that look
beyond
immediate toxicity. Scientists have observed abnormal white and red
blood
cell counts, inflammation of the liver and unexplained growths in the
stomachs
and small intestines of rats fed genetically modified corn and
potatoes.
Meanwhile, the claim that no one is dying from eating genetically
modified
foods is questionable because no one is monitoring long-term human
health
impacts.
"I don't know that genetically engineered foods are bad for you," says
Henson. "Nobody knows. But there is enough evidence that would lead any
routinely
robust scientific process to say, 'We have some science to do here
before we
just release these widely into the food stream.' "
Finally, Henson says, we need public debate about the implications of
genetically modified crops for food security. The release of
genetically
modified
crops has been accompanied by an unprecedented consolidation of the
seed
industry. In the 1990s, chemical companies catapulted themselves into
the seed
business to capitalize on genetic-engineering technologies. By
purchasing seed
companies, they bought market share, seed production and marketing
expertise,
plant patents and seed stock..
Ten companies, with Monsanto, Dupont and Syngenta firmly in the lead,
now
control half of the world's commercial seed sales. Monsanto alone sells
41
percent of the world's corn, 25 percent of its soybeans and more than
30 percent
of its cucumbers, hot peppers and beans other than soybeans. Monsanto
also
sells 88 percent of the world's genetically modified seeds.
"Monsanto," says Henson, "is systematically buying privately held seed
companies and retiring their seed stock." Varieties that farmers have
purchased
for years vanish, and the "local" seed company simply becomes a
distribution
center for Monsanto's seeds.
"We have to ask," says Henson "whether we bank on a
corporate-controlled,
extremely consolidated vertically integrated food system, or on a
robust,
diversified horizontal system."
Copyright Fresh Plaza
4. GMO issue heats up in Poland
By The Associated Press, 8 May 2006
http://www.broadcastnewsroom.com/articles/viewarticle.jsp?id=42272
European Union officials on Monday authorized a Polish ban on the use
of
around 700 types of maize seed, including 16 genetically modified
varieties,
which had been cleared for sale throughout the EU.
The European Commission said the Polish ban was justified because the
corn
varieties had a long growing cycle that would prevent the crop
ripening in the
Polish climate.
The 25 EU nations unanimously voted to back the Polish ban in March.
Biotech
products remain controversial across Europe, where many see them as
potential health and environmental risks.
In February, police removed about 30 environmental activists from the
entrance of the Polish prime minister's office after some of them
chained
themselves to railings to call for a ban on imports of genetically
modified
organisms.
Poland has said it would try to prevent the cultivation of all GM
crops in
the country, a move also being considered by Luxembourg, Greece and
Austria.
5. Ireland gives go-ahead for GMO potato trials
IRELAND: May 8, 2006
DUBLIN - Ireland, Europe's biggest per capita consumer of
potatoes, has
given the go-ahead for a German company to grow varieties of the crop
that have
been genetically modified to resist disease.
The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) gave its consent to
BASF Plant
Science GmbH on Friday to carry out field trials on potatoes that have
been
modified with improved resistance to late potato blight, the disease
that
caused the Irish potato famine.
"This consent is for field trials only and should not be confused
with the
placing of GM products on the market, which requires a separate consent
and
approval process at EU level," the EPA said in a statement.
"Potatoes (GM or non-GM) harvested from the field trials will not
be used
for food or feed purposes," it added.
One million people died and two million were forced to leave
Ireland in
the 1840s when potato blight caused widespread famine. Today, the Irish
eat
some 121 kg of potatoes per person every year, or nearly 1,000 potatoes
for
every man, woman and child.
Previous trials of GMO foods in Ireland have been disrupted by
environmentalists who pulled up crops and damaged fields.
GM-free Ireland, an organisation campaigning against genetic food
engineering, invited farmers, food producers, consumers, and
politicians to an
emergency meeting on Friday to decide what legal steps it could take to
prevent
the experiment.
Irish Green Party leader Trevor Sargent said the decision
threatened the
country's traditional GMO-free status which he said was a key selling
point for
the country's food exporters.
"Life is hard enough for farmers who are seeing less and less
demand for
potatoes and a growing preference for ready made meals," he said.
"Farmers need
this GM trial like a hole in the head."
Blight-resistant GMO potatoes were first developed in 2003 after
scientists discovered a species of wild potato in Mexico that is
naturally
resistant to the disease, then inserted the gene into commercial
strains.
The field trials will be carried out at one location at County
Meath and
the trial site will not exceed 1 hectare (2.5 acres) in size. The
experiment
will last for five years from 2006 to 2010 (inclusive), with monitoring
continuing until 2014.
6. 1.1600 sheep die after grazing in Bt cotton field
30 April 2006 Hyderabad: Sixteen hundred sheep died in Warangal district after
grazing in
fields on which Bt cotton had been harvested.
A survey conducted by a seven member team of Centre for Sustainable
agriculture working in Bt cotton issues revealed that about 1600 sheep
died
from Bt
toxin near Ippagudem in Ghanapur mandal, Madipalli in Hasanparthi
mandal and
Unikicherla in Dharmasagar mandal in Warangal district.
The sheep started dying after continuously grazing on the leaves and
pods of
Bt cotton plant residues in the fields for seven days.
The symptoms did not correlate to any of the diseases occurred during
the
season, the study said.
The team urged the Government to carry out an exhaustive study of the
impact
of Bt toxin on livestock, a release said in Hyderabad.
New developments in this story: 7. Despite pesticide reductions, transgenic cotton fails to improve
biodiversity
SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN Genetically modifying cotton promises to reduce the use of chemicals
and,
potentially, create a better environment for harmless insects and
other
animals. For the last decade, some farmers in Arizona have been
planting cotton
engineered to contain a toxin that kills pests such as the pink
bollworm. A
study
of randomly chosen cotton fields reveals that although this
genetically
modified cotton did reduce pesticide use, it did not reduce use of
herbicides
nor
did it improve biodiversity when compared to unmodified strains.
Ecologist Yves Carriere of the University of Arizona and his
colleagues
randomly selected 81 cotton fields--split between unmodified and
transgenic
cotton breeds--over the course of two growing seasons. The scientists
gathered
data on pesticide use, herbicide use and all the ants and beetles they
could
find in pitfall traps placed in the fields, as well as other
information. "The
idea here is to look at not only the possible effects of transgenics
but also
all the other factors," Carriere says.
The data confirmed that farmers applied pesticides less often to
transgenic
fields--and used more precisely targeted chemicals when they did. But
use of
such targeted pesticides on modified cotton did rise in the fields
selected
during the second year of the study, perhaps due to the need to
control pests
unaffected by the engineered toxin, the authors speculate. And
herbicide use
remained the same no matter whether the cotton in question was
unmodified,
toxin-producing, or toxin-producing and herbicide resistant. "My guess
is that
they use herbicide resistance as more of an insurance policy,"
Carriere says.
Nor did genetic modification seem to have an effect on ant and beetle
biodiversity; no matter which type of cotton was grown, ant
populations
declined
and beetles boomed in farmed fields compared to adjacent unfarmed
fields. Other
factors such as soil type, seeding rates and amount of rain played a
bigger
role in determining population dynamics, according to the paper in
Proceedings of the National Academies of Science.
The researchers will continue to refine their analysis of the data,
looking
for differing impacts on predatory and plant-eating insects as well as
an
economic analysis of the costs and benefits of genetically modified
cotton.
"You
cannot simply assume that you will get across-the-board benefits,"
Carriere
notes. "One thing I was a bit surprised to find is that if you control
some
pests with [transgenic] cotton, others become more of a problem." | |
