The Economist
13th-19th June 1998Food Fight
Agriculture is war by other means. Lots of creatures want to eat the
crops that people grow for their own consumption, and fighting them
off is a never-ending task. Meanwhile, the crops themselves have been
turned into things so far removed from their hardy natural ancestors
that without the cosseting of irrigation and fertilisers, most would
struggle to survive.
One answer to these problems is yet more selective breeding to obtain
the best mixture of yield and viability. Such breeding usually
involves no more than reshuffling the existing genetic pack. Over the
past decade, however, plant breeders have worked out how to sharp a
few extra trumps, in the shape of genes from other, often unrelated
organisms, into that pack.
These new genes can engender desirable characteristics such as delayed
ripening (to allow time to deliver fruit to supermarkets) and delayed
rotting after ripening (to prolong shelf-lives). They can eliminate
the need for dyeing by adding colour to natural fibres before they are
even picked. They can reduce the demand for fertilisers by allowing
plants to pluck the nitrogen they need to make proteins directly from
the air instead of sucking it from the soil. They can confer
resistance to specific insect pests and fungi. And, more subtly, they
can confer resistance to herbicides -- which can then be used freely to
clobber weeds.
The results -- so called "genetically modified organisms", or GMOs -- are
extremely popular with farmers. Around two dozen varieties of
genetically modified seeds, including maize, soya, rape, potatoes and
cotton, have already been approved for planting in America. More are
in the pipeline. The American Soybean Association estimates that 30%
of the country's soya acreage, 25% of its maize and 40% of its cotton
will be planted with genetically modified seeds this year. Around the
world, some 12m hectares (30m acres) were planted with modified seeds
in 1997, up from just 2.5m in 1996.
The seed companies, too, are pleased. Firms such as Monsanto of
America and AgrEvo of Germany, which sell matched sets consisting of
herbicides and seeds specifically bred to resist them, hope they are
on to a self-perpetuating profit machine.
Consumers, however, particularly European ones, seem less
thrilled -- though their objections appear to be rooted as much in a
general revulsion at the idea of geneticists mucking around with the
stuff of life as in a fear of being subtly poisoned. A poll published
by the Guardian newspaper in Britain, for example, found that only 14%
were happy with the introduction of genetically modified foodstuffs,
and 96% wanted labels on foods made from genetically modified seeds.
Meanwhile, the Prince of Wales felt moved to make his disapproval of
the whole enterprise known in a rival paper, the Daily Telegraph.
European politicians have clearly picked up on this mood of distrust.
Cynics suspect they may be encouraging it, to promote regulations that
keep out imports. Only two GMOs -- modified forms of maize and soya -- are
on the market in the European Union (though another four have been
approved). And not a single commercial hectare there has yet been
planted with such seeds.
The roots of such Luddism probably lie in a misconception about how much genetic modification is actually going on in GMOs. Genes are being added only one at a time, rather than wholesale, and though such genes are usually from other species (there has been a lot of squeamishness about putting anti-freeze genes from fish into plants, for example), the genes of different creatures vary less than those creatures' outward forms might indicate.
In practice, only the first part of making a saleable GMO is different from traditional plant breeding. That part, the insertion of the desired gene into the target crop's chromosomes, can be done in a variety of ways. One is simply to shoot the gene in, using a "gene gun" whose bullets are small gold pellets coated in DNA. Alternatively, it can be smuggled in inside a bacterium (splicing extra genes into bacteria for this purpose is easy).
And that's it. From then on the horticulturalists take over -- growing the cells into plants and crossing those that express the desired trait with their conventional counterparts. (Contrary to a popular belief, genetically modified plants are not artificially "cloned" to create fields of identical plants.) After six generations or so of this matchmaking, the result is a variety that combines the new gene with tens of thousands of equally desirable old ones. Such a variety naturally undergoes rigorous testing to see that it has the right agricultural stuff. And it must also gain the approval of the authorities.
In America, that is not too hard. In 1992 the country's Food and Drug Administration decided that genetically modified products would have to meet the same standards as all other foods, but no new ones. Only if the product introduces something truly new, such as soyabeans with a much-higher oil level than usual, is there an additional layer of scrutiny. In the European Union, however, the process is different, more difficult, and often inconclusive.
In the EU, a company that wants to introduce a genetically modified seed approaches a member state to act as rapporteur. If the rapporteur decides an application meets European health and safety requirements, it is sent to the European Commission and the other 14 member states. After all the national committees present their findings, a vote is taken. If a "qualified majority" says yes, the product can go on the market.
Maybe. Even at this point, each member state has to write regulations or pass laws implementing the decision. Austria and Luxembourg have flatly refused to do so for genetically modified foods. In another case, a modified maize product passed all the tests, but France insisted on its own "consensus conference" -- then scheduled it for June, when the only conference the public will be interested in is between football coaches. The irony is that France was the product's rapporteur to begin with.
Those familiar with the EU's ways will find all this bureaucracy unsurprising. But, though it may succeed in protecting European farmers from the competition of their American rivals, it is hardly providing encouragement to Europe's GMO industry. It is also unfair to those manufacturers and consumers who would like to benefit from what GMOs have to offer. Allaying consumer fears with better labelling is one thing. Denying them the possibility of choice is quite another.
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