GM foods: it's all about the economics

The real concern about GM is that it extends intellectual property protection into our fields.

Following the Government's stated intention to expand the growth of GM crops in Britain, debate about the safety of modified foods returned to the British press.

In keeping with the tradition of cack-handed Government science policy, they've been flubbing the response: David Cameron's spokesman refusing eight times to confirm whether or not he thinks GM food is safe, Owen Paterson mumbling about how healthy DNA is on the Today programme, and so on.

It's doubly depressing because, while there is an important debate to be had about GM foods, it's less about the science and more about the economics.

(Admittedly, that's what an economics reporter would say)

The most important thing about genetically modified species is that they are patentable, in a way that naturally bred plants just aren't. And patent protection is just about the strongest type of artificial monopoly there is: as a result, the seeds of genetically modified plants can't be harvested and resown without a license from the patent holder; can't be resold second hand; and can't be independently engineered by other companies.

So strong are the protections that the US Supreme Court recently ruled that an Iowan farmer who planted seeds bought from a grain vendor was infringing a patent for so-called "Round-up Ready" soybeans, which are modified to be resistant to weedkiller. Indianan farmer Vernon Bowman couldn't afford to carry on buying the GM seeds from Monsanto, and so instead bought generic soybeans from a grain elevator. The beans, which were intended for animal feed, contained some GM plants. Bowman planted them, and used weed killer, guessing that at least some of the beans would have resistance.

The Supreme Court ruled that he was infringing Monsanto's patent.

There is, in other words, a very real risk that relaxing the controls around GM crops in Britain would result in a trend towards centralisation and control of our food supply, in a way comparable to the effects that the patentability of software is having on the American tech market.

But there's a key difference between the scientific and economic objections to GM crops. The economic problems are man-made. Patent protections are not a natural thing, and so there is no necessary need for them to be extended to the physical crops. And given the very real question about whether or not patents in general actually promote or hinder innovation, there's even less reason to assume that the protection needs to be upheld.

That's not a change Britain can make on its own, because our intellectual property framework is intricately tied up in a raft of international treaties and EU directives. But it's the debate we should be having about GM crops which we currently aren't at all.

A field of transgenic soy. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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The struggles of Huma Abedin

On the behind-the-scenes story of Hillary Clinton’s closest aide.

In a dreary campaign, it was a moment that shone: Hillary Clinton, on the road to the caucus in Iowa, stopping at a Mexican fast-food restaurant to eat and somehow passing unrecognised. Americans of all political persuasions gleefully speculated over what her order – a chicken burrito bowl with guacamole – revealed about her frame of mind, while supporters gloated that the grainy security-camera footage seemed to show Clinton with her wallet out, paying for her own lunch. Here was not the former first lady, senator and secretary of state, known to people all over the world. This was someone’s unassuming grandmother, getting some food with her colleagues.

It might be unheard of for Clinton to go unrecognised but, for the woman next to her at the till, blending into the background is part of the job. Huma Abedin, often referred to as Clinton’s “shadow” by the US media, is now the vice-chair of her presidential campaign. She was Clinton’s deputy chief of staff at the state department and has been a personal aide since the late 1990s.

Abedin first met Clinton in 1996 when she was 19 and an intern at the White House, assigned to the first lady’s office. She was born in Michigan in 1976 to an Indian father and a Pakistani mother. When Abedin was two, they moved from the US to Saudi Arabia. She returned when she was 18 to study at George Washington University in Washington, DC. Her father was an Islamic scholar who specialised in interfaith reconciliation – he died when she was 17 – and her mother is a professor of sociology.

While the role of “political body woman” may once have been a kind of modern maid, there to provide a close physical presence and to juggle the luggage and logistics, this is no longer the case. During almost 20 years at Clinton’s side, Abedin has advised her boss on everything from how to set up a fax machine – “Just pick up the phone and hang it up. And leave it hung up” – to policy on the Middle East. When thousands of Clinton’s emails were made public (because she had used a private, rather than a government, server for official communication), we glimpsed just how close they are. In an email from 2009, Clinton tells her aide: “Just knock on the door to the bedroom if it’s closed.”

Abedin shares something else with Clinton, outside of their professional ties. They are both political wives who have weathered their husbands’ scandals. In what felt like a Lewinsky affair for the digital age, in 2011, Abedin’s congressman husband, Anthony Weiner, resigned from office after it emerged that he had shared pictures of his genitals with strangers on social media. A second similar scandal then destroyed his attempt to be elected mayor of New York in 2013. In an ironic twist, it was Bill Clinton who officiated at Abedin’s and Weiner’s wedding in 2010. At the time, Hillary is reported to have said: “I have one daughter. But if I had a second daughter, it would [be] Huma.” Like her boss, Abedin stood by her husband and now Weiner is a house husband, caring for their four-year-old son, Jordan, while his wife is on the road.

Ellie Foreman-Peck

A documentary filmed during Weiner’s abortive mayoral campaign has just been released in the US. Weiner shows Abedin at her husband’s side, curtailing his more chaotic tendencies, always flawless with her red lipstick in place. Speaking to the New York Observer in 2007, three years before their marriage, Weiner said of his future wife: “This notion that Senator Clinton is a cool customer – I mean, I don’t dispute it, but the coolest customer in that whole operation is Huma . . . In fact, I think there’s some dispute as to whether Huma’s actually human.” In the film, watching her preternatural calm under extraordinary pressure, you can see what he means.

In recent months, Abedin’s role has changed. She is still to be found at Clinton’s side – as the burrito photo showed – but she is gradually taking a more visible role in the organisation overall, as they pivot away from the primaries to focus on the national race. She meets with potential donors and endorsers on Clinton’s behalf and sets strategy. When a running mate is chosen, you can be sure that Abedin will have had her say on who it is. There’s a grim symmetry to the way politics looks in the US now: on one side, the Republican candidate Donald Trump is calling for a ban on Muslims entering the country; on the other, the presumptive Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton relies ever more on her long-time Muslim-American staffer.

Years before Trump, notable Republicans were trying to make unpleasant capital out of Abedin’s background. In 2012, Tea Party supporters alleged that she was linked to the Muslim Brotherhood and its attempt to gain access “to top Obama officials”. In her rare interviews, Abedin has spoken of how hurtful these baseless statements were to her family – her mother still lives in Saudi Arabia. Later, the senator and former Republican presidential candidate John McCain spoke up for her, saying that Abedin represented “what is best about America”.

Whether senior figures in his party would do the same now remains to be seen.

Caroline Crampton is web editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad