Both sides are probably wrong

The latest evidence leaves the case for GM foods open

I met Likeness last month in Malawi. She is a peasant farmer with three kids and no prospects. The rains came late to her maize field near the Zambian border and then they stopped early. The result, just like in 2002, is misery: her crop failed, what she harvested has nearly gone, she has no work, and there's no money to buy food, fertiliser or seeds for next year. She is the face of world hunger, along with nearly one billion others caught up in the vortex of unprecedented food-price inflation and extreme poverty.

So could GM maize, or industrial farming and giant agribusiness - the "unmentionables" that Prince Charles railed against this month - make any difference? One man who may know is the head of Monsanto, Hugh Grant, who was in Malawi just before me at a conference on the future of world agriculture. He recalled how, after the 2002 famine, Monsanto sent Malawi hundreds of tonnes of hybrid (not GM) seeds. "Yields increased by 50 per cent to above 32 bushels per acre," he said. "Better seeds and fertiliser make an enormous difference."

Correct. As any farmer knows, you don't need GM crops to grow more food. Rather, you need good seeds and soils, better manures, crop rotation and irrigation. Education, markets, places to store the food where the rats can't get at it, all help farmers earn money. GM promises increases of 10-20 per cent in some crops. Good farming can more than double yields.

Another man who knows whether or not GM will help Likeness is Professor Robert Watson, chief scientist at the UK's Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, and formerly Bill Clinton's scientific adviser. Watson recently chaired the International Assessment of Agricultural Knowledge, Science and Technology for Development (IAASTD), an immense and rigorous three-year, government-level scientific study of world agriculture, backed by the UN and the World Bank and independently peer-reviewed twice.

The 400 authors looked at the evidence and concluded that business as usual - industrial agriculture and trade rules tilted towards large corporations - can barely feed people today and won't be able to in future. The problem is that the present financial and trading systems work at the expense of the deteriorating environment and the growing numbers of poor.

But what about GM crops? The IAASTD authors kept the door open on the technology but said that it was not the solution for the world's poor. Instead, they called for more respect for the knowledge of local communities. This enraged the participating US-dominated agrochemicals and biotechnology industries, which walked out, claiming the whole exercise was unbalanced. The US, alone of all major countries, has refused to endorse the study.

GM acreage is growing worldwide, but it may never provide for the poor. In the 20-odd years since the first crop was sown, billions of dollars have been spent researching, developing and marketing the technology. But it is stuck on a very few commercial crops, and is still at single-gene transfer level. What's more, it is suited to monocultural farming, and the questions of ownership and safety just won't go away.

Over the years, there have been genuine safety concerns over individual GM foods but early fears have been allayed by US and EU government insistence that these are some of the world's most regulated foods. Activists still argue that there have been few major human health studies of an inherently unpredictable technology.

Back in 1994, the industry was promising crops that resist cold weather, drought, pests and disease, as well as plants that reduced the need for fertilisers. The world is still waiting. Last month, Hugh Grant said he now expected drought-resistant crops to be ready in the US "within six years"; it seems the science is more complicated than was thought. That hasn't stopped the industry enjoying an expansionist phase as agribusiness takes advantage of the food crisis, but anyone trying to assess the success or failure of GM can find themselves in a snake pit of claim and counterclaim.

Companies regularly overstate the potential gains of GM by under-reporting average yields in conventional production; activists seize on individual crop failures to propose that the whole technology is corrupt. Meanwhile, academics are partial to the big bucks that industry offers for GM research and development, and governments fear to upset their legions of small farmers.

One side paints a picture of the world's poor being denied a technology that could hugely improve lives; the other side claims industrial agriculture's heavy gun is aimed directly at it. Both are probably wrong.

Monsanto espies huge profits in places such as Malawi, where the whole country depends on maize. It's not legal to sell GM there but even if it were, the chances of Likeness and the small farmers like her, 90 per cent of the population, benefiting from it are utterly remote. Malawi is a land of conservative, uneducated and vulnerable farmers. They could not possibly afford the seeds or the herbicide, let alone take the risk. It would be criminal to ask them to.

Hugh Grant probably isn't losing much sleep about Malawi. The company is making record profits out of selling a high proportion of its GM seeds and herbicides to American and other farmers for the growing of biofuels. Of course, the company cannot be blamed if there's less food on the world market, or that maize prices have more than doubled. Instead, Monsanto's share price has risen to dizzy heights and the company has just raised prices for its seeds and herbicides by more than a third.

Now even farmers in the US are complaining about GM.

John Vidal is the environment editor of the Guardian

This article first appeared in the 01 September 2008 issue of the New Statesman, The truth about GM food

Ralph Steadman for the New Statesman.
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Tim Farron: Theresa May is "the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party"

The Liberal Democrat leader on his faith, Blairism and his plan to replace Labour as the opposition. 

This is Tim Farron’s seventh general election. His first was in 1992, when his Tory opponent was a 36-year-old called Ther­esa May. He was just 21 and they were both unsuccessful candidates in the Labour fortress of North-West Durham. He recalls talking “to a bunch of ex-miners who weren’t best pleased to see either of us, some kid Liberal and some Tory”. Now he sees his former and current opponent as “the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party . . . I think it has rendered Ukip almost pointless – she is Ukip now.”

May was elected to parliament in 1997, but it took Farron until 2005 to join her. She leads the dominant Conservatives while he heads a party of only nine Liberal Democrat MPs. Still, their reversal of fortunes gives him hope. “After the 1992 election, every­one said there’s no way for a non-Tory government, and it turned out there was. So let’s not assume it’s a given there’s a Tory government [for ever].”

In April, I accompanied Farron to Manchester Gorton, in the lead-up to a by-election that was cancelled by May’s decision to call a snap election on 8 June. Still, the 46-year-old’s party has been in campaign mode for months; Lib Dems spoke of using last December’s Richmond Park by-election to test their messaging. It clearly had an effect: the incumbent Conservative, Zac Goldsmith, lost to their candidate, Sarah Olney.

Brexit, to which the Liberal Democrats are vehemently opposed, will be a dominant theme of the election. Their party membership has just exceeded 100,000, close to an all-time high, and they have enjoyed much success in council by-elections, with more to come in the local elections of 4 May.

However, any feel-good factor swiftly evaporated when Farron appeared on Channel 4 News on 18 April. He was asked by the co-presenter Cathy Newman whether or not he believes that homosexuality is a sin, a question that he answered obliquely in 2015 by saying that Christianity started with acknowledging that “we’re all sinners”.

This time, he told Newman, he was “not in the position to make theological announcements over the next six weeks . . . as a Liberal, I’m passionate about equality”.

The Channel 4 interview divided opinion. One Liberal politician told me that Farron’s stance was “completely intolerable”. Stephen Pollard, the influential editor of the Jewish Chronicle, described it as
“a very liberal position: he holds certain personal views but does not wish to legislate around them”. Jennie Rigg, the acting chair of LGBT+ Liberal Democrats, said it was “as plain as the nose on my face that Tim Farron is no homophobe”.

Farron declined the chance to clarify his views with us in a follow-up phone call, but told the BBC on 25 April: “I don’t believe that gay sex is a sin,” adding, “On reflection, it makes sense to actually answer this direct question since it’s become an issue.”

For his critics, Farron’s faith and politics are intertwined. He sees it differently, as he told Christian Today in 2015: “. . . the danger is sometimes that as a Christian in politics you think your job is to impose your morality on other people. It absolutely isn’t.”

Tim Farron joined the then Liberal Party at the age of 16 but didn’t become a Christian until he was 18. Between completing his A-levels in Lancashire and going to Newcastle University to read politics, he read the apologetics, a body of Christian writing that provides reasoned arguments for the gospel story. “I came to the conclusion that it was true,” he told me. “It wasn’t just a feel-good story.”

In speeches, Farron now takes on the mannerisms of a preacher, but he had a largely non-religious upbringing in Preston, Lancashire. “I don’t think I’d been to church once other than Christmas or the odd wedding,” he says. “I went once with my dad when I was 11, for all the good that did me.”

When we meet, it is Theresa May’s religion that is in the spotlight. She has condemned the National Trust for scrubbing the word “Easter” from its Easter egg hunt, a row it later emerged had been largely invented by the right-wing press in response to a press release from a religious-themed chocolate company.

“It’s worth observing there’s no mention of chocolate or bunny rabbits in the Bible,” Farron reminds me. “When people get cross about, in inverted commas, ‘us losing our Christian heritage’ they mean things which are safe and comfortable and nostalgic.” He pauses. “But the Christian message at Easter is shocking, actually, and very radical.”

British politics is tolerant of atheists (such as Ed Miliband and Nick Clegg) alongside those who, like David Cameron, are culturally Christian but whose faith is “a bit like the reception for Magic FM in the Chilterns: it sort of comes and goes”. But the reaction to Farron’s equivocation on homosexuality prompted many to wonder if a politician who talks openly about his faith is now seen as alarming. Nebulous wishes of peace and love at Christmas, yes; sincere discussions of the literal truth of the Resurrection? Hmm.

Tim Farron’s beliefs matter because he has a mission: to replace not only Jeremy Corbyn as leader of the opposition but Theresa May in Downing Street. Over lassis at the MyLahore curry house in Manchester, he tells me that Britain is facing two calamities. “One is Brexit, indeed hard Brexit . . . and the other is a Tory government for 25 years. We have to present a genuine, progressive alternative that can not only replace Labour as an opposition, it can replace the Tories as a government.” This is ambitious talk for a party with nine MPs. “I understand the ridicule that will be thrown at me for saying those things: but if you don’t want to run the country, why are you in politics?” He pauses. “That’s a question I would ask most people leading the Labour Party at present.”

What does he think of May, his one-time opponent in North-West Durham? “She strikes me as being very professional, very straightforward, somebody who is very conservative in every sense of the word, in her thought processes, her politics, in her style.” He recalls her 2002 conference speech in which she warned Tory activists: “Our base is too narrow and so, occasionally, are our sympathies. You know what some people call us: the nasty party.”

“In many ways, she was the trailblazer for Cameron in being a softer-focused Tory,” he says. “It now looks like she’s been trapped by the very people she was berating as the nasty party all those years ago. I like to think that isn’t really her. But that means she isn’t really in control of the Conservative Party.”

Voters, however, seem to disagree. In recent polls, support for the Conservatives has hovered between 40 and 50 per cent. Isn’t a progressive alliance the only way to stop her: Labour, the Liberal Democrats, the Greens, the SNP and Plaid Cymru all working together to beat the Tories?

“Let’s be really blunt,” he says. “Had Jeremy Corbyn stood down for us in Richmond Park [where Labour stood Christian Wolmar], we would not have won. I could have written Zac Goldsmith’s leaflets for you: Corbyn-backed Liberal Democrats.

“I’m a pluralist,” he adds. “But any progressive alliance has got to be at least equal to the sum of its parts. At the moment, it would be less than the sum of its parts. The only way the Tories are losing their majority is us gaining seats in Hazel Grove –” he ticks them off with his fingers, “– in Cheadle, in the West Country and west London. There’s no chance of us gaining those seats if we have a kind of arrangement with the current Labour Party in its current form.”

What about the SNP? “Most sensible people would look at that SNP manifesto and agree with 99 per cent of it,” Farron says. “But it’s that one thing: they want to wreck the country! How can you do a deal with people who want to wreck the country?”

There’s no other alternative, he says. Someone needs to step up and offer “something that can appeal to progressive younger voters, pro-Europeans and, you know, moderate-thinking Middle England”. He wants to champion a market economy, strong public services, action on climate change, internationalism and free trade.

That sounds like Blairism. “I’m a liberal, and I don’t think Blair was a liberal,” he replies. “But I admire Blair because he was somebody who was able to win elections . . . Iraq aside, my criticisms of Blair are what he didn’t do, rather than what he did do.”

Turning around the Tory tide – let alone with just nine MPs, and from third place – is one hell of a job. But Farron takes heart from the Liberal Party in Canada, where Justin Trudeau did just that. “I’m not Trudeau,” he concedes, “He was better-looking, and his dad was prime minister.”

There is a reason for his optimism. “I use the analogy of being in a maze,” he says, “You can’t see a way out of it, for a progressive party to form a majority against the Tories. But in every maze, there is a way out. We just haven’t found it yet.” 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.

This article first appeared in the 27 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Cool Britannia 20 Years On

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