"The future of agricultural research at America's land-grant 
institutions belongs to biotech conglomerates like Monsanto. And it 
seems likely that it's a future of chemical-dependent, genetically 
modified, bio-engineered agriculture. "

----

Monsanto U: Agribusiness's Takeover of Public Schools

By Nancy Scola, AlterNet

Posted on February 15, 2008, Printed on February 15, 2008

http://www.alternet.org/story/76804/

I've startled a bug scientist. "Yeah, now I'm nervous," said Mike 
Hoffmann, a Cornell University entomologist and crop specialist who 
spends his days with cucumber beetles and small wasps. But he's also 
in charge of keeping the research funding flowing at Cornell's 
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. What have I done to alarm 
him? I've drawn his attention to the newly released FY 2009 
Presidential Budget.

Like more than a hundred public institutions of higher learning, 
Cornell is what's known as a "land grant." Dotting the United States 
from Ithaca, N.Y., to Pullman, Wash., such schools were established 
by a Civil War-era act of Congress to provide universities centered 
around, "the agriculture and mechanic arts." Congress handed each 
U.S. state a chunk of federal land to be sold for start-up monies, 
and for the last 150 years, it has funded ground-breaking research on 
all things agriculture, from dirt to crops to cattle.

The land-grant system has been, in short, a high-yield investment. 
The scientific research that has come out of land-grant labs and 
fields have aided millions of farmers and fed millions of Americans. 
And the land-grant reach doesn't stop at ocean's edge. Oklahoma 
State, the Sooner State's land grant, says that the public funding of 
land-grant research "has benefited every man, woman and child in the 
United States and much of the world."

That was until America's land-grant system met George W. Bush. Tucked 
into the appendix of his latest national budget is a nearly one-third 
cut in the public funding for agriculture research at the land 
grants. The size of the cut is surprising, but not its existence -- 
it's part of a multiyear drive by the Bush administration to 
completely eliminate regular public research funding. In a press 
briefing last week, a USDA deputy secretary illuminated the Bush 
administration's rationale for the transition to competitive grant 
making: "That's how you get the most bang for the buck."

Wallace Huffman, an Iowa State agro-economist, is deeply unimpressed 
with Bush's "bang" approach to land-grant research. "There's a sense 
in the president's office that you invest in research like you invest 
in building cars," Huffman told me last week. Land-grant school 
officials are similarly skeptical. In a survey, Kansas State argued 
that the loss of regular funding would upend education. Minnesota 
complained that cuts would undermine ongoing research projects. North 
Dakota simply asked, "What is the future of ag research?"

Good question. A reasonable answer? The future of agricultural 
research at America's land-grant institutions belongs to biotech 
conglomerates like Monsanto. And it seems likely that it's a future 
of chemical-dependent, genetically modified, bio-engineered 
agriculture.

In stark contrast to how the federal government and many states are 
wallowing in red ink, the St. Louis-based Monsanto boasted more than 
$7 billion in annual sales in 2007 -- simply the latest in four years 
of record-smashing profits. And so when our president says that the 
time has come for public land-grant institutions to get cracking at 
"leveraging nonfederal resources," you can be sure that Monsanto's 
ears perk.

But, it doesn't take a presidential invitation to get Monsanto to 
sink its roots in the land-grant system. Those roots are already 
planted. Iowa State's campus boasts a Monsanto Auditorium and the 
school offers students Monsanto-funded graduate fellowships on seed 
policy with a special focus on "the protection of intellectual 
property rights." Kansas State has spun off Wildcat Genetics, a side 
company whose purpose is the selling of soybean seeds genetically 
engineered to survive the application of Roundup® -- the result of a 
decades long relationship with Monsanto, the pesticide's maker.

But don't get the wrong idea about Monsanto's land-grant activities. 
By that, I mean, don't think the company is the only multinational 
biotech conglomerate firmly rooted in American land-grant soil.

Head on down to Texas A&M. There you'll find the a chair for the "Dow 
Chemical Professor of Biological and Agricultural Engineering." 
Similar chairs exist at West Virginia State and Louisiana State. The 
agricultural college of the University of California at Davis is 
funded in part by DuPont and Calgene.

The University of California at Berkeley's Plant and Microbiology 
Department entered into a $25 million/five-year quasi-exclusive 
research agreement with the Swiss-based Novartis, which then became 
Syngenta, which now funds the land-grant research group on soybean 
fungi. In 2005, Purdue, Indiana's land-grant school, developed an 
application of the so-called Terminator gene pioneered by Delta Pine 
and Land Co.; school officials and researchers later took to the 
hustings when the public resisted the idea of self-sterilizing plants.

But the agricultural industry's relationship with the land-grant 
system is not an entirely new development. In 1973, former Texas 
agricultural commissioner and activist Jim Hightower lamented the 
situation in his landmark report, Hard Tomatoes, Hard Times: The 
Failure of America's Land Grant College Complex.

But the world of agriculture is today a far, far different place than 
when Hightower wrote.

For one thing, in the early 1970s Monsanto was still a decade away 
from genetically modifying its very first plant cell. For another, 
back then the federal government was still committed to providing 
steady research funding.

And, importantly, it was neither possible nor profitable for our 
nation's bastions of higher learning to be players in the global 
agribusiness. But intervening tectonic shifts in American public 
policy help us to understand why a public institution like Purdue 
would fight so darn hard to defend a biotech advance like the 
Terminator gene: in a manner of speaking, they own the thing.

Jump ahead to 1980, when the U.S. Supreme Court under Warren Burger 
decided that, as long as they'd been tweaked from their natural 
state, living organisms from seeds to microbes or Terminator genes 
could be patented just as if they were a new cotton gin or tractor 
blade. And in that same year, Congress gave universities a kick 
towards the marketplace by encouraging institutions to file patent 
claims on the discoveries and inventions of their faculty researchers 
-- no matter if their work was funded in whole or in part by taxpayer 
dollars.

The summed effect was that, suddenly, a public institution like 
Purdue had a great deal of motivation for working with Delta Pine and 
Land Co. to see if they might make a buck off their biotech invention 
in the marketplace. What's more, the policy shift made it so 
individual lab geeks themselves stood to profit, eligible for a large 
slice of whatever windfall their discovery generated.

As the biotech industry has since exploded, the impact on the 
land-grant system is perhaps not unexpected. "Researchers want to be 
at both the cutting edge of science and the cutting edge of the 
marketplace," says Andrew Neighbour, until recently the director of 
UCLA's office on the business applications of faculty research. (The 
entire University of California system functions as that state's 
"land-grant institution.") And so the advent of patentable and 
profitable plants (and animals, for that matter) has meant a shift in 
research focus away new knowledge and towards the creation of 
marketable products.

The land-grant institutions find themselves in a pickle. "On the one 
hand," says Paul Gepts, professor of agronomy and plant genetics at 
UC Davis, schools pushed into the free market have developed the 
habit of patenting research and found a taste for private business 
deals. But on the other hand, "they have a public role where the 
information they produce should be available to all."

As things stand, "public universities," says Dr. Gepts, "are a contradiction."

This embrace of patents and profits means that land-grant 
agricultural research centers today are not playgrounds of academic 
collaboration they once were. "Things have changed enormously," says 
William Folk, a plant geneticist at the University of Missouri. "When 
I started in the '70s," he recalls fondly, "meetings were filled with 
people criticizing each other and sharing ideas." But today, he says 
"if you have an idea that has any potential commercial value, you're 
reluctant to share."

Not surprisingly, school administrators argue that a negative reading 
of the cozy relationship between agricultural researchers and biotech 
corporations like Monsanto and Syngenta is hogwash. When asked, Neal 
Van Alfen, dean of the UC Davis College of Agriculture and 
Environmental Science, acknowledges that about 20 percent of the $165 
million annual research budget is contributed by industry. But Dean 
Alfen is quick to add, "It forms just one part of who we work with." 
Research conducted in conjunction with industry interests, he 
insists, is simply one chunk of "an awfully large amount of work."

But numbers and percentages don't tell the whole story, because of 
the way that industry engages in the land-grant system. In short, 
they skim. Here's how it works: (a) federal and state governments 
hand over taxpayer money to build and sustain the basic 
infrastructure, without which research can't hope to take place, then 
(b) the biotech industry injects some smaller amount of much-needed 
cash into the system, and then (c) agribusinesses skim off and patent 
the most promising (and potentially profitable) discoveries that rise 
to the top.

Still, administrators argue, scientific professionalism keeps 
industry in check -- a researcher who fudges his or her findings to 
curry industry favor is in for a short career. But that line of 
reasoning misses the real concern. What's alarming isn't that global 
agribusiness conglomerates like Monsanto, Dow Chemical and DuPont are 
getting the answers they want from our land-grant entomologists, 
agronomists and plant geneticists.

It's that at public institutions, private interests are the ones 
asking the questions.

What must be kept in mind is that land-grant researchers are 
generally expected to bring to the table their own research funding, 
and the situation can already be fairly dire. When UC Davis' Paul 
Gepts comments on how his institution's support is limited to a base 
salary, I attempt a lame joke: "They give you a desk too, right?" 
Yes, he responds, but a phone is another matter.

Faculty researchers are so hungry for funding that, says Missouri's 
William Folk, "if companies want to entice researchers to work on 
their projects, all they have to do is wave a bit of money." "The 
availability of funds, he says, "makes an enormous difference in what 
we can do."

"We're opportunists," Folk says, with compassion, of himself and his 
fellow researchers, "we go after money where it might be."

When it comes to how industry-university relations shape academic 
research, UCLA's Andrew Neighbour is the person to talk to. While an 
administrator at Washington University in St. Louis, Neighbour 
managed the school's landmark multiyear and multimillion-dollar 
relationship with Monsanto. (Note: WashU is a private institution.) 
"There's no question that industry money comes with strings," 
Neighbour admits. "It limits what you can do, when you can do it, who 
it has to be approved by."

And so the issue at hand becomes one of the questions that are being 
asked at public land-grant schools. While Monsanto, DuPont, Syngenta, 
et al., are paying the bills, are agricultural researchers going to 
pursue such lines of scientific inquiry as "How will this new corn 
variety impact the independent New York farmer?" Or, "Will this new 
tomato make eaters healthier?"

It seems far more likely that the questions that multinational 
biotech conglomerates are willing to pay to have answered run along 
the lines of "How can we keep growing our own bottom lines?"

I put it to Dr. Folk. "The companies are there to make money, no 
doubt," he responds.

What suffers for falling outside the scope of industry interest? 
Organic farming, for one. The Organic Farming Research Foundation was 
founded in the 1980s after, Executive Director Bob Scowcroft tells 
me, farmers interested in weaning themselves from chemical dependence 
approached their local land-grant outreach agents for help for pest 
management. As Scowcroft tells it, their advice was invariably in the 
spirit of, "Well, sure, I can tell you what to spray."

OFRF began arming land-grant researchers with modest grants but found 
that academics interested in conducting organic-related research 
faced obstacles beyond funding.

"Coming out of the organic closet could be the beginning of the end 
of your career," says Scowcroft. Looking outside biotech agriculture 
is, he says, "like throwing 30 years of the Green Revolution in your 
boss's face." Today, says John Reganold, an OFRF grantee and apple 
researcher at Washington State University, academics interested in 
organic farming "just don't have the money to do what we need to do."

Also the subject of minimal industry attention: so-called orphan 
crops, like sorghum and cassava, which feed millions of people in the 
developing world but aren't considered patentable or profitable. UC 
Davis' Paul Gepts is working to breed a disease-resistant variety of 
the East African common bean, an important protein source for AIDS 
sufferers. He's turned to an English charitable group for funding, 
and all involved have agreed to resist patenting the plant -- once a 
useful variety is developed, the science will be left in the public 
domain.

While it's clear that funding cash is the carrot used by agribusiness 
to entice researchers into asking the questions industry is most 
interested in having answered, there is a stick involved: corporately 
held patents used to block them from asking others.

That's certainly been Paul Gepts's experience, when he thought he 
might tackle the question of gene transfer in Mexican maize 
varieties. The question, though, is a sensitive one for Monsanto, as 
one of the arguments against transgenic crops is the difficulty in 
containing their spread -- raising the specter of a threat to the 
world's biodiversity. As the maize he was interested in was patented 
by Monsanto, Gepts asked the company for some samples. Their 
response: no way.

When I asked Gepts for his take on Monsanto's motivation for the 
refusal, I hadn't yet finished the question when he answered: 
"Avoiding scrutiny," he said. Missouri's Folk seconds the contention 
that such private claims on science impede research, saying, "Our 
ability to do science is constrained by the patents held by 
agribusiness."

All this said, it's not fair to say that there hasn't been resistance 
against public land-grant schools mutating into institutions of 
private science. After Novartis had become involved in UC Berkeley's 
Department of Plant and Microbiology, the school ordered an internal 
review by the academic senate, which ultimately deemed the 
relationship "a mistake." Lawrence Busch, a Berkeley faculty member 
who headed the review said at its conclusion: "I think it is high 
time for serious discussions of what the devil we want our 
universities to be."

When Mike Hoffmann -- the Cornell entomologist I startled by sharing 
Bush's proposed budget cuts -- recovers from his shock, he offers his 
take on "what the devil" our universities should be. The principle 
that should guide Cornell, Berkeley, Missouri and our other 
land-grant institutions is simple, he says: public funding for the 
public good. The mission of America's centers of agricultural 
learning is, he concludes, "to produce new knowledge for the public 
benefit. That's why we have the land-grant system, and I think it's 
pretty important."

Nancy Scola is a Brooklyn-based writer who has in the past served as 
the chief blogger at Air America, an aide to former Virginia Gov. 
Mark Warner, as he explored a run for the presidency, and a 
congressional staffer on the House Committee on Oversight and 
Government Reform.

© 2008 Independent Media Institute. All rights reserved.

View this story online at: http://www.alternet.org/story/76804/


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