Terror in the name of earth

Agricultural biotechnology researchers face an increasingly vocal and violent opposition from ecoterrorists

by stephen meador

Illustration by Randy Yeip

Are radical environmentalists throwing a monkeywrench into agricultural biotechnology research at public universities? Sue Nichols, science and research spokesperson at Michigan State University’s (MSU) public relations office, said no. “Not at Michigan State, absolutely not. The incident didn’t take that big a chunk out of us. What it did was waste a lot of public money,” she said.

Nichols was referring to MSU’s most notorious incident of ecoterrorism. In January 2000, activists from the radical environmental movement the Earth Liberation Front (ELF) claimed responsibility for a December 31, 1999, fire set in the offices of Dr. Catherine Ives, Director of the Agricultural Biotechnology Support Project (ABSP) housed at MSU.
ABSP is a federally funded project that works with private and public institutions to enhance the use, management, and commercialization of agricultural biotechnology in developing countries.

The New Year’s Eve fire caused extensive damage to the third and fourth floors of Agriculture Hall and destroyed slides, papers, books, lectures, and other important documents collected and written by Dr. Ives during more than six years of research.

In a communiqué sent to media outlets three weeks after the fire, ELF activists claimed that Ives had been targeted because her project pursued genetic crop engineering and was designed “to lobby developing countries to abandon their current agricultural practices and to rely on genetically engineered (GE) plants and thus corporations like Monsanto.”

At the time Ives had received more than $20 million for the project. Nearly 90 percent had come from the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), with the remainder coming from matching MSU and private sector funds, as well as small grants, according to a February 2000 ISB News Report article. Monsanto Corporation had only provided a one-time sum of $2,000 to send five African students to a conference on biotechnology.

Fanning the Flames

In March 2001, the research of Steven Strauss was attacked at Oregon State University (OSU). Strauss is a plant geneticist and the director of the Tree Genetic Engineering Research Cooperative (TGERC), a group that conducts research, technology transfer and education on the use of GE trees in plantations. Strauss hopes to make trees faster growing and more resistant to insects, and to make processing trees for pulp cheaper and less ecologically disruptive.

During the attack, nearly nine-hundred poplars, many of which had not been genetically modified, were “girdled” at three different sites. In an anonymous statement sent to the group shortly after the attack, activists accused Strauss of dangerous experimentation and environmental exploitation, and accused the TGERC of “delivering modified genes into its frankentrees. All of the program’s research on the Populus genus is used for the goal of patenting and commercializing GE trees.” The activists also chided Strauss for accepting millions of dollars in timber money.

In public statements made after the attack, Strauss said that although his research was partly corporate funded, it was not aimed solely for corporate profit. He said that it involved a “diverse array of stakeholders that include scientists, growers, and the public.” He also suggested to the public that a closer look at the attacks “shows that they [ELF] act from an absolutist ideology without regard to scientific facts or accepted resource management practices.”

In May 2001, ELF activists upped the ante by simultaneously setting two fires in the Pacific Northwest. One fire was set at the Jefferson Poplar farms in Clatskanie, Oregon. Although the farm had at one time been used by a research company, it had no GE trees growing on it at the time of the attack. The fire destroyed two buildings and several vehicles, with damages estimated at $500,000. The other attack was more serious and occurred at the University of Washington’s (UW) Center for Urban Horticulture (CUH) and the offices of Dr. Toby Bradshaw.

Like Strauss, Bradshaw is a researcher in tree genetics. He is the Director of the Poplar Molecular Genetics Cooperative, a world-wide research effort by scientists in universities, industry and government into the Populus genome. Bradshaw’s studies also involve incorporating a human gene that could help poplars break down soil toxins.

Bradshaw researches identifying genes that affect plant growth and form. He uses traditional methods of cross-breeding and does not create what scientists would consider GE trees. However, the results of his research could be used by breeders interested in profiting from faster-growing trees.

“He [Bradshaw] attempts to put forward a holistic image of compassion toward life and refers to his work as environmentally beneficial. Nothing could be further from the truth. His trees pose a great threat to ecosystems through cross-pollination into native species,” ELF spokesperson Rosebraugh stated.

Sifting the Wreckage

In an open letter to Steven Strauss, the activists who destroyed his trees made reference to an international “success” that almost certainly paved the way for the 2001 attacks. They stated that tree scientists at the AstraZeneca Corporation in England had decided to end an eight-year genetic research program after a similar attack in 1999, and they hoped the attack on Strauss would have the same effect.

After the MSU attack and the incidents in the Pacific Northwest, could the ELF lay claim to similar successes and possibly encourage further action from its followers? What exactly were the consequences of these attacks? Did they end or impede the research activities they had set out to destroy?

MSU’s Case

In the case of the MSU attack, the expense was significant. Catherine Ives estimated that MSU spent nearly $1 million to repair Agriculture Hall, as well as provide additional security. According to MSU’s Nichols, the repair money was drawn from general university funds and not from research funding, so the cost of the attack was borne by the public. However, any costs for security measures beyond those provided by MSU will be incurred by individual research programs.

Determining the right level of security after the attack was not easy for ABSP staffers. Although a monitored door entry mechanism was added at the ABSP offices, extensive security systems were avoided to keep the office accessible.

According to Nichols, MSU has counseled a policy of “heightened awareness” to researchers since the attack, including keeping labs locked when not in use, questioning strangers and keeping ears open for questions designed to compromise security.

Dave Douches, a MSU crop and soil scientist who studies biotech potatoes, said that the university increased security at the MSU greenhouses after the attack but that other campus research facilities were already relatively secure prior to the incident.

At least one animal researcher in Michigan had no trouble identifying with the need to balance security and research costs. When asked about University of Michigan security procedures immediately after the MSU attack, scientist Dan Ringler replied, “We have spent several hundred thousand dollars for security when those dollars should be spent to research cancer, heart disease and strokes.”

While disrupting the lives of Dr. Ives and about thirty others with offices in Agriculture Hall, the impact on the ABSP program was minor. Although the group was forced to relocate for eight months, they were up and running in four to six weeks. Because the ABSP office at MSU was not a research facility but an office responsible for administering the ABSP program, damage was limited to project data, most of which was duplicated in other offices on campus.

UW’s Case

The effects on the University of Washington facility were more substantial. Twenty-eight staff members and students were displaced. Merrill Hall, part of the CUH, was completely gutted, with damages estimated at approximately $3 million. In addition to the destruction of Bradshaw’s offices, the collateral damage to the CUH was significant.

The fire destroyed rare books and manuscripts, and interrupted research aimed at restoring wetlands and creating environmentally sound urban landscapes and gardens. Dr. Sarah Reichard, a conservation biologist at UW, lost about 100 endangered plants that were to be reintroduced into the Cascade Mountains to supplement the few remaining in the wild.

None of Bradshaw’s trees were destroyed, and his work was delayed for about six weeks. Immediately after the fire, Bradshaw expressed resolve in continuing accessible research. “[We] will not be intimidated by anti-intellectual bigots incapable of making a reasoned argument in a public forum, but capable only of throwing a firebomb in the dead of night … Research will go forward without delay, and we will not relinquish our openness even if it makes us vulnerable,” he said in a May 25, 2001, Seattle Post-Intelligencer article.

OSU’s Case

After having nearly 900 of his trees destroyed, Oregon State University researcher Steven Strauss admitted in a March 2001 Corvallis Gazette-Times article that in the long term, some of his research would need to be moved to a more secure location. He also said security measures would be added to the current research sites to prevent future attacks.

Although Strauss initially questioned the practicality of continuing his work, he soon stiffened his resolve. Immediately after the incident, Strauss said in a May 23, 2001, New York Times article that he planned to cut back his research on GE trees, in part because of the attacks. However, in an editorial response to the activists two weeks later, he stated, “we remain committed to the use of GM trees in field research. This commitment will remain until such time as it becomes impossible to carry out field trials.”

Strauss also admitted that he had second thoughts philosophically about continuing his work. “You begin to question yourself…maybe you’re doing something really bad, and you’ve just sort of lost sight of that. Then you look around and you connect back up with your colleagues and you realize that some of the most brilliant, intelligent, caring, environmentally minded people have similar visions for how this kind of science can really help the world,” he said in a July 3, 2001 National Public Radio interview.

Damage Assessment

Many theories have been put forward about the potential long-term effects of such attacks on genetic research. Might budding scientists be deterred from entering the field, or could those in the field now go looking for less controversial work? Potato geneticist Dave Douches says that those who understand the science behind biotech know that it is not inherently more dangerous than many other things, so there’s no reason for them to stay away.

Douches said the opportunity to create a better, safer, more abundant food supply drives many genetic scientists, as it does him. “Many are in biotech because they see the social value in this,” he said.

Might scientists be more reluctant to publicize their work, or at to least provide details on project sponsorship and funding? Douches said MSU researchers have become more cautious about disseminating information as they try to avoid giving activists an open target. His Web site, for example, no longer mentions sponsorship because he believes it is not something everyone needs to know.

Nichols noted the realities of academia and the need to publish peer-reviewed research to be successful. In this case, omitting the key details is not an option for most scientists.

Many argue that the accessibility of public research institutions, especially compared to private corporations, makes them easy prey for anti-biotech activists. While this may be true, there is little evidence that universities are becoming more reluctant to fund or sponsor controversial research, or limit access in any way other than for basic security measures.

With the biotech debate still in its infancy, those engaged in biotech research are particularly reluctant to limit access and the resulting debate and education that comes along with it. As MSU’s Catherine Ives wrote in her letter, “Open knowledge of such research, the research results, and costs and benefits is necessary if everyone is to understand the issues surrounding biotechnological advances.”

By continuing attacks on public institutions, activists could be doing a favor for corporations involved in potentially less ethical genetic research. However, MSU’s Douches notes the realities of the biotech world and the necessity that corporations, because of their capitalization, commercialize biotech discoveries made at public research institutions. Universities will usually be limited to the basics of applied biotechnology and will rarely be in the business of patenting and marketing discoveries.

What about the effects of these attacks on public opinion of environmentalism? ELF has undoubtedly alienated the public by attacking university research since truth-seeking scientists are much harder to vilify than faceless corporations. In most cases, victims have made a reasoned response in a public forum and appear sympathetic to the public.
These responses bring the debate into the public eye and tend to discredit the most radical activists who, except for two ELF press officers, refuse to engage in meaningful dialogue. ELF has repeatedly stated that it is not out to win public sympathy but to cause economic damage.

If one positive thing has come from these attacks on science, it may be that the biotechnology discussion has been brought closer to the public eye. Researchers now have the opportunity to frame the debate instead of merely being reactive.

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