In fact, they already have–making Brazil the latest, loudest battlefield in a raging global food-fight. The country is an agricultural powerhouse and the world’s number two producer of soybeans, second only to the United States. But unlike its rivals, Brazil currently prohibits commercial planting of genetically modified (GM) crops. The ban delights groups like Greenpeace, who are fighting to make it permanent and to block imports of GM foods as well. It also suits Rio Grande do Sul’s left-wing government, which makes political hay by championing small farmers. But bigger farmers, who produce 70 percent of the soybeans, are determined. Some are smuggling GM seeds in from Argentina, provoking confrontations with police. Genetically modified crops have sparked protests in Europe and demands for labeling in the United States, but in Brazil the two sides are even more polarized.
Which leaves Brazilians sitting in a cross-fire. Do the crops pose ecological and health risks, as Greenpeace contends? Or are they safe, as many scientists and several U.S. agencies attest? More than a third of Brazil’s soy is exported; would GM soybeans be hard to sell in Europe, or do the big farmers know best? So far, Brazilians are still wolfing down GM-rich imports–like Swift Vienna Sausages and Pringles–rather than boycotting them. But the issue is heating up. Opponents are pressing their case in the press, the legislature and the courts; a judge barred planting of GM seeds until the risks could be assessed. Agribusiness argues that crops engineered for disease and pest resistance are a boon to the planet, Brazil included. Says Edmundo Klotz, president of the Brazilian Association of Food Producers: “We have a country to develop.”
On that last point, Brasilia doesn’t need convincing. Earlier this month six senior cabinet members declared their support for GM crops. They were seconded by Brazil’s National Academy of Science, which on July 11 joined scientists around the world in a ringing endorsement of biotech agriculture. Naturally, the seed companies also oppose the ban. Stung by protests in Europe, Monsanto, Novartis and their competitors would love to add Brazil’s vast fields to the 100 million acres in the United States, Canada and Argentina where their soy and corn is cultivated. By one estimate, the ban is costing Monsanto $100 million a year in lost sales. But the GM backlash keeps growing. Greenpeace and its allies recently succeeded in stopping–or at least delaying–six ships from unloading GM imports at Brazilian harbors.
The farmers aren’t backing down either. Last year they planted 8 to 30 percent of Brazil’s soybean crop with genetically modified seeds smuggled from Argentina–much of it in Rio Grande do Sul. The result? A state known for gently rolling grasslands, rich black soils and cowboy bonhomie is increasingly noted for flaring tempers.
Last year Olivio Dutra, the governor and Workers’ Party leader, dispatched farm inspectors on GM-crop search-and-destroy missions. Tensions peaked in December, when dozens of farmers circled their pickups to protect an illegal soy crop. It took 16 hours of negotiations and the state police to end the showdown. But the rebel farmers are undaunted. “The government has to end the ban,” says Gentil Rizzatti, standing on the crest of a hill on his 200-hectare farm, which he soon hopes to carpet with GM soybeans. “Or else people are going to take things into their own hands.”
The farmers insist that GM soybeans are an environmental plus, because they don’t require heavy tilling or heavy doses of pesticides. Monsanto, whose vigorous defense of GM crops in Europe turned into a PR debacle, is hoping that Brazil will respond differently. Company executives say they are still confident that, once the health and environmental impact studies are in, the Brazilians will lift the ban on biotech agriculture. That may yet happen, but not until the courts have threshed out a bumper crop of anti-GM injunctions. “I guess our message just isn’t getting through,” says Monsanto spokesman Gary Barton. So far, that may be the closest thing to a consensus in Brazil’s embattled farm country.
