The debate over genetically modified (GM) foods exploded in 1999, becoming a worldwide public relations disaster for the biotech industry and casting science in the role of villain. Although most fiery in the United Kingdom, where headlines warned of "the horrors of GM foods" and "the mad forces of genetic darkness," the public fervor spread through Europe, leading the European Union to suspend the introduction of new GM crops pending new legislation, which could be 3 years away (Science, 26 November, pp. 1662-1668).

The effects even reverberated in the United States, where the GM revolution had been proceeding all but silently. U.S. farmers, who planted roughly half of their corn, cotton, and soy fields with transgenic crops this year, watched with dismay as their export markets shrank. And at recent public hearings organized by the Food and Drug Administration, many speakers voiced concerns that the crops--often tailored to resist insects or herbicides--might be hazardous to human health or could cross-pollinate with wild plants and create "superweeds."

This eruption of public feeling was fueled by a few critical studies published this year. One showed, for example, that monarch butterfly caterpillars in the lab died when fed transgenic pollen containing Bt, a bacterial insecticide. Another reported that rats' gut linings were somewhat swollen after the animals ate transgenic potatoes. But such work was preliminary and controversial--it's not clear yet how much Bt caterpillars would eat in the wild, and Britain's Royal Society called the potato study "deeply flawed."

Critics have pointed out that the lack of good data works both ways--there's no clear evidence that transgenic crops are totally innocuous. But this year's turbulence seems to have stemmed less from data and more from the public's knee-jerk reaction to moving genes from one species to another, a fear sometimes compounded by peculiar political circumstances. In Great Britain, for example, public trust in food safety laws had been eroded by the government's attempts to play down the mad cow disease crisis in the early '90s. British biotech opponents also happen to have a prominent organic farmer on their side: the Prince of Wales, who once likened tinkering with genes to playing God. Resistance may have been further inflamed by unspoken resentment against big corporations, perhaps with a pinch of anti-Americanism; that might explain why U.S. biotech giant Monsanto was a favored target, and why French farmers directed their anger at local McDonald's.

Whatever the causes, the power of protest groups is a fact of life that agricultural biotech firms are slowly learning to deal with. Meanwhile, they hope resistance will fade within a few years, as new GM fruits and vegetables with extra vitamins or antioxidants tempt consumers. The new wave could be a real boon for developing countries. Rice with added vitamin A and iron could help prevent blindness and anemia in millions, for example.

But attitudes toward GM foods will have to thaw considerably before such benefits materialize. It may take years before we know whether the 1999 backlash was a mere ripple in the introduction of biotech crops--or whether millions of consumers have renounced them for good.

REFERENCES

• D. Ferber, "GM Crops in the Cross Hairs," Science 286, 1662 (26 November 1999).
• M. Enserink, "Ag Biotech Moves to Mollify Its Critics," Science 286, 1666 (26 November 1999).
• G. Gaskell et al., "Worlds Apart? The Reception of Genetically Modified Foods in Europe and the U.S.," Science 285, 384 (16 July 1999).
• T. Gura, "New Genes Boost Rice Nutrients," Science 285, 994 (13 August 1999).
• C. Macilwain, "Acccess issues may determine whether agri-biotech will help the world's poor," Nature 402, 341 (25 November 1999).