upton-on-line
9th August 2001
In this issue…
…upton-on-line takes a deep breath and tries to say something non-anaesthetic
about the recently released report of the Royal Commission on Genetic
Modification. But in case some readers feel their eyes glazing over
at its mention, he offers two quick cameos as an intellectual
anaesthetic (much in the way NZ newspaper editors do with their animal
stories on page one…)
Missing anything?
Not a question upton-on-line has been asked, in truth, because New
Zealanders (and the locust clouds of tourists who drink disconsolate
Perriers in streetside cafés) seem to assume that Paris is just
one long silk-scarf-of-a-spring-evening perfumed with the scent of lilac
and Dior.
As temperatures hang around the 30 degree mark and ozone levels cause
Paris’ new mayor Bertrand Delanoë to press for car-less
days to alternate between odd and even numbered registration plates,
upton-on-line can confirm that living conditions for those left in a
half-deserted city resemble a Turkish bathhouse with the staff on strike.
Wellington’s crisp, incisive winter weather of which he reads seems
vastly more appealing. But the same fug settles on Auckland from time
to time so it’s not a question of yearning for different climates. They
come and go.
On the other hand, Parson’s Bookshop on Wellington’s Lambton
Quay seems as civilised a place to while away elevenses as anywhere
upton-on-line has discovered. The books, CDs, coffee and cheese or date
scones are individually replicated in many places but nowhere do they
come together with such comforting effect. Mind you, the Wellington
criminal bar must be out of sorts since Parson’s culinary maestro, Lorraine
Moore, has just been here in Paris where she was able to check out
the competition.
Should your children learn French?
The answer is most definitely `yes’ if they are planning to study the
documentary history of the 100 Years War, settle in remote non-touristique
villages in La France Profonde or possibly consider a career
as a missionary or mining company executive in West Africa. But for
less exotic career options it is hard to make the case, so pervasive
is English in this most ardently patriotic of countries.
Upton-on-line had the misfortune to study French in New Zealand schools
for 9 years without, fatally, much recourse to audio-lingual facilities.
So in fairness his preparation was severely limited. But, watching Asians
and others trying to cope without the 55% overlap in words that
assists English speakers, he wonders how on earth anyone gets past base
one in a country that, particularly amongst its young people, considers
it a point of honour to meet halting French with francophone English.
How different this is with upton-on-line’s first visit to Paris, 27
years ago, when virtually no-one would speak English (as a point of
honour) and those who could understand it pretended not to. Today it
is ubiquitous – its spread insidious. In New Zealand we would have issued
a pest management strategy under the Biosecurity Act. The French seem
to have thrown the towel in. The re-guilded dome of the Academie
Francaise glitters for the tourists who slog past. But there’s no
sign of life within.
[Warning to readers: beyond here the going gets earnest]
The Royal Commission on Genetic Modification
There is no way that upton-on-line can
do justice to the latest door stopper to issue from New Zealand’s tireless
public policy machine. What follows are some quite unashamedly impressionistic
notes that may inspire further investigation by readers. The full report
can be down loaded from the Commission at www.gmcommission.govt.nz
It is strongly recommended.
Why read it?
If you are part of the biotechnology
industry or the vast risk management industry ranged variously against
it you will already have devoured the report. But for the general reader,
it is still an excellent read not so much for its conclusions (which
were utterly predictable and unremarkable) as for the picture it paints
of what New Zealand has become today. Diasporans who have been away
for a long time may be disturbed that they don’t recognise the country
they left. Residents might be surprised to know what has become orthodox
in their homeland while they’ve been slaving away at the office, getting
the kids through school, fixing the bach etc.
The overwhelming impression is that
we have become a terrifically complicated little country. The Commission
endorsed the Hazardous Substance & New Organisms Act of 1996 and
the Environmental Risk Management Authority created under it as the
appropriate regime for dealing with the risks that relate to GMOs. But
it has proposed to thicken the alphabet soup with two new beasts - Toi
te Taiao: the Bioethics Council, and a Parliamentary Commissioner
on Biotechnology plus a new high-level strategy to be administered
from another corner of the jungle by MORST.
Whom do we trust?
Leaving aside one’s view about genetic
engineering, the rapid metastasis of organisations in this area is in
itself a fascinating commentary on how in 2001 we deal with issues.
Back in the 1960s there might have been a Royal Commission. But any
policy change would have been taken in hand by the people in departments
with number eight wire and the people at the Treasury with the wire
strainers. Today that would be like nominating the Midwives Council
to oversee the Maternity Benefit (there are those who rather unkindly
believe they do).
The Royal Commission was established
as a purely political device. It recommended nothing that would not
have come out of a simple inter-departmental review. The arguments that
it heard at incredible length added little to the sum of knowledge before
it started. But the current government, when in opposition, had needed
to differentiate itself from the former National government that, together
with Labour, voted down a Bill calling for a statutory moratorium promoted
by Green MPs with whom it is now in de facto partnership.
So the promise of a Royal Commission
kicked the ball out of touch for 18 months. The Commission has now neatly
kicked the ball back into touch. The essential architecture of what
was there before survives – an independent, expert quasi-judicial body
(ERMA) set up to remove decision-making from the eddies and currents
of day-to-day politics. But ERMA now has blood on its hands – or, more
appositely, perhaps one should say DNA on its lapels – having given
the green light to various proposals (following equally exhaustive and
exhausting hearings). And of course those who don’t like the thrust
of those decisions now have a jaundiced view of its ‘independence’.
So the Royal Commission has ridden
to the rescue with two new sources of ‘independent’ trustworthy advice
– a Bioethics Council and a brand new Parliamentary Commissioner
on Biotechnology. The first group will be wiser than ERMA, even
wiser than commissioner judges and bishops and certainly wiser than
elected parliamentarians. The new Parliamentary Commissioner will be
even more trusted because, the Commission tells us, the Parliamentary
Commissioner for the Environment and the Office of the Ombudsmen are
offices that "are understood and accepted by, and have the confidence
of, the New Zealand public.
This is all starting to feel like
stacking Russian dolls. Is there any limit to the levels of oversight?
And do we just elect MPs these days to appoint other people to apply
their minds? Judging by the quality of Parliamentary scrutiny we’ve
come to accept, one can understand a reluctance to rely on elected people
to make debate issues seriously, but there is a risk that by appointing
expert oversight we are going to encourage an even more meddlesome system
than we had.
Has the Commission shed any light on the values debate?
Upton-on-line is not a qualified
philosopher but he really wonders whether there is anything particularly
compelling about Chapters 2 and 3 which lay out weighty pronouncements
on things called values aided by diagrams. The Commission claims to
have identified seven nationally shared goals that go "some way
to ensure congruence between goals and strategies, and to enable different
groups to see their own goals more broadly and in relationship to others."
Some do seem to fit the ordinary
definition of a value. Freedom of choice is often argued to have value
in itself, as is some measure of equality and the notion of democratic
association. But upton-on-line was puzzled to find the (undoubted) uniqueness
of New Zealand’s flora, fauna and ecosystems described as a "value".
He would have described those as bio-geographical facts of our place
of residence. And "being part of a global family" seemed more
in the nature of an assertion that you might hear at a UN conference
rather than something you could argue over in a Philosophy 101 seminar.
But that’s not the real worry. What
is truly perplexing is the way the Commission believes that everything
can ultimately be reconciled with everything else. It purports to outline
a "case study" on transgenic animals (a term this reader had
difficulty reconciling with what amounted to a 6 page narrative account
of what different groups thought) concluding in deflationary tones that:
"Any decision on these issues
will require careful articulation of the issues, and a balancing
of the various concerns. It will require both consideration of specific
decisions … and the development of generic positions that can provide
clarity and consistency of guidelines for researchers and institutions…
" …We emphasise that when key
elements are excluded from the process flawed decision-making ensues,
with consequential damage to people and the environment." (pp
38-39)
The idea seems to be that as long as you
don’t leave anything out of the concrete-mixer, and you get the proportions
and the mixing time right you can’t fail to get perfect concrete. On
page 335 we are given a glimpse of the sunlit uplands in which all forms
of agriculture – GM, conventional, integrated pest management and organic
– can share the same Garden of Eden:
"[25.]The different methods should
not be seen in opposition to each other, but rather as contributing
in different ways to the same overall outcome. [26.] That outcome
is the achievement of the three sets of goals outlined in chapters
3, 4 and 5: cultural, ethical and spiritual; environmental and health;
economic and strategic."
And just in case we have missed the recipe
for this alchemy there is a diagram that has a happy resemblance to
a flower in which everything intersects with everything else.
If everyone is happy with this who is upton-on-line
to upset it like some grumpy fairy god-mother? He has no quarrel with
the idea that finding workable compromises is the way to move forward
– indeed, the entire report of the Commission is one big exercise in
doing just that. But trying to root the possibility of all this in some
purportedly shared values seems to upton-on-line just too tidy. The
Commission, it seems, wanted to avoid dealing with the much knottier
reality that exists in the world outside Royal Commissions: facing the
fact that there values are frequently incommensurable, and that when
they are, the choices that have to be made involve sacrifice, loss and
– frequently – rancour. A recessive Hobbesianism in upton-on-line’s
intellectual DNA bucks at the tidy meliorism with which the Commission
seeks to empty its world of conflict.
New expanses for Treatyology
Nowhere is the desire for a magical squaring
of the circle more apparent than in the voluminous sections on the Treaty
and consultation with Maori. Chapters 3 and 11, and the third appendix
devoted to describing the consultation process with Maori, are required
reading, not to mention the patient detailing of arguments raised by
Maori submitters throughout the Report. It is an extraordinary portrait
of where the debate on the place of the Treaty in New Zealand society
and how the Maori side of the Treaty industry now sees itself after
25 odd productive years in the trenches of the Tribunal, the Courts
and elsewhere, has got to.
Pakeha New Zealanders reading the report
may be surprised to learn just how different they are from the Maori
of Aotearoa. Pakeha ethics arise contextually whereas for Maori ethics
are located at the boundary of the natural and spiritual worlds. The
Commission’s meliorist spirit keeps moving towards the possibility of
totally different world views being able to co-exist:
"[67.] The difference in the ways
Maori and Pakeha arrive at decisions means that there needs to be
careful consultation if common ground is to be found. The values
and worlds views do not need to be shared, but need to be understood
and respected if a mutual way forward is to be agreed…" (p
30)
The trouble is that the tone of Maori commentary
cited throughout the report (with literally a handful of exceptions)
posits a vast chasm and, what is more, one that may be unbridgeable.
Bevan Tipene Matua is cited (also on p 30) as complaining that
"They [the scientists] are unable
and don’t want to create or enter into the Maori world or create
relationships to ensure that our rights are protected but also the
taonga themselves are protected."
The trouble is that plenty of testimony
is cited in support of the fact that Maori knowledge is rooted in spiritual
values that are simply inaccessible to outsiders, and that the knowledge
in question is variously "shared in the deep hours of the night,
on empty stomachs away from food" (p 18) or at unexpected moments
(like in the car on the way to the supermarket (p 19) and is "not
discussed easily, especially outside marae or by younger people".
As upton-on-line has previously commented,
if Maori – or indeed New Zealanders as a whole dealing with this discourse
– are so different that we become inexplicable to outsiders, then we
are going to be a very cut-off little group. But there are grounds for
wondering whether the Commission, like so many liberal listeners before
it, is not unquestioningly accepting differences where there may not
be any. We are told, for instance, that for Maori
"No distinction is made between
the process and the outcome. A bad way of going about decision-making
cannot lead to a good outcome, one that is acceptable. In fact the
process shapes the decision." (p 28)
We are told that Maori-decision making
is characterised by consensus, that emotion is vented and tolerated
especially when mana is challenged, and that when consensus and agreement
aren’t forthcoming, then matters are left to lie upon the table and
so on. Is this really so different from the way many people operate?
Is the phenomenon of silence not necessarily indicating consent really
something that belongs under a special description of Maori custom?
The observation is made that -
"Komiti marae meet regularly on
set dates, run by agenda, usually take immaculate minutes and are
over in the prescribed few hours. They differ from Pakeha counterparts
in that non-members sit in and are involved. Consensus means votes
are rarely taken…"(pp 29-30)
Where have these Commissioners been these
last few years? Having sat through hundreds of tedious National Party
meetings over the years upton-on-line can report endless decisions reached
by consensus and a welcome extended to anyone in the district who could
be bothered to turn up (the one who did were often the most lively contributors!).
The minutes were more or less meticulous depending on who took them.
But he has also been at meetings where Maori present felt the need to
caucus separately just like other groups with matters of particular
moment for them. This sort of egg-shell sensitive commentary is painful.
Of course there are differences – they’re part of every day life and
they don’t benefit from this sort of embarrassing anthropological notebook
approach.
The currents of constitutional revolution
It is clear that the Commission ran head-long
into a rapidly developing constitutionalist argument in its dialogue
with Maoridom. The resolutions of the national hui recorded on
page 152 make that very clear. So this has been another case of people
being heard, treated enormously respectfully, and then by-passed.
Upton-on-line concurs completely with the
Commission’s decision not to accept the argument that section 6 of the
HSNO Act should be amended to require those exercising powers under
the Act to "recognise and provide for" Maori values. In support
of its decision the Commission said:
"It would be contrary to the spirit
and the principles of the Treaty were the cultural values of either
Treaty partner given pre-emptive standing. In our view, the appropriate
framework for the consideration of applications under HSNO is that
the spiritual and cultural values of all New Zealanders ought to
be taken into account, as envisaged by section 5."
But that will not be the end of the matter.
In the first place, Moana Jackson (always good for ensuring that
no sugary compromise is being slipped through the door and a supporter
of a robustly constitutional and separatist side of the argument) is
cited in these decisive terms:
"There is little recognition that
the Maori world is anything other than a cultural object, noted
for its spirituality and its music. In this view, everything from
our notions of political authority to an understanding of genetics
is marginalised as cultural, rather than scientific or intellectual
… Because the Maori consideration of many issues is reduced to a
cultural phenomenon, the efficacy of the Maori intellectual tradition
is itself denied. In its place, Maori are asked to offer a mere
‘perspective’, which easily leads to rejection on the grounds of
unreasoned, if interesting, spirituality or minimalisation as something
may be noted, but ignored if more compelling scientific or economic
reasons can be discovered."(Appendix 3, p 154)
Now one might comment that that’s what
happens when you say you have inaccessible knowledge that is beyond
communication but that’s for another day. The key point to make here
is that that is precisely what the Commission has done – by not acknowledging
the constitutional claims being raised, it has treated Mr Jackson in
exactly the way that he objects to. Maori have been listened to with
exquisite politeness and cosmic tact – and then basically passed by.
Like it or not, the Commission’s values concrete mixer and careful listening
can’t get away from a fundamental chasm here.
It really is time Governments stopped
asking arms length bodies to find ways round these problems and took
direct responsibility for these debates. They’re not cultural – they’re
deeply political and are all about the exercise of power in a bi-cultural
state. Upton-on-line wonders how many more evasions will be tried before
this blinding reality is faced up to…
If we’re going to go down this path then let’s get the debate out
into the open
Because if we don’t, we’ll be taken down
it anyway without realising it. That’s because courts and commissions
(with a fair cross-pollination of membership) are taking us steadily
down the path of a wholly novel treaty-based constitutionalism. It’s
the comfortable assumptions along these lines that are the really important
thread in this report. On p 298 the Commission blandly notes that
"The courts have described the
Treaty relationship as a partnership, and a jurisprudence of formulating
‘principles of the Treaty’ has evolved. These principles have emerged
from decisions of the Waitangi Tribunal … from the courts, and,
on occasion, from government publications. Agreement on what the
principles are, and the precise form in which they should be stated,
is still developing…"
So there you have it. The courts are in
the driving seat. True, there’s the odd government publication to refer
to – but nothing that smacks of an engagement by Parliament or some
sort of democratically based constitutional debate. And if some of this
Commission’s other recommendations are followed – like up-grading section
8 of the HSNO Act to require those exercising powers under the Act to
"give effect to the [as yet unknown and still developing] principles
of the Treaty of Waitangi"- this cosy constitutional revolution
by judges will continue.
A simpler, more liberal regime?
Space does not permit upton-on-line to
go through some of the Commission’s other juicy recommendations. On
the research side, some small recommended changes will make life easier.
For the rest, it looks more complex. The idea that conditional releases
is a liberating step – explicitly rejected after careful thought by
the select committee in 1996 – can cut two ways. Certainly, it makes
it likely that the regulatory jungle will expand – which may be no bad
thing if it means things are allowed that would otherwise have been
declined, but could also end up perpetuating opportunities for review
and re-litigation long after they would otherwise have been dropped.
The extra Maori engagement in the intellectual property process will
almost certainly – in the absence of clear guidance – add more complexity
and delay. And despite the exhortations by the Commission that the WAI
262 claim should be dealt with (it’s only a decade old so far) one could
reasonably predict that the too-hard basket will grow heavier before
it grows lighter.
A sting in the tail
The Commission thoughtfully felt that the
Minister should exercise her call-in powers to deal with the very first
application for general release. Upton-on-line knows how chuffed Marion
Hobbes will be to play this role. She may be even more excited when
she learns about the powers she has in the Act. Upton-on-line shepherded
the HSNO legislation through the House a time when the Bolger Administration
didn’t have a clear majority so the Act which passed onto the statute
book represented some real select committee horse trading. The result
is a level of potential risk aversion that is way beyond anything he
had first envisaged when the Act was introduced – and in truth didn’t
realise until after it was passed.
For interested students upton-on-line reprints
here an extract from a speech he gave in Washington DC in 1999 to the
American Association for the Advancement of Science on the subject of
risk management and the environment. It received not a word of coverage
in the New Zealand press but it covered many of the issues the Royal
Commission grappled with. I expect the Commission was equally unaware
of it but it spells out the
truly awesome opportunities for political
manipulation that exist in the Act. If the Greens do their homework,
as I expect they will, they will be working busily
to achieve through the Minister's office what they failed to achieve
through the Commission.
[Any reader wanting the full text
of the speech from which the following extract is taken can request
it by emailing Simon Upton at uptononline@noos.fr]
The following extract continues on from
a detailed account of the illegal importation of the RCD virus:
"The RCD decision was taken under laws that precluded political
intervention. The subsequent illegal importation, however, forced
the debate into the political arena. The HSNO Act, while giving
the decision-making power to the ERMA, explicitly provides an avenue
for the Minister for the Environment to take the final decision
after the Authority has heard all the evidence.
The grounds on which the Minister may call-in a decision add little
to those that already apply to decisions that remain in the hands
of the Authority. But the Minister is given one potentially potent
power. In deciding that he will take the final decision, the Minister
is entitled to specify "in the circumstances of the particular case,
what is or is not significant" for the purposes of applying section
36 of the Act. Section 36, you will recall, spelt out the risks
which, if found to be significant, provide sufficient grounds alone
for the Authority to turn down an application. In other words, a
politician is given the power to provide a definitive and final
definition of an operative provision of the law.
Jurisprudence scholars in this audience may well quail at the opportunity
for executive excess this might imply. But from the point of view
of any politician who might advocate its use, it raises as many
problems as it might solve. The provision was framed while the RCD
process was being considered and was frequently referred to by those
who argued that a duly elected and publicly accountable office-holder
should have to exercise the judgement required in hard cases such
as those posed by the RCD application. It is an easy argument to
advance for everyone other than the person - for the time being
me - able to exercise the power. Imagine, in the RCD case I have
just outlined to you, deciding that, for the purposes of section
36, adverse effects on human health or safety should not be regarded
as significant. Quite apart from requiring the wisdom of Solomon,
such a possibility assumes an ability to reflect through the person
of a single politician, a level of risk aversion that somehow reflects
community held values. The problem is that the circumstances in
which such a consensus could be discerned would be the very circumstances
in which the pressure to call-in a decision would be least pressing.
Conversely, it is in precisely those cases where the community is
irreconcilably divided that the pressure to call-in the decision
(and thereby render it politically influenceable and accountable)
will be most intense.
Given the low regard in which politicians are held in most contemporary
democracies, it seems counter-intuitive that we should want politicians
to involve themselves in weighing up the esoteric concoctions of
science, ethics, values, costs, benefits and probabilities that
are at stake. But this is what the New Zealand legislature has opted
for. It is, at the very least, a frank admission that at their most
profound, these issues of risk management enjoy no immunity from
political engagement. Which, in a way, is exactly what the illegal
importers of RCD proved.
There is scant chance that the sort of debate raised by the RCD
affair will be an isolated occurrence before the ERMA. Controversy
over the possible field release of genetically modified crops is
already on the boil. In a country such as the United States where
field release has been a fact for five years, this may seem strange
but the acknowledged risks that some transgenic crops raise take
on an added potency when injected into the debate over risk management
in a country like New Zealand that has a long tradition of wrestling
with biological risks.
The HSNO legislation should provide applications for the field
release of GMOs with one of the most rigorous and transparent assessment
procedures in the world today. Indeed, it is only the existence
of the statute that stands between potential applications and widespread
calls for an across the board moratorium on the release of GMOs.
By and large, I am confident that the ERMA can handle the case-by-case
risks more than adequately. But there are some special elements
of the GMO debate that could benefit from separate and prior consideration.
They have to do with irrevocability and the extent to which anyone
has an 'ownership' stake in the status quo.
Some food producers - organic farmers and beekeepers, have raised
the issue in particular - who argue that the introduction of genetically
modified crops would irrevocably deny them the ability to market
their products as coming from a GM-free environment. On the face
of it, this is an argument that is more to do with marketplace perception
than any real environmental risk - and then, only in markets that
have themselves a high level of concern about genetically modified
food.
It raises a claim to the preservation of the status quo ante
which will, inevitably, be challenged by those who wish to benefit
from the advantages that some genetically modified crops may offer
(including environmental benefits in some cases). We have, as a
society, generally accepted that the position of all of us is subject
to change through technological innovation. Here, potentially, is
a claim that an entire application of molecular biology should be
forever contained to the laboratory to ensure not just a low level
of risk but in this case the maintenance of a state of affairs that
precludes the possibility of any risk materialising.
If this seems to be without precedent, I should remind you that
New Zealand has once before taken a zero risk approach and that
is with respect to nuclear energy. Starting with a Royal Commission
in 1978 that recommended against nuclear power, New Zealand has
set its face increasingly against any engagement with anything nuclear.
The spillover into our foreign policy is well known in this country
and has complicated an otherwise excellent relationship. But the
political reality is that, whatever the assurances about risk, New
Zealanders not only want no connection with things nuclear: they
have turned the stance to one of positive advantage in promoting
New Zealand as a nuclear free tourist destination and food producer.
Whether that makes any rational sense, it is perceived by some businesses
as a real advantage in the marketplace.
Given the biological nature of New Zealand's economy, it is to
my mind inconceivable that New Zealand would adopt such an approach
to the use of biotechnology. But there is no question that, given
the wide provisions of the HSNO Act, an argument could be mounted
against the field release of genetically modified crops on the grounds
that any benefits alleged in support of their release were outweighed
by the costs to those who sought to maintain a GM-free growing environment.
An application that did not pose any significant adverse consequences
(in terms of section 36) and didn't raise the risk of undesirable
self-sustaining populations (in terms of section 37) would, in my
view, be likely to win approval from the ERMA. It was not, after
all, established to eliminate risks - rather, to manage them. But
it would be a Pyrrhic victory if (as in the UK) the result were
mindless destruction of the crops once planted. Indeed, in New Zealand,
a Government owned research institute has already had contained
trials destroyed by activists. Threats of vandalism are no basis
for a defensible policy. But, equally, blunt assertions by experts
that the risks are acceptable are not in themselves persuasive if
people feel that the environment they live in is being exposed,
irrevocably and without their consent, to a risk they do not understand.
There have been, in New Zealand, calls for a moratorium on the
field release of genetically modified organisms pending an enquiry
by a Royal Commission. Such a commission if established would, not
withstanding the painstaking effort of enacting the HSNO legislation,
trawl back through the debate about the way in which GMOs should
be treated. The Government has rejected this approach, largely on
the basis that it would not yield any new information and would
be unlikely to narrow the gap between points of view that, beyond
a certain point, are unlikely to be influenced by evermore fine-grained
and voluminous analysis. In any case, there is something artificial
about having two or three eminent persons spend months if not years
hearing a vast amount of evidence if the outcome (a weighty volume
of carefully balanced words) is immediately rendered obsolete by
fast moving science. Such an approach also reinforces the view that
this is a matter that great minds can pronounce on when, in fact,
the issue is less about the quality of the science than the community's
understanding of the nature of the risks and its ability to debate
them.
On this basis we have opted, instead, for an independent advisory
group whose brief is an interactive, community-based engagement
in debate on an iterative basis rather than a single and purportedly
final pronouncement. Its membership spans science, community and
ethical expertise and it is tasked with staying ahead of the debate.
As such it is in a good position to pick up the concerns of a group
like the organic farmers and commence a dialogue that will, hopefully,
place the contested issues in context before legal processes are
activated. Between the two extremes of organic growers wanting the
entirely understandable assurance that neighbours shouldn't be able
to plant weedy, potentially hybridising close relatives of their
own crops next door, and the removal of any risk by prohibiting
any GM crops anywhere, there must be a middle ground. Whether there
is a middle ground depends on just how risk averse in the face of
uncertainty we are. Those in favour of a moratorium have, in a more
or less explicit way, referred to the sorts of propositions that
underlie the so-called precautionary principle. Characterised in
extremes terms, the precautionary 'principle' demands that a moratorium
or prohibition should issue when there is a threat of a reversible
harm even if there are doubts about the causal link between the
threatening activity and the possible harm, or the likelihood of
that harm coming to pass.
A letter published in a very recent issue of Nature points
out that this reading of the 'principle' leads to paralysis: that
"in the case of genetically modified (GM) plants ... the greatest
uncertainty about their possible harmfulness existed before anybody
had yet produced one..." with the result that no experimental process
that could show whether there are risks would ever be allowed to
proceed. In putting this problem down to "a common problem in attempting
to convert moral choices into legislation", Holm and Harris contend
that "the precautionary principle will block the development of
any technology if there is the slightest theoretical possibility
of harm."
This, I believe, is an extreme interpretation of the Rio Declaration’s
version of the Principle that talks of taking "cost effective
measures" to prevent degradation. This falls considerably short
of an absolute, blocking approach that would, if Holm and Harris
were correct, make intelligent risk management impossible. As I
have noted (above) the Hazardous Substances and New Organisms Act
in New Zealand makes reference to something called the 'precautionary
approach'. I have deliberately avoided using the term 'precautionary
principle' in any legislation that I have sponsored since it carries
with it the promise of a formula - a talisman of certainty - that
simply doesn't exist. A more pragmatic approach simply allows that
there is no unique principle of rational choice that can assist
us in these circumstances. I am clear, however, that there are real
risks in a precautionary approach that is prepared to place such
heavy weight on future risks that the status quo (with its attendant
risks) is automatically favoured. This would represent the replacement
of open scientific debate with a clumsy ideology of risk that would
ultimately be inimical to the very scientific enquiry we need to
manage pre-existing risks and those yet to be identified.
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