Seeking value in GMOs
We routinely reward and punish software hackers who tinker with orthodox code.
Likewise, depending on the circumstances, society celebrates or demonizes folks who modify automobile mufflers, bicycle handlebars, firearms, constitutions, recipes and DNA.
Genetic engineering — the modification of organisms' cellular codes — apparently happens all the time, with and without human help.
While the debate over GMO foods may be polarized, the definition of genetically modified organisms is less clear.
Should we care?
A worthy beginning to the discussion lies in the microscopic nuts and bolts of GMOs, says Tom Vogelmann, a professor of plant biology at University of Vermont, and dean of the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences.
Vogelmann says it is helpful to remember that the transfer of DNA between species is a common phenomenon: a function, or tool — but not an ideology.
"Nature actually figured out how to do genetic engineering long before we did," he said earlier this month.
"It's an artificial distinction to say, 'Well, because it happens in nature it's OK; but if we do, it it's not.'"
Vogelmann offered crown gall — a bacterial infection of plants — as an example that enlightened 20th century researchers.
An enterprising soil bacterium, splashed into a gash of a plant's stem, will insert genes into the host's cells, he said.
Some of that code instructs the plant to build a protective, tumorous growth (the gall) around the bacterial colony.
Other codes coax the plant's metabolism to produce a specialized pair of amino acids to feed the bacteria, at the expense of the plant.
The growing ability to inventory the constituents of a strand of DNA — to sequence a genome — have given scientists an unprecedented glimpse into what makes an organism tick.
Climate change and food chains
Vogelmann recommended a conversation with Mary L. Tierney, a professor of plant biology at UVM because, he said, "She's actually doing this stuff."
Tierney spends a lot of time looking very closely at the workings of a mustard-cousin, Arabidopsis thaliana.
The plant, featuring a relatively small genome, admirably serves the purposes of researchers worldwide.
Tierney wants to learn more about what controls the way root cells take up water and nutrients.
A soil-dwelling bacteria — the same one responsible for crown gall — helps with the heavy lifting.
In the service of human interests, Tierney prompts this micro-engineer to selectively disrupt DNA in the mustard's genome.
By observing those disruptions, Tierney is able to identify, with precision, which genes respond to environmental changes in light, drought and interactions with other organisms, such as insects.
"What we learn in this model system helps us ask the right questions as we look into crop plants that share the same genes," she said.
"We could breed plants that would be more tolerant of marginal environments; breed plants that are able to grow better as our climate changes — because the current crops we have are adapted to the climate that we have."
Traditional breeding methods that pull variety from within the same species of food crop have "plateaued," and will unlikely keep pace with Earth's rapidly changing growing conditions and ballooning human population, Tierney said.
In theory, genetically modified plants would improve humanity's chances. But in most cases, the leap from lab to field remains hypothetical.
Public opposition to GMO crops, coupled with a time-consuming and costly federal approval process, have largely restricted the roll-out of transgenic plants to those with well-heeled backers.
Among the 30-or-so transgenic crops: Feed corn and soybeans, cotton, sugar beets and canola.
With less lavish sponsorship, transgenic "golden" rice was developed about 15 years ago.
It remains unmarketable due to concerns over its inadvertent spread to non-GMO rice, and unforeseen health and environmental impacts.
At the cellular level, the mutation appears to be straightforward.
Two genes inserted into the rice facilitate the grain's content of beta-carotene, a precur