As I write this, protesters are gathering in my town and in cities across the globe to protest the increasing use of GMOs—genetically modified organisms—in our food supply. The “March Against Monsanto”, one of the larger proponents of this technology, is now an annual event that strives to educate citizens about the dangers of GMO products and persuade voters to take action against their proliferation. Currently the focus is on legislation that would that would at least label the presence of GMOs in various food items. It has been an uphill battle.
Some of
the anxiety about GMOs is legitimate.
With respect to the human food supply, genetically altered plants,
animals and bacteria could theoretically become a source of new food allergies,
increased toxicity, and reduced nutritional value. Genetically altered bacteria may confer
additional antibiotic resistance or give microbes greater ability to circumvent
the human immune system.
With
respect to the environment there is great concern that cross pollination
between GMO crops and native or “heritage” plant species will contaminate and
degrade these valuable genetic resources, which are vital to supplies of food
and pharmaceutical products. For example,
in Mexico, heritage species of corn already show GMO contamination. Growing GMO crops tends to require more
pesticides, and these in turn have an impact on the health of local ecologies.
To be
fair, concerns about GMOs have not yet been substantiated with much independent
research, so some of these fears are largely speculative at the moment. People who are afraid of GMOs are also often
afraid of large corporations. On the
other hand, people eager to maximize profit and efficiency and reduce cost tend
to be less concerned about long term impacts on society or the
environment. Human nature being what it
is, one suspects that political and economic motivations underlie the efforts
of partisans on both sides of the GMO issue.
Not
surprisingly, science fiction writers have anticipated some of these concerns about
genetic engineering or “tampering” as early as the 1930s. An interesting example is Stanley G. Weinbaum’s
Proteus Island, a novella published
in 1936—but see also his meditation on the hazards of human genetic engineering
in The Adaptive Ultimate, published
the year before. (See Maladaptations).
Sam
Moskowitz notes that Weinbaum was successful and influential because of “the
high degree of scientific authenticity he imparted to his otherworldly
creations, rescuing them from the realm of the fairy tale.” Though he studied chemical engineering,
Weinbaum gave especial attention to the exotic biology of the fantastic worlds he created, and one can see this
beginning with his first science fiction story, the classic A Martian Odyssey (1934). He also seems to have been intrigued by
language and the possibilities of communication between completely different
life forms. A linguistic focus underpins
some of the conceptual or back story content of his tales, and cleverly used, adds
interest and intrigue.
In Proteus Island, zoologist Alan Carver is
abandoned by his fearful expedition crew on a remote island off the coast of
New Zealand. Almost immediately he
discovers unusual, unclassifiable animals among the more familiar species of the
region. As he leaves the shore and progresses
towards the center of the island, approaching the origin of the mystery, he finds
himself surrounded by an ever greater variety of plant and animal forms. Which forms are strangely singular, with no
more than one of each represented.
But
the fact that bore home to him now was another stunning repetition of all his
observations of Austin Island—they did not resemble each other! Indeed, it occurred to Carver with the devastating
force of a blow that, so far on this mad island, he had seen no two living creatures,
animal or vegetable, that appeared to belong to related species.
Unique
among all of these singletons is a beautiful young woman whom Carver names Lilith,
after the mythological being that Adam supposedly encountered in Eden before
the creation of Eve. The allusion to the
Genesis story is inescapable, but Weinbaum keeps the reference a subtle one. Proteus
Island is essentially an adventure story of the “mysterious island”
type. But its structure, that of a “crime
scene investigation”, is reminiscent of another biogenetic-horror who-done-it,
Anthony N. Rud’s 1923 novella Ooze (see
also Clues
at the Scene of the Slime). Unlike
many pulp science fiction stories of the time, Proteus Island includes a credible though doomed romantic interest:
the zoologist cannot resist falling in love with his wild eyed female specimen.
Near
the center of the island, Lilith and Carver discover the ruins of a research
laboratory, that of one Ambrose Callan, a scientist renowned for his pioneering
work in “synthetic evolution”. Using a
process involving radiation and injection of modified chromosomal material,
Callan created genetically modified tree and animal species. Windblown pollen from the trees contaminated
all the other plant species on the island, and his animal subjects similarly
spread their disordered heredity throughout the local ecology.
Not
only did this disaster make the island’s denizens more ferocious and its
vegetation toxic, it ruined plant and animal taxonomy, making it impossible to
classify or identify life forms. In a
neat reversal of the Genesis story, in which Adam names all the animals in the Garden
of Eden, zoologist Alan Carver sees in Callan’s disastrous experiment the un-naming and un-creation of all living things.
Contemporary
readers may shun traditional Holy Scriptures like the Bible, but there is at
least science fiction to help us know what the future may hold for
humankind. The horrors of Proteus Island are very much the same
ones that terrify the protesters gathering for the “March Against Monsanto”
this afternoon.
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