Other Outside Articles

Rice wars

White Earth Land Recovery Project and Slow Food join forces to protect native stands of wild rice in northern Minnesota

by Elizabeth Noll
Minnesota Women's Press
April 20, 2005

A grain of rice is an unlikely object to be at the eye of the storm.

But that’s just where the chewy brown grains of Minnesota’s hand-harvested wild rice are these days. Wild rice is at the center of a controversy that pits the cultural traditions and environmental concerns of Native Americans against the University of Minnesota’s commitment to academic freedom, and puts the politics of an international movement to preserve unique and local foods up against an agricultural industry concerned foremost with producing a profitable crop. The controversy is now brewing in the state legislature.

Economic and spiritual sustenance

This year, bills were proposed in both the state House and Senate that would ban the cultivation and sale of genetically modified wild rice. But the battle to ban genetically engineered wild rice began several years ago, when Joe LaGarde, a board member of the White Earth Land Recovery Project, learned that Ron Phillips, a researcher at the University of Minnesota, was mapping the wild rice genome.

LaGarde and others on the White Earth reservation were concerned that by mapping the grain’s genetic code, researchers were taking the first step toward creating genetically modified wild rice, and that would mean the end of native wild rice.

“It would genetically contaminate wild rice stands,” explained Jennifer Tlumak, media coordinator for WELRP. “[In Minnesota] there are 60,000 acres of natural wild rice, and 20,000 acres of paddy rice. They’re often located right next to each other. Studies have shown that genetic drift can occur up to 13 miles from test plots. There’s nothing one can do to separate these two.” The study Tlumak refers to was done on a grass in the same family as wild rice.

Even the possibility of contamination was enough to cause alarm. Wild rice is economically and spiritually essential to people on White Earth and other northern Minnesota reservations, Tlumak said.

“Wild rice is an important part of the Ojibwe creation story,” she explained. “They followed a shell in the sky and were told that when they found the place they were meant to be, they would find the food that grows on the water.”

The Ojibwe (or Anishinaabe, as they often call themselves) use wild rice in traditional ceremonies, she said, and harvesting of wild rice is a culturally important event.

“People have been ricing for thousands of years,” Tlumak said. “It’s part of the landscape of northern Minnesota, and it’s part of the Minnesota way of life.”

That way of life has been slowly eroding for years, however. The University has been cross-breeding wild rice for decades and long ago developed varieties that are more easily cultivated. Most of the wild rice in the state that reaches consumers isn’t hand-harvested; it’s grown on paddies and harvested by combines. Minnesota isn’t the top producer in the country, either; California has held that position for over a decade. In 2000, California produced about two-thirds of the nation’s wild rice.
The widespread cultivation of wild rice has lowered the market value of hand-harvested rice, but genetic engineering poses an even bigger threat than economic insecurity. Unlike hybridization, in which researchers select for particular traits in wild rice using a variation of Mother Nature’s method, genetic modification tampers with the genetic code of wild rice in a way that would never happen without human intervention.

The pleasure principle

In November 2003, WELRP and its founder, activist and former vice presidential candidate Winona LaDuke, found an unexpected ally in the International Slow Food movement, which gave the organization an award for their efforts to protect wild rice.

Slow Food began in Italy nearly 20 years ago, as a protest against the opening of a McDonald’s in Rome. The organization seeks to educate consumers about the pleasures of good food and wine and the unique qualities of local foods; they also work to defend biodiversity around the world.

Erika Lesser, executive director of Slow Food USA, believes that protecting wild rice is critical for cultural, environmental and economic reasons. “WELRP is working with an entire culture to identify the traditions they have and encourage those people to retain and reclaim them,” she said. “[It’s about] respecting a traditional food system. We’d like to see a GMO-free zone created in the state of Minnesota. These foods represent our cultures and if that food is compromised by genetically modified strains of wild rice, it’s gone forever.”

“This whole concept of protecting biodiversity in our food supply is one that has real consequences,” she added. “One of the main reasons you have the incredible amount of chemical inputs is that we’re only growing one or two different kinds or varieties of eight or nine foods: that’s 95 percent of our food supply. Because they’re so homogeneous they’re incredibly vulnerable to disease and insects.”

For instance, a farmer who grows 10 varieties of corn—some of it drought-resistant—is more likely to bring in a harvest after a drought than a farmer growing just one variety, she said.

“The way we translate it is ‘Diversity tastes better,’” she explained.

Ronald Huff, a certified chef and the founder and leader of Slow Food Minnesota, wouldn’t argue that point. He says he can taste the difference between uncultivated, hand-harvested wild rice and paddy-grown wild rice that’s harvested by machines and gas-parched.

“I’ve cooked them both,” said Huff. “The paddy rice, once it’s cooked, it’s lackluster and turns into a gray mush. Whereas true native-grown wild rice is chewy. I insist that I can taste the lake from which it came. Its flavor is much more pronounced and has many undertones to it.”
The wild rice in Uncle Ben’s pilaf is black because it’s gas-parched, he said. That method of treating the rice also makes it harder to cook. “Most consumers complain about cooking wild rice because it takes so long, and that’s because they’re cooking paddy rice,” Huff explained.
He once asked a wild rice harvester in northern Minnesota how he fixed the grain. “He said, ‘We just cook it in some boiled salt water, and drain it, add some good cream and a spoonful of sugar and eat it like that.’ So simple. I like that recipe because it reminds me of true regional Italian cuisine,” said Huff.

The University and White Earth

In 2000, LaGarde came to LaDuke and asked for her help. LaDuke remembers his plea.

“He said, ‘Winona, go use your big mouth and help us, because we need help,’” LaDuke recalled.

The first thing LaDuke did was teach herself something about the issue: what it means to genetically modify an organism—often by implanting genes from another species; how common that is in U.S. agriculture; and what the environmental consequences are.

“For me it’s been a learning curve,” she said. “I didn’t know [much about this] and I don’t think most of the public knows. The more I learned the more upset I got.”
LaDuke and other WELRP representatives started meeting with University administrators and researchers, hoping to convince them to agree to a ban on genetic engineering of wild rice. But it was no use: though some of them were sympathetic, they would not commit to a ban.
Charles Muscoplat, vice president for agricultural policy and dean of the College of Agricultural Food and Environmental Sciences at the University of Minnesota, was at many of those meetings. He says he is on friendly terms with LaDuke and he values the University’s relationship with Minnesota tribes. He has driven to White Earth many times, he said, and he has visited the lakes where the native stands of wild rice grow and he has talked to the harvesters. He has tried to reassure them that what they fear isn’t even close to happening.

“We’re not doing genetic engineering on wild rice,” Muscoplat said. “Ron Phillips has promised that he wouldn’t do it. And we have no other faculty member doing it.”

He admits, though, that only the Board of Regents has the authority to halt research. He also admits that it could be argued that mapping the genome will make it easier for someone, someday, to genetically modify wild rice. But he believes no one will because there’s not enough money in it. “There’s no market for wild rice that would justify that kind of return. It’s just not practical,” he said.

In spite of the uncertainty surrounding the issue, the University will never voluntarily agree to halt genetic research on wild rice, said Muscoplat. To do so would compromise the U’s commitment to academic freedom.

“We are not going to agree to anything that’s going to restrict our ability to do research. We would never, ever do that,” he said. “Any special interest group could come in and say ‘Please don’t ever do this.’ We can’t agree to anything like that. We are here to pursue knowledge if it’s legal, ethical and fundable.”

Muscoplat and Tlumak agree that there are different perspectives at work.

“We look at the world differently than the Native Americans,” said Muscoplat. In the European scientific tradition, he said, “We dig, we explore, we find more knowledge. And that’s the antithesis of Native American knowledge. They accept that it’s a gift from the creator.”

“We’re looking at it from a Native perspective,” agreed Tlumak. “But this is an issue that should concern all Minnesotans. It’s a native grain of North America. It’s a national treasure. And Minnesota is the center for biodiversity for wild rice. That’s one of the reasons our campaign was chosen for the Slow Food award.”

On the feet of birds

According to Tlumak, members of WELRP felt that they’d gained some ground when the Senate bill, introduced by Sen. Becky Lourey (DFL-Kerrick), was held over until next session: it wasn’t an outright rejection, and it gives them time to strengthen their case. “We felt it was a victory,” she said. “What we’re working on in coming months is to bring stakeholders together, so when it’s brought up from the table next year, that it will be passed.”

LaDuke’s assessment was more cautious. “The campaign is going well, [but] we have a long way to go.”

Muscoplat doesn’t think the bill has any future. “The traditional agriculture [supporters] don’t want to restrict anything like this. They’ll not act on these kinds of bills.”

He reiterated that the legislation isn’t necessary. Even if genetically modified wild rice were developed, he said, researchers would have to go through a lengthy approval process with the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the Environmental Protection Agency and the Food and Drug Administration—and he doesn’t think it would ever be approved because of the high probability of genetic drift.

“We would need to prove to state and federal agencies that we’ve taken the risk out of it,” he said. “Right now, [wild rice] pollen from one lake gets to another lake. On the feet of birds, on the bottoms of boats, on the wind. It’s a small light pollen, it probably sheds pretty far. I promise you, wild rice pollen gets to another lake.”
“We would need to prove to state and federal agencies that we’ve taken the risk out of it,” he said. “Right now, [wild rice] pollen from one lake gets to another lake. On the feet of birds, on the bottoms of boats, on the wind. It’s a small light pollen, it probably sheds pretty far. I promise you, wild rice pollen gets to another lake.”

Said LaDuke: “I hope Minnesotans care about their wild rice.”

The proposed ban on genetically engineered rice

In March, Sen. Becky Lourey (DFL-Kerrick) and Rep. Karen Clark (DFL-Minneapolis) introduced bills in the state Senate and House, respectively, to prohibit “the release, planting, cultivation, harvest, and sale of genetically engineered wild rice” within Minnesota. The legislation wouldn’t halt current University of Minnesota research on the wild rice genome, nor would it prevent the University from any other laboratory-based research. It would, however, prevent the University (and everyone else) from planting test plots of genetically engineered wild rice, if researchers were ever to develop such a grain.

The Senate Agriculture, Veterans, and Gaming Committee, of which Sen. Lourey is a member, decided to lay the bill over until next session when any committee member can bring the bill back. During the summer, legislators plan to meet with tribal representatives, paddy rice farmers, staff from the state Department of Natural Resources and other people with vested interest in wild rice.

What is wild rice?

Wild rice is the official Minnesota state grain. The Anishinaabe name for wild rice is manoomin. According to their mythology, their ancestors were told by their creator to settle “where the food grows on the water.”

When wild rice is harvested by hand, by tapping the grains into a canoe, and parched over a wood fire, its color ranges from cream to chocolate brown. Many say this type of harvesting and preparation makes a rice superior in texture and taste to paddy rice, which is harvested by combines and typically gas-parched. The gas parching turns the rice black.

The University of Minnesota has been cross-breeding wild rice for decades to develop varieties that are easier to cultivate. Armed with these new varieties, paddy farmers have made California the nation’s largest producer of wild rice.

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White Earth members seek ban on genetically modified wild rice

by Tom Robertson, Minnesota Public Radio

all rights reserved
March 8, 2005

Bemidji, Minn. — For the Ojibwe people, wild rice is more than just a plant. Ancient prophecies lured the Ojibwe from their east coast origins to the Midwest, to a place where wild rice was plentiful. Mike Swan is White Earth's director of natural resources. Swan says wild rice is considered a sacred gift from the Creator.

"We give offerings for it," said Swan. "We give thanks when we go out and get some food for our families. We give thanks to... the Great Spirit, for allowing us this. And in our own history, Ojibwe history, we came to this area because of this plant, food that grows on water, which is wild rice."

Tribal members are worried the wild rice that has sustained them for centuries could fall victim to genetic pollution. Winona LaDuke is founding director of the White Earth Land Recovery Project. Her organization markets White Earth's wild rice internationally.

LaDuke is promoting a statewide ban on genetically modified wild rice. She's teamed up with Slow Food International, an organization that promotes the biodiversity and cultural identity of foods worldwide. LaDuke fears that as scientists tinker with the natural make-up of wild rice, it's only a matter of time before those modified seeds cross-pollinate with natural wild rice.

We believe it should be protected," said LaDuke. "We believe it shouldn't be genetically modified. And we're going to make a stand. And we believe the state of Minnesota should protect it as well, because it's a valuable and critical part of our state history and culture."

Not everyone agrees genetic contamination is a big concern. Scientists from the University of Minnesota have been studying wild rice for nearly two decades. A few years ago, researchers announced they had mapped a portion of the wild rice genome. That's the first step in tweaking the genetic structure of wild rice.

But researchers say they have no intention of doing so. Raymie Porter is a wild rice researcher for the University. He wasn't involved in the genome research. Porter says he's not aware of anyone anywhere in the world who is trying to genetically modify wild rice.

"Knowledge about the genetics of an organism is not necessarily something to be fearful of," said Porter.

Porter isn't a genetic researcher. He's considered a wild rice breeder. He cross-pollinates plants to come up with hardier rice that's less prone to damage by wind, insects and disease. Porter says the seeds are sold to commercial growers who cultivate wild rice on patty farms.

"I mean it's not like we're adding any new genes to any of the varieties that we've developed," Porter said. "It's simply a matter of selecting for certain traits that were already there in some frequency or other."

Some Native Americans oppose Porter's work. They say wild rice is a gift that shouldn't be altered by man. Porter says his domesticated wild rice isn't a threat to the natural version. He brushes off the criticism.

"If there's a scientific basis for it, we'll look at that," he said. "If it's a cultural or religious concern, then that's something that's not in the scope of my work to really address. I'm a plant breeder. We try to do what we believe is the right thing to do and the best thing to do for the people of Minnesota."

Porter's cultivated seeds would be allowed on the White Earth Reservation. The tribe's ban only includes genetically modified seeds. Those modified seeds are also the target of legislation supported by Winona LaDuke.

So far, that proposal doesn't have a sponsor in the House or Senate. LaDuke and representatives of Slow Food International are hosting a dinner in St. Paul to kick off their campaign. Then they'll begin lobbying lawmakers at the Capitol.

http://news.minnesota.publicradio.org/features/2005/03/08_robertsont_wil...
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