“I wouldn’t drink that juice if you paid me!”
And so began my conversation with a fellow traveller sitting next to me at the airport, as we waited for our flight. She had glanced at my laptop and saw an item I was perusing with the headline “Purple tomato juice from genetically modified fruit engineered for health benefits.”
Courtesy required some sort of response, which I made with trepidation, having a feeling about the direction the discussion was about to take. I thought about mentioning that I wasn’t in the business of paying strangers to try unusual beverages, but I finally I came up with the more benign “And why not?” As I suspected, that unleashed a torrent of rhetoric about evil multinational companies foisting untested genetically modified foods on us.
“What health benefits?” she said. “Those foods are making us sick.”
I wasn’t really surprised by the onslaught; after all, this is not a unique view. No, genetically modified foods are not making us sick. Studies attesting to their safety are overwhelming. But can we say with certainty that no untoward effects will ever arise? Of course not. That is a naive expectation that science can never meet. All we can do is come to some conclusion about risks and benefits, based on the current state of knowledge.
My new acquaintance was wrong about genetically modified foods making us sick, but she was correct in questioning their health benefits. Up to now, it is only farmers who have benefited from crops resistant to herbicides and insects grown from genetically modified seeds. Indeed, one of the reasons for public skepticism about genetic modification is the lack of any obvious benefit to the consumer. The purple tomato is a step, admittedly a small one, toward demonstrating that health benefits are possible, and that pursuing the technology along these lines is worthwhile.
The purple colour is due to an accumulation of anthocyanins, compounds that occur widely in nature, although not in conventional tomatoes. They are responsible for the stunning hues of autumn leaves and the various colours of flowers, fruits and berries. But plants do not produce anthocyanins as entertainment for our eyes; it is reproduction they have in mind. Colourful flowers and fruits attract insects and animals to spread pollen and seeds. The tomato, however, produces very little of these compounds, relying mostly on lycopene from the carotenoid family to attract attention. But use a clever bit of genetic engineering to introduce a couple of genes from the ornamental snapdragon, and presto, you have a purple tomato, and an obvious question. Why would anyone want such a thing? It all comes down to paying attention to the growing body of evidence that the optimal diet is mostly plant-based.
Numerous studies have linked a lower rate of heart disease, cancer, obesity and diabetes with a largely plant-based diet. Is that because plants contain special disease-preventing compounds, or because a meaty diet contains disease promoters? Or is it a combination of these factors? Based on laboratory studies, animal experiments and human epidemiological data, the anthocyanins have stirred interest as potential disease-preventing compounds.
I tried to explain all this to my seatmate, and yet she still maintained that she would steer clear of any genetically modified foods since she had “no need of the genes they put into purple tomatoes.”
Having made her point, she proceeded to take a sip from the soft drink she had been nursing and ripped open a bag of potato chips.
Not an anthocyanin in sight.
Sigh.