Norman Borlaug: The Genius Behind The Green Revolution (Page2)
Friday, September 15, 2017
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Borlaug recalled afterwards without rancor the maddening obstacles to the development and introduction of high-yield plant varieties: “bureaucratic chaos, resistance from local seed breeders, and centuries of farmers’ customs, habits, and superstitions.”
The need for additional agricultural production and the obstacles to innovation remains, and in his later years, Borlaug turned his efforts to ensure the success of this century’s equivalent of the Green Revolution: the application of gene-splicing, or “genetic modification” (GM), to agriculture.
The need for additional agricultural production and the obstacles to innovation remains, and in his later years, Borlaug turned his efforts to ensure the success of this century’s equivalent of the Green Revolution: the application of gene-splicing, or “genetic modification” (GM), to agriculture.
As Borlaug and other plant scientists realized, the use of the term “genetic modification” to apply only to the newest genetic techniques is an unfortunate misnomer, because plant scientists had been using crude and laborious techniques to obtain new genetic variants of wheat, corn and other crops for decades, if not centuries. Products now in development with gene-splicing techniques offer the possibility of even higher yields, lower inputs of agricultural chemicals and water, enhanced nutrition, and even plant-derived, orally active vaccines.
Borlaug observed that the enemies of innovation might create a self-fulfilling prophecy: “If the naysayers do manage to stop agricultural biotechnology, they might actually precipitate the famines and the crisis of global biodiversity they have been predicting for nearly 40 years.” After slowing the progress of gene-splicing technology by advocating excessive regulation, filing lawsuits to prevent the testing and commercialization of gene-spliced plants and even vandalizing field trials, activists have had the audacity to accuse the scientists and companies of having over-promised technological advances.
Borlaug’s story is a saga of American 20th Century exceptionalism – of opportunity, individuality, tenacity, courage and monumental achievement. He strove to exploit new technology in a way that was based on good science and good sense. Although he worked under the auspices of the Rockefeller Foundation, this was no pampered boffin working in sparkling, state-of-the-art labs; Vietmeyer’s account describes vividly the primitive and sometimes dangerous conditions that Borlaug endured in Mexico and how, lacking animals — let alone tractors — he and his few Mexican helpers plowed experimental plots harnessed like beasts of burden.
I was privileged to know Norman Borlaug personally during the last two decades of his life. As remarkable as his scientific and humanitarian accomplishments were, Borlaug’s modesty, guilelessness, and desire to contribute to society were also among his salient qualities.
Borlaug’s world-view was shaped by his roots and by his experiences as a young man. He applied throughout his professional life what he had learned during the late 1930′s when he saw Iowa corn farming transformed by the advent of new hybrid corn seeds and appropriate amounts of fertilizer. These advances boosted yields from the traditional ceiling of 30 bushels per acre to an astonishing state average of 75, which in turn transformed Iowa farming from subsistence to a more assured, civilized existence.
Borlaug had been shocked by what he saw when he arrived at the University of Minnesota as a freshman in the fall of 1933: “I saw these people out there on the streets in the cold, mostly grown men and whole families too, sleeping on newspapers, hands out, asking for a nickel, begging for food. This was before the soup lines.” Perhaps as a result of having gone hungry himself often during his childhood and college years, Borlaug’s modus vivendi might be summed up in several observations that he made about the importance of food and the application of science to feeding the hungry.
First: “There is no more essential commodity than food. Without food, people perish, social and political organizations disintegrate, and civilizations collapse.” Second: “You can’t eat potential.” In other words, you haven’t succeeded until you get new developments into the field and actually into people’s bellies. And finally: “It is easy to forget that science offers more than a body of knowledge and a process for adding new knowledge. It tells us not only what we know but what we don’t know. It identifies areas of uncertainty and offers an estimate of how great and how critical that uncertainty is likely to be.”
Jonathan Swift wrote, “Whoever could make two ears of corn or two blades of grass grow where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind than the whole race of politicians put together.” Norman Borlaug was such a person. Henry I. Miller, a physician and former director of the FDA’s Office of Biotechnology, is the Robert Wesson Fellow of Scientific Philosophy and Public Policy at Stanford University‘s Hoover institution
sumber: www.forbes.com
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Borlaug observed that the enemies of innovation might create a self-fulfilling prophecy: “If the naysayers do manage to stop agricultural biotechnology, they might actually precipitate the famines and the crisis of global biodiversity they have been predicting for nearly 40 years.” After slowing the progress of gene-splicing technology by advocating excessive regulation, filing lawsuits to prevent the testing and commercialization of gene-spliced plants and even vandalizing field trials, activists have had the audacity to accuse the scientists and companies of having over-promised technological advances.
Borlaug’s story is a saga of American 20th Century exceptionalism – of opportunity, individuality, tenacity, courage and monumental achievement. He strove to exploit new technology in a way that was based on good science and good sense. Although he worked under the auspices of the Rockefeller Foundation, this was no pampered boffin working in sparkling, state-of-the-art labs; Vietmeyer’s account describes vividly the primitive and sometimes dangerous conditions that Borlaug endured in Mexico and how, lacking animals — let alone tractors — he and his few Mexican helpers plowed experimental plots harnessed like beasts of burden.
I was privileged to know Norman Borlaug personally during the last two decades of his life. As remarkable as his scientific and humanitarian accomplishments were, Borlaug’s modesty, guilelessness, and desire to contribute to society were also among his salient qualities.
Borlaug’s world-view was shaped by his roots and by his experiences as a young man. He applied throughout his professional life what he had learned during the late 1930′s when he saw Iowa corn farming transformed by the advent of new hybrid corn seeds and appropriate amounts of fertilizer. These advances boosted yields from the traditional ceiling of 30 bushels per acre to an astonishing state average of 75, which in turn transformed Iowa farming from subsistence to a more assured, civilized existence.
Borlaug had been shocked by what he saw when he arrived at the University of Minnesota as a freshman in the fall of 1933: “I saw these people out there on the streets in the cold, mostly grown men and whole families too, sleeping on newspapers, hands out, asking for a nickel, begging for food. This was before the soup lines.” Perhaps as a result of having gone hungry himself often during his childhood and college years, Borlaug’s modus vivendi might be summed up in several observations that he made about the importance of food and the application of science to feeding the hungry.
First: “There is no more essential commodity than food. Without food, people perish, social and political organizations disintegrate, and civilizations collapse.” Second: “You can’t eat potential.” In other words, you haven’t succeeded until you get new developments into the field and actually into people’s bellies. And finally: “It is easy to forget that science offers more than a body of knowledge and a process for adding new knowledge. It tells us not only what we know but what we don’t know. It identifies areas of uncertainty and offers an estimate of how great and how critical that uncertainty is likely to be.”
Jonathan Swift wrote, “Whoever could make two ears of corn or two blades of grass grow where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind than the whole race of politicians put together.” Norman Borlaug was such a person. Henry I. Miller, a physician and former director of the FDA’s Office of Biotechnology, is the Robert Wesson Fellow of Scientific Philosophy and Public Policy at Stanford University‘s Hoover institution
sumber: www.forbes.com