Roger Beachy had already engineered the world’s first virus-resistant tomato when he left Washington University’s faculty for The Scripps Research Institute in La Jolla, Calif. For seven years, his office looked across a Torrey Pines fairway to the Pacific Ocean, and at the end of the day he’d raise the blinds, put his feet up on the desk, and watch the sun set. In 1998, Dr. Bill Danforth invited Beachy to come back to St. Louis as president of the new Donald Danforth Plant Science Center and inspire breakthroughs that would change the world. Beachy agreed, and he continued his sunset ritual for the next decade—even though his presidential suite overlooked telephone wires and a water tower. “You look beyond them,” he says simply.
How did you persuade other scientists to come here?
With 40 acres of wonderful site and about $135 million in resources from the state of Missouri, the Danforth Foundation, and the Monsanto Foundation. Openness, state-of-the-art labs, a first-rate greenhouse, a first-rate tissue culture and genetic engineering facility…and interdisciplinary teams. We wanted collaboration. The most innovative science comes from mixing people who have different backgrounds.
What’s yours?
I started out in chemistry, but I didn’t see the connection to my natural surroundings, so I switched to biology. That was at Goshen College in Indiana. My grandparents were Amish; my father broke away and became a Mennonite minister. I grew up on a farm, and we always had a big garden, dogs and chickens, a goat to eat the garbage… There were six of us kids, and my job was the garden. Then I got into athletics—tennis and basketball, and I was actually a local champion in ping-pong, and second in badminton. So I was a pretty much all-round sports person. I wanted to win. And I took that into science, too.
Are you still Mennonite?
No, I have far less connection to organized religion than I used to. I see the complexity of the world being driven by natural forces, and I’m quite convinced that the more we learn about science, the more we’ll know how we can work with rather than against those natural forces. But I do not disparage religious faith. It kept me focused for many years, and it helped me be more caring.
Why did you decide to study plant viruses?
These little tiny pieces of DNA or RNA intrigued me. How can a piece of DNA that is way smaller than the smallest chromosome take over a cell and make it sick? Viruses are now considered to be involved in many more parts of our biology than we knew 50 years ago. They’re part of genetic diversity, and in some cases, they are clearly forces for good. In other cases, they run amok.
In the late ’70s, you were trying to understand cross-protection—how inoculating tomato plants with a mild strain of mosaic virus could protect them from a severe strain, the way a vaccine protects us. Then a few smart scientists learned how to clone DNA…
Mary-Dell Chilton was at Washington University with me, and she was trying to genetically engineer plant cells. I said, “If you get that done, I’m going to test it with my ideas about cross-protection, because I’ll bet I can make virus-resistant plants.”
And?
We struggled and struggled, and then Monsanto took what Mary-Dell knew, and what labs in Holland and Belgium and Germany knew, and combined all their knowledge. I said, “Can you help me?” We developed a gene fragment from tobacco mosaic virus, they knew the technology for genetic engineering, and we put those two together.
Did Monsanto drive your discovery?
The relationship was really a partnership of equals, not one of dominance. Monsanto’s less open now, because they have products. Back then, they were just doing research. And they had the best plant biology team in the world.
Was anybody else trying to do what you did?
Two other teams were working on it, one in Britain and one in Madison, Wisc. They had more money, but we had a better team. The first generation, the gene expression was very low, and Monsanto said, “Let’s try a different piece of DNA.” I had a grad student and a postdoc working on the project. I said, “You guys, you have got to get this done.” They made a batch of plants. I said, “When are you going to inoculate? Because I want to watch, and I want to help.” We checked after three days, nothing. Then after five days, I looked and said, “Holy cow!” Well, I didn’t say “cow,” I said, “Holy shit! Do you see what we’ve got here?”
What happened when the excitement settled?
We went on with confirming it, and Monsanto said, “Why not do it in tomato as well?” Very soon it went from me to cucumbers and papaya, and then it went to China, and when my paper was published, labs all over the world started working on it. Then you hold your breath: What if they don’t get the same results?
But they did, and you started flying all over the world explaining the technology.
They called me the TWA professor. I guess if I was an SOB, it would have all been different. There were labs that said, “Every time I talk to you, you have to list me on your publications.” Well, I didn’t make that rule.”
One group couldn’t replicate your results.
They were using a different class of virus, and it didn’t have the same structure. The lead scientist said, “We’re not getting any protein. We’re just getting small pieces of RNA.” And that was the beginning of small RNA, which is what the Danforth center’s current president, James Carrington, studies. It’s a regulator of many kinds of cell function, and can affect virus resistance.
Your tomato wasn’t the FlavrSavr, was it? It tasted terrible!
It did, but remember, they used that genetic trait on a ketchup tomato. It was just plain a mistake. The technology is really useful, and should be brought back in the right varieties. We waste 30 to 40 percent of our food. The third Green Revolution just might be a post-harvest revolution that finds ways to reduce waste.
[His phone rings. It’s someone from The Chicago Council, inviting him to be on a team that will develop agricultural policy recommendations for the G8 summit.]
Did you ever worry about unintended consequences of biotech, or do you think the risks have been exaggerated from the start?
The more we learned about the precision and predictability of the technology, the more sure we were. Plant breeders had been creating genetic diversity by X-ray-induced mutation that breaks chromosomes apart. Biotech does not disrupt natural processes. But there’s so little known in the general population about genetics and plant breeding—and it’s knowledge that creates comfort.
How did you react to the initial criticism?
I tried to address every question that was raised—first of all, by my mother, who said, “Roger, how can you mess with what God has put together?” She jumped right to the quick. Even scientists were concerned and raised questions, and those drove our experiments. Over time I became very convinced that this technology is as safe if not safer than the old methods of genetics.
What about the monarch butterfly scare?
The pollen did in fact slow butterflies from growing in a petri dish, but not in the field, because butterflies hatch at a different time than pollen is released. But still people throw it up. Everybody wants to take a potshot at this technology.
Europe especially. Why?
Genetically modified crops were coming out just when we had Mad Cow Disease, a case of dioxin being found in Coca-Cola bottles, and needles with HIV contamination. European countries didn’t trust the U.S. government, they couldn’t trust the scientists, and they sure as heck couldn’t trust the companies. Now the E.U. has spent more than $450 million in studies, and out of that has come, “These crops are as safe if not safer” than conventional crops.
You sound a little testy.
At what point is it time to say, “Look, the more research you stop, the more you damage the environment!”? Golden rice has got more Vitamin A, and they won’t let it come out, and the lack of Vitamin A is responsible for 2 million kids a year going blind. At what point are the protesters morally responsible?
Surely it’s good to question the technology, though?
Science has to address each question, and that information doesn’t make good reading in the press. Somebody said, “It kills butterflies,” and that was a story. What happened after that is very near immoral: Between $5 and $10 million of research was done just to prove it wasn’t right.
Because there’s always political gossip about this, I’ll ask you point-blank: What is Monsanto’s relationship to the center?
They were one of the founders, and they have one person on the board, but other than that, they don’t direct or oversee what we do. We develop new knowledge, some of which might have some relevance to what Monsanto needs to know. They work on large food crops; they don’t do a lot with advanced genetics in horticultural crops. They have looked at and I think licensed some of the inventions we’ve patented. The developing world gets them free, without royalties.
What’s been the practical outcome of your virus-resistant tomato? Can I buy one?
There are no genetically-modified tomatoes on the market in the U.S. right now. The cost of getting government approval has risen too high. There are virus-resistant papaya and squash here. A plum tree variety has been approved and should be on the market soon. Derivative and similar technologies are behind cassava, sweet potato, bean, corn, rice, banana, sugarbeet, and grapevine crops in development here and in India, China, France, the Philippines, Mexico, and Brazil.
In 100 years, how will people look back on the past quarter-century?
As a key step to global food security and sustainable intensification of agriculture. Some people think agriculture, to be sustainable, has to be small. It can’t be small and feed 10 billion people. Genetically enhanced crops are helping to build soil quality while increasing yields. Virus-resistant cassava, a subsistence crop, is being field-trialed in Uganda, Nigeria, and Kenya. If we are successful, their food security will have been helped by the Danforth Center.
Does St. Louis have a realistic chance to be a center for biotech?
Back when I left for Scripps, the talk was all about Technopolis; local investors and the universities had this dream—which would later get rescrubbed and reenergized as Cortex. In my interview with Dr. Danforth, I said, “Tell me what happened to Technopolis.” I was coming from San Diego, where you didn’t need a Technopolis; biotech drove itself. He said, ‘Roger, it’s going to get better.’ And it has.
How do we compare to other biotech hotspots?
When I was at Wash. U. in the ’80s, Research Triangle Park was kicking off. Nearly 30 years later, it’s recognized as one of the top 10 regions in biotech. St. Louis is still not an RTP, but it’s moving more rapidly than RTP did, and it’s steadily gaining on them.
What made San Diego so quickly successful?
There was money there—old money and new money, and a lot of people were throwing it around. In North Carolina, the state took up the gantlet. Here, it had to start with some institutions and a few individuals who went out on a limb. Very different culture.
Now even Kansas and Tennessee are trying.
There’s a stretch of highway in West Virginia where the billboards advertise biotech.
Will biotech and the organic movement ever find common ground, since both want to reduce pesticides?
It’s a natural fusion, but right now the organic industry is quite opposed. I offered to speak at a national meeting and they were not interested. Organic’s very popular for those who can afford the choice; but there is no evidence it is better for the health or soil. There are some organic practices that are very important, but they’re the same ones we strive for, like less insecticide.
In 2009, you went to D.C. to head the new National Institute for Food and Agriculture—a reinvention Bill Danforth had recommended five years earlier, when he led a USDA task force. What was the goal?
To place greater focus on competitive grants and raise the vision of research sponsored by the USDA. We were looking for collaborative, transdisciplinary research, regional solutions, and a more competitive grant process. Those changes were not, in the first six months, enthusiastically received by the universities.
What does NIFA need now?
Sufficient funding. The farm bill authorized $700 million, and we got to $262 million—we’re not even halfway there. Our global competitors are Brazil and China, and they are investing like mad.
Was budget frustration the real reason you came back to St. Louis? You used the standard “spend more time with my family” line…
The budget challenges were going to be significant. There were other challenges not worth talking about. And I really did want to be with my family; my wife remained in St. Louis. But I would not have missed those 20 months for anything. I’m much more effective now as an international spokesperson for agriculture, because I know more about how policy decisions are made in Washington.
Note: The introduction has been revised to reflect the correct date Dr. Beachy joined the Donald Danforth Plant Science Center, which was 1998.
