Pâté, bonhomie, and a slap at engineered food

Marie-Helène Tarrieux was preparing for a clandestine operation that by the end of the afternoon would make her guilty of trespassing, property destruction, and theft.

But she was treating it more like a picnic.

Literally. She and her children needed strength to chop down an experimental plot of genetically modified corn, she said. So she sought shade from the broiling sun and laid out a small feast of foie gras cooked in Armagnac, potted duck, brown bread, a bottle of red wine, and small succulent peaches. "All from my farm," she said proudly. "I feed my ducks on corn, so I don't want any GMOs (genetically modified organisms) in my food supply. I want it natural."

Ms. Tarrieux is at the forefront of a swell of European feeling against GMOs that appears to be catching on among American consumers, too.

And as the European Union prepares new and stricter regulations governing genetically engineered food, a major trade battle is looming between Europe and big US biotech firms.

The biggest of those companies, Monsanto, was the victim of Tarrieux's attack Tuesday, not far from this small town in southwestern France, a region famed for its fruit and rich cuisine. The American biotech giant was also the target of two attacks Sunday, which it condemned as contrary to the "democratic spirit" and a roadblock to "calm and scientific debate ... for the benefit of consumers and citizens."

Monsanto had rented from a local farmer a small plot of land near Auch on which to grow an experimental field trial of genetically modified corn. French law requires that such trials - though not their exact location - be declared to the local village council, so its existence was public knowledge. Neighbors had spotted the experiment because the plot was too small to be of commercial value, and it was also tucked into a field of sorghum, far from other corn fields.

Last week, a radical small farmers,' group, the Peasant Confederation led by José Bové, launched their campaign to stop open field testing of GMOs, by launching symbolic attacks on such tests. Like GMO opponents who destroyed experimental crops last year in Great Britain, the French protesters fear that cross-pollination could contaminate nearby crops and insects, irreversibly spreading bio-engineered genes into conventional plants and animals.

"The agro-chemical companies want to impose GMOs on Europe by force like this," complained Jean-Claude Chatillon, a local cattle farmer and Bové loyalist.

"The point of actions like this is to start a wide public debate about the merits and risks of GMOs," said Jean-Emile Sanchez, national secretary of the Peasant Confederation, who had come to join Tuesday's operation.

Since 71 percent of the French are opposed to GMOs in their food, according to a recent poll, it is a debate Mr. Sanchez thinks he can win, even though the government is anxious not to close off what it sees as promising avenues of agricultural research.

Half a mile from the target plantation, more than 150 good-natured green guerrillas gathered in the mid-afternoon sun to prepare their assault. They made a mixed group - small farmers, students, environmentalists, antiglobalization activists, grannies, and children.

Their motives were mixed, too, to judge by their explanations of why they were risking prison to protest against biotech agriculture. The farmers were mostly concerned to safeguard their independence from multinational seed companies; many said they were worried that the food on their plates was getting worse and less safe; others were simply mistrustful of big business - especially American big business.

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