Monday, Feb. 14, 1994

Brave New World of Milk

By Philip Elmer-DeWitt

They gathered last week outside supermarkets and shopping malls in Chicago, Minneapolis, Washington and other U.S. cities, carrying signs and posing for TV cameras in goofy-looking cow suits. A young woman in Manhattan dumped a bucket of milk onto a frozen sidewalk. A man in Madison, Wisconsin, dragged white plastic cartons stamped with the skull and crossbones up the steps of the state capitol. Two dozen demonstrators marched in front of Atlanta's Toco Hills shopping center with a banner that read stop the "frankenfood" -- save the cows.

What roused these '60s-style protesters was a quintessentially '90s issue: whether a genetically engineered hormone that went on sale last week after nearly 10 years of legal wrangling threatens the safety of American milk. The hormone, a natural protein found in cows, is being artificially manufactured in vats of genetically altered bacteria. When cows are regularly given extra doses of the hormone, their milk production can rise as much as 15%. Scientists call the chemical bovine somatotropin (BST) or, more simply, bovine growth hormone (BGH), and it is marketed under the trade name Posilac.

Monsanto, which reports brisk sales in its new product, insists that milk from BGH-treated cows is indistinguishable from ordinary milk. The Food and Drug Administration, the National Institutes of Health and the American Medical Association agree. Says FDA Commissioner David Kessler: "There's virtually no difference between treated and untreated cows."

But critics, organized by antibiotech gadfly Jeremy Rifkin, don't buy that line. They point out that cows treated with BGH are more susceptible to udder infections, and they are worried that unless milk is rigorously inspected, antibiotics used to treat the cows could find their way into the milk supply. While there is a germ of truth to their argument, their tactics -- and their rhetoric -- go overboard. Calling BGH "crack for cows," an alert issued by Rifkin's Washington-based Foundation on Economic Trends warned consumers -- erroneously -- that ice cream and infant formula from treated cows would be "laced with genetically altered, artificial hormones" and "large amounts of pus."

Fearing that milk's carefully nurtured image as the perfect food might be at stake, some retailers and distributors took action. Kroger, the nation's largest supermarket chain, is asking suppliers to avoid buying milk from BGH- treated cows, and some companies are trying to find a way to mark their milk products "hormone free." But others, like A&P, are standing pat. Such labels, they point out, are meaningless, because no test can distinguish artificial BGH from the natural variety.

Caught in the middle are 140,000 U.S. dairy farmers who, having run up a milk surplus for years, are split over whether extra production is good. Some farmers are angry at having "technology shoved down our throats," says Jim McGhee, who runs an 18-cow dairy farm near Hollandale, Wisconsin. But many say that if BGH will help their bottom lines, they're willing to try it. The big question is whether consumers can approach the supermarkets with an equally receptive attitude.

With reporting by Janice M. Horowitz/New York, Michael Riley/Atlanta and Dick Thompson/Washington