PESTICIDES

to be reached by spray contamination, it would run into the millions.’ So, for people living or working near farmland, perhaps the only guide to their risk of being poisoned is by checking to see what crops are growing around their homes and workplaces. Most, however, only make the link between their condition and exposure to farm sprays long after they have become ill. What’s clear is that the type of crop grown makes a huge difference to the potential exposure risk because each type has its own pesticide regime. Those living near cereal crops, for example, might expect the national average of fi ve or six chemical dousings a season. If, however, your local neighbourhood farmer is growing potatoes, then that fi gure goes up to around 13 sprays in a season. And if their speciality is fruit orchards such as apples, then 18 sprays a season is typical. The risk is multiplied even more by the fact that many farmers will use a range of different chemicals in each application and will change these as crops mature, so dozens of different chemicals can be applied to a single crop – and expose those living around it – over one season. For Downs, it was powerful evidence that pesticides were the cause of her illnesses, especially after she noticed

that some of the sprays that she and her family were breathing were also stripping the paint from her father’s car. She tried complaining to the HSE and her local environmental health department, but to no avail – because the farmer was breaking no laws. At this point, and following the lack of any assistance from the authorities, Downs decided it would be better to be away from home whenever the fi elds were sprayed. No small sacrifi ce, given that the main spraying season can run for fi ve months or so. ‘I ended up staying on friends’ sofas and going from one place to the next for weeks at a time,’ she explained bitterly. Adding with a laugh, ‘I was literally living out of a suitcase. Friends nicknamed me ‘the bag lady’.’

Enough’s enough By 2001, however, while staying with a friend, she decided ‘enough was enough’ and vowed to fi ght back. ‘I remember thinking, if a farmer is legally allowed to be doing this, then there has to be something seriously wrong with the government’s policy. From that moment on, I knew what I had to do. I had to change the government’s policy on pesticides.’ Downs knew nothing about politics. Her naivety at that time becomes apparent when she admits that she

thought her plan would only take a year. ‘I decided that I would put everything else in my life on hold for a year – my singing, work, relationships – and just give it my best shot.’ Five years on, and Georgina is known by her friends as the ‘pesticide nun’, having dedicated herself exclusively to this one issue. What made her task even harder was that her prime target was not scientists or ministers, but a mathematical model. It’s a model that has been used for years by the government’s Advisory Committee on Pesticides (ACP) and the offi cial regulator, the Pesticides Safety Directorate (PSD), to work out the risk such chemicals present to the public. When scientists talk about mathematical models in such contexts, it implies some kind of carefully calculated and calibrated means of working out genuine risk. It also implies complexity of a kind that only another mathematician could challenge. Downs, however, demolished the model with simple logic. She discovered that the model was no more than a piece of mathematical guesswork. It had never been formally published or subjected to peer review in any scientifi c journal. What’s more, it was based on the assumption that ‘bystanders’ would only receive occasional, short-term exposure from the spray cloud at the time of the

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application only and, furthermore, to only one individual pesticide at any time. It was a model far removed from the real-life situation, where residents and communities living near fi elds suffer long-term exposure to complex cocktails of potentially deadly chemicals. As a tool for calculating real exposures and health impacts, it was irrelevant. The government’s chief scientifi c advisors on pesticides fi rst became aware of Downs in July 2001, when she attended the ACP’s annual open meeting. She asked a number of penetrating questions, including whether each member of the committee would be happy to be exposed in the same way as she and her family had been. She left quite an impression on Professor David Coggon, the ACP’s chairman, which was reinforced by regularly questioning him at subsequent conferences and private meetings. It was in early 2002, after being accosted by Downs for two hours in a hotel bar, that Coggon invited her to give a presentation to the committee’s 2002 open meeting on the adequacy of the ‘bystander risk assessment.’ Little did he realise what he had unleashed, as it was this presentation that catapulted Downs and her campaign into the political and media spotlight. It included a video to illustrate the dangers of crop-spraying, made in her own back garden, starring a group of mannequins of a pregnant woman, two babies and a young child, all having a mock picnic. It was simple, but effective. The video, taken as the adjoining crops were sprayed three times in one month, shows the mannequin family’s repeated exposure to toxic chemicals as they sit on her lawn. She said: ‘I asked the committee members to raise their hands if they thought that the video showed an acceptable system for protecting public health. Not a single hand went up.’ Downs subsequently presented the committee with a database of the diseases she had found among rural residents and communities exposed to pesticides, which included clusters of cancer, leukaemia, non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, Parkinson’s disease, ME (myalgic encephalomyelitis) and asthma, among other conditions. Downs’ data also included a

substantial collection of case histories of people who had linked their ill-health to pesticides – many supported by their doctors. Some of the cases had been formally diagnosed as being pesticiderelated ill-health, but there was no overall statistical analysis to support her case. However, the sheer volume of cases and the consistency of symptoms in so many geographically separate areas spoke for themselves. Later, when the Royal Commission for Environmental Pollution (RCEP) carried out its own investigation, it, too, drew attention to the number and similarity of such cases, and recommended a proper, statistically based survey. Downs’ ACP presentation led to a meeting with Lord Whitty, the then farming minister, and Michael Meacher, the environment minister in December 2002. She showed them her video, and presented the case for a change in the regulations and legislation governing agricultural spraying. In particular, she wanted a ban on crop-spraying near homes, schools, workplaces and other places of human habitation, and direct public access to the information on the chemicals sprayed on crops. What happened next can be interpreted in two ways. Either the ministers didn’t realise the sheer scale of the inertia, vested interests and bad science that Downs was trying to tackle. Or they recognised a troublesome issue and cynically decided to fudge their response for long enough to make Downs give up and go away. Whatever the thinking, the response of Alun Michael, who by this time had taken over from Lord Whitty as the DEFRA (Department of Environment, Food and Rural Affairs) minister responsible for pesticides, was to order two consultations on the safety of the rules on crop-spraying – but to have them carried out by the Pesticides Safety Directorate (PSD). In effect, he was asking the PSD to investigate itself – which meant that, if it found any faults in the system, it would involve criticising its own protocols and, by implication, its own senior staff. This, of course, was never going to happen. The PSD, along with the ACP and DEFRA’s Chief Scientifi c Advisor

Howard Dalton, advised ministers in June 2004 that the existing system was robust and provided adequate protection. The PSD had cleared itself of any failures and declared everything in the pesticide garden to be lovely. But its report to ministers has never been released to the public. Meanwhile, Downs had been busy with the media and a fl urry of newspaper, TV and radio reports had shown that this was an issue ‘with legs’. What’s more, Alun Michael, the rural affairs minister, despite publicly expressing confi dence in the advice he had received, could see there had been a fudge. He decided to call in the RCEP and ask it to examine all the issues raised by Downs.

Breakthrough? This was the fi rst time in history that the work of a single campaigner had resulted in an inquiry by the Royal Commission. It was also likely to be the best-ever chance of having a full and independent inquiry into the archaic safety rules surrounding pesticide use in Britain. The RCEP inquiry started on 3 August 2004, and ended with its fi nal report, entitled ‘Crop Spraying and the Health of Residents and Bystanders’, published on 22 September 2005. By the end, it had heard evidence from a range of individuals and organisations, along with government agencies and advisors, and had travelled across Britain talking to people who reported that they, too, had been poisoned by farm chemicals. One rural resident, who gave oral evidence to the RCEP, was Sally Brown, who lives surrounded by fi elds in a small village in Suffolk. Brown has reported acute health problems, including sore eyes and throat, headaches and nausea. In spring 1996, Brown was in her garden with one of her dogs when they were both covered in spray as the tractor passed the boundary. The following summer, Brown’s dog died of cancer and Brown was diagnosed with breast cancer. This could have been a coincidence but, Brown told the RCEP, she had always felt there could be a connection. She also informed the Commission members of a number of cancer clusters in her village and in other places nearby.

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