|
MEXICO CITY--Boca de Lima is a collection of huts scattered among lush green fields in the
coastal state of Veracruz. Seven hours by bus north-east of Mexico City,
it has no electricity, no running water and one general store. It is far
removed from many aspects of modern life, with one notable exception: "Of
course we use pesticides," says Alfredo Gutierrez, a farmworker and father
of nine. Next door to Gutierrez's home, a man stands in the middle of a
lime orchard spraying weeds from a silver canister strapped to his back.
The blackened land behind him looks as if it had been hit by a flamethrower.
The man, who wears no protective clothing, not even gloves, explains that
this is a much cheaper way to kill weeds than hiring someone to do it by
hand. No, he doesn't think the pesticide will get into the limes.
Pesticides are big business in Mexico, but controls on the use of many chemicals--including
several banned in the United States--are lax, experts say. Still permitted,
for example, are DDT, aldrin, clordane, and clorobenzolate. Even pesticides
considered scientifically "safe" can be dangerous in a developing country
like Mexico, when semi-literate farmers ignore or cannot understand warning
labels or instructions for proper use. Too big a dose of a pesticide, or
a pesticide applied to the wrong crop, can be fatal.
The pesticide industry in Mexico includes multinational companies, private Mexican firms and the
state-owned company Fertimex. Multinational firms including Bayer, Ciba-Geigy,
Dow Chemical, Dupont, ICI, Shell and Union Carbide, held about 43 percent
of the market in 1984, the latest year for which Mexican government statistics
are available. Domestic production of pesticides has increased in the past
decade; in 1984, 31 of the 84 active ingredients used by Mexican farmers
were domestically produced. These included the more dangerous chemicals,
mostly manufactured by Fertimex. The business is lucrative: from 1981 to
1984, pesticide prices rose 93 percent a year, compared to 75 percent for
consumer prices as a whole, according to government statistics. And use
of pesticides is expected to grow in the future, as Mexico tries to squeeze
the most production possible out of current arable land to feed its fast-growing
population. "For companies that sell pesticides, Mexico is like a paradise,"
claims Dr. Arturo Lomeli director of the Mexican Association of Studies
for the Defense of the Consumer (AMEDC). "Everything can be sold here,
without restriction, and without regard for the health of the farmers,
workers or ecological impact."
A glut of competing products--40 brands
to kill pests on avocados, 103 brands for corn, over one hundred for cotton--
makes using pesticides especially confusing and encourages farmers to mix
dangerous "cocktails" of different brands, Lomeli adds. A 1987 Mexican
government bulletin, "The Pesticide Industry in Mexico," supports Lomeli's
claim. "There are a great variety of brands which more or less correspond
to very similar formulas, whose sales rely upon important publicity and
promotion campaigns." Lomeli, Mexico's leading consumer advocate, contends
that the government is reluctant to apply stringent regulations to pesticides
for fear of alienating the industry. "The Ministries of Health and Agriculture
don't want to make a bad image for Mexico," he charges.
But government officials and spokespeople for one major multinational, Swiss-based Ciba-Geigy,
deny that Mexican pesticide regulations are lax. "I'm absolutely astonished
that you have this perception," says Ricardo Dominguez, Ciba-Geigy's planning
director in Mexico. "The Mexican regulatory authorities follow very much
the very exhaustive U.S. regulations." Spokespeople for West German-based
Bayer and U.S.-based Dow Chemical declined comment. Juan Manuel Pardo,
technical secretary in the Ministry of Agriculture and Water Resources,
insists, "We're definitely not more liberal" than industrial nations. Pardo
says the Mexican government adheres to guidelines on pesticides issued
by the United Nations. This, he says, is commercial common sense. "The
U.S. and other countries would forbid the import of Mexican products with
forbidden pesticides." One aide to a subcommittee of the House Energy and
Commerce committee who has studied pesticide use in Mexico says, "In the
large growing areas in the west of the country, farmers generally do have
a large economic incentive to stay within the U.S. requirements." But the
aide adds, "The bigger problem is the smaller growers, mostly in the east,
who don't export on a regular basis."
Whatever the reasons, contaminated
Mexican exports do sometimes get turned back from the northern border.
Documents from the Department of Health and Human Services indicate that
at least 119 agricultural products imported from Mexico in 1988 had levels
of pesticides and industrial chemicals greater than allowed by law. Tainted
products included cantaloupes, carrots, lettuce, parsley, peppers, spinach,
squash and tomato husks. Pesticides and other chemical residues detected
included DDT, Endosulfan and EBDCs.
U.S. regulations, however, hardly constitute
an appropriate benchmark for safety where pesticides are concerned. Often,
"safe" levels of pesticides are established without necessary health and
safety data, according to the Natural Resources Defense Council. "EPA's
tolerances allow carcinogenic pesticide residues to occur in food, even
though no 'safe' level of exposure to a carcinogen may exist," the Washington-based
group contends. Even when Mexican regulations correspond to international
standards, enforcement is likely to be weak. "Mexico is making a rather
valiant effort [to regulate pesticides]," says one EPA official. "But Mexico
has the same problem as any developing country: they just don't have the
resources.
The registration is sophisticated but enforcement is weak."
In fact, the Mexican government is so strapped for money that large private
companies in the western growing areas have been forced to fund their own
labs to test pesticides, this official says. According to Ciba-Geigy's
Dominguez, "If a farmer does not follow the [directed] use of the product,
then of course there are problems. We work under Mexican laws. If we fulfil
those laws, we are doing all we can. We cannot be there 24 hours a day."
When Mexican officials do take steps to prevent poisoning by pesticides,
they do not always win popular support. Lomeli documents cases of contamination
by pesticides and other chemicals in a consumers' guide published twice
a month. In May, he reported the case of the "Lady Baltimore" candy factory
which threw out 20 tons of contaminated chewing gum--only to have people
collect the candy and sell it on the streets. A national alert was issued
but over one hundred people were poisoned. Similarly, when exports of agricultural
produce are turned back by the United States, "The food usually ends up
on our tables," Lomeli says. "We have never known Mexico to destroy contaminated
food. We eat it instead." For the workers who apply the chemicals in the
fields, the hazards are especially high. But the number of people officially
reported harmed by pesticides is "scandalously low," Lomeli says, in part
because workers themselves don't seek treatment. "They don't want to go
to a clinic, and they don't tell the boss because they don't want to lose
their job." Pardo insists that given its limitations, the Mexican government
is doing the best it can. "The U.S. is more preventative. Mexico is more
practical. We do not speculate about what a product could do," he says.
"Unless something's proven we can't do a thing. We are direct, practical,
concrete." Sitting with a reporter in his Mexico City office, Pardo illustrates
his argument by pointing out the window to a bird in a tree. "I don't have
time to think about what could kill a bird. I wait until the bird dies."
Samantha Sparks writes frequently for Multinational Monitor.
|
