Glyphosate plant running again

Nov 02, 2021

The production plant in Louisiana supplies Roundup’s active ingredient to all of North America

By Jackie Clark
Staff Writer
Farms.com

Beginning in spring 2021, growers and retailers in Canada have expressed concern over reports of glyphosate shortages. Those concerns persist as farmers plan for planting in 2022.

What started as supply chain issues due to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic was soon exacerbated by energy issues in China, and adverse weather in the U.S.

“Hurricane Ida impacted the Bayer Crop Science production plant in Luling, Louisiana, causing damage to the site and extensive damage to the entire region,” Komie Hossini told Farms.com. He’s an associate communications business partner for Bayer Crop Science.

The plant halted production on August 28 but was back online and ramping up production in early October.

“The site resumed full operations ahead of schedule and is back at full production,” Hossini said. “Demand for glyphosate remains high and we, along with all companies challenged by Hurricane Ida and other global supply chain factors, are working diligently to serve our customers. This remains a top priority for the company.”

The Luling plant is an important part of the supply chain that reaches Canada.

“Luling is a key site that helps provide 100 percent of the active ingredient for our Roundup branded agricultural herbicides in North America,” Hossini explained.

“We understand the dynamics of this topic and the importance of glyphosate supply for farmers,” he added.

The company did not comment on the shortage’s potential impact on farmers in terms of supply or prices of herbicide products.

Leonid Eremeychuk\iStock\Getty Images Plus photo

Video: The 15-Year Bet Behind Every New Variety!

Canada is trying to decide how much agricultural research capacity it can afford to lose. Brian Rossnagel believes the better question is whether the country can afford to rebuild it.

The longtime barley and oat breeder makes the case with a simple fact about his profession: the consequences of today’s decisions may not become visible for 10 or 15 years.

“Pick the right parents. That’s the biggest thing,” Rossnagel says. “If you pick the wrong parents, you’re not going to get anywhere—and you don’t know that until 10 years, 15 years later.”

That warning carries particular weight as Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada moves to reduce spending and streamline parts of its science operations. The department’s 2026–27 plan anticipates the loss of approximately 665 positions by 2028–29 and says some research will be reduced where capacity exists in academia or industry. AAFC says the changes will make its science operations more cost-effective over the long term.

For Canada’s seed industry, Rossnagel’s career illustrates what is at stake.

This fall, the retired University of Saskatchewan breeder will be inducted into the Canadian Agricultural Hall of Fame. During his 35-year career at the Crop Development Centre, he helped develop more than 100 barley and oat varieties, including CDC Austenson—one of Western Canada’s most widely grown feed barleys. His induction recognizes not only those varieties, but the collaboration and research system that made them possible.

Rossnagel is quick to emphasize that none of it was the work of one person.

“The first thing I thought about was all the other people who contributed to whatever success I and my program had over the years,” he says. “We know that it’s not an individual who does this. It’s a group—a team.”

That team extends well beyond the breeder whose name appears beside a variety. It includes technicians, pathologists, quality specialists, statisticians, regional testing sites, seed growers and industry partners. It also includes the breeders who came before and those who will carry the germplasm forward.

CDC Fraser barley, for example, moved through three breeding careers. Its parents came from Brian Harvey’s program. Rossnagel advanced the material after Harvey retired, and Aaron Beattie later guided it through registration and release.

That kind of handoff is normal in plant breeding. The person who makes the original cross may never see the resulting variety reach farmers.

It also explains why lost research capacity cannot simply be switched back on when budgets improve.

“If you shut it off, it’s very, very difficult—and particularly costly—to start it up again,” Rossnagel says. “If you have to start from scratch, it’s going to be at least 10 years before anybody notices whether you’re getting anything done or not.”

The concern is not simply how many experimental lines Canada can process. Modern equipment, statistical tools and genetic technologies allow today’s breeding programs to evaluate tens of thousands of lines—far more than Rossnagel could handle when he entered the field in the early 1970s.

But efficiency and automation do not generate every idea.

“If you pare back down, and instead of having six or seven individual scientists concentrating on wheat breeding, you go down and say three people could handle all this, well, that’s half the ideas gone,” he says. “Particularly if you happen to lose the three people who had the really neat and innovative ideas, boy, that’s a problem.”

It is a timely distinction for Canadian agriculture. Consolidating programs may preserve the volume of material moving through a system, at least initially. It may not preserve the diversity of thinking, regional knowledge or willingness to pursue unconventional crosses.

That regional knowledge matters because Canadian agriculture is not one uniform production environment. A variety suited to southern Alberta may face different disease, moisture and maturity pressures than one grown in Manitoba, Ontario or Atlantic Canada.

“Agriculture is applied biology,” Rossnagel says. “Biology, all around the Earth, moves from the poles to the equator. It does not move from Newfoundland to B.C. like politics do.”