When the tomato becomes a hostage to diplomacy
Ah, the Mexican tomato, that red fruit that is now worth its weight in gold (or in tariffs, which is the same thing for that matter). The United States, in a burst of protectionism worthy of a jealous teenager, has imposed a 17% tax on our juicy product. The reason? Well, who knows, but it probably has to do with Florida not being able to stand to see us shine. So now, while Mexican farmers cry (or sweat, which is the same in the countryside), the plan is to look for new markets as if they were Tinder dates: Asia, Europe, South America… although, spoiler: everyone has excuses for not committing.
Japan and South Korea to the rescue? Not so fast
Gustavo Robles Balderrama, the lawyer who now has more stress than a tomato in a gringo supermarket, mentions that Asia could be an option. Of course, because sending tomatoes to the other side of the world is as easy as ordering an Uber. Between expensive transportation and local competition, the idea sounds about as viable as growing tomatoes in the desert. But hey, Japan and South Korea could be new destinations, as long as Asians like to pay twice as much for a tomato that has already traveled more than an influencer.
Meanwhile, Europe is so saturated with its own tomatoes that even with added value (read: putting a fancy label on it) we won’t be able to sneak in. And South America… well, there they also know what it’s like to suffer tariffs. So, in the end, the US market remains the former toxic one that we cannot leave behind. Irony? They need 3 million tons and only produce 600 thousand. In other words, they hate us but they need us. Typical.
50 thousand jobs at stake, but don’t worry, everything is under control (or not)
Here comes the good thing: if the tariff has its effect (and it will), we could lose between 5 thousand and 10 thousand hectares of crops. Translation: 50 thousand agricultural jobs straight into the trash. But don’t worry, because according to the president of the National Agricultural Council, Jorge Esteve, the tax will be paid by gringo consumers. Yes, those same ones who are already paying an arm and a leg for avocado. Conclusion? Your hamburgers in winter will have… air. Because 7 out of every 10 fresh tomatoes in the US come from Mexico. Florida, no matter how hard it tries, cannot replace us. Take that, sunshine state.
The funniest (or tragic) thing is that all this comes because the Tomato Suspension Agreement, that treaty that saved us from tariffs since 1996, was canceled by a political decision. The letters of support from 450 companies and even governors? Ignored. Because in the game of international trade, logic is conspicuous by its absence.
So, while Mexican tomato growers scratch their heads wondering if industrializing the tomato is the solution (tomato sauce bottled with farmers’ tears?), the government promises a comprehensive plan. Spoiler: no details yet. But hey, in two weeks there will be another meeting. Surely everything will be resolved there.
Moral? The Mexican tomato is the involuntary protagonist of a geopolitical drama. And meanwhile, we continue exporting… and improvising.
Are you outraged by this commercial game? Share this note and let the world know who puts the tomato on the US table. And explore more content about how Mexican agriculture navigates between tariffs and absurdities!
