Because without corn there is no country, and without drama either, apparently
In a plot twist that no one saw coming, but that we were all waiting for with the same eagerness with which we wait for the second act of a soap opera, the Mexican government has decided that, effectively, without corn there is no country. What a timely revelation, considering that we have been depending on it for a few millennia. Within the framework of National Corn Day, a celebration that surely competes in emotion with the day of the flag or the day of the counter, President Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo announced with great fanfare the creation of a program named after that monumental truism.
The program, which promises to be the salvation of small producers (or at least their next bureaucratic hope), has the noble and laudable objective of generating well-being. What a revolutionary concept! It will do so by promoting native corn through actions as radical as… *suspense*… guaranteed prices and the sale of products such as tortillas. Yes, the same one you eat every morning. The great innovation, they tell us, is that they will be made by the producers themselves. An idea so revolutionary that it almost seems taken from, I don’t know, the basic logic of the supply chain?
The Constitution to the rescue: What is modified is prohibited, what is ancestral is welcome
And this is where the plot gets juicy. It turns out that, in a move that would make any comic book superhero pale, the government made a constitutional reform to articles 4 and 27. The villain to defeat? genetically modified corn. Imagine the scene: GMOs, with their layers of genetic mutation, trying to infiltrate our sacred tortilla shops. The Constitution, our Magna Carta, was erected as an impenetrable wall to protect the more than 60 breeds of corn in the country. Because, apparently, relying on farmers’ common sense and market laws was not enough; we needed the supreme power of the nation’s fundamental law.
The President herself, in a tone that mixes the solemnity of a statesman with the urgency of an activist, declared: “If we had not put in the Constitution that it is prohibited in Mexico to plant genetically modified corn, all these varieties would be at risk.” A statement so forceful that it almost makes us forget that for decades these varieties survived without the need to be mentioned in a legal document from 1917. But who are we to question the dramatic constitutional rescue of a plant that has been domesticated for nine thousand years.
It seems that the native peoples, with their ancient wisdom, needed a little legal push from the 21st century to ensure that their legacy was not lost. What a relief to know that now, thanks to a reformed article, native corn can sleep peacefully at night.
The supporting cast: Secretaries, biodiversity and a touch of national pride
To give more weight to the narrative, the government team deployed its best talents. The Secretary of the Environment, Alicia Bárcena Ibarra, was not far behind and reminded us, in case anyone had forgotten, that corn is identity, food security and a symbol of resistance. Wow, and we thought it was just an ingredient for chilaquiles. He highlighted the small detail that their domestication began nine thousand years ago, a process that, ironically, was the first and most successful experiment in human-directed “genetic modification”, but hey, those are technicalities.
Meanwhile, the Secretary of the Environment of Mexico City, Julia Álvarez Icaza, provided her dose of data with a precision that would make any botany professor happy. He informed us, with the seriousness of someone announcing the discovery of a new subatomic particle, that in Mexico there are 64 races of corn. Sixty-four. A number specific enough to sound impressive and big enough that no one will check it. And he finished off with the jewel in the crown: “Mexico gave the world the most planted crop worldwide.” A fact that, without a doubt, we can be proud of… and that we will probably continue to be proud of as we import millions of tons each year for our consumption. Irony is a dish that is served cold, and is sometimes accompanied by an omelet.
The program thus joins other jewels in the government crown such as Production for Wellbeing and Free Fertilizer. Names that sound so good that you almost want to frame them. The promise is that very soon they will present an “even more ambitious” program. Because if there is something that characterizes politics, it is moderation when launching initiatives and sobriety in their appointment.
So there you have it. As you read this, perhaps with a quesadilla in your hand, know that that corn is not only feeding your body, but is the protagonist of an epic constitutional, bureaucratic and agricultural drama. A drama where the heroes wear suits and ties, the villains are microscopic, and the happy ending… well, that one is yet to be written in the next agricultural cycle.
Did you find this analysis as tasty as some good corn? Share it on your social networks and let your contacts also taste the irony of agri-food politics! And if you have a little space left, explore more of our content to continue digesting the news with a good dose of humor.
