Not Paper, Just Tomatoes
Diego Martín Velázquez Caballero
The fact that almost 100% of the production of such a basic agricultural product as tomatoes is destined for export to a single country constitutes absolute proof of the profound asymmetrical and colonial integration that Mexico maintains with the Yankee Empire.
The concern of large landowners about Trump's tariffs is legitimate from their business perspective; however, should they be thinking about domestic consumption? In other words, could the tomato businessmen and landowners in our country be kind enough to ensure people could access this agricultural product without the radical variation it presents in the market? The same is true of products ranging from cilantro to lemons in the variety of our folkloric national cuisine.
The humanism of businessmen and landowners in our country is incredible; they might as well be Japanese to feel proud of the situation! The United States' absorption in Mexican tomatoes is more than paradoxical; Furthermore, there are almost no farmers left in Mexico since everyone is going to plant tomatoes, but in the United States! This highlights how the US economic influence not only attracts our workforce but also disrupts domestic production chains.
Tomato production in Mexico, during the neoliberal era, was designed on a massive scale for export and targeted at specific North American markets, with standards and prices that often don't align with the consumption capacity of the Mexican population in general, or that don't offer the same profits as the external market.
The case of the tomato demonstrates the frustration and sense of hopelessness that the majority of the population feels toward its ruling and economic class. It seems that in Mexico the United States solves everything, starting with tomatoes. Any government project, public policy, or national project is simply useless against the immense power of the American Union.
Has US imperialism fallen? Ask the Mexicans.
Millions of Mexicans, especially those in rural areas with few opportunities, see migration to the United States as the only tangible avenue for socioeconomic advancement.
Remittances become the engine of the local economy, filling the gaps that national public policies fail to address, or simply fail to mitigate.
In this context, school, local commerce, or farm work seem insufficient or downright useless options in the face of the dollar's purchasing power.
This generates a structural dependency that is palpable and understandable at the individual and community levels.
The tomato example is another manifestation of this same dependency.
The actions of the ruling class, neoliberal or whoever, increase frustration.
What would the reality of Zacatecas be like if Andrés Bermúdez Viramontes—the tomato king—had been governor? Who did more good for the state: the tomato king or the Monreals? It seems as if Mexico has been ruled by nothing but Monreal since time immemorial, like in Bruno Traven's novels.
What would the Tomato King think of the landowners who don't want to sell their tomatoes cheaply to Mexicans in Mexico, even though they would also destroy production in volume?
It seems impossible to reduce Mexico's vulnerability to the United States; the Morena left doesn't even understand the country's structural weakness vis-à-vis the BRICS, and they won't listen either.
The Noroñas and Monreales remain the only answer.
Excessive dependence on a single external factor (remittances, a single export market) makes Mexico incredibly vulnerable to economic and political fluctuations in the United States.
If immigration laws are further tightened tomorrow, or if remittances decline drastically, what will happen to the country? The need for effective public policies is more than urgent; but what is essential is to destroy the ruling corruption of the fiefdoms in Mexico.
