In recent months, Mexico has witnessed something many in power thought would never happen again: the agricultural sector has grown tired of waiting. Organized producers, assemblies, road blockades, open letters, failed meetings with officials. What some try to dismiss as “traffic problems” is, in reality, a cry for economic survival.
In Sinaloa, this cry is backed by very clear data. According to INEGI (the Mexican National Institute of Statistics and Geography), the state’s Gross Domestic Product fell by 0.5 percent in 2024. This is not a technical variation without consequences: primary activities plummeted by 7.2 percent, and within that sector, agriculture fell by 11.1 percent. Construction sank by 18.1 percent. When the agricultural sector suffers and productive investment stagnates, it’s not just one sector that suffers: all of Sinaloa suffers.
In our state, one out of every ten pesos of GDP is spent on planting, irrigating, and harvesting. That simple proportion explains far more than any rhetoric. If the countryside collapses, Sinaloa kneels; if the countryside endures, Sinaloa rises.
And yet, despite the neglect and uncertainty, the producers keep pushing forward. INEGI itself reports that, by the second quarter of 2025, Sinaloa’s economic activity will grow by 2.3 percent annually. Who is sustaining this growth? Primary activities, which are rebounding by more than 30 percent, while secondary activities are barely advancing and services remain stagnant or in the red. It is not the government that is supporting the countryside; it is the countryside that is supporting this government.
That is the great contradiction of Morena’s agri-food policy: they boast of macroeconomic stability, but behind it all are bankrupt producers, unpayable debts, mortgaged plots of land, and entire families living on the edge of a harvest that doesn’t always even cover costs. Institutions that supported producers were dismantled, development programs were cut, and the budget was used more for patronage than for productivity.
Instead of improving what worked, they distorted it. Instead of listening to those who know how to farm, they chose to manage discontent with social programs. The message has been clear: “Take the handouts and don’t organize.” The farmers’ response has also been clear: “We don’t want handouts, we want the conditions to produce.”
That’s why the farmers’ resistance is so unsettling. Because it demonstrates, with concrete facts, that the model isn’t working. Because it reminds us of something some easily forget: without fair prices, without certainty, and without respect for promises made, social peace is impossible.
But it’s not enough to describe the problem; we have to clearly state what kind of countryside we want.
We want a productive and competitive countryside, one that can contribute to economic growth and social well-being with clear rules, accessible credit, adequate infrastructure, and safe roads. A countryside where food production is a profitable activity, not a sentence to bankruptcy.
We want an environmentally sustainable countryside, capable of adapting to climate change and caring for its natural resources. Without water, without healthy soil, and without a responsible vision for the land, the future of the countryside becomes everyone’s past.
We want a countryside of productive inclusion, where small producers have real access to technology, value chains, and markets; where women, youth, and Indigenous communities are not left behind. There can be no rural development with first-class and third-class farmers.
And we want a countryside where the rule of law prevails: where the presence of the State means security, justice, and rules that are enforced, not threats, criminalization of protest, or complicit silence in the face of violence.
The resistance of farmers has forced those in power to listen to what they previously scorned. They have overturned unjust decisions and, through blockades, assemblies, and organization, have drawn the map of the countryside we need. The question is no longer whether their struggle is legitimate. The question is whether the institutions, including ours, will rise to the challenge.
From my position as a congresswoman, my stance is firm: standing with the farmers is not a political strategy, it’s an ethical obligation. Because when the government turns its back on the farmers, they organize. And when the farmers organize, what’s at stake isn’t just the price of a harvest: it’s the economic and social future of Sinaloa.
Source: msn
