Dear Editor,
“In a recent GOINVEST release, CEO Peter Ramsaroop disclosed that global agro‑processing giant Del Monte has submitted an expression of interest in Guyana—an exciting and potentially game‑changing development for our emerging agro‑industrial sector. As we weigh this opportunity, there are several substantive points that should guide our national approach.”
Guyana stands at a rare moment in its history. We are being courted not just as a producer of raw commodities, but as a potential agro‑industrial hub for CARICOM and beyond. The vision is compelling: modern storage and processing plants, farm‑to‑market roads, upgraded ports, reliable markets for farmers, and branded Guyanese products on supermarket shelves across the hemisphere. In that context, the interest of major global players like Del Monte will understandably look like a glittering prize.
Yet precisely because the upside is real, we cannot afford to be naïve about the risks. The story of Del Monte and similar agribusiness giants in Latin America and elsewhere is not just one of capital and markets; it is also one of labour disputes, land conflicts, one‑sided contracts, and communities left exposed when corporate strategies or balance sheets change. If we only stare at the gold ceiling, we may miss the fault lines running underneath.
The first point policymakers must hold in view is that global agribusiness is structurally designed to concentrate value at the top of the chain. A company like Del Monte brings scale, logistics, and marketing muscle, but it also brings bargaining power that can overwhelm small states and fragmented producer groups. Without strong regulatory frameworks and shrewd negotiating, the result can be a model where farmers and workers absorb the risk, while the multinational extracts the rent. For a country trying to lift rural incomes and widen ownership, that would be a tragic misstep.
Land is the second fault line. Experiences in other regions show how quickly large‑scale plantations and long‑term leases can slide into “land grabs” if titles are unclear, Indigenous and hinterland communities are not properly consulted, or agreements are negotiated in the shadows. Guyana’s hinterland remains one of our most sensitive and contested spaces, not just in environmental terms but in cultural and social ones. Any deal that hands over vast tracts of land for decades, without transparent scrutiny and free, prior and informed consent, risks planting the seeds of future conflict and resentment.
Labour is a third area where the shine can fade. Allegations in other countries have included poor working conditions, hostility to unions, and the use of precarious contracts that reduce workers to “permanent temporary” status. If Guyana is serious about making women and youth central to agricultural transformation, as the Government has repeatedly promised, then we cannot build that future on a labour model that keeps workers disposable and voiceless. A cheap‑labour strategy may boost export volumes, but it will not deliver dignified livelihoods or social stability.
More recently, the financial fragility of some Del Monte operations has exposed another risk: dependency.
When a multinational restructures, files for bankruptcy in one arm of its business, or shifts its sourcing strategy, the pain is often felt far from the boardroom—by farmers who planted to specification, borrowed against long‑term contracts, and suddenly find themselves with no buyer and no leverage. For a small economy like Guyana, tying too much of our agricultural future to a single corporate off‑taker would be reckless.
None of this is an argument for slamming the door on Del Monte or any other major investor. On the contrary, if Guyana wants to move from raw exports to true agro‑industrial scale, we will almost certainly need to work with some of the very firms whose histories give us pause. The point is not to reject them, but to outgrow the old “banana republic” script by setting our own terms—and enforcing them.
What might that look like in practice?
It would mean, first, insisting that land agreements are transparent, time‑bound, and subject to parliamentary and public scrutiny, especially where Indigenous or communal lands are concerned. It would mean making free, prior and informed consent a non‑negotiable principle, not a tick‑box exercise. It would mean embedding strong labour protections—living wages, safe conditions, and freedom of association—directly into investment agreements, backed by independent monitoring and real sanctions for breaches.
It would also mean treating contract farming as a development tool, not a trap. Farmers should not be reduced to price‑takers with all the risk and none of the security. Clear pricing formulas, take‑or‑pay obligations, reasonable notice periods, and performance guarantees can help ensure that when corporate strategies shift, local producers are not left stranded with debts and rotting crops. In a similar vein, Guyana should tie fiscal incentives to measurable commitments on local value‑addition, technology transfer, and capacity‑building, so that more of the value chain remains in national hands.
Finally, the Government must approach any negotiation with Del Monte—and any other agro‑industrial giant—with the confidence that this is Guyana’s project, not theirs. The national objective is to build a diversified, climate‑smart, inclusive food system that serves our people first, and then the region and the world. Multinationals can be useful partners in that journey if they are carefully regulated, minority anchors in locally grounded ventures, and held to standards that reflect our constitutional values and development goals.
The worst outcome would be to rush into a deal dazzled by the promise of quick acreage and export tonnage, only to wake up in a decade with exhausted soils, disenfranchised communities, and a heavily foreign‑controlled sector. The best outcome is still within reach: to use global capital and expertise to accelerate Guyana’s own vision, while safeguarding land, labour, and long‑term sovereignty over our agro‑industrial future.
As the government enters any room with Del Monte or its peers, it should walk in with eyes wide open. The gold ceiling is real—but so are the cracks beneath it. The task now is to ensure that, in building this new agro‑industrial house, Guyana chooses foundations that will not crumble the moment the global winds change.