Fruit growers wait as US trade access hangs in balance

In the orchards of the Western and Northern Cape, the trees now coming into bearing were planted years ago, on the assumption that the customers they were grown for would still be there. That assumption is under review. America’s African Growth and Opportunity Act runs until December 2028, but South Africa’s continued eligibility for 2027 remains unsettled, and the government expects an outcome on November 2. For the growers whose orchards will outlast the next diplomatic dispute, the difference between a programme being extended and access to it being retained is not academic. It is the difference between next season’s orders arriving and not arriving.

Parks Tau, the Minister of Trade, Industry and Competition, has offered reassurance: negotiations will continue, and government is preparing for either outcome. Both prudence and persistence have their place. Diversification is sensible, and so is preserving established commercial relationships; preparing for exclusion and trying to prevent it are compatible policies. But neither establishes that losing preferences would be painless, and the people who would feel the pain first are not negotiators but rural producers.

The national figures counsel proportion, and they contain some comfort. South Africa’s agricultural exports to America totalled an estimated $504m in 2025, down about 3%, a result achieved despite additional tariffs reaching 30% on affected products during part of the year. Yet annual totals conceal timing, since exporters accelerated shipments during a temporary reprieve, and receipts say little about individual producers’ margins. Averages can also mislead in the other direction. America takes roughly 5-6% of South Africa’s citrus export volume, but matters disproportionately to particular Western and Northern Cape growers. Smaller industries can be more exposed still: America absorbed 28.85% of South African litchi exports in 2025/26, a dependence that weighs heavily on the growers serving that market.

The tariff arithmetic itself requires equal care. Covered products now face a 12.5% Section 301 levy, distinct from the earlier “Liberation Day” tariffs. AGOA removes qualifying ordinary duties rather than this additional charge. Losing eligibility would restore ordinary duties on affected products, but rates and exemptions differ; some products already enter America free of ordinary duty. Exclusion would alter competitive conditions. It would neither impose an identical increase on every shipment nor close America’s border.

Table grapes offer a warning against relying on yesterday’s successes. Shipments to America fell from approximately 9,886 tonnes in 2024/25 to 1,609 tonnes in 2025/26, a decline of 84%, as additional tariffs, exchange-rate pressures and logistics complicated trade. This was not the consequence of losing AGOA. It shows that preferences alone cannot secure orders, and that aggregate resilience can coexist with sharp reversals in particular industries, with the growers in those industries carrying the consequences.

Seeds deserve attention too, and they cut both ways. South Africa’s specialised onion-seed producers supply North American customers, and their business rests on suitable growing conditions, skilled producers, varietal purity and certification. Reproducing these capabilities elsewhere takes time, and commercial seed relationships extend into breeding and crop production, giving them significance beyond the value recorded at customs. Yet seeds also expose the weakness of blanket claims: onion seed already carries a zero ordinary American duty, so losing AGOA would not automatically add one. Other seed classifications receive different treatment, and separate additional levies require separate scrutiny. Protecting these businesses means understanding tariff lines, plant-health requirements and customer relationships, rather than assuming every agricultural exporter benefits identically.

Ostrich products illustrate another overlooked connection. South African leather supplies the American market, while feathers and pet treats support specialised processing businesses. Such commerce links rural producers with customers and manufacturers abroad, and disruption can raise buyers’ costs as well as squeeze suppliers’ earnings, depending on available substitutes and how the burden is shared.

Agriculture’s investment cycle makes adjustment unforgiving. BFAP recorded almost 120,000 additional hectares of high-value fruit and nuts over the preceding decade, and projects that export volumes could rise by roughly 25% by 2034 as orchards mature. That is potential supply, not assured demand. Redirecting fruit into existing markets can preserve shipments while depressing prices for other growers. Diversification remains essential, but new customers require sanitary approvals, suitable varieties, shipping and distribution, and weak domestic purchasing power limits the relief available at home.

Meanwhile, reliable ports, credible biosecurity and efficient certification would strengthen every export strategy, and these practical reforms matter whether American preferences survive or disappear. Diplomacy cannot indefinitely compensate for domestic inefficiency, and domestic reform cannot recreate a lost customer overnight. The case for retaining access rests on preserving commercial options and the returns on investments already made, not on predicting national catastrophe. Indeed, the national effect of exclusion could prove manageable while particular rural economies suffer. For those communities, the relevant measure is not agriculture’s share of national output but the next season’s orders, wages and cash flow. Trees keep producing while governments negotiate. Whether their fruit earns enough to justify the next orchard is another matter.