Crete’s agricultural heart is once again on fire — not with the flames of summer, but with frustration. From Chania to Heraklion, tractors and pickup trucks line the roads, blocking key routes as farmers and livestock breeders call for urgent state support to survive another season of economic strain.
Their message, delivered through Radio 98.4 FM and echoed across local media, is simple yet piercing:
“We know this will inconvenience you, but we need you beside us for the survival of us all.”
That plea comes from Giannis Verykakis, president of the Chania Livestock Breeders’ Association — a man who knows that his island’s soil feeds not only families, but also the tourism machine that powers Crete’s economy.
Agriculture Feeds Tourism — Literally
Crete’s tourism and farming are two sides of the same coin. The island’s acclaimed gastronomy, its farm-to-table taverns, its PDO cheeses and honey — all rest on the shoulders of these same people now standing in the streets.
Verykakis argues that Greece lacks a true national strategy for its primary sector. He points to decades of policies shaped more by Brussels than by Crete’s realities — policies that, he says, “protect the North and punish the South.”
As European subsidy models shift, Cretan breeders face mounting costs, falling subsidies, and diseases like smallpox and sheep pox that have devastated herds. “We did not mobilize during the summer months because of tourism,” he says. “But we cannot hold out any longer. The state remains unprepared to help us.”
A Shared Future — or Shared Decline
Tourism groups have called on the government to open dialogue with protesters and ensure the island’s roads remain clear for visitors and transport. But for many in rural Crete, this is not a matter of convenience — it is a matter of survival.
Manousos Stavrianoudakis, head of the United Federation of Farmers and Livestock Breeders and a member of the Chania association, puts it bluntly:
“We fight for our survival. The policy followed is destroying us.”
The federation has announced it will meet again on November 23 in Larissa to decide its next steps — a sign that these protests may last as long as their frustration.
Tourism and the Roadblocks Ahead
In Heraklion, the Farmers’ Union (EOAS Herakliou) has expressed solidarity, highlighting what it calls the “economic suffocation” of small and medium agricultural families. The group’s planned rally at Karteros underscores a shared concern: when rural Crete collapses, tourism will soon feel the tremors.
Visitors do not come to Crete for chain restaurants or imported produce. They come for the olive oil pressed by a family near Sitia, the thyme honey from Kissamos, the lamb slow-cooked by a grandmother in Anogeia. If those people can no longer sustain their work, the island’s brand — the famed Cretan diet, the authenticity that draws millions — begins to crumble.
What Comes Next
Letters have already reached the Prime Minister’s office from the Agricultural and Livestock Party (AKKEL), demanding compensation for 2,000 families affected by state-mandated culling during outbreaks of livestock disease. Meanwhile, the Region of Crete has extended preventive measures for sheep and goat smallpox until November 5, 2025, effectively confirming the ongoing crisis.
But the real question is not political — it is existential.
Can Crete continue to market itself as a paradise of abundance while the people who produce that abundance are disappearing?
The island’s future prosperity depends on more than airport arrivals or hotel expansions. It depends on the hands that milk the goats, pick the olives, and cultivate the soil that gives Crete its soul.
So when you see a roadblock on your way to the beach or your flight delayed because a convoy of farmers has stopped the highway — do not roll your eyes. Remember what they’re really fighting for. Without them, there is no Cretan breakfast, no olive oil tasting, no authenticity left to sell.
