It’s not every day that a local government run by Morena turns its finger against the very federal projects it once celebrated. But that’s exactly what’s happening in Tulum. In an unexpected twist, local officials are now blaming the soaring ambitions of Mexico’s so-called Fourth Transformation, spearheaded by President Andrés Manuel López Obrador, for the financial turbulence hitting this once-booming beachside municipality.
And they’re doing it loudly.
At a recent press conference, councilman Eugenio Barbachano, a member of Mayor Diego Castañón’s team, didn’t mince words. With numbers in hand and frustration in his voice, he pointed to Tulum’s spiraling debt and placed the blame not on municipal spending, but on three towering federal megaprojects: the Tren Maya, the Tulum airport, and the Parque del Jaguar.
“It’s not working,” he said flatly. “These projects are not bringing in the tourism. They’re not generating the well-being they promised.”
The statement struck a nerve, not only for what it said but for who was saying it.
A public rift inside the same political family
The controversy isn’t just about budget gaps or half-empty terminals. It’s about trust, party loyalty, and what happens when bold national promises crash into local realities.
Tulum’s government, like the federal one, flies under the banner of Morena. The projects now under fire, the Tren Maya slicing through the jungle, the recently inaugurated Felipe Carrillo Puerto International Airport, and the eco-tourism-themed Parque del Jaguar, were all born from AMLO’s vision of transformation. They were meant to usher in a new era for southern Mexico: more jobs, better infrastructure, a boost in regional tourism.
Instead, according to Barbachano, they’ve delivered economic strain.
Tulum’s municipality, once flush with real estate revenue and tourist taxes, is now navigating what the councilman called a “moderate but responsible debt situation.” But rather than own up to local mismanagement, officials have shifted focus to what they describe as failed federal bets.
“We’re talking about 50 million pesos here,” Barbachano emphasized, “while the Tren Maya costs 600 billion pesos. The airport, billions more. And yet they’re not pulling their weight.”
It’s a bold accusation, one that seems to chip away at the unity of the very political movement that put both AMLO and Castañón in power.
Between potential and performance: the numbers don’t lie
Barbachano’s statements go beyond rhetoric. They reflect growing local unease about whether these grand federal projects are actually delivering returns. And on the ground, the signs are hard to ignore.
International flights to the new airport are reportedly down. Airlines are pulling routes. Visitors are opting for Cancún or Playa del Carmen instead. And despite millions poured into eco-restoration, the Parque del Jaguar is struggling to gain traction among tourists and locals alike.
“The airport isn’t even in Tulum,” Barbachano noted with a pinch of sarcasm. “It’s in Felipe Carrillo Puerto. And if there’s no efficient transportation, what airline is going to stay? What tourist is going to come back?”
That frustration echoes through many local businesses, particularly those relying on predictable tourist flows. For them, empty planes mean empty rooms. And federal inefficiencies, especially under the military-led administration of Sedena, which now runs the airport, feel like a betrayal.
“The numbers don’t lie,” Barbachano said, almost daring someone to prove him wrong. “You can make 500 videos about success. But if the data says otherwise, then we need to talk about it.”
The growing pattern of municipal-federal tension
This isn’t the first time Castañón’s administration has bumped heads with the federal government. Just months ago, the mayor publicly accused Sedena of ignoring agreements about public beach access. The situation escalated until the state governor was forced to mediate between the municipality and the military.
That spat ended in a tentative truce. But now, with Tulum’s budget tightening and criticism mounting, the blame game has resurfaced, with the same target.
Except this time, it’s not about beach entrances. It’s about the very foundations of Tulum’s future: infrastructure, tourism, and financial sustainability.
In political terms, this is something of a paradox. Morena vs. Morena. Municipal vs. federal. Allies trading barbs in public forums. It raises uncomfortable questions about whether AMLO’s flagship projects, once touted as engines of regional growth, are becoming liabilities for the very communities they were meant to uplift.
A community caught in the crossfire
In the backstreets of Tulum Pueblo, where construction dust mingles with taco smoke, some residents say they’ve been expecting this moment.
A local shop owner, who asked not to be named for fear of political blowback, put it simply: “They built big things, but forgot the small things. Roads still flood. Trash still piles up. Tourists come, but don’t stay long. And now, they want us to believe it’s not their fault?”
Others, like Maya community organizers, have been more cautious in their critiques, grateful for the investments but wary of their execution. There’s still hope, they say, that these projects could eventually deliver. But not without changes. Not without accountability.
Reflecting on what’s really at stake
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: it’s possible that both narratives are valid.
Yes, the Tren Maya and the airport are ambitious, costly, and imperfect. Yes, their rollout has been riddled with delays, red tape, and questionable management. But also yes, the local government has its own track record of missteps, of missed opportunities to plan sustainably, communicate transparently, and spend wisely.
The real question isn’t who’s to blame. It’s who’s willing to fix it.
And maybe, more importantly, who pays the price while the blame is passed around like a hot stone?
In a tourist economy as volatile as Tulum’s, that price is often felt first by workers: the waiters, drivers, artisans, and hosts who ride each boom and bust with little cushion. They’re the ones who notice when flights stop landing. When tourists spend less. When bookings dry up and rents go up.
It’s not just about budgets or megaprojects. It’s about survival.
What comes next?
Despite the fiery statements and public rifts, the projects are not going away. The Tren Maya will keep running. The airport will remain open. The Parque del Jaguar will continue its slow build-out.
But if Tulum’s officials want to salvage public trust, and municipal solvency, they might need more than finger-pointing. They’ll need cooperation. Strategy. And maybe even a little humility.
Because while the numbers may not lie, they rarely tell the whole story on their own.
We’d love to hear your thoughts. Join the conversation on The Tulum Times’ social media.
Do you think Tulum’s financial woes are rooted in failed megaprojects or poor local governance?