Quo vadis, Alentejo? - The dichotomy between tradition and scale

In the heart of the Alentejo, across its broad horizons, endless plains, and blazing sun, a silent revolution is taking place, pitting the extensive art of tradition against the technological precision of modernity. Changes in agribusiness are transforming the landscape, economy, and identity of one of Portugal's most iconic regions. But at what cost is this new model of agricultural management growing? What contrasts, challenges, and crossroads does this Alentejo face, increasingly producing for the outside world… and still questioning what still belongs to it?

In recent decades, the region has become a strategic hub for Portuguese and international agribusiness, based on sectors such as olive groves, almond groves, vineyards, cork, and livestock production. We must also not forget the remarkable growth of agritourism, which has given the landscape an almost therapeutic status, as if offering respite to weary souls.

However, this evolution hides profound contrasts between two coexisting worlds: On the one hand, large agro-industrial companies, mostly controlled by national and foreign economic groups; on the other, small and medium-sized farms, many of which are family-owned.

Large companies brought with them innovation, mechanization, access to international markets, and the capacity to invest in technologies that increase production yields. In olive groves and vineyards, for example, scale allows for efficient irrigation, quality certifications, sophisticated marketing, and productivity gains that put Portugal on the export map.

However, this logic of efficiency contrasts with the resilience of small producers, who preserve ancestral practices, invest in local identity, and care for biodiversity as part of their heritage. These businesses often sustain the social, economic, and environmental fabric of Alentejo's villages, towns, and small cities, often dubbed "forgotten lands" by their own communities. And they also face the greatest obstacles: limited access to certain services, limited capacity to invest in innovation, and an exhausting bureaucratic system that does nothing to benefit small producers.

Socially, the sector's transformation has had mixed effects. Land concentration and increasing mechanization have been emptying the territory. In just six decades, the region lost about 40% of its population, a fact that should leave no one indifferent. Today, the fields are emptier, and this worrying trend continues, with the region gradually losing its inhabitants, especially young people, who seek better life opportunities, whether within or outside the country. Meanwhile, dependence on seasonal labor increases, essential to sustaining the harvest of intensive crops, often provided by immigrants in precarious conditions. The jobs created are necessary, but they do not always translate into social inclusion or sustainable human development.

Economically, agribusiness is vital. In 2024, according to the INE, Alentejo accounted for over 80% of national olive oil production – thanks largely to the 66,000 hectares of intensive olive groves, of which around 50,000 were planted in the last decade. The region also accounts for around 17% of national wine production. Cork remains a symbol of excellence, with cork and holm oak forests providing not only valuable products but also essential ecosystem services. Agritourism has offered new opportunities, connecting the rural world with experiential and sensory tourism. However, dependence on European funds, vulnerability to climate change, and pressure on water resources make the current model unstable – and sometimes unsustainable.

Alongside the economic and social impacts, it is impossible to ignore the fragility of territorial governance. The intensive expansion of agricultural crops has often occurred outside of a focused strategic vision, with public policies lacking coherence at the local, regional, and national levels. There is a lack of long-term planning, a lack of effective oversight, and, above all, a lack of active listening to the communities that live and work in the region. The absence of an inclusive governance model that integrates policymakers, producers, researchers, and civil society contributes to the deepening of inequalities and the erosion of territorial cohesion.

An inevitable question then arises: Alentejo agribusiness has been growing, but at what cost? The abrupt expansion of super-intensive olive and almond groves has raised serious questions about soil health, water consumption, and the future of the Alentejo aquifer, particularly around the Alqueva River. Excessive monoculture impoverishes ecosystems, accelerates erosion, and compromises their balance.

This debate cannot be resolved through romanticism or simplifications. It's not about demonizing large corporations or sanctifying small farmers. Everyone plays a vital role in the region's socioeconomic context. Rather, it's about understanding that the future of the Alentejo may depend on the creation of a hybrid model—one where scale and sustainability, profit and landscape, and innovation and tradition converge. A model where cooperation between different actors, smart regulation, and responsible investment are the pillars of a new agriculture.

And so I ask: Quo vadis, Alentejo? As the territory fills with orderly rows of olive and almond groves, the question about our food sovereignty also grows. What future are we sowing when the Alentejo dish, once diverse and seasonal, increasingly relies on monocultures destined for export? Between the efficiency of the present and the resilience of the future, the Alentejo finds itself at a crossroads. The question, now, is collective: where do we want to go?

After all, the true value of agribusiness should not, or should not, be measured only in euros per hectare, but also in the future per generation.