Brazil holds the world's fifth-largest onshore wind capacity, yet the farmers hosting its turbines say the contracts that promised prosperity have delivered something closer to ruin.
On Antonio de Souza's 50-hectare farm in Serra do Mel, a small municipality in north-east Brazil's Rio Grande do Norte state, the rows of cashew trees that once grew beneath the power lines are gone. A clean energy company ordered them removed. Now four hectares of what the family depended on for its income sit as wasteland, even though the contract specifies that the infrastructure occupies just one. Cattle cannot graze near the cables, and after heavy rain the tractor driver risks electric shock if he ventures into the affected strip.
De Souza signed the original agreement after a year of drought, when representatives of the French renewable energy multinational Voltalia arrived in the village offering a monthly payment of 3,000 to 5,000 reais — roughly £430 to £720 — adjusted annually and, he was assured, without damage to his crops. Brazil currently has around 35 gigawatts of onshore wind capacity in commercial operation, ranking it fifth in the world according to the Brazilian Association of Wind Energy and New Technologies and the Global Wind Energy Council. Nine in every ten of those turbines spin in the north-east — a region engineers routinely describe as having the best sustained winds on earth, and one that also carries some of Brazil's worst social development indicators. In November 2023, President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva declared before an audience in Riyadh that within a decade Brazil would be recognised as the "Saudi Arabia of green energy.
" The people living in the turbines' shadow heard that ambition differently. A decade after signing, De Souza is now the lead figure in a public civil lawsuit filed in May 2025 by three rural workers' organisations against Voltalia, supported by a favourable legal assessment from public prosecutors. He is careful to say he does not oppose wind power itself. What he opposes is a model in which the energy transition is built on land that belongs to communities who received the risk but were not allowed to share the reward — a pattern that campaigners warn is already being replicated as Brazil's wind industry moves offshore and other nations in Africa and South Asia adopt similar frameworks without stronger land-rights protections in place.
"If I'd known it would be like this — that I'd be prevented from planting and harvesting — I wouldn't have signed that contract with them," De Souza said.