- In Brazil, community residents say the Italian energy company Enel and the Brazilian Maestro Holding de Energia have stripped them of their territory in order to pursue renewable energy projects.
- Experts call this trend “green grabbing,” a process by which energy companies obtain access to large swaths of common land to produce clean renewable energy.
- A months long investigation uncovered multiple potential cases involving land-grabbing by companies that acquire public land used by residents, exploiting the fact that many people in these areas don’t have documents to prove they own a piece of land and don’t officially register the geographical boundaries of the territories they occupy or own.
- While no source interviewed by this investigation contested the importance of renewable energies, experts, Indigenous and traditional communities, policymakers and government officials all agreed that doing so must account for the social and political realities of local residents.
Jeane Da Gama Costa, 42, grew up in Umburanas, a small municipality of Bahia, in northeastern Brazil. Her family raised cattle for meat and grew crops like beans, corn and watermelon. It was a quiet and modest life. “It was isolated, very isolated,” she says.
Decades later, Jeane’s house is surrounded by some 80 wind turbines, including one within her own property, she says. A labyrinth of roads connects the towers while transmission lines snake from one corner of a field to another. In less than a decade, the area went from a desolate landscape to becoming a major 450 million euro ($474 million) wind park.
The park is owned by Enel, a major Italian energy company with hundreds of Brazilian subsidiaries. Jeane and more than a dozen residents in the area claim that Enel and Maestro Holding de Energia, a Brazilian energy company, stripped them of their territory in order to pursue their renewable energy objectives.
Daniel Carneiro, a lawyer representing these residents in lawsuits against the companies, says Maestro and Enel’s actions amount to a pernicious form of “land-grabbing.” Enel and Maestro Holding deny these claims.
Jeane’s case is part of a much wider trend that experts label as “green grabbing,” a process by which energy companies obtain access to large swaths of common land to produce clean renewable energy. A Nature study looking at mass appropriation of land across Brazil, published in 2024, found that Enel was the largest foreign parent owner of renewable energy projects.
In a months long investigation, IrpiMedia and Intercept Brasil combed through hundreds of court records and company documents, spoke to tens of residents — including Indigenous and Quilombola communities — living near Enel wind parks in the states of Bahia and Piauí to understand how the Italian multinational has become one of the biggest players in renewable energy in Brazil.
The investigative team uncovered multiple potential cases involving land-grabbing by acquiring public land used by residents and exploiting the fact that many people in these areas don’t have documents to prove they own a piece of land and don’t officially register the geographical boundaries of the territories they occupy or own. Companies expand their territorial boundaries, swallowing up these unregistered areas and incorporating their land into their renewable energy projects.
Enel relies on local intermediary companies known as “developers” to handle the often-contentious process of securing land access. These companies often employ aggressive tactics to strike contracts with local landowners and acquire public land occupied by residents, the investigative team has found. They then lease these territories to Enel to build wind or solar parks on.
The Rome-headquartered multinational is not directly involved in these questionable practices, but the fact that its operations are critically dependent on them raises serious questions about their complicity, experts say.
The investigation identified numerous lawsuits filed by private citizens against developers seeking land for Enel, and by Enel itself against residents of the areas affected by their projects.
“The company strictly complies with legal requirements, industry regulations and complies with all environmental requirements,” Enel’s press office in São Paulo tells this investigation. “In accordance with Brazilian law, Enel does not purchase land in Brazil. The areas where the company installs wind turbines or solar panels are private properties with a regular attestation of regularity from the point of view of land ownership.” Enel Italia, contacted with the same questions, did not respond.
“When it happens once, twice, three times, you could say, ‘Okay, I did not do my work very well,” says Alessandra Diz, a former legal specialist with Enel. “But when it starts happening again and again, […] you cannot say that you didn’t see or you didn’t know.”
“Enel obviously knows … what is happening and in fact engages with contractors to whom it delegates the dirty work,” says an Enel employee, who preferred to remain anonymous.
While no source interviewed by this investigation contested the importance of renewable energies in tackling the climate crisis, experts, Indigenous and traditional communities, policymakers and government officials all agreed that doing so must account for the social and political realities of local residents.
“We are not against development of energy projects,” says Maria Rosalina dos Santos, who represents the Quilombola community in the state of Piauí for the Quilombola rights organization CONAQ. “But we want development alongside involvement — where people are heard, where people participate. This is the development that we defend.”
Allegations of land-grabbing
The findings come as Enel cements its position as one of Brazil’s largest wind and solar energy companies. In November 2023, Enel Américas, one of its main Latin American subsidiaries, announced its three-year strategic plan for the continent, which includes boosting investments in Brazil to $3.7 billion, 45% higher than its previous target.
“As far as we know, the northeast region has the best wind in the world for the production of wind energy,” says Elbia Gannoum, chief executive officer of the Brazilian Wind Energy Association, an organization representing major wind energy companies in Brazil.
Facilitating this process of expansion, in 2020, the state of Bahia passed a regulatory guideline that simplifies obtaining environmental licenses and promotes land regularization in areas with high wind potential.
This investigation has seen that many of these areas overlap with public lands occupied by low-income, small-scale farmers who cultivate the land for food, raise animals and use water sources around them.
“You have a clash of interest,” says Michael Klingler, lead author of the Nature study and researcher in economic sustainable development at BOKU University, in Vienna. “There are the traditional communities who are fighting for decades to be recognized in terms of land rights and now there is the new pressure by wind power enterprises.”
As of today, Enel has more than 1,000 wind turbines active or under construction.
Their operations, however, haven’t gone without scrutiny. IrpiMedia and Intercept Brasil identified numerous lawsuits between Enel subsidiaries in Brazil and individuals, revealing several hotly contested disputes related to land-grabbing, leasing contract violations, environmental harm and compensation for damages incurred.
One of the most disputed areas is Aroeira wind farm, a major wind park in Bahia that is stated to generate enough energy to meet the demands of nearly 850,000 homes while also avoiding more than 757,000 tons of CO2 emissions annually.
Jeane and dozens of other farmers living in the area say that its construction has come at the expense of their livelihoods. In court documents, Jeane and other residents who don’t have documents officially recognizing their rights to the land, claim they are the rightful “possessors” because they’ve lived on and used it for decades.
The Brazilian civil code defends this right, they argue, citing that “anyone who exercises, fully or not, any of the powers inherent to ownership is considered to be the owner.”
But Maestro and Enel claim that the land was acquired and leased to them in previous years in order to build the Aroeira wind park and accuse the residents of “dispossessing” them.
The dispute traces back to the early 2000s, when Maestro first approached the community. A Maestro employee would spend time with the residents and assured the locals that their houses would remain theirs, Jeane says. “We would think he was our friend,” she says.
Maestro went on to secure multiple areas by buying land or setting up contracts. As construction took place, Jeane says she was asked by an Enel employee to map out her territory. “They said, ‘Make a map of your land so we can locate everything correctly so we can get it right.’” Jeane hired a topographer to do this and relayed the information.
As of today, a wind turbine with a rotor diameter of 150 meters (492 feet) stands erect within the confines of the map she produced, according to coordinates shared with IrpiMedia and Intercept Brasil.
Before the project could be finished, several residents protested by obstructing Enel employees’ access to key construction sites using vehicles, court documents show.
Maestro filed a lawsuit to reclaim possession of the area, saying that “more than 2 billion reais [$322.8 million] have already been invested for wind power generation,” and that such blockages had led to “incalculable damages.”
According to Carneiro and to Jeane’s husband, Dermivalto José da Souza, military police intervened to clear the protest. Later, Maestro hired private security guards who denied the residents access to the contested land for more than two months, during which time Jeane and her husband lost several cattle. The residents regained entry to the land as the court overturned the decision, but Maestro’s security continued to monitor entry for more than a year.
As of today, both Maestro and Enel have filed separate lawsuits against residents, saying the land these locals live on falls under two territories they’ve gained access to over the years. Carneiro strongly contests this, alleging that their assertions are based on deceitful practices involving georeferencing.
Jeane’s case involves residents without real-estate documents, but IrpiMedia and Intercept Brasil found similar cases for people with the relevant paperwork. Sandoval Alves da Silva, for example, is a rural farmer in Umburanas who has official documents to prove this.
However, in 2022, Sandoval hadn’t yet officially registered the geographical boundaries of his estate, a process known as “georeferencing” that in 2023 was made mandatory only for rural properties larger than 25 hectares (about 62 acres). Georeferencing can be bureaucratic and expensive, as it requires hiring a surveyor or civil engineer to take a geographic measurement of the area.
When Sandoval attempted to georeference his property, he got an error message. His property was already listed under the confines of “Fazenda Montevidéu,” an area that belongs to Maestro and that was leased to entities owned by Enel.
In 2011, Sandoval had struck a leasing contract with Maestro Holding that allowed him to remain its official owner, Carneiro says. Sandoval tried to make Maestro remove it from its geographical boundaries but they offered him $1 million reais (about $160,000) for his property instead. He initially refused but eventually settled for an undisclosed sum. The property was then leased to Enel to build its wind turbines. There are now five wind turbines on his former property, according to Carneiro.
Maestro Holding de Energia did not respond to the questions sent.
Land-grabbing in the 21st century
While some who have worked in the sector say georeferencing is a much-needed tool to officially define the boundaries of people’s lands, others say it can be used as a new and insidious form of land-grabbing.
Casa Dos Ventos, one of the earliest companies to get involved in land regularization in the country, regularly used georeferencing to acquire new land, according to a former employee of the company who prefers to remain anonymous. They would then either lease or sell these areas to companies interested in developing wind or solar farms, including to one of its closest partners, Enel.
The first step involved sending employees to scout areas with high wind or solar potential. If farms or houses are in the area, they would try to strike as many leasing contracts with these people as possible. “I would visit the area like a salesman,” says Julio Passos, a former employee of Casa Dos Ventos. “I [would] get to know each of the owners of the farms of the sites that are located there that are within our area of interest and I talk to all of them, one by one, to sell our idea.”
If they would refuse, he would insist. “The company does not give up easily,” he says. “I’ll always be there trying to convince them, trying to turn a no into a yes.”
When people wouldn’t have documents, Casa Dos Ventos would set up a preliminary contract to secure the land and then get the paperwork done on their behalf.
If residents would say no, Casa Dos Ventos resorted to a “forced regularisation” process, whereby the company found an old house registration and created a new georeference for it that expanded beyond its original boundaries and ultimately absorbed other areas of interest. “So a property that, 60 years ago, was listed as having around 20 hectares [49 acres], ended up having 200 hectares [494 acres] due to a new georeference,” said the former employee of Casa Dos Ventos who preferred to remain anonymous.
Employees would end up incorporating “unidentified squatters” or people “with little economic means,” into their wind projects, they said.
Casa Dos Ventos and other companies in the business of land regularization employ aggressive tactics when trying to set up contracts, says Fernando Joaquim Ferreira Maia, professor of legal sciences at the Federal University of Paraíba. These companies are in fierce competition with each other and will sometimes wait outside churches, seek people out at bars in the evenings or knock directly on their doors to try and secure a land deal.
Passos says he tried to take a cautious approach but acknowledges that insisting was part of company culture. “The company always asked for something more aggressive, but in the sense of persevering, of always being there, of always passing by …,” he says. “But I believe that it should happen, right?”
Thiago Araujo Fonseca, another former employee at Casa Dos Ventos echoes Passos’ sentiment and says this competition tended to benefit the communities as it brought money and jobs. “Competition wasn’t something that people did like that, there were no fights,” he says. “No, competition is a healthy thing.”
The contracts these companies set up are highly secretive and often contain a clause forbidding information to be disclosed. Throughout this investigation, IrpiMedia and Intercept Brasil obtained eight different contracts between local energy companies and individuals, including two from Casa Dos Ventos.
Contracts can last more than 40 years and automatically renew for decades more, these documents show, effectively granting companies access to these lands for multiple generations. They also pay small sums: Casa Dos Ventos compensates between €16 ($16.90) and €85 ($89.50) per month prior to the wind turbine becoming operational and later 1.5% of the revenue made, minus taxes and fees. In Spain, that value can reach more than double, says Maia.
“When it comes to Brazil, I believe [rates] could certainly improve,” says Passos. “But I don’t think they will because these are billion-dollar projects.”
Yet, many local residents are attracted by the prospect of additional income and they sign. Many find it difficult to fully understand these legal texts. In an attempt to persuade landowners, employees of developers desperate to sign a contract will sometimes make promises that the company itself had never set out, says Passos, such as paying for all expenses and overdue taxes.
No contracts between Enel and individuals were found during this investigation. But most of the contracts obtained, including those linked to Casa Dos Ventos, contain a clause that effectively transfers all rights related to the contractor to those to whom they end up leasing or selling the land. Diz explains that having this clause is typically a requirement for Enel, as it ensures that the project can be purchased as it is, minimizing the possibility of further negotiations.
“They don’t want that,” she says. “If [Enel] has to start another discussion, the price will go up.”
Casa Dos Ventos did not respond to a request for comment submitted by this investigation.
Life by the wind parks
With or without a contract, tens of people living close to Enel-developed wind turbines say their quality of life has deteriorated as a result of these constructions.
Many complain about the constant noise. “We think it’s a truck coming to the gate, to our house — when it’s windy the noise is very loud,” says Maria dos Humildes, a rural worker in Queimada Nova and president of the Cariri Indigenous Association of the Serra Grande Community. A recent study based on interviews with more than 100 people living near wind farms found that people often experienced a cluster of symptoms, including headaches, anxiety, insomnia and irritability.
The noise also affects the health and well-being of the animals they tend to, according to several farmers. “The restlessness of the animals, that’s what makes us most sad,” says Maria Francisca Ferreira, chief of the same Indigenous community.
In response, Enel stated its wind turbines are always built at least 400 m (1,312 ft) from homes.
Others struggle with the vast amount of dust kicked up as vehicles carrying heavy equipment driving past their houses on dirt roads. “My wife cleans the house two or three times a day,” says Jeremias Da Cruz, a goat farmer from the Quilombola community in Lagoa, in Queimada Nova.
To solve this, Enel built a short strip of asphalt and a speed bump next to the entrance of his house. But he says it hasn’t really helped, as vans will often slow down and accelerate right in front of the house.
Communities also often don’t feel heard. Multiple Indigenous and Quilombola community leaders told IrpiMedia and Intercept Brasil that their respective communities were never approached or invited to meetings about the renewable projects.
Ferreira, for example, said that Enel never had meetings with their community. She said a meeting took place in Queimada Nova when they first arrived, but none of the Indigenous or Quilombola communities in the area had been invited. Instead, a gathering of representatives from different municipalities was held. “The ones who were there were businessmen because they came looking for businessmen.”
Yet, Enel’s 2023 human rights policy document lists “relations with communities and societies” as one of its 12 core principles. “Communities located within a maximum radius of 8 km [5 mi] from the project site are involved in participatory studies to assess the risks and impacts generated by the works,” says Enel.
Community members in the area say they feel their culture and way of life have been upended by the influx of shops, supermarkets, traffic and nonlocal people brought to these normally quiet areas. “No one dared to go out on the roads anymore, children no longer played in the yard — everything changed,” says dos Santos. “Strange people here and there, the high cost of living arrived in the market and has lasted to this day. It was a transformation.”
Local officials acknowledge these problems but ultimately say they bring jobs and money to regions of Brazil that have historically been neglected. “If you put it on the scales, the gains are much greater than the problems,” says Valney Dias, secretary of administration of the municipality of Dom Inocêncio, in the state of Piauí.
As Enel continues to expand into new territories, with more than 100 wind turbines in construction and 12 approved solar parks, the future for these communities looks bleak.
Bracing themselves, many communities have banded together in resistance. One community successfully protested a test wind tower to get it down. Others have officially registered their land to shield themselves against potential land-grabbing attempts. Some have held workshops to discuss their experiences and rights.
The goal, dos Santos says, is not to block a renewable energy transition, but to steer it so that it can benefit everyone, not just energy companies.
This investigation by IrpiMedia and Intercept Brasil was developed with the support of Journalismfund Europe.
Citation:
Klingler, M., Ameli, N., Rickman, J., & Schmidt, J. (2024). Large-scale green grabbing for wind and solar photovoltaic development in Brazil. Nature Sustainability, 7(6), 747-757. doi:10.1038/s41893-024-01346-2
Banner image: Wind turbines close to quilombola communities of Queimada Nova. Image by Thomas Bauer.
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