I recently participated in a debate at São Paulo Innovation Week whose title suggested a seemingly simple choice: Is Brazilian agribusiness a hero or a villain? I confess that the statement made me uncomfortable. Not because the provocation lacked relevance—public debates thrive on strong questions—but because it suggested something that is perhaps the first major misconception when discussing agriculture in Brazil: the idea that there is a single, homogeneous, coherent "Brazilian agriculture" that can be framed within such definitive moral categories.
In recent decades, Brazil has built one of the most competitive tropical agricultures in the world. This did not happen by chance, nor was it solely due to an abundance of land or favorable natural conditions. It involved public research, science, credit, and institutional development driven by the state; it also involved private entrepreneurship, technological adaptation, and accumulated investment over time under the leadership of the private sector. The result has been extraordinary: a significant increase in productivity, expansion of food and bioenergy supply, consolidation of the country among the world's leading agricultural exporters, and the development of scientific capabilities rare in tropical agriculture.
But this same trajectory coexisted—and still coexists—with expansion into new frontiers, frequently accompanied by "legal" and "illegal" deforestation, conflicts over land use, environmental pressures, persistent inequalities between producers and territories, as well as difficulties in institutional coordination and governance. In other words, some of the problems frequently associated with Brazilian agriculture arose simultaneously—and, in many cases, inseparably—from some of its greatest successes.
Perhaps that's precisely where the narrative of agricultural hero and agribusiness villain Find support.
Those who observe the growth in productivity, the technological adaptation to the tropics, the production of food and bioenergy, the generation of foreign exchange, the role of agriculture in the trade balance, or the scientific development accumulated over decades tend to see one of the most impressive processes of productive transformation of the 20th century. From there, they construct—or reproduce—the narrative of the agricultural hero, frequently neglecting other dimensions of the same process.
Those who look at deforestation, land conflicts, intensive use of natural resources, environmental pressures, regional inequalities, or persistent illegalities find equally concrete reasons to support the narrative of agriculture as the villain—and often also fail to perceive the productive, scientific, and economic capacities built up over the last few decades.
The problem is that both interpretations contain elements of truth, but they often err in treating heroes and villains as if they were the result of distinct trajectories capable of explaining everything. In many cases, heroes and villains were born from the same historical process of transformation.
When heroes and villains are born from the same story.
A simple answer to the initial question would require, first of all, knowing which type of agriculture we are talking about. And that's where the first difficulty arises: under the same label coexist highly productive family farmers and farmers in situations of economic vulnerability; technology-intensive supply chains and undercapitalized systems; sophisticated cooperatives, large business groups, extensive livestock farming, agro-industries, and multiple forms of productive organization.
But reducing the problem to heterogeneity would be insufficient. We are accustomed to organizing the public debate into relatively comfortable categories: family farming associated with food production, sustainability, and social inclusion; agribusiness associated with exports, economic concentration, and environmental pressure. As with almost any simplification, there are elements of truth in these images. The problem is transforming them, as has been done, into complete portraits of reality.
Brazilian family farming is profoundly heterogeneous. It includes highly efficient family producers integrated into markets, but also millions in situations of low income, reduced access to technology, and great productive vulnerability. In certain contexts, they use sustainable practices; in others, they face difficulties similar to those observed in business segments, including the unsustainable—if not predatory—use of natural resources.
The so-called agribusiness sector is not a homogeneous entity either. It encompasses everything from experiences intensive in science, innovation, and significant productivity gains to activities associated with predatory expansion, land conflicts, and persistent environmental pressures.
The central issue, however, is even more uncomfortable. Contradictions frequently arise within the groups themselves and, in many cases, stem from the same historical process. Brazilian agricultural modernization has increased productivity, expanded food production, strengthened exports, stimulated scientific development, and consolidated technological capabilities that are rare in tropical agriculture. These results underpin much of the narrative of the agricultural hero.
But the same movement occurred simultaneously with expansion into new frontiers, increased land value, intense changes in land use, concentration of productive opportunities, and the aggravation of environmental pressures in certain territories. In some contexts, it was also associated with a reduction in the demand for direct labor and a deepening of inequalities between producers capable—or not—of incorporating technology. These processes fuel the narrative of agriculture as the villain.
This does not mean that productive gains and social or environmental problems are equivalent, nor that innovation automatically produces degradation. It means something more uncomfortable: often what we admire and what we criticize in Brazilian agriculture stems from the same historical trajectory of transformation.
That's why the question "hero or villain?" produces such polarized answers: because it presupposes a choice between separate stories, and it's uncomfortable to admit that, often, we're talking about the same story.
When the cheering stops, the problems begin.
After so much controversy, perhaps the initial question — Is Brazilian agribusiness a hero or a villain? — still deserves a response. A short answer would be uncomfortable for both sides of the debate because there are concrete reasons to recognize Brazilian agriculture as one of the most important processes of productive transformation of the 20th century — with undeniable economic and social benefits — and to criticize trajectories associated with predatory expansion over certain territories, persistent conflicts over land use, environmental pressures, inequalities, and historical difficulties in institutional coordination.
Ignoring either of these perspectives means trading analysis for mere bias. And biases rarely engage in dialogue or produce critical reflection; they tend only to reinforce convictions among their own followers.
To begin a serious conversation about agriculture, those who predominantly see it as the villain would need to recognize that Brazilian agriculture has accumulated rare scientific, productive, and technological capabilities, built an important part of the country's competitiveness, and produced economic transformations that can hardly be dismissed as irrelevant or merely destructive.
For those who champion the heroic image of agriculture to join the conversation, the challenge is different. It's necessary to recognize that defending Brazilian agriculture cannot depend solely on slogans, institutional campaigns, or sectoral marketing. Nor can it depend on the expectation that productivity gains or technological innovation, by themselves, will resolve environmental, land, or distributive tensions accumulated over time.
If part of society has come to see agriculture predominantly through the lens of the villain, this is not solely due to ignorance or urban prejudice. To some extent, it also stems from real, persistent, and visible problems that continue to produce reputational damage and fuel simplistic narratives.
This requires something more difficult than communication. It requires recognizing contradictions, isolating predatory practices, confronting illegalities, reducing ambiguities in the discourse on sustainability, and admitting that future competitiveness will increasingly depend on the ability to reconcile production, reputation, and governance. The problem is that fan groups rarely engage in self-criticism!
Countries that have managed to sustain long-lasting development processes have done something different: they have transformed tensions into an agenda for correction, not into a permanent dispute between rival narratives. Perhaps this is a more useful conversation for Brazil. Not to decide whether agribusiness is a hero or a villain. But to ask what conditions allow us to expand what we admire and reduce what we continue to criticize—often within the same story. Because, in the case of Brazilian agribusiness, heroes and villains often share the same origin.
This text does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Unicamp.
