Geometrically precise rows of genetically identical trees flank the Baixa Verde settlement in Brazil’s northeast. These uniform trees stand in stark contrast to the patches of wild Atlantic forest, one of the most biologically diverse ecosystems globally.
Encircled by nearly 100,000 hectares of commercial eucalyptus groves, Baixa Verde exemplifies a rare community triumph over a multinational in Brazil. This agricultural community owes its existence due to nearly two decades of court disputes over property claims – but the fight is not over yet.
After fighting to retain their land, the households now face an unparalleled safety emergency characterized by violent encounters, fire attacks and death threats, part of a wave of violence driven by a territorial conflict that has intensified since 2024.
Disputes over land rights have historically been an issue in the region. Securing land deeds is often considered to validate illegal land seizures from indigenous populations, and residents had believed that a pulp-production company was cultivating eucalyptus on public land.
In 2008, one of the founders of the Baixa Verde settlement and a local activist visited government archives to inspect official papers. They discovered the document that demonstrated the 3,200 acres in dispute were publicly owned. “We were certain that it was state property,” says the founder.
Armed with this evidence, they assembled ninety-one area households and aligned with the Landless Workers Movement, a political and social organisation advocating for land redistribution. Their initial step was to take over a section of a eucalyptus plantation used by the corporation, alleging the firm of using public land.
Following two years after the original occupation, the movement secured official acknowledgment that the corporation did not legally own the parcel of land planted by the company. “This document was a victory not just for the local land rights movement but for all the social movements of the country,” says a community member who was raised in the settlement and is now one of the leaders of the movement.
Following many years of roadblocks and legal battles, the state of Bahia signed an agreement with the company and the movement in 2016, restoring 3,200 acres of company land to the public domain and giving each family a parcel sufficiently sized to cultivate their crops. Of the sixty-one households staying, fifty-three have relocated into their new plots.
“Securing entitlement to the property means that we now have a place to look after our children,” says the settlement representative.
Although forfeiting the property, a company representative asserts that the firm has always operated with “transparency, social and environmental responsibility” and respect for the local population. “The company has never been convicted of land grabbing and restates that its operational zones are legally regulated and function with the necessary ecological licenses.”
However, in the years since the agreement, the families say they have experienced death threats, gunfire, destroyed residences, stolen produce and ruined farmland.
Per information from the organization, the conflict now centres on plots of land that remain inhabited by farmers associated with the regional labor organization. When it was about to lose possession of the disputed property, the corporation gave 740 adjacent acres to the union – a donation confirmed by the union’s leadership.
“We face significant harassment occurring in this area. Our shelters have been burned down, as well as our cane plantations.”
During the last four years, six leaders of the movement have been placed under protective watch by the national defense system for rights activists, journalists and environmentalists. The authorities has suggested that some of these leaders move away, but due to dedication to the movement and bond to their fought-for property, they have refused.
Due to the death threats he has obtained, one founder says he has trouble sleeping at night. “I feel genuinely fearful that something is going to happen to my family,” he says.
The organization claims that eight households do not feel sufficiently secure to farm their lands, which remain inhabited by farmers reportedly connected to the company.
The corporation says that over the past 15 years, it has allocated “more than 20,000 hectares to agrarian reform initiatives, whether through court settlements, contributions to the federal land reform agency, gifts, or direct sales, to settle persistent disputes in the region.”
The firm also says “the creation of the settlements – from planning to parceling and plot allocation – was managed completely by the state government, without involvement from the company”, and “declines to discuss disputes among activist groups”.
A community member is among the two individuals who still reside in the original settlement. She says she has been intimidated by weapon-carrying individuals who encircled her home and shot at the ground. Since there are no neighbors close, the woman – who lives alone – believes the gunfire were intended to threaten her out of taking possession of her allocated land.
In August, the state of Bahia approved the eviction of union farmers who remain on settlement properties – but the decision has yet to be enforced.
Environmental Challenges and the ‘Green Desert’
In addition to protecting against danger and aggression, converting lands previously utilized for eucalyptus monoculture into agricultural cultivation is now the main challenge for the settlement residents. Eucalyptus production is controlled by large multinationals that, from the 1960s onward, have been converting farmland and forest into monoculture plantations, motivated by global demand.
The country is the global leading grower of the tree species, a rapidly developing, water-intensive plant, whose pulp is shipped abroad to make cardboard and writing materials. The majority of the nation’s eucalyptus pulp is shipped to European nations, where it is used to make stationery items often promoted as a renewable alternative to plastics – notwithstanding ecological harm caused by monoculture.
Within Bahia state, the proliferation of these farms has earned the local moniker “green desert”, due to the disappearance of native species and the critical lack of water and land experienced by households residing close to commercial tree farms.
A settlement founder was raised in the area and recalls the waterway before the region was changed by eucalyptus monoculture. “We used to cross it in a canoe. It was full,” he says. “After the company arrived, it disappeared.” He attributes the water scarcity to the corporation’s appearance in 1991.
The company says it “implements a varied management approach, in which eucalyptus is cultivated in elevated regions, while valleys, springs and native vegetation are preserved. This system guarantees ground conservation, wildlife conservation and the maintenance of water resources.” The firm also says it “conducts continuous monitoring of micro-basins in its operational zone” and “develops reforestation and forest restoration projects in areas near communities”.
In the neighbouring state of Minas Gerais, the eucalyptus region of Turmalina has seen its aquifer depth drop by 4.5 metres over the previous four decades, per scientific studies at Minas Gerais Federal University.
Vegetation under eucalyptus monoculture absorbs 26% of rainfall to replenish aquifer reserves – compared with a half of rainfall intake linked to native forest. Seventy-five percent of farming families interviewed in the state reported their harvests suffering by the shortage.
The growing of the tree species also presents a heightened danger of wildfire. Plantations are so flammable that Chile rejected the species as a viable climate solution after a succession of major blazes in its national farms.
Notwithstanding ecological dangers, commercial tree farms continue to have an important function in the emissions trading system, with trees being sold as emission offsets to fossil fuel polluters to offset their emissions. Despite opposition from campaigners, in {
