In one of Italy’s most industrialised farming regions, a new approach to agriculture is slowly emerging. Some farmers in the Po Valley have begun to reverse decades of reliance on monoculture and chemical fertilisers, choosing instead to rewild fields, rotate crops, and leave parts of the land for hedgerows. But can this regenerative way of farming – which has already shown promising results – be replicated on a broader scale in Europe?
Right in the middle of the Po Valley, a green streak suddenly breaks the square geometry of the fields. As we enter, we are catapulted into a tangle of bushes, trails, wetlands, lakes and canals. There’s a profusion of animals that you wouldn’t expect to encounter in these parts: roe deer, herons, woodpeckers, frogs, and even a herd of white Camargue horses, roaming through the tall grass.
Some Camargue horses roaming free in the Simbiosi nature area. ©Michele Lapini
We are in Giussago, Pavia, 18 kilometres as the crow flies from the Duomo of Milan. Right here, planted in the heart of the most built-up and anthropised plain in Europe, a new form of coexistence between farming and nature is being tested. Here, where the land is scarred by monoculture and the air is filled with the acrid odour of intensive livestock farming, where the agricultural focus is maximum productivity, someone has decided to turn that logic on its head: return land to nature, and allow the earth to breathe again.
This place is called Simbiosi (“Symbiosis”), and it was born from a simple but radical idea: returning to the ecosystem what intensive farming has taken from it. It is neither a park nor a nature reserve, but rather a new agricultural model, one that departs precisely from the productivist assumptions that dominate the plain. Every intervention is designed to restore equilibrium: the canals follow the ancient course of the waters, hedgerows mark the edges of the fields like in the old days, the wetlands once again hold rainwater and host amphibian life and migratory birds.
“Simbiosi was born almost by chance,” says Piero Manzoni, manager and CEO of the company that bears the project’s name, specialising in the efficient and sustainable use of natural resources. It was his father-in-law, Giuseppe Natta, who envisioned, built from scratch, and developed this place. The year was 1995. He imagined recreating, in his own 500-hectare estate, the habitat of the valley as it had been one thousand years ago.
Ecological memory and regeneration
Led by the intuition and the ingenuity of Natta – whose father Giulio won the Nobel Prize for chemistry in 1963 – the project involved Italian and Dutch universities. “The transformation could not be limited to merely aesthetic or scenic modification,” explains Manzoni. “It required a scientific approach, capable of restoring the territory’s original structure.” The Universities of Milan and Pavia in Italy helped to reconstruct the ecological memory of the Po Valley, and how the territory looked before the rush towards productivity and development. The University of Wageningen in the Netherlands – among the most advanced in the world when it comes to agricultural science and environmental planning – led the next stage: transforming the historic data and ecological maps into a genuine project of regeneration. “It was long, almost artisanal work, requiring us to rethink every detail, from soil drainage to tree species. But this was the only way we could restore authentic – as opposed to artificial – equilibrium to the land.”
The rest, continues Manzoni, fell into place: during and after renaturalisation, the migratory birds began to reappear, as well as the wild animals. Everything the agricultural model of the valley had expelled came back. Manzoni recalls that only the roe deer and Camargue horses were artificially introduced, with an initial founder stock. All the other species settled in spontaneously. Within just a few years, the area had recorded a significant increase in biodiversity. More than 220 species of birds have been counted, many of which return seasonally, following the natural rhythm of the territory.
A lake that is home to numerous species of birds within the Simbiosi nature area. ©Michele Lapini
The original 500 hectares were left in a state of naturalisation, without any further intervention. Then, a new model of regenerative agriculture was created, inspired by nature’s own regeneration processes. At base, there was a fundamental decision: give up a part of the cultivable area – around 10 per cent – to the environmental margins – hedges, groves – that act as a filter, habitat, and natural protection. The result: healthier soil, cleaner production, improved biodiversity, and consequently, less reliance on pesticides and chemical fertilisers.
“The territory functions like an organism: every part is interdependent, every agricultural decision takes the surrounding ecological dynamics into account.” Thus, between a rice field and a poplar grove, you see frog-filled ponds, hedgerows populated by sparrows and swathes of grassland where white horses run free.
According to Manzoni, the 10 per cent left uncultivated is an investment. “This natural strip is our most effective defence. It protects the field from harmful insects and external contamination, creates a more stable microclimate and returns life to the land. But above all, it changes the way we think about farming: it is no longer a battle against nature, but an alliance.”
Piero Manzoni, CEO of Simbiosi. ©Michele Lapini
Agriculture as innovation
The result seems counterintuitive: by not farming the entire area, yields increase. According to Simbiosi’s estimates, they achieve better results with 90 per cent of their productive area than those who farm every square metre. The benefit, the manager adds, is not only in terms of production: a living soil holds more carbon, has better water filtration, and is therefore more resistant to drought. “And then there’s a value that cannot be quantified: beauty. That of a living, breathing landscape, a field that is no longer a factory, but an ecosystem.”
Simbiosi is not intended as an isolated experiment, a solitary monad in a valley dominated by a totally different production model. The aim is to create community and spread knowledge. Thus, for some time now, 95 agricultural businesses in the area have joined this experiment and begun producing according to the example of the “mother farm”. Underlying the choice is an equation cited by the manager: you produce more while spending less and doing no harm to the environment. In the fields of Simbiosi and associated companies, the use of chemical fertilisers has been gradually reduced to the point of entirely disappearing from certain parcels of land. Even water consumption has fallen: the fields are only irrigated when necessary, thanks to the natural moisture of the soil and the increased capacity of the regenerated land to hold rainwater.
Machinery inside Simbiosi’s start-up labs. ©Michele Lapini
With this systemic vision, Manzoni has tried to spark further synergies. In a restored farmstead in the middle of his property, Manzoni has created an Innovation Centre, where he hosts groups and startups that work in the same spirit. In the ample 3000-square-metre space, there are companies that experiment with new farming materials, technological solutions, circular energy models, zero-waste food chains, etc. These entities may have entirely different missions and backgrounds, but they are united by the idea that the land can be a laboratory for innovation, rather than a place from which value is extracted. Reducing waste, closing cycles, creating shared value – around these principles, the concept of smart land was born. The concept is illustrated by a model at the entrance to the Innovation Centre, which outlines the different sectors of intervention. “Smart land is smart because it reconfigures the relationship between soil, water energy and production, creating a model that imitates the workings of nature, not only in agriculture but also in other industries, connecting the entire territory,” concludes Manzoni.
At this point, the question is inevitable: can this experiment, begun 30 years ago in a little corner of the valley between Pavia and Milan, be replicated elsewhere? Could this model be deployed systematically, and help reverse the ruin caused by an agricultural model that seems increasingly at the end of the road?
View of the Simbiosi nature area. ©Michele Lapini
From monoculture to community
The Po Valley is a case study of a production system particularly hard-hit by the effects of climate change. In this context, Simbiosi has an important lesson to teach. You only have to travel a few kilometres from Giussago to see that the same old model still prevails: maize monoculture stretching as far as the eye can see, grown to feed factory-farmed livestock; single-variety orchards; vast swathes of rice fields. Over the last 40 years, such developments have radically transformed the Po Valley, and they have also been actively supported by the funding mechanisms of the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP). Rewarding those who possess the most land, European subsidies have encouraged a gradual concentration of land ownership, as well as hyper-specialisation and production of single varieties.
Today, this system is in serious trouble. Costs are increasing, soil fertility is falling, the climate is rebelling, not to mention the supermarkets paying ever-lower prices for farming produce. Consequently, many farmers in the valley are asking themselves whether a different way of doing agriculture is possible, one based on a fresh relationship between town and country, and a closer rapport between those who produce the food and those who consume it. Daniele Bucci is one of these people. He likes to call himself a black sheep, “because I do the opposite of what everyone else is doing around here,” he says with a laugh. His story begins in Faenza, on the hills of Emilia-Romagna between the Lamone river and the Marzeno stream, where he has decided to reinterpret the family farming tradition in light of organic farming and a new relationship between product and consumption.
The difference between Simbiosi (right) and the dominant agricultural model in the Po Valley. ©Michele Lapini
Almost ten years ago, Bucci created a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) project. The idea is simple: members pay a fee and are guaranteed a portion of the farm’s produce. One box every week for the whole year. In this way, they participate in productive operations and guarantee the producer a secure income at the start of the season. “It’s a way to escape contractual mechanisms in which the price is determined by distributors. And to regain our autonomy.”
The CSA model guarantees the farm a stable base, sufficiently solid to allow Bucci and his wife Sara Sansoni to try new directions. And today the pair have decided to go further, to imagine a project capable of turning the traditional production paradigm on its head. In a farmhouse with five hectares of land that they acquired on the Faenza hills, they have launched a regenerative agriculture initiative. At Podere Roncona, ten minutes by car from Faenza, they planted rows of different tree varieties, which are placed at a distance from each other, both to allow them to breathe and to guarantee the necessary space for egg-laying hens that will be left to roam, with a sort of mobile henhouse. “Their droppings will serve to enrich the soil, re-establishing the intimate link between agriculture and animal husbandry that existed for 10,000 years, and has only recently been broken.” They then planted a vegetable garden and ancient tree varieties. Their approach is holistic: alternating fruit trees and vegetables, hedges and pastures, creates a living mosaic that challenges the dictates of industrial agriculture as it has been conceived over the last forty years.
“The production model has encouraged specialisation: one variety, one species. But historically,” insists the farmer, “agriculture has always been about connecting diverse elements.” From the top of the farmhouse, Bucci and Sansoni show me the extent of their estate and the projects underway. “I still remember when my grandfather gave away the last cow, because it was no longer worth keeping.” This is no mere nostalgic detail: Bucci dreams of returning cows to pasture in the land that borders his property, which he would like to rent. The aim is to build a community of intentions and activities, transcending the verticality of the classic farming business, and giving shape to a shared enterprise. “I want to create a more horizontal community, with various farming and cultural activities, and with the direct participation of the community in the project.”
Daniele Bucci, owner of the Podere Roncona farm in Faenza, Emilia-Romagna. ©Michele Lapini
This horizontal community already exists in embryonic form: the active members of the CSA, who Bucci will involve in the new project starting in Spring, along with others from the agricultural sector whom he hopes to bring on board and turn the farm into a genuinely multi-functional operation. Bucci also insists that farming of this type produces essential ecosystem services – regenerating the soil, preserving rural areas otherwise doomed to desertion, and generating widespread environmental benefits – but that these services are not yet recognised by the funding mechanisms of the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP). His project has only been possible thanks to winning a tender offered by Ecosia, a Berlin-based company that finances climate-action initiatives, as well as support from Slow Food for planting some of the trees. A structural question remains, however: how can an alternative agricultural model that genuinely rewards large-scale regeneration be constructed?
Back to the future
Today, many are asking themselves the same thing, as well as two related questions: in what direction is European farming headed? And how much space will be given to regenerative models in future agricultural policies? On the one hand, these practices are gaining more ground in an increasing number of countries. On the other, they still face a fundamental obstacle: there are no widely agreed-upon evaluation criteria, no officially recognised measurement tools, and – most importantly – no adequate economic reward for the ecosystem benefits they deliver. In other words, regenerative agriculture produces value for the soil, the climate, water, and the local community, but this value is not yet accounted for or rewarded in any systematic way.
The picture is even more complex when we consider the current debate on the next cycle of the Common Agricultural Policy. The widely feared cuts to the CAP for the 2028-2034 period, combined with the need to introduce much stricter environmental criteria for allocating funds, represent a major challenge. For many observers, Europe is at a crossroads: either it decides to steer investments towards genuinely sustainable models, or it risks further consolidating agricultural systems that are already in trouble. It’s no surprise, then, that there are working groups, informal networks, and authentic alliances working to build a critical mass. They talk with the institutions, gather comparable data, and lobby to make regeneration a priority of the new CAP.
Aerial view of Podere Roncona in the hills above Faenza. ©Michele Lapini
Bucci is an active member of one of these groups: the European Alliance for Regenerative Agriculture (EARA), an independent platform that brings together pioneering farmers from across Europe. The aim of EARA is two-fold: precisely measure the impacts of regenerative practices; and persuade policymakers that these practices deserve structural investment. The report they published in June 2025 is a good illustration of their activity. The study, which looks at dozens of farms in 14 European countries, has produced data that leaves little room for doubt: between 2020 and 2023, chemical inputs plummeted – synthetic fertiliser use fell by 62 per cent and pesticide use by 76 per cent — with no loss in yield. In fact, when productivity is measured using their “Regenerating Full Productivity” indicator – which factors in not only the quantity produced but also soil ecological quality, water-use efficiency, and energy required to farm – regenerative systems outperformed conventional models by 33 per cent
This is a genuine revolution, given that regenerative agriculture is often perceived as a return to the past or as a “poor” practice. Instead, the data shows an increase in climate resilience, a growth in plant diversity by more than 15 per cent, and a drop in surface temperatures in the fields during the summer, which signify a more balanced ecological functioning.
In Italy the potential for this transition is enormous, all the more so when the point of departure is so critical. According to a recent study by Re Soil Foundation, 80 per cent of agricultural land shows clear signs of erosion, and, in many cases, the organic substance does not exceed one per cent: a level that indicates exhausted soil. The Po Valley, the agricultural heart of the country, is one of the most vulnerable territories, trapped for decades in a model of hyper-specialisation that has privileged quantity at the expense of ecological quality. Monocultures, deep tillage and dependence on chemical inputs have gradually impoverished the natural capital on which agricultural productivity was based.
In this context, which many call “agricultural desertification,” the first cracks are beginning to appear in the dominant narrative. There is a growing number of farms – large and small, traditional and innovative – that are choosing to experiment with techniques such as minimum tillage, agroforestry, complex rotations and organic fertility management. What Bucci calls the “black sheep”, the farmers who veer off the beaten path of linear production, are becoming less and less isolated. Some of these projects, such as Simbiosi or Podere Roncona, are becoming veritable living laboratories: places where an agricultural model can be tested, one that is capable of returning life to the soil while also generating stable income, new social relations and a new balance between production and territory.
From this frontier, Italian and European agriculture may find a new beginning: not from what remains of the old model, but from what is already emerging as a possible alternative.
Stefano Liberti is a 2025 Bertha Challenge Fellow. This is the last article in a four-part investigation coordinated by Internazionale with the support of the Bertha Challenge fellowship. The Italian version of this article is published by Internazionale.
Translated by Ciaran Lawless | Voxeurop