Since NATO’s emergence, Europe has basked in the glow of the so-called peace dividend. Happy to forgo strategic autonomy, many EU nations pared defence spending back to 1% of GDP, secure in the knowledge that Uncle Sam would bankroll our military umbrella.

But this week’s CAP reform news makes it unmistakable: the dividend is dead.

With multi-billion-euro defence commitments now pouring from parliaments across the continent, the brutal reality is this: there will be less money in the pot. And so the question becomes: how do we spend what’s left, wisely?

Any clear-eyed policymaker should agree: food production cannot be separated from the environment, and should not be separated from the people. CAP must continue to go beyond production support. It must deliver for communities and ecosystems. Where farming is productive, it must set the standards and let professional farmers farm.

But in landscapes where food is a by-product of cultural custodianship, a legacy of a pastoral past, those practices must be honoured, but also supported to evolve, ensuring public goods are delivered.

So what does farming the peaty, rocky soils of the west look like in 10, 20, or 50 years? With the dissolution of the two-pillar structure, the future of key rural support programmes such as LIFE and LEADER look increasingly uncertain.

The western way

Whatever form it takes, CAP must respond to reality on the ground. In the west of Ireland, economic and demographic realities are colliding with hard terrain, fragmented farms, and marginal outputs. The days of gathering sheep on high commons or managing rocky fields are quietly receding. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve looked up a hill and been told: “There are just two or three people left gathering sheep on that hill.”

Farming is withdrawing from parts of the landscape. Historically, these hills were tended to from a place of scarcity and care. They may not have provided a great living, but they did provide a living. That was the logic of yesterday. Today, although the care remains, the scarcity is gone, and new approaches to management must be embraced.

Now we recognise these hills hold great riches – carbon, clean water, wildlife and recreation – increasingly valued by society. None of these require excluding agriculture, just perhaps a reordering of its role.

They do, however, require management. Farmers and rural communities are well positioned to benefit here, but they need a fair wind from policymakers.

So what do they need from CAP?

For landowners, the answer is simple: clarity, simplicity and long-term commitment.

Recent EU policy forced farmers to navigate complex bureaucracies. It focused too much on telling them what they could not do, rather than equipping them to do the right thing. That has proven demotivating and ineffective. It saw land management devolved to advisers, or worse, land sold to speculators better equipped to navigate the complexity.

Now, with less money, CAP must do more, and do it better.

It must reward long-term stewardship: managing invasive species, sustaining re-wetted bogs, controlling herbivore pressure, and supporting natural woodland regeneration.

These are generational tasks. Just like fencing or draining was once a legacy activity, so too is ecosystem restoration. It takes belief, investment, and certainty – none of which can be delivered through five-year contracts or shifting CAP windows. We need 15, 20, or 30-year horizons.

Many landowners are ready for that conversation. While they may no longer farm every inch, they are still connected to their land. They have the skills, proximity, and instincts to manage it well – not just for food, but for biodiversity, carbon, water and heritage. They just need to know the system will support them if they support the land.

That’s why CAP must create a new generation of land use pathways and a new generation of land custodians. Landowners should not face binary choices: afforest or sell, lease or intensify. Instead, they should be enabled to combine farming with high-ambition restoration elsewhere on their holdings – and be paid for both.

Back the right people

If there is less money to go around, it has to go to the right people. If I’ve learned anything from observing the land, it’s this: landscapes can’t be managed by distant technocrats or absentee investors.

There is a line I keep coming back to: “If this is your land, then tell me your stories.”

Stories hold people’s connection to place. It is these groups, their stories, and values like knowledge, care and commitment that CAP must support. These are values that cannot be replicated by pension funds, speculators, or absentee owners. If we want stories to persist on the land, the incoming CAP must centre these communities not just as recipients of policy, but designers and deliverers.

A new mandate

The new proposals suggest significant CAP devolution to member states. Ireland, like Europe in the wake of America’s retreat, may now be forced into the role of primary decision-maker. This is both an opportunity and a test.

We’ve shown leadership before, through results-based payments, which empowered farmers to deliver measurable outcomes. But we’ve also stumbled: delayed farmer payments, destructive eligibility criteria, or the flawed rollout of important Natura 2000 designations show how quickly we can undermine our goals.

For the farmers in Bundorragha working to save the last pearl mussels, or holding rhododendron at bay. For those still putting their flocks to the hills of Connemara, or those on the Mullet Peninsula, mowing their meadows late to protect the last corncrake, we need a shared vision of success – and the courage to design a CAP that delivers it.

We can’t afford another cycle of disconnection or drift.