The whole plant is considered a controlled substance. Does it have psychoactive properties? In some cases no.
In the hills of Asturias and the warm plains of Andalucía, Spanish farmers are cultivating a crop that is simultaneously legal and suspect — hemp, whose non-intoxicating derivative CBD has become one of the fastest-growing wellness commodities in Europe. A 1967 law written to suppress narcotics now governs an industry it never imagined, leaving growers, entrepreneurs, and enforcement officers alike navigating a landscape where the same plant can be both an agricultural product and a controlled substance. Spain's hemp boom is, at its core, a story about how societies struggle to update their rules when reality outpaces the imagination of those who wrote them.
- Hemp cultivation in Spain has grown sixteenfold in five years, fueled by surging demand for CBD — a non-psychoactive compound the market treats as wellness gold but the law treats as a controlled substance.
- A 1967 anti-narcotics law, never designed for a CBD economy, creates a legal trap: farmers may grow the plant, but extracting its most valuable compound from the flowering buds is technically illegal regardless of potency.
- The Guardia Civil finds itself enforcing contradictions — distinguishing legitimate hemp operations from drug cultivation while acknowledging that the compound at the center of the dispute has no psychoactive effect.
- Businesses like Profesor CBD have built half-million-euro revenues in this gray zone, forced to sell their products only as cosmetics and forbidden from making any health claims, even as customer demand accelerates.
- Farmers face theft, suspicion from local authorities, and the threat of shutdown — some have already quit — while the industry waits for a legal framework that matches the reality of a 2021 market.
In the Asturian village of Meluerda, three friends planted five hectares of industrial hemp in plain sight after the pandemic, offering guided tours and selling oil, seeds, and flour under the name Cáñamo Valley. Their openness reflects a broader confidence — and a broader tension. Spain's hemp cultivation has grown from 61 hectares in 2016 to an estimated 800–1,000 hectares today, driven almost entirely by demand for CBD, a non-psychoactive cannabis compound associated with wellness and anti-inflammatory properties.
The problem is that this thriving industry operates under a law written in 1967 to fight drug abuse. Farmers may legally grow certified hemp with THC content below 0.2 percent, but only for fiber, grain, or seeds. The flowering buds — where CBD concentrates most heavily — are classified as controlled substances under Spanish law, meaning that extracting CBD for commercial sale is technically illegal even when the final product contains nothing psychoactive. As one cannabis regulation lawyer put it, the framework was built for a world that never anticipated non-intoxicating cannabis derivatives becoming a commercial sector.
Guardia Civil lieutenant Raúl Cabello captures the contradiction honestly: the whole plant is legally a controlled substance, yet the compound everyone wants has no intoxicating properties. Enforcement has grown more complicated as inspectors try to separate legitimate operations from illegal cultivation — and have found cases where supposed hemp farms concealed plants intended for other purposes.
Companies like Profesor CBD have nonetheless built real businesses in this gray zone. Founded after the owner's mother sought anti-inflammatory alternatives during cancer recovery, the company grew 117 percent last year and surpassed half a million euros in revenue. Regulatory changes now prevent them from marketing CBD as food or medicine — only as cosmetics — and bar them from making any therapeutic claims. They publish lab results and customer testimonials instead, and insist they follow the law strictly.
For farmers, the uncertainty is more acute. Hemp is frequently stolen by people who mistake it for marijuana. Local authorities view the crop with suspicion. Some growers have abandoned their operations entirely. The industry has grown too large and too profitable to remain in legal limbo indefinitely, and voices across the sector are calling for modernized regulation that distinguishes clearly between industrial hemp, CBD, and controlled narcotics — before the gap between a 1967 law and a 2021 market grows any wider.
In the Asturian village of Meluerda, five hectares of cannabis plants stretch across the hillside in plain view. There is nothing clandestine about it. Three friends—David Cárcaba, Fernando Vela, and Juan Bode—launched Cáñamo Valley after the pandemic lockdowns ended, planting industrial hemp to produce virgin oil, seeds, and flour. They now offer guided tours where visitors learn about the plant's properties and environmental benefits. Many who come are entrepreneurs curious about entering the business themselves.
The surge in interest reflects something larger. Spain's hemp cultivation has exploded in recent years, driven largely by demand for cannabidiol, or CBD—a non-psychoactive compound extracted from cannabis that has been attributed with various health and wellness properties. In 2016, Spanish farmers cultivated 61 hectares of industrial hemp. By 2020, that figure had reached 510 hectares. Agricultural organizations estimate the number has climbed further this year to somewhere between 800 and 1,000 hectares. The growth has been sharpest in warmer regions like Andalucía and the Levante, where the climate favors the crop.
Yet this expansion exists in legal limbo. Spain's hemp industry operates under a 1967 law designed to prevent drug production, not to accommodate a booming wellness market. The regulations require farmers to use certified seeds with a maximum THC content of 0.2 percent and to cultivate hemp only for fiber, grain, or seeds. The plant's flowering tops—the buds where CBD concentrates most heavily—are classified as controlled substances regardless of their actual potency. When producers extract CBD from these buds for commercial sale, they technically violate the law, even if the final product contains no psychoactive compounds. The legal framework, in other words, was not built for this moment.
Guardia Civil lieutenant Raúl Cabello, who oversees drug enforcement, explained the contradiction plainly. The 1967 law permits industrial hemp cultivation for traditional uses: fiber for textiles, seeds for food and animal feed. Then CBD arrived, a non-intoxicating substance with growing market demand, much like the aloe vera craze before it. The entire plant is classified as a controlled substance under Spanish law, yet the compound everyone wants to extract and sell has no psychoactive properties. "With the law in hand, the whole plant is considered a controlled substance," Cabello said. "Does it have psychoactive properties? In some cases no, which is why these are questions for the courts." Enforcement has grown more complicated. The Guardia Civil has intensified inspections to distinguish between legitimate industrial operations and illegal drug cultivation. They have found cases where supposed hemp farms contained plants destined for other purposes, or seeds that tested positive for THC when analyzed.
José Luis Martín, a lawyer specializing in cannabis regulation, argues that Spain's legal framework is simply outdated. The 1961 International Convention on Narcotic Drugs, which Spain incorporated through its 1967 law, was written in the context of fighting drug abuse. No one anticipated a future in which non-intoxicating cannabis derivatives would become a commercial sector. "The regulation in Spain is behind the times," Martín said.
Meanwhile, companies like Profesor CBD have built thriving businesses in this gray zone. Founded in 2018 after the owner's mother recovered from cancer and sought anti-inflammatory alternatives, the company now sells CBD oils and cosmetics online. Last year it grew 117 percent and exceeded half a million euros in revenue. The sector is projected to expand 300 percent over the next twelve months. Borja Iribarne, the founder, acknowledges the legal constraints. Since regulations changed, his company cannot market CBD products as food or medicine for human consumption—only as cosmetics. They cannot claim the products reduce pain or treat illness. Instead, they publish customer testimonials and third-party lab results on their website, letting the evidence speak for itself. "There is a brutal legal vacuum," Iribarne said. Yet he insists his company follows the law strictly.
Profesor CBD works with domestic growers, but those producers face mounting pressure. Theft is common because the public conflates hemp with marijuana. More significantly, local authorities view hemp cultivation with suspicion. Some farmers have shut down their operations out of fear. The industry has grown too large and too profitable to ignore, but the legal system has not caught up. Until Spain modernizes its cannabis regulations, legitimate producers will continue operating in uncertainty, caught between a 1967 law and a 2021 market.
Citações Notáveis
The regulation in Spain is behind the times. Historically, cannabis was treated as a criminal matter. No one anticipated a future in which non-intoxicating cannabis derivatives would become a commercial sector.— José Luis Martín, cannabis regulation lawyer
There is a brutal legal vacuum. Some farmers have shut down their operations out of fear, even though they are following the law.— Borja Iribarne, founder of Profesor CBD
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did this boom happen so suddenly? Hemp wasn't new to Spain.
CBD arrived. It's a compound in the plant that doesn't get you high, but people believe it helps with pain, anxiety, sleep. Once the market discovered it, demand exploded. It's the same pattern you see with wellness trends—suddenly everyone wants it.
But the law allowed hemp farming already. What changed?
The law allowed it for fiber and seeds. Traditional industrial uses. No one was extracting CBD from the buds back in 1967. The legal system assumed if you were growing hemp, you were making rope or animal feed. It didn't account for a scenario where the most valuable part of the plant—the buds—would become the target.
So the buds are technically illegal?
Yes. Under Spanish law, the flowering tops are always classified as controlled substances. Even if the CBD in them has zero psychoactive effect. It's a legal absurdity that the enforcement officers themselves acknowledge.
How are companies like Profesor CBD operating then?
They're navigating the gap. They sell CBD as cosmetics, not medicine or food. They publish lab results showing THC content is below limits. They don't make health claims. It's technically compliant, but everyone knows the real use is wellness. It's a workaround, not a solution.
What happens to the farmers?
They're vulnerable. Theft is constant because people don't distinguish between hemp and marijuana. Local authorities are skeptical. Some have simply closed their farms rather than risk legal trouble. The industry is growing faster than the law can adapt.