Every Greek knows that counting sheep is supposed to put you to sleep. But in the latest agricultural statistics, counting sheep has done the opposite—it has woken up a political storm. At the center of the commotion: Crete, the island where, apparently, goats and sheep are multiplying faster than raki bottles at a village wedding.
The revelations came during a meeting between Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis and representatives of scientific and production bodies in Thessaloniki on August 28, ahead of the 89th Thessaloniki International Fair. The flood briefly belonged to Athanasios Saropoulos, President of the Geotechnical Chamber of Greece (GEOTEE) for Central Macedonia. He brought numbers, and the numbers were not subtle.
When Pastures Go Virtual
The main complaint? A system known politely as “virtual distribution of public pastures.” In plain language: paperwork pastures. Fields that exist on maps, not necessarily on the ground, are used to justify subsidies. Saropoulos warned that this “technical solution” has created distortions and injustices so glaring they could be spotted from the moon.
And then came Crete.
According to the Veterinary Database of the Ministry of Rural Development, from 2019 to 2025, most of Greece saw declines in sheep and goat farms. Thessaloniki, for instance, dropped from 1,428 holdings with 298,000 animals to just 975 holdings with 220,000 animals—a fall of roughly 25 percent.
But Rethymno? Different story. In 2019, it had nearly 7,000 farms with 2.2 million animals. By August 2025, the figure had ballooned to over 13,000 farms with 4.4 million animals. That is not a gentle increase; that is Noah’s Ark unloading twice in six years.
Heraklion and Chania showed similar growth, while Lassithi managed a modest uptick. The rest of Greece watched their numbers shrink, while Crete seemed to be breeding flocks as if goats were a form of cryptocurrency.
Goats That Forget to Make Milk
The real punchline comes when you compare animal numbers with milk production. Typically, more goats equals more milk. Yet in Rethymno, despite the “doubling” of animals, milk production barely budged—from 29 million kilos in 2020 to 34.9 million kilos in 2024. An increase, yes, but hardly proportional.
The absurdity sharpens with Chania. Officially, the prefecture is home to 945,000 animals. And yet the milk delivered from January to August 2025 was just over 7 million kilos. In contrast, Larissa, with a very similar declared animal population—993,000 sheep and goats—reported a staggering 84.8 million kilos of milk. That is twelve times more output with the same number of mouths to feed.
Either Cretan goats are on strike, or someone is enjoying the subsidies without the corresponding milk pails.
One Goat for Every Six People
Saropoulos did not mince words. In Rethymno, the 2021 census counted 84,866 permanent residents. The official veterinary database lists 13,112 livestock holdings—roughly one for every six inhabitants, including children, retirees, and the guy who only comes home for Easter.
Picture it: every family in Rethymno adopting a herd as casually as buying a scooter. The reality, of course, is far more complicated and far more suspicious.
Farmers of Two Speeds
The imbalance goes beyond numbers. Saropoulos highlighted the staffing nightmare: in Rethymno, millions of animals are supposedly monitored by just three veterinarians. Meanwhile, regions with fewer animals tend to have far more staff. The result is what he called “two-speed livestock farmers”—some scrutinized and others waved through.
For farmers in Central Macedonia, the math feels insulting. Their herds shrink, their milk output is measurable, and their subsidies wobble under strict checks. Meanwhile, Crete’s numbers swell like balloons, subsidies flow, and the milk… well, the milk dribbles.
The Call for Justice
The president of GEOTEE insists that the system must change. The rule allowing “virtual pastures” to be assigned outside their region should be scrapped. “Justice must be restored,” he argued, not only between Crete and the rest of Greece but also within Crete itself, since honest Cretan farmers are tarred with the same brush as those gaming the system.
His prescription is both expensive and straightforward: a complete livestock census in Crete. That means boots on the ground, not numbers in databases, and a significant increase in veterinary and geotechnical staff. Without such a headcount, statistics will continue to look like fairy tales.
At first glance, this might sound like a bureaucratic spat over goats. In reality, it strikes at the heart of EU subsidies. European agricultural funds are the lifeblood of many Greek farmers, often accounting for more than half of their income. If Greece cannot guarantee accurate numbers, it risks penalties, clawbacks, or even a collapse of trust in the system.
For consumers, the issue touches food prices. With production costs soaring, if subsidies falter, fields may be abandoned. For taxpayers, it raises the question of whether public money is being spent on goats that never existed.
Crete’s Paradox
Crete, of course, remains unapologetically itself. The island has always lived with contradictions: sunburned tourists on one beach, shepherds moving flocks across another hill; luxury resorts cheek by jowl with mountain villages where raki flows in recycled soda bottles.
Now the paradox is statistical. On paper, the island hosts more goats than it has people, and their milk output looks suspiciously slim. In practice, Crete remains the beating heart of Greece’s livestock culture, with cheese, meat, and traditions that define the local identity.
Which is why the joke, whispered across the kafeneia, has a sting: “In Crete, even the goats are mythical creatures.”
Where Things Stand
The government will have to address the discrepancies sooner rather than later. New pasture management plans are supposed to be implemented in three to four years. However, farmers outside Crete are demanding faster action before subsidies further distort competition.
Saropoulos’s message was clear: you cannot build agricultural policy on virtual goats. You need real animals, real milk, and real vets to count them.
Until then, Greece will continue to count sheep at night, Crete will continue to multiply them by day, and the rest of the country will watch the numbers grow with equal parts disbelief and envy.
