There is a comparison that few people make, but perhaps they should.

Compare Uruguay with Cape Verde.

At first glance, the comparison seems absurd. Uruguay possesses fertile soils, abundant freshwater, a temperate climate, vast grazing lands, proximity to some of South America’s largest metropolitan areas, and for decades enjoyed one of the region’s highest standards of living. Cape Verde, by contrast, is an archipelago in the Atlantic with scarce natural resources, limited agricultural land, dependence on imported food, and recurrent water scarcity.

Yet the comparison reveals something unexpected.

Uruguay has approximately 3.5 million inhabitants. Cape Verde has around 600,000.

The question is not why Uruguay has more people.

The real question is:

Why doesn’t Uruguay have ten or fifteen million?

Geography would not prevent it.

Uruguay lies between Buenos Aires, Rosario, Porto Alegre and within the economic orbit of São Paulo. It occupies one of the most privileged locations in South America. It could have become the great connector of the Southern Cone: a logistics platform, a university hub, a financial centre, a technological bridge between Brazil and Argentina.

Instead, it became a remarkably stable country that gradually stopped growing.

Population growth stalled.

Immigration remained modest.

Young people continued to leave.

Economic expansion became incremental rather than transformative.

Meanwhile, Cape Verde, despite its severe geographical constraints, developed an outward-looking strategy. It cultivated a global diaspora, expanded tourism, strengthened international connectivity, and transformed migration into part of its development model.

Neither country is rich because of natural resources alone.

Both depend fundamentally on institutions and strategy.

The difference lies elsewhere.

Cape Verde behaves like a country that knows it must connect to the world in order to survive.

Uruguay often behaves like a country convinced that its historical reputation is itself a development strategy.

That difference matters.

One projects itself outward.

The other frequently turns inward, reaffirming narratives of exceptionalism.

Uruguay has built an admirable image of institutional stability. That achievement should not be underestimated. Stable democracies are valuable.

But stability is not synonymous with vitality.

A country may have orderly elections, sound macroeconomic management and respect for the rule of law, while simultaneously experiencing demographic decline, limited entrepreneurial dynamism and a shrinking capacity to attract people.

The challenge for Uruguay is therefore not institutional collapse.

It is institutional complacency.

When a society begins to believe that its past achievements guarantee its future relevance, it risks confusing reputation with strategy.

The twenty-first century rewards territories that organise flows:

  • people,
  • knowledge,
  • logistics,
  • capital,
  • innovation.

Not those that merely preserve inherited prestige.

Cape Verde, despite its limitations, increasingly behaves like a network.

Uruguay still often behaves like a successful nation-state of the twentieth century.

That may have been enough yesterday.

The question is whether it will be enough tomorrow.