Thursday, March 05, 2026

The Electric Endgame: Europe’s Clean Path Out Of Vassalage – Analysis



LONG READ

March 5, 2026 
ECFR
By Alberto Rizzi


The EU’s climate policy will shape its geopolitical place in the world. The decline laid bare in the above scenario is just one of infinite possible futures. But it is a plausible one, given the trajectory of Europe’s climate debate.

In the European Parliament, a new alliance of the centrist European People’s Party and right-wing forces has already reduced firms’ requirements to report on environmental measures. The European Commission has postponed its 2035 ban on sales of new cars with internal combustion engines (ICE) by downgrading the mandated 100% reduction in car emissions to 90%. It is also planning to delay the phase-out of exemptions under the emissions trading system (ETS), diluting previously agreed climate action.

More and more voices within European politics seem to be questioningthe worth, speed and scale of the EU’s energy transition and climate funding. For some, it is purely a matter of new spending priorities like defence and economic security. Others are concerned about Europe’s ability to adapt rapidly, and the reliance on external, primarily Chinese, suppliers of components and technology. Europe’s industrial sector, meanwhile, wants regulations to change because of the cost of the transition and the struggle to remain competitive. Then there are those who argue green regulation is preventing the bloc from concluding quick and easy free-trade deals.

Europe is indeed facing a difficult transition. It is becoming increasingly complex for policymakers to strike the right balance between sustainability, affordability and energy security. But, as this paper argues, the EU must continue. This is because the fight against climate change is about the bloc’s global economic power, too. Other powers are developing and implementing emissions regulations and environmental standards with the aim of applying them around the world. Trade in clean-tech components has created dependencies, from the extraction of critical minerals to the sale of finished products abroad. Climate finance for developing and low-income countries gives donors sizeable geoeconomic influence.


Powers that excel in all three domains—regulation, technology and finance—will gain substantial economic clout in the coming decades. By 2040, the world is forecast to reach peak oil demand, and renewable energy will be used on a large scale. How the EU and its member states have adapted by then depends on policies they make today. Take environmental regulation and emissions trading schemes: early adopters set the rules of the game. This gives domestic companies a head start over foreign producers that must become familiar with the rules and adapt their production facilities to be compliant. Clean-tech manufacturing also brings an enormous amount of geoeconomic leverage—just think of China’s market dominance in solar panels (in 2024, China built 87% of photovoltaic cells globally) and EV batteries (over 70%). This competitive advantage can then be reinforced through economies of scale, leading to greater innovation. And a savvy use of climate finance can strengthen global soft power, sparking profitable trade agreements and infrastructure deals in destination countries.

The countries able to strategically embrace the energy transition through regulatory, industrial and financial measures over the next decade will thus be the winners in the multipolar world of tomorrow. Those that delay, or worse, roll back, climate action risk exclusion from regulatory decision-making, major industries, commercial opportunities and the soft power that comes with them. This may leave them with weak industries powered by fossil fuels that come from inconvenient powers and dependence on clean tech from strategic rivals.


Europe is already facing a decline in geoeconomic might. The continent is projected to account for just 9% of global GDP by 2050, down from 16.5% in 2024. This is not to mention the consequences of its ageing and shrinking population. But European leaders still have time to change course. By playing to the EU’s regulatory strength, investing in key technologies where European companies are still competitive, and maintaining significant climate financing abroad, Europe can remain powerful today and develop precious geoeconomic leverage for a hotter and more uncertain future.
The power of regulation

2040: The EU has abandoned climate clauses in its trade agreements, including the notoriously sensitive CBAM and the anti-deforestation law. But Europe’s regulatory pause means the bloc has effectively ceded leadership to China, which has been quick to fill in the gap by promoting its own climate rules and standards that favour its domestic players.

The pause has allowed the bloc to rapidly conclude free trade deals with emerging economies including Malaysia, Nigeria and Thailand, whose environmental regulation is weaker than Europe’s. But the difficulties in rolling back domestic European regulations to the level of developing countries mean these agreements are shallow. They also exclude several sectors from free trade, including agriculture, minerals and food products. At the same time, European industrial producers are being undercut since scrapping the environmental part of trade agreements has made foreign, more polluting products more competitive in the single market.


Moreover, the slowdown in green regulation has disincentivised European industries from developing smart and efficient solutions through which they could have promoted stronger economic cooperation with developing countries. Instead, most European firms have optimised existing technologies rather than innovating.
Writing the rules

2026: Those who write the rules have a better chance of shaping the outcomes. And for a long time, the EU has been the dominant rule-maker: to have access to the EU’s huge consumer market, exporters must abide by its climate regulation. This means the bloc sets standards that its businesses are better prepared and resourced to meet than importers. In other words, the bloc’s climate standards give its firms a competitive advantage over the actors required to meet them. But things are changing, and the geoeconomic order will change with them.

China is taking note of this regulatory power. For example, back in 2005, the EU established the world’s first large-scale carbon market, the ETS, to cap greenhouse gas emissions and allow the trading of permits among industrial players. China initially copied from the European example, applying it to the power sector and using an emissions-intensity model that allowed overall emissions to grow alongside the economy.


But Beijing is now tightening and expanding its system beyond the energy sector. From 2027, it plans to move towards an absolute cap with a fixed ceiling on total emissions. This shift is partly a response to the EU’s CBAM. It aims to ensure that Chinese exporters pay taxes to Beijing, not at the European border, and that its firms are not disadvantaged in carbon-priced markets.

The effect is broader than EU–China trade alone. If both the EU and China embed carbon pricing at scale, exporters in third markets will increasingly need to internalise carbon costs to maintain access their markets. Europe is now sharing its regulatory influence: China is no longer simply adapting to European rules but incorporating carbon pricing into its own industrial strategy, keeping tax revenues, encouraging low-carbon innovation, and gradually shaping standards across its supply chains.

Most of the world is now moving—albeit at different speeds—towards the adoption of domestic climate standards and are necessarily basing their models on existing systems. Even major fossil fuels exporters like the UAE are introducing compulsory reporting and emission regulations as part of their transition strategies.

At the other end of the spectrum, US president Donald Trump is tearing up environmental standards and waging a war against America’s domestic wind industry. The geoeconomic costs are a warning sign. After halting the green tax credits introduced under the Biden-era Inflation Reduction Act, the first quarter of 2025 saw $7.9bn worth of clean-tech projects cancelled, more than in 2022-2024 combined. The president’s love for fossil fuels is diminishing America’s ability to compete in new technologies. This domestic regulatory rollback, combined with America’s withdrawal from nearly all international climate and environmental organisations, is eroding US regulatory power. American businesses hoping to export will now have to abide by foreign regulation with little domestic help (and that is before factoring in tariffs).


Even if the EU does not have the US to worry about, China is a growing challenge to its regulatory influence. Beijing dominates clean-tech markets in Asia and is now expanding its influence into the regulatory realm. In particular, it offers its system of carbon trading and taxation to developing countries as a model to address greenhouse gas emissions while growing economically. Here Beijing is using a cheaper alternative to the EU scheme to answer an implicit fear of many governments in the global south that emissions reduction is not compatible with economic growth. This could encourage Asian countries follow its model and adopt emissions reporting and trading standards that favour Chinese firms over European ones.
A standards clash

On the other side, Europe’s trade partners are keen for the bloc to roll back its climate regulation, to avoid dealing with its environmental standards and emissions reporting. The most demanding of these is the CBAM, which, as of January 2026, forces importers into the EU to pay a fee on the carbon content of goods—unless those emissions have been taxed in the country of origin. This means developing countries with weaker carbon pricing regimes will face higher costs for trading with the EU. The mechanism has sparked accusations of undue protectionism from much of the global south. Trade partners have also voiced concerns over the EU’s anti-deforestation law which bans the imports of agricultural goods linked to forest destruction abroad as of December 2025.

European officials are painfully aware of these complaints. Climate protection proved a contentious point in EU-India trade negotiations, and the agreed upon deal limits liberalisation in climate sensitive areas like agriculture and steel, although the EU did hold firm on CBAM. To finalise the EU-Indonesia Comprehensive Economic Partnership Agreement, the bloc had to carve out an exemption for smallholder farmers.

Prospective partners have objected to other climate-connected unilateral measures from the EU. One example is the late 2025 doubling of steel tariffs and reduction of import quotas. The move, which protects clean European manufacturers from cheap and highly polluting imports, was intended to be both a negotiating tool against similar US tariffs on European steel and a first step towards an international clean steel club(comprising members who impose tariffs on external imports of “dirty” steel). But the EU’s hasty decision has angered advanced economies and developing countries alike.

While the EU has been persistent on CBAM, elsewhere extended delaysof the EU deforestation law, the carve out for Indonesia, and sustainability frictions in the India deal suggest European policymakers are tempted to soften climate rules for quicker deals. This temptation to scrap significant environmental commitments or regulatory harmonisation in trade negotiations is likely to grow as the EU courtsemerging economies whose standards differ significantly from those of advanced economies.

To be sure, the EU can hardly ask prospective trade partners to abide by its climate standards across the entire value chain the day after signing a deal—especially if the EU does not share the technology needed to reach those standards. Adequate and incremental timelines for implementation with embedded flexibility are a sensible choice when negotiating trade deals.


What does not make sense is severely weakening regulation for short-term benefits like marginally higher growth in exports following a free trade agreement. This would come at significant cost not just to the environment, including higher emissions and deforestation in partner countries, but to European producers who will likely be undercut by cheaper and less environmentally friendly imports by developing countries. The EU’s regulation, if consistently enforced, gives it a competitive advantage.
The influence of innovation

Finally, domestic decarbonisation efforts allow a country to export not just standards but also innovative climate solutions. Installing record-breaking renewable capacity or developing clean solutions at the industrial level is a matter of influence as well as international headlines. And once again, the trend favours China. Between January and May 2025, the country added 198 gigawatts (GW) of new solar capacity and 46GW of wind, enough to cover the entire electricity generation of a large, industrialised country like Turkey or Indonesia. In the same period of time, Germany—Europe’s biggest solar-energy power—added just 7GW

Europeans cannot compete with China on total capacity. But they should be aware that the country’s record-breaking pace means it is continuously developing new solutions to meet new energy demand, primarily in renewables and nuclear. Between 2016 and 2020, China produced the lion’s share of the world’s green and digital patented innovations at 31.4%, followed by America, Japan, South Korea and then Germany at just 3.8%. This is important as the primary concern in many developing countries besides cost is how to decarbonise when electricity demand keeps rising. Beijing is showing them the way, leading in innovation on clean energy by developing new technologies and reducing the costs of established ones. But the good news for Europe it is not just about quantity. The quality of European innovation leads China in some key sectors like wind, and innovation rankings still put European countries at the top—but China is improving here too.

Weaker decarbonisation rules would spell weaker global influence for European firms. With no incentive, they would have little or nothing in terms of green innovation to offer partner countries, making China the only game in town. The EU’s domestic firms would likely struggle as emerging economies keep improving capacity and development in legacy sectors and undercut European industries. In such a world, it becomes clear that retreating from domestic climate commitments would hardly serve Europe’s geoeconomic interests.
Technologies for a cleaner world

2040: The rollback of the EU’s climate regulation means most of the bloc’s carmakers still produce cars that run on fossil fuels. This means they maintain domestic sales levels and only slightly increase sales of EVs, which now lack subsidies. ICE car manufacturers have managed to hold onto some jobs, as have the myriad firms that produce components for those cars. But overseas sales are lagging: Chinese EVs now dominate sales in most high- and middle-income countries. The know-how gained in making EVs has spread to ICE cars, and China now produces much cheaper gasoline and hybrid cars than Europe with similar quality. For households in developing countries, the choice is a foregone conclusion. European players can only compete in the high-end sector, but this is unsustainable.


Europe’s domestic decarbonisation industry has similarly stalled as tariffs have made Chinese solar panels too costly for many households and small firms, yet they remain cheaper than most domestic production which never quite got off the ground. The end of subsidies has also made the installation of clean energy sources more expensive. Some of this money was used to reduce energy prices for energy-intensive firms—a necessary measure given the reliance on natural gas and frequent prices hikes linked to spot contracts and geopolitical disturbances in export countries.
A new battleground

2026: The manufacturing and trade of clean tech is the second key geoeconomic battleground of the future. As more countries integrate renewables into their energy supply, the market for clean-tech components, electrification solutions, and EVs will soar. By 2040, the combined value of clean tech, critical minerals, green industry materials and green services could reach $11trn. While the forecast is based on the International Energy Agency’s net zero by 2050 scenario, a trajectory that today looks unlikely, it underlines the economic importance of these sectors. Even in a less climate-friendly scenario that assumes none of the currently planned environmental legislation will enter into force, electric vehicles would account for 40% of global car sales by 2035, and based on currently proposed and pledged policies, they would make up more than half.

Renewables are set to grow faster than any other energy source. As installations of solar panels and wind turbines increase, so does the geoeconomic power of the countries that produce them and extract and refine the raw materials they require. The EU is hardly a heavyweight in any of these industries. Several European carmakers have recently scaled back plans to transition to EVs and the scrapping of the ban on sales of new ICE cars has been hailed as a major victory by legacy carmakers across the continent. But with this, the EU risks being left out of the rapidly growing EV market. A similar logic applies to other clean industries: without domestic demand, many European firms would struggle to reach the scale necessary to compete globally.

China already dominates the clean-tech industry. The country is the top refiner in most energy-related minerals, holding above 80% of the world’s gallium, graphite, manganese, rare earths and silicon. Besides that, Chinese firms are expanding their footprint in mining operations abroad, going upstream in the mineral value chains. They are going downstream too, accounting for 95% of solar-grade polysilicon production, for example. This dominance of clean-tech value chains and China’s massive industrial capacity mean that climate action will only strengthen the country’s global position. As the world moves towards electrification, countries able first to electrify rapidly and second to provide quality electrification solutions at scale will gain huge overseas sales and with them, geoeconomic leverage.
Developing dependency

At its core, the clean-tech race is about strategic autonomy. As the global economy electrifies, control over clean tech is becoming the new foundation of energy security—especially for countries lacking vast fossil fuel resources. Countries that cannot depend on their own clean-tech industry will be far more vulnerable to the whims of oil producing countries and to suppliers of key technologies.


Already, politically strategic oil-producers like the Arab Gulf states are developing clean tech and researching new solutions to remain relevant in the energy scenarios of the future. They are also ramping up the electrification of their domestic economies. Backwards-looking ones like Russia, meanwhile, are continuing to base their economic model on fossil extraction, hampering opportunities down the line. Similarly, America’s decision to boost oil and gas and cut support for cleaner sources means it will trade increased revenues today for a weaker position in clean-tech supply chains tomorrow.

As for Europe, nearly half of its electricity and a quarter of its total energy comes from renewable sources, a figure that is steadily growing. However in 2024, 73% of the clean tech needed to produce this energy came from China. The continent’s energy security is not only bound up in reducing reliance on fossil suppliers, but increasingly on clean-tech suppliers too—whether it moves with the trend or against it.

Even though fossil fuels will play a geopolitical role for a long time yet, as legacy energy sources they will benefit little from innovation; the geoeconomic leverage that comes with their production is declining. Indeed, while oil and gas demand is set to rise in the coming years, nearly 90% of upstream oil and gas investment since 2019 has been dedicated to offset production decline rather than demand growth. Meanwhile electricity demand is rising faster than total energy demand. In the coming years, manufacturers of clean tech will not only be secure in their own energy supplies. They will also increase their export revenues and geopolitical leverage. The countries able to dominate the clean-tech industry at the global level will have the geoeconomic advantage over those that do not. Indeed, these “electrostates” are the new powers of the future.

China is often described as the first electrostate, an unchallenged leader in clean-tech industrial products and almost all related materials like refined rare earths. With this, it is shoring up its geopolitical power. As it provides the materials and technological know-how to emerging economies seeking to decarbonise, Beijing is becoming an indispensable partner for many countries’ decarbonisation and electrification.

Under its “south-south” model of cooperation, China has already built an energy ecosystem in South-East Asia, where it is the main provider of industrial inputs and technological know-how across clean energy supply chains. In Latin America, it is expanding cooperation on energy and infrastructure to include green solutions. And in Africa, 59% of China’s energy projects are now for renewables. By embedding its firms and clean-tech products into the energy transitions in these regions, China is converting infrastructure investment into durable geopolitical influence.

Although on a smaller scale, the Arab Gulf states are increasingly using clean energy to extend their influence in Africa, too. The UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar are financing solar, wind and green‑hydrogen projects, while Gulf firms provide technical expertise and investment in supporting infrastructure. These initiatives allow Gulf states to position themselves as reliable partners for African governments as they balance decarbonisation with growing electricity demand. By linking finance, technology and energy planning, they are creating channels of influence and embedding themselves in emerging clean‑energy markets.


Amid this competition, the EU risks losing ground. Through initiatives such as Global Gateway, European institutions and firms are financing clean energy projects, sustainable infrastructure and technology transfer in Africa, Asia and Latin America, aiming to link decarbonisation with economic development and climate standards alignment. However, Europe’s industrial footprint in mass‑manufactured clean tech is far smaller than China’s, and its investment is often dispersed across markets rather than concentrated in dominant supply chains. As a result, the bloc’s influence is shaped more by regulatory weight and finance than by export‑driven leverage, reinforcing a model of strategic partnerships rather than industry dominance.
A disappearing industry

These dynamics put Europe in a precarious position across many industries, but none is more threatened than its automotive sector—one of the EU’s biggest employers with 2.4 million direct jobs. Laggards in EV production (in 2024 the EU produced only 2.4 million EVs compared to China’s near 13 million), EU car manufacturers have long relied on mechanical excellence and have seen China as a market for their sales. But this is quickly changing. China’s electric revolution presents a double threat: Chinese EV makers are increasingly squeezing EU carmakers in the Chinese market and EU carmakers are facing growing Chinese competition in the European market. Europe has already become the largest export market for Chinese EVs by far, representing half of foreign sales in the first nine months of 2025.

A third threat is also appearing: once looked down upon as bad quality and poorly engineered by their European counterparts, Chinese gasoline vehicles are now seeing a boom of exports to emerging markets. Besides manufacturing scale and cheap labour, two dynamics are behind this trend. First, after diminishing domestic sales, Chinese ICE-vehicle producers are shifting to markets that are more receptive to gasoline-powered cars. And second, manufacturers are using the software and electronic know-how acquired through EV production to produce higher quality ICE vehicles that compete with European rivals in technology and appeal, but sell for a fraction of the price.

In this context, the EU’s decision to lift the ban on new ICE car sales by 2035 is hardly a victory for Europe’s struggling carmakers. While in theory the decision removes a hard-to-reach deadline and provides producers with more breathing space, the underlying risk is that the delay might just be used to ensure a few years’ more sales rather than to put forward a radical transformation of the sector if there is no immediate incentive to do so.

By the late 2030s, it is extremely unlikely that European ICE producers will see sunlit uplands, either domestically or internationally. In a low EV adoption scenario, battery powered EVs are estimated to make up 64% of the global new vehicles fleet by 2040; while ICE vehicles will have an shrinking market share, both in Europe and abroad. If European carmakers do not use the additional years provided by the shift in policy to rapidly adapt and become highly competitive in EV and hybrid car production, they might find themselves even worse off. At the same time, emerging economies with limited purchasing power will just opt for Chinese brands—both in EVs and ICE cars—as they will likely be cheaper and of similar quality to European counterparts.


In wind power too, Europe is barely holding on to its position. Much like solar power, Europe was a pioneer in wind power technology, both in research and manufacturing. And just like solar power, the sector is now coming under huge competitive pressure. Once the undisputed world leader, in 2024 Denmark’s Vestas accounted for only 10.2% of combined (onshore and offshore) wind commissioned capacity globally and was the only non-Chinese producer in the top five.

Even the good news for European industry is short lived. Growing demand for legacy energy sources, in part driven by AI data centres, is temporarily boosting the profitability of European makers of gas turbines like Siemens. But this trend is largely down to gas demand and at the mercy of its future fluctuations. Plus, the profitability only lasts until the turbines are sold, then someone else gains the revenues and the geopolitical influence that comes with the gas they use.

In the coming years, at risk is not just the fate of some companies but of European industries. If rising political pressure prevents the EU and its member states from deploying effective industrial policies to support the sector, important know-how and capabilities could be lost. In an increasingly electrified world, Europe would struggle even more to provide partners with solutions to electrify and decarbonise their economies, leaving room for other powers—namely China—to deliver them instead. Worse, the EU could find itself more and more dependent on foreign suppliers of energy solutions, too.
Funding a greener future

2040: The EU and member states have largely reduced the climate finance they provide to contribute to poorer countries’ mitigation and adaptation measures, hailed by many conservative voices as a way to stop wasting money abroad. While Europeans maintain their binding commitments to international institutions, their retreat as major climate donors has whittled away European soft power and the opportunity to shape recipient countries’ decarbonisation efforts. In just a few years, China has stepped into the void and wasted no time in presenting itself as the defender of the poorest, providing loans and offering its own products and components for climate change solutions.
America down and out, China racing ahead

2026: Climate finance—the public and private funding to support climate mitigation and adaptation measures—is the third channel through which climate will shape the geoeconomic balance of the future. It addresses the needs of developing countries and redistributes some wealth from richer and historically more polluting countries to poorer economies that often face the negative effects of climate change first.

Climate finance is also a powerful geoeconomic tool: by providing financial resources, countries gain reputational benefits and get a say in recipient countries’ climate action. Criteria that define how grants and preferential loans should be used mean donors can partially orientate their climate finance towards their interests in a region, for instance fending off geopolitical rivals, as well as introducing standards that would favour their own industry. In an increasingly contested world, climate finance is a way to protect the environment, and a battleground for influence.


The landscape of international climate finance dramatically transformed over the course of 2025. Trump’s decision to freeze and then permanently close the US Agency for International Development (USAID) slashed more than 2% from the world’s total funding for climate resilience. The absence of the US from COP30 in Brazil makes the commitment reached in Belém to triple adaptation financing for developing countries harder to reach. Then, the January 8th US Treasury decision to withdraw its funding of $4bn to the Green Climate Fund, the largest multilateral climate-finance fund, signalled the end of US public contribution to climate finance, at least for the remainder of Trump’s term. In one fell swoop, the US left the global south without support to fight the worst effects of climate change and destroyed the soft power and geoeconomic leverage that came with it. This is particularly evident in the Indo-Pacific, where China, while not filling the gap left by USAID, is rapidly winning in terms of narrative and gaining the trust of countries abandoned by America.

In recent years, China has ramped up its contributions to international climate finance primarily through its flagship infrastructure development strategy, the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Through the BRI, China has focused on loans rather than grants (which were just 6%of China’s bilateral climate finance between 2000 and 2022) and energy and transport received the bulk of this funding. Still, China is among the world’s top ten donors through multilateral institutions, providing approximately $10.4bn between 2015 and 2022, just behind Canada’s $11.03bn. Besides bilateral and multilateral contributions, China is also rapidly expanding its foreign direct investment in clean tech, with more than $220bn invested abroad since 2022. While this cash is not strictly climate finance, it can play a similar role by increasing energy availability in developing countries, where demand is growing, and ensuring at least a part of this is met by clean sources. In the first six months of 2025, Chinese projects for power generation abroad added4.9GW in solar and 4.4GW in wind energy.

Through much of its bilateral climate finance, China has advanced its own geoeconomic interests, creating customers for its oversupply of clean tech and ensuring the energy transition in developing countries relies on Chinese-made components. It also helps China cast itself as a desirable partner in the developing world’s fight against climate change—a strategy that is all the more powerful at a time when developed countries’ pledges for climate finance have been repeatedly missed: only in 2022 was the 2016 Paris agreement’s $100bn target met and COP29’s target of $300bn per year in climate finance was confirmed at COP30.
A test for Europe

America’s withdrawal and China’s advance in climate finance puts the EU in a peculiar position. On the one hand, the union and its member states are still by far the world’s largest donors in international climate finance, with €31.7bn contributed in 2024 by the EU’s institutions, member states and European multilateral development banks. Such leadership has encouraged regulatory harmonisation in recipient countries, although Europe does not have a clean-tech industry like China’s to answer newly created demand.


On the other hand, US policy has created a gap in funding that European public finances are unable to fill, all the more so when a growing number of voices within the EU—especially, but not exclusively, on the far right—are calling for a reduction in climate finance commitments. The growing relevance of the far right in European politics is already reshaping the narrative about international climate finance agreements. In 2025, for example, Alternative for Germany ran on a climate-sceptical platform calling for a reduction of international development cooperation and the exit of Germany from the Paris climate agreement.

Given the urgency to dedicate more resources to improving the bloc’s defence capabilities, international climate finance is unlikely to be a top priority in the EU’s next seven-year budget. The scaling back of several measures and targets in the European Green Deal and calls for a more reserved approach to climate action and the energy transition suggest that supporting mitigation and adaptation efforts in the developing world might be reduced too. But significantly cutting European climate finance commitments would merely save some financial resources in the short term and produce an array of negative effects just as quickly.

First there would be reputational damage, not to mention anger from many developing countries that had been counting on European support for their mitigation and adaption needs. This would serve Beijing a narrative victory on a silver platter, allowing China to claim the title of the defender of the global south countries abandoned by Europeans—even though China is the world’s biggest emitter of CO2. Second, without providing the funding, Europeans would be unable to influence the direction of climate efforts in developing countries. Such countries would then have no incentive to follow European guidelines nor to rely on European hardware or components for their clean-tech adoption or clean-energy production.

This reasoning also applies to environmental standards: without European financial support for their climate action, developing countries would likely adapt to the standards of their remaining donors, which in turn would make future climate cooperation with Europe more difficult. European firms producing clean tech would have a harder time selling their equipment in those countries and would struggle to be competitive in those markets if the standards landscape had been shaped by rival powers. Beyond all this lies the detriment to the global fight against climate change—which goes against every country’s interest—that would likely come from a substantial reduction in European funding.
Another future is possible

It is 2040 and the weather in Brussels is grey and mild for February, but the geoeconomic clouds are not as dark as they could have been. Just over a decade earlier, policymakers in the city doubled down on the EU’s strengths to protect the bloc as much as possible in this brave new, electrified, world.

There is no denying China’s dominance in clean-tech production, and much of South-East Asia follows its climate standards. But the EU has partially held onto is reputation as a regulatory superpower. It has continued to link its trade deals to climate standards. And, thanks to the size of its consumer market, many emerging clean-tech manufacturers like India, Mexico and Vietnam are abiding by them. The EU is also working with these economies by sharing know-how and climate funds to collaborate on green manufacturing without China. Europe is a few percentage points short of its target of a 90% reduction in greenhouse gas emissions, but it is getting there.


Meanwhile, European manufacturers used delays on policies like the transition to EVs to prepare their industries to maintain their advantage where possible. China is still the world’s largest EV producer and, thanks to low prices, dominates sales in emerging economies. But European producers have been able to develop luxury models and smaller cars with high efficiency and world-class mechanics. These are appealing to the middle class in and beyond the single market. The know-how gained in developing those models has also created more opportunities for clean cooperation with other parts of the world. The car industry is somewhat smaller than it was 15 years earlier, and much more automated, but it still exists.

Climate finance is not what it was since Trump’s second term. American funds never recovered and Europe’s appetite to spend remains small. In the gap, Chinese and Gulf investments flowed into Africa, Latin America and South-East Asia in particular. However, the EU’s move to link debt forgiveness to clean energy investments and governance standards have improved both its reputation and climate mitigation efforts. This has paid off against Beijing; global south leaders are increasingly wary of getting into debt with or becoming dependent on China.

Back in 2026, Europe faced a difficult transition. Its fiscal space was constrained, and its room for manoeuvre even more so by those questioning the priority and viability of climate action. But through pragmatic and forward-looking policies, the EU protected its geoeconomic future as best it could.

Below are recommendations for how the EU can make this alternative future a reality.
Build international partnerships

The EU and member states need to cooperate internationally if they are to maintain their role in the future global order. This will not be easy to do in a world where interdependencies are weaponised, America has retreated from climate action and China is more assertive. Yet Europe’s domestic market is a powerful asset, and the EU can use China’s self-sufficiency drive to its advantage. While keen to export its clean tech, Beijing seems extremely wary of sharing know-how and transferring technology. And on the import side, it is only interested in raw materials and other commodities China cannot produce at home. For many emerging economies, improved trade with China thus amounts to it buying raw materials and dumping cheap goods.

The EU, on the other hand, can provide access to a rich market and support developing countries’ aims to move up the value chains in clean tech. Here, European policymakers should better combine trade, climate finance and environmental regulations. New types of free trade agreements, like the Deep and Comprehensive Free Trade Agreements, already embed significant climate components. But the EU can and should do more. One option would be for the bloc to strengthen the conditions that relate to market access. It should place a stronger focus on companies and countries adopting similar environmental regulation to the bloc, while adding preferential climate finance for countries that sign free trade agreements that significantly align their climate standards. Another would be for the EU to work more closely with these economies by providing technical expertise, and expand the “Made in Europe” policy that favours European-made goods in public contracts, by adding “Made with Europe” as a secondary preference.


This would serve three parallel European goals. First, it would expand the EU’s network of trade partners, reducing reliance its China. Second, it would help the bloc maintain influence thanks to the provision of climate finance and technology sharing. Third, it would incentivise emerging economies to follow European climate standards and regulations. Together, this would create a network of preferential trade agreements with regulatory harmonisation and more access to climate finance, creating incentives for countries to join the network rather than staying outside and face higher tariff as well as less financial support. To make this politically palatable, European policymakers who care about competitiveness should savvily package climate regulation as trade, manufacturing and financial gains.
Diversify energy

The EU and its member states should double down on diversifying their energy supplies and electrifying their industrial systems. This would allow them to reduce reliance on capricious fossil fuel providers while preparing their countries for an age of electrification. It would also help them avoid the disruptions caused by sudden shifts. In this regard, natural gas will remain an important energy source in the short and medium term. But, directing it primarily to electricity generation would help contain its emissions, as is the case for Germany’s new gas-fired power plants. This can improve resilience and allow for a smoother phase out once enough clean power is available. To support this switch, Europe needs to repair and strengthen its electricity grid, which it can fund as a security measure under the NATO funding requirement of 1.5% of GDP be spent on critical infrastructure and preparedness.
Use time wisely

European companies were global pioneers in many clean technologies. But they are now lagging behind China in most of them, either in terms of innovation or in manufacturing capabilities. In some others, like the wind industry, European players are still competitive in their domestic market but struggle to fend off Chinese rivals abroad. To address this double challenge and protect domestic producers, while recovering some of the gap, time and protective measures could help.

The EU’s postponement of some key transition deadlines like the ICE ban or extending some emissions-cutting targets can only help prevent excessive dependence on Chinese-supplied tech if it is accompanied by actions to make European firms more competitive. The EU should ensure any such preventive measures happen within limited, incremental timeframes. They should not be deployed indefinitely as if the world is not entering an age of electrification.

Some industrial players might be interested in just kicking the can down the road and extracting the maximum revenues from additional years of sales on ICE cars. Here, European policymakers should provide clear guidance and directions. They should design these to push enterprises to use the time to develop competitiveness in sectors where they are still behind like EVs or to make sure that alternative fuels like biofuels or e-fuels are economically competitive.

In this regard, Europe’s deregulation drive, supported by the European Commission and many member states, should not go to extremes: the commission should take into account the competitiveness concerns of firms, but Europeans would do well to remember that in a system without rules, China is more competitive, not less.

Adopt clever protectionism

Protectionist measures only make sense if there is something worth protecting. Tariffs on solar panels, save for the most advanced ones, would likely be pointless. This is because Chinese manufacturers’ advantage is massive, and European firms have little chance of catching up. But the wind power sector, electric furnaces and recycling solutions, among others, are worth defending with tariffs to maintain a competitive edge. On top of these, the EU’s demand-side measures like targeted public incentives should give a direct preference to equipment made in the bloc or at least within the G7.

The EU will have to carefully balance any protectionist stance, even if driven by the best intentions, with its need to maintain and defend open multilateral trade. This would help reduce the risk of the bloc antagonising emerging economies with excessively stringent trade measures. In this regard, countries that have free trade agreements with the EU or that are “like-minded partners” should not be subject to tariffs on green-tech components. Japan and South Korea, for example, are key players in EV batteries, while India—which recently agreed a free trade agreement with the EU—could provide a large-scale manufacturing alternative to China. Canada, a longstanding European ally, should also be included in industrial cooperation initiatives.
Find the right balance

Climate action is not cheap, and conflicting priorities will limit the availability of resources the EU can devote to supporting its clean tech or containing climate change abroad. With less resources available, Europe should be savvy in crafting this course of action. In climate finance, a greater use of debt for climate swaps—in which parts of developing countries’ debts are forgiven in exchange for climate commitments—would help Europeans to support mitigation and adaptation efforts abroad without committing new resources.

Developing countries’ debts are growing rapidly and are for the most part becoming increasingly difficult to recover. Instead of undertaking painful debt restructuring discussions that carry the risk of alienating partners, Europeans should offer debt-swap agreements to countries in distress. Those agreements, where possible, should include clauses that require recipient countries to use European equipment and standards in their adaptation or mitigation efforts, thus reducing the risk that recipients’ climate action increases their dependence on China or other players. Debt for climate swaps would constitute an effective counter-offer to Chinese loans: despite recent openings, Beijing has a long history of reluctance towards debt relief and restructuring. As financial constraints could reduce the amount of European money available for climate finance, Europeans should try to get the most out of every euro spent (or forgiven) abroad.
Europe’s green gambit

The decisions Europeans make about their environmental regulations, clean tech and climate finance today will shape Europe’s place in the world in 2040 and beyond. Slowing the pace of transition might buy the EU some time, but it needs to use this time well given America’s climate retreat is leaving Europe almost alone and China has a massive head start on many clean technologies. Europeans cannot just stop the clock.


Listening to the many arguments against climate action will not serve European interests. At best, the EU could score some quick trade deals, buy a few more years for European industry, and free up some money to use on areas like defence. But it would soon become clear the bloc is in a worse position to face the future, and by then, its rivals will be almost out of sight.

Rather, with some pragmatic policymaking, international cooperation and clever innovation, the EU can sketch out a different future for itself. One in which, even if China is ahead, Europe’s global influence and industries can survive and maybe even thrive.



About the author: Alberto Rizzi is a policy fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations, based in the Rome office.


Source: This article was published by ECFR


Acknowledgments: This work has benefited substantially from the precious contributions of EFCR colleagues. The author wishes to thank Agathe Demarais and Angela Mehrer for their support on the topic and on all the activities of the Re:Order project, Portia Kentish and Kim Butson for their great editing, and Nastassia Zenovich for the insightful graphics. Any mistakes remain, of course, the author’s own.


Note: This paper is part of the Re:Order project and was made possible with support from Stiftung Mercator, but does not necessarily represent its view.

ECFR

The European Council on Foreign Relations (ECFR) is an award-winning international think-tank that aims to conduct cutting-edge independent research on European foreign and security policy and to provide a safe meeting space for decision-makers, activists and influencers to share ideas. We build coalitions for change at the European level and promote informed debate about Europe’s role in the world.
Brazil: Area Occupied By Favelas Almost Tripled In 40 Years


March 5, 2026 
ABr
By Fabiola Sinimbu

Brazilian favelas have grown to occupy an area of 92,300 hectares in the last 40 years, as per data from Mapbiomas’ annual mapping of urbanized areas, released Wednesday (Mar. 4).

According to the figures, slums have almost tripled in size in four decades, becoming 2.75 times larger, while cities, in general, have grown 2.5 times.

The increase was observed from 1985 to 2024, when the urban area of favelas jumped from 53,700 to 146 thousand hectares.

Manaus was the Brazilian city where slums grew the most in size compared to other urban areas during this time span. The area occupied by favelas in the capital of Amazonas increased 2.6-fold.


The study also reveals that the growth dynamics of slums was more intense in Brazil’s metropolitan areas – which in 2024 were home to 82 percent of urbanized areas in slums.

Mapiomas Coordinator Júlio Pedrassoli believes that the faster growth of slum areas compared to the national average and their strong concentration in metropolitan regions suggest a well-known and worrying trend.

“Metropolises concentrate a lot of wealth, but they also intensify structural problems. In the face of ongoing climate change, this is a warning sign,” Pedrassoli pointed out.

The metropolitan areas with the largest shantytown areas are São Paulo, Manaus, and Belém, capital of the state of Pará – with 11,800, 11,400, and 11,300 hectares respectively.

In terms of individual slums, the Federal District is home to those that grew the most from 1985 to 2024. This expansion placed the Sol Nascente and 26 de Setembro slums in first and second place among the largest slums in Brazil, with 599 hectares and 577 hectares.
Water security

Brazilian cities have also occupied more areas threatened by water availability in recent years.

According to researchers, 25 percent of natural areas that have been urbanized are located where water supply capacity is critical. These total some 167,500 hectares.

In total, this amount includes territories in 1,325 Brazilian municipalities, with the city of Rio de Janeiro having the largest urbanized area with minimal water security coditions. In Rio, an additional 7,600 hectares have been urbanized in areas with these conditions over the past 40 years.

“There is a mismatch between the growth of cities and the availability of water. The fact that 1,325 municipalities have expanded their urban areas under these conditions reveals that the problem is structural and national. It is not just a matter of risk,” Pedrassoli concludes saying.


ABr

Agência Brasil (ABr) is the national public news agency, run by the Brazilian government. It is a part of the public media corporation Empresa Brasil de Comunicação (EBC), created in 2007 to unite two government media enterprises Radiobrás and TVE (Televisão Educativa).


Jun 15, 2018 ... John Brunner's 1972 novel, The Sheep Look Up, is the story of the year leading up to a global ecological and political catastrophe.

Concern Among Indigenous Leaders, Relief For A Few, As Amazon Soy Moratorium Falters – Analysis


Deforestation in Brazil's Amazon. Photo Credit: POLÍCIA FEDERAL/DIVULGAÇÃO

March 5, 2026 
 Mongabay
By Rubens Valente

Indigenous leaders and researchers in Brazil say an end to a key zero-deforestation agreement, the Amazon Soy Moratorium, will increase deforestation around Indigenous lands and encourage the invasion of their territories for soy farming. Already, some are pointing to forest loss advancing near one Indigenous land following efforts to curtail the agreement.

Meanwhile, a few Indigenous leaders are seeing an economic opportunity as companies pull out of the agreement. Members in communities that sell soy farmed on their lands say they already do so sustainably and that the agreement unfairly penalizes their product.

Mongabay spoke with stakeholders across various sectors, from Indigenous leaders and corporate entities, to conservationists and government officials — people across Brazil’s political spectrum — to get their take on what the possible dissolution of the moratorium may mean for Indigenous peoples and their lands in the Amazon.

The moratorium is a voluntary pact between companies, public agencies and NGOs to reduce deforestation in the Amazon. Participants agree to ban from their supply chains any soy produced in areas of the Amazon deforested after July 2008. While the expansion of soy farms grew by 361% from 2006 to 2023 as farmers prioritized converting already cleared lands, fresh deforestation in the Amazon for soy farms dramatically dropped to 1% in the first 10 years after the agreement came into force in 2006.

The results had been hailed by various sectors as one of the most positive experiences in combating deforestation in the country by protecting forests while allowing agriculture expansion.

However, over the past two years, right-wing political leaders started pushing for an end to the moratorium through legal proceedings. This political pressure gained support from the National Confederation of Agriculture and Livestock (CNA), a powerful agribusiness lobbying group, under the assertion that rural producers in the Amazon already produce sustainably.

Earlier this year, the Brazilian Association of Vegetable Oil Industries (Abiove), which represents 18 companies including commodities giants such as Bunge, Cargill, Cofco and Amaggi, announced its withdrawal from the pact. Abiove, along with another signatory, the National Association of Cereal Exporters (Anec), “account for approximately 90% of the soybean market in the Amazon,” according to a report by the agreement’s monitoring group. Anec has not yet announced its departure from the agreement, but 13 of its 24 members are also part of Abiove.

A study by the Amazon Environmental Research Institute (IPAM) suggests that if the moratorium collapses, cumulative deforestation by 2045 could be 30% higher than the total recorded up to 2024. Two of Brazil’s Amazonian states, Amazonas and Acre, would be the most impacted, with deforestation there rising by 114% and 70%, respectively.


Most Indigenous leaders say they view the abandonment of the moratorium with concern. Chief Taú Metuktire, a Kayapó Indigenous leader and grandson of the famed Indigenous leader Raoni Metuktire, told Mongabay that the possible end of the moratorium “is worrying.”

“We, the leaders, don’t want this … nowadays, there are many soybean plantations around our territories. And there are rivers that come from our territories, pass through farms, pass through soybean plantations, corn and other plantations,” he said. “The poison [pesticides] they are spraying on the plants, during this rainy season, will enter the river. We, Indigenous people, consume water that comes from farms, we [will] have diarrhea [and] various types of diseases.”

Last June, Taú went to Paris on a campaign to defend the moratorium with campaign groups the Earthworm Foundation, Mighty Earth and Planète Amazone.

For Alessandra Korap Munduruku, an Indigenous leader from Pará state and recipient of the Goldman Environmental Prize in 2023, the dissolution or possible end of the moratorium is linked to other actions in the rural sector pushing to clear more rainforest for soy farms.

According to Alessandra, three initiatives — the end of the moratorium, dredging and privatization of the Tapajós River, and the construction of the Ferrogrão railway to transport grains — should provide an unprecedented boost to soy production across a large swath of the Amazon.

A giant in the soybean industry, Cargill built a soy terminal on the banks of the Tapajós River in Santarém, Pará, to export soybeans produced in southern Pará and northern Mato Grosso state. In 2018, an expansion project undertaken at the port more than doubled its shipping capacity to 4.9 million metric tons per year.


In a demonstration against a decree — now revoked — allowing dredging and privatization without properly consulting Indigenous communities, about 1,000 Indigenous people protested in Santarém and occupied part of the Cargill terminal. Alessandra, who participated in the occupation, told Mongabay by phone that the end of the moratorium is part of the same “death project” and makes Indigenous lands more vulnerable to unsustainable agribusiness.

“They [soybean farmers] already invade, but now they will be very clear, they will invade even more,” she said. “When they leave [the moratorium], they don’t even care. They want land, they want to deforest, they want to kill. The important thing is to profit from the traditional peoples.”

Another point of concern for Indigenous leaders and environmentalists with the end of the moratorium is the possibility of other Indigenous peoples, such as the Paresi, Nambikwara and Manoki of Mato Grosso, embarking on soy cultivation themselves or expanding plantations in the Amazon where soy farming is already normalized.

Paresi leader Arnaldo Zunizakae told Mongabay that his community already cultivates 17,800 hectares (44,000 acres) of soy on the 564,000-hectare (1.39-million-acre) Pareci Indigenous Territory. Another 2,200 hectares (5,400 acres) are planted in lands neighboring the Nambikwara and Manoki peoples. He said that “more than 3,000” Indigenous people benefit from soy farming in the region.

Unlike most Indigenous leaders who have spoken publicly on the issue, Zunizakae said he considers the end of the moratorium a good thing.

“The soy moratorium, for us, is an obstacle because it hinders — despite us having all these [government] authorizations — the legal commercialization of our product. So, even though we have all these regulated activities, it makes us look like criminals when it comes to selling our product,” he said. “And this prevents us from accessing the international market.

“We are forced to sell our soy clandestinely here, even putting at risk the companies that buy our production. Although we meet all the social and environmental requirements, we are forced to plant only conventional soy; our production is sold here clandestinely, to crushers, to feed producers.”

Zunizakae said the moratorium, though it made soy more valuable to foreign traders, penalized small producers, including Indigenous people who depend on this production for a better quality of life. The government, he said, only provides a meager assistance.

The Paresi leader said he believes there’s no environmental risk from increased farming on their territory because they have a territorial management plan that’s valid for 40 more years.

“It includes [designated] hunting areas, fishing areas, gathering areas, sacred areas, traditional areas, and areas for mechanized farming. We have a plan within a maximum of 50 years — if we have the financial means to expand — to reach 50,000 hectares [or about 124,000 acres, of protected land inside the territory]. So, there is no danger of environmental imbalance due to the end of the [Amazon] Soy Moratorium.”


Last year, through IBAMA, Brazil’s environmental protection agency, the federal government granted the Paresi people an operating license for “agricultural activities to be carried out by cooperatives of Indigenous peoples, within the established conditions,” according to a statement sent by the agency to Mongabay.

The case of the Paresi is frequently highlighted by right-wing politicians as an example other Indigenous peoples should follow. In late February, Mato Grosso Governor Mauro Mendes, a supporter of former president Jair Bolsonaro, said in video on Instagram that the Paresi are “an example that we need to follow with other ethnic groups, including all Indigenous people in Brazil.” He added that “besides liking asphalt, they [the Paresi] like to work.”

In parallel with the political movements aimed at weakening the moratorium, in 2024 the Mendes state administration sanctioned a law approved by the state legislature that made it more difficult for companies participating in the moratorium to access tax incentives.

But Greenpeace Brazil underlines that potential impacts on Indigenous lands and the environment indeed exist. The NGO denounced the state law as “a defense of deforesters, tarnishes Brazil’s image, and undermines the federal government’s efforts toward zero deforestation,” a commitment announced by President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva for the beginning of 2030.

Ana Clis Ferreira, spokesperson at Greenpeace Brazil, told Mongabay that the end of the moratorium expands grain production already driven by supporting infrastructure projects in Mato Grosso and Pará.

“It is very clear from the rural lobby the attempt to open Indigenous lands to private capital and, in some cases, especially the Indigenous lands of the Cerrado and Lavrado, which are the natural savanna areas,” she said.

Maurício Voivodic, executive director of WWF Brasil, said that experts “are already seeing deforestation increase” in Mato Grosso, following the enactment of the tax incentive law that undermines the moratorium. He said he believes the moratorium will come to an end.

According to Voivodic, the federal government’s satellite monitoring system, PRODES, detected that deforestation decreased in the Amazon last year, “except in the state of Mato Grosso, which was the only one that registered an increase.”

This deforestation is consuming areas surrounding Indigenous territories, such as Xingu Indigenous Park, a frontier of soybean deforestation, he said, while under the moratorium such deforestation was largely interrupted.

“If deforestation increases there, in the forests that still exist outside the Xingu Indigenous Park, in the headwaters of the Xingu River, [it] directly affects the villages and Indigenous territories of the Xingu,” he told Mongabay. “Because it affects the headwaters, it will compromise the quality and volume of water in the Xingu River downstream.”

In a statement to Mongabay, Brazil’s Ministry of Environment and Climate Change said it recognized the end of the moratorium may generate greater pressure on already deforested areas in the Amazon; shift farming to new areas; and expand deforestation vectors. Given these potential impacts, “monitoring will continue to be intensified with reinforced territorial enforcement and control actions.” For Indigenous lands, “environmental enforcement and credit control mechanisms remain active and strengthened.”


The ministry stated that the eventual end of the moratorium will not weaken “public policies for command and control of deforestation and the promotion of sustainable production.” (Because the moratorium is a voluntary pact, the federal government doesn’t have the authority to enforce it.) The ministry also called for economic instruments that discourage deforestation, encourage the use of already cleared lands for farming, and add greater value addition to soy.

“The experience of the moratorium demonstrated that it is possible to reconcile agricultural expansion and environmental conservation,” the ministry said. “The agreement contributed to consolidating Brazil’s image as a reliable supplier of soy produced without deforestation and without socio-environmental violations.”

In a statement to Mongabay, the government of Mato Grosso said the moratorium creates a “parallel law” that goes beyond Brazil’s Forest Code, which is the highest authority on what constitutes legal land use, and punishes producers who don’t comply with Brazilian legislation.

The Mato Grosso state environmental department, or SEMA, said an end to the moratorium “should not generate impacts” and that “strategies that segregate those who comply with the law are not socially just, nor do they consistently strengthen environmental governance.”

“The strategy adopted by the Government of Mato Grosso to ensure compliance with existing regulations, with robust oversight, accountability, and firm action against environmental crimes, has proven effective in controlling deforestation,” SEMA said.

Regarding potential impacts on Indigenous lands, the department said that “the State of Mato Grosso has no jurisdiction over Indigenous lands; federal agencies are responsible for operations in these areas.”

In a statement to Mongabay, Abiove said the moratorium consolidated Brazil as a global reference for sustainable production. But the industry association didn’t provide an official response to a question about potential impacts on Indigenous lands.

Abiove also said it trusts the existing legislation and guidelines will ensure that Brazilian soy maintains its high socioenvironmental standards.

“The legacy of monitoring and the expertise acquired over almost 20 years will not be lost,” an Abiove spokesperson said. “There will be individual attention given to the rigorous demands of global markets, with equal confidence in the Brazilian authorities for the full implementation of a new regulatory framework.”

Meanwhile, many Indigenous leaders are celebrating the revocation of the decree that would have allowed dredging works in the Tapajós River for year-round transportation of soy. According to Alessandra Korap Munduruku, Indigenous peoples show that they can produce very well, without additional deforestation.

“For us, the Munduruku, there’s no way to deforest, kill the river, doing what the non-Indigenous people want because profit is good,” she said. “We are fighting to keep the forest standing. We still guarantee water to drink, we guarantee the forest is standing.”

Mongabay contacted Cargill, the Brazilian president’s office, the Ministry of Indigenous Peoples and the federal Indigenous affairs agency (Funai) for comment, but none had responded by the time this story was published.


About the author: Rubens Valente is an award-winning investigative journalist based in Brasília, Brazil. He has written for Folha de S.Paulo, O Globo, Intercept Brazil, Agência Pública, UOL and others. He is the author of Operação banqueiro and Os Fuzis e as Flechas.


Source: This article was published by Mongabay




Why US Firms Aren’t Racing into Venezuela, Even With Political Incentives – OpEd



March 5, 2026 
 MISES
By Nicoleta Tanase


On January 3, 2026, the capture of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro by US forces marked a turning point in US-Venezuela relations and reopened questions about the future of Venezuela’s oil sector. In principle, improved political access and the easing of restrictions could be expected to stimulate renewed foreign investment in one of the world’s most resource-rich oil economies. Despite this apparent political incentive, investment by major US oil companies has remained limited.

This article examines why firms have been reluctant to reenter Venezuela, arguing that high production costs associated with heavy crude, severe infrastructure deterioration, and persistent policy uncertainty significantly reduce expected returns and increase investment risk. These factors raise the option value of waiting, making delay a rational economic response rather than a failure of political incentives. The analysis highlights that, without credible long-term institutional guarantees, resource abundance alone is unlikely to translate into sustained foreign investment in high-risk, resource-rich economies such as Venezuela.
Venezuelan Oil

Venezuela has one of the largest proven crude oil reserves in the world. According to the US Energy Information Administration, Venezuela’s oil reserves amount to approximately 303.8 billion barrels, making it the country with the greatest proven oil reserves in the world. These reserves are responsible for approximately 17 percent of the world’s total proven crude oil. Most of them are concentrated in the Orinoco Belt, where oil is predominantly heavy crude, demanding specialized extraction and refining techniques that raise production costs compared to lighter grades. This type of crude oil must be heated to bring it to the surface and diluted with other hydrocarbons before it can be processed and declared a final product, raising both capital and operating costs.

Despite this massive resource base, Venezuela’s actual production remains only a small portion of its potential due to infrastructure challenges and underinvestment. Economically, this reflects that heavy crude extractions require substantial sunk capital and technologically-intensive infrastructure, increasing production costs, delaying profitability, and implying high levels of fixed investment. Therefore, Venezuelan oil projects typically require higher and more stable oil prices to break even, making them particularly vulnerable to price volatility in global energy markets.


In comparison, producers of lighter crude in countries with modern infrastructure and more stable regulatory environments can operate at lower costs and with more flexibility. As a result, even abundant reserves do not translate into higher output, since firms face elevated upfront costs and uncertain returns that weaken investment incentives and delay capacity expansion. Rational profit-maximizing firms may prefer alternative investment destinations that offer lower production costs and more predictable returns. This helps explain why Venezuela’s actual oil output remains far below its potential, even in periods of elevated global oil prices.
Other Problems: Aging Equipment and Neglected Infrastructure

According to the US Environmental Information Administration, Venezuela’s aging pipelines used for transporting oil from wells to refineries have not been upgraded for the last 50 years. Many parts of the network suffer from corrosion and leaks, which reduce operational capacity. Satellite imagery and industry analysis show that refineries and storage facilities are frequently inoperable or in a catastrophic state, with corroded tanks and rupturing pipelines contributing to frequent spills and safety hazards.


This extended period of neglect has substantially reduced the effectiveness of the current pipeline system and increased production costs, acting as an economic barrier to increased output. Industry estimates an investment of $100 billion in rehabilitation before marginal production can be increased, which, in turn, raises expected costs of capital and lowers the expected return on investment. Given the heavy nature of the majority of Venezuelan crude, the transport and processing networks must operate closer to design tolerances to avoid bottlenecks, further increasing costs relative to producers with modern systems.
Risk, Costs, and Regime Uncertainty

In this case, firms are being put in a difficult situation as they need to weigh the cost of bringing the infrastructure to its former capacity levels against the uncertain future prices, ongoing political risk, and the potential for renewed sanctions, further discouraging immediate capital commitment. For many major oil companies, such as ConocoPhillips, facing uncertainty, monitoring developments in Venezuela rather than committing capital reflects a rational response to this environment, as early speculations about future business activities or investments could intensify political tension and potentially worsen investment conditions, while immediate capital commitment exposes firms to high infrastructure risk without clear guarantees of stable returns.

Beyond technical and financial challenges, political risk remains the central factor shaping firm behaviour in Venezuela’s oil industry. Frequent policy changes, sanctions uncertainty, and weak legal enforcement create an environment in which even large-scale investments can be expropriated, delayed, or even declared unprofitable. For foreign firms, this uncertainty is particularly damaging because oil extraction is characterized by irreversible, long-term investments with payoffs that depend on stable regulatory and contractual conditions.

Historical experiences in Venezuela and across Latin America reinforce those concerns. For example, past instances of nationalization, contract renegotiation, and sudden policy shifts have repeatedly reduced investor confidence, highlighting that political access alone cannot guarantee returns. In such an environment, firms face a classical investment-under-uncertainty problem: committing to capital too early eliminates flexibility, while waiting preserves the option to invest once risks become clearer. These uncertainties raised the option value of waiting, as firms prefer to delay irreversible investment until the political and regulatory environment becomes more predictable.

Conclusion

In this context, US oil companies’ caution is rational; despite the potential profit from Venezuela’s vast reserves, the combination of infrastructure challenges and persistent political risk raises the expected cost of capital and lowers the expected return on investment. Moreover, policy uncertainty is not confined to Venezuela alone. President Trump’s sudden decision to consider the exclusion of Exxon from certain Venezuelan oil agreements shows how the US policy statements can further complicate investment plans. The unpredictable nature of such announcements makes firms more cautious when releasing statements about future plans, as even informal remarks can affect market expectations, alter risk perceptions, and influence the anticipated returns on irreversible investments.

This analysis suggests that encouraging renewed investment in Venezuela’s oil sector requires more than temporary political openings or symbolic policy gestures. From an investor’s perspective, credible long-term commitments are necessary to offset the irreversible nature of capital-intensive oil investments.Source: This article was published by the Mises Institute
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MISES

The Mises Institute, founded in 1982, teaches the scholarship of Austrian economics, freedom, and peace. The liberal intellectual tradition of Ludwig von Mises (1881-1973) and Murray N. Rothbard (1926-1995) guides us. Accordingly, the Mises Institute seeks a profound and radical shift in the intellectual climate: away from statism and toward a private property order. The Mises Institute encourages critical historical research, and stands against political correctness.
A New Front In Iran War? 
US Considers Arming Iranian Kurdish Opposition Groups – Analysis


March 5, 2026 
RFE RL
By Frud Bezhan






The United States is considering arming Iranian Kurdish opposition groups based in neighboring Iraq, according to reports, in a move that could open a new front in the war on Iran and risks igniting a civil war in the Middle East country.

Several Iranian opposition Kurdish groups are based in Iraq’s semi-autonomous Kurdish region and have been waging a low-level insurgency against Tehran for years. Some have demanded autonomy within Iran while others are fighting for secession from the Islamic republic.

The possibility of the United States supplying weapons to Iranian Kurdish groups and supporting potential cross-border ground attacks in the western part of the country comes as the United States and Israel wage a massive aerial bombardment of Iran.

The US aim, experts say, would be to stretch Tehran’s military resources, weaken the state’s grip on power, and foment an uprising inside Iran, a multiethnic country of some 90 million people.


Iran’s clerical rulers, despite the killing of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and senior military leaders, have not capitulated or fragmented and maintain control of the country since the joint US-Israeli air campaign began on February 28.

“The main goal is to make sure the Islamic republic starts losing control of some areas of the country,” said Michael Horowitz, an independent defense expert based in Israel.

“The assessment may be that by doing so, other minorities as well as the broader opposition may be inspired. Some elements within the regime who may be tempted to defect or flee may also see this as a sign that they should do so now, before the situation spins fully out of control.”

Kurds make up around 10 percent of Iran’s population and primarily live in the country’s west along the border with Iraq. Iran has long been accused of suppressing and discriminating against the country’s ethnic minorities, including Kurds.

Sascha Bruchmann, a military and security affairs analyst at the London-based International Institute for Strategic Studies, said possible ground incursions by Iranian Kurdish groups into western Iran could stretch Tehran’s military resources.


“If the Kurdish factions were to stage a concerted series of attacks, the IRGC [Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps] would have to seek reinforcements,” said Bruchmann, referring to the elite branch of Iran’s armed forces.

“However, that would weaken their posture in core cities such as Tehran, Isfahan, or Karaj. It would thus create a dilemma for the regime where to send sparse reinforcements in times when coordination is also more difficult. It is this dilemma and thinning out of forces that is the operational goal.”

The risks of the United States possibly arming Iranian opposition Kurds groups are considerable, experts say.

“Washington could trigger a civil war and the fragmentation of the country, which could have lasting consequences,” said Horowitz.

Many of these groups were previously armed but have since laid down their weapons.

“If they engage in a long-term war against Iran, and the US support disappears, this will prove very dangerous for them,” said Horowitz.

The United States recently cut support to the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), a Kurdish-led militia that was a key US partner for years in the war against the Islamic State extremist group.
Longstanding Disputes

In anticipation of a US attack on Iran, five Iranian opposition Kurdish groups based in Iraqi Kurdistan announced a new political coalition last month aimed at overthrowing the Islamic republic and ultimately achieving Kurdish autonomy.


The new coalition includes the Kurdistan Freedom Party (PAK), the Democratic Party of Iranian Kurdistan (PDKI), the Kurdistan Free Life Party (PJAK), the Organization of Iranian Kurdistan Struggle (Khabat), and the Komala of the Toilers of Kurdistan. The coalition does not include several Kurdish political heavyweights such as the Komala Party of Iranian Kurdistan.

Iran has sporadically conducted military strikes against the exiled Kurdish groups, which Tehran has designated as terrorist organizations and accused them of serving American and Israeli interests. Those attacks could intensify if the United States arms the groups.

On March 4, Iran launched rocket attacks at a camp near the border operated by the PAK, the group said, adding that one person was killed and three wounded. A day earlier, drone strikes struck a base run by the PDKI in northern Iraq.

Experts say it is unclear if the various Iranian Kurdish groups in Iraq can settle their deep differences and have the willingness and ability to fight against the Islamic republic.

“There are longstanding disputes, and they need to prove solidarity on the field,” said Bruchmann. “It is less about the potential impact of some better or more weapons from the US, but rather the will to fight the Iranian regime decisively and coordinate military attacks among them that will decide whether the Kurds will add a ground element to the US-Israeli air campaign


.”Frud Bezhan is Senior Regional Editor in the Central Newsroom at RFE/RL, with a primary focus on the Near East and Central Asia. Previously, he was the Regional Desk Editor for the Near East. As a correspondent, he reported from Afghanistan, Turkey, and Kosovo. Before joining RFE/RL in 2011, he worked as a freelance journalist in Afghanistan.

RFE/RL journalists report the news in 21 countries where a free press is banned by the government or not fully established.