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Unpacking the Green Transition: Myths and Realities
Yves here. This post provides a critical perspective on the concept of the “green transition,” and, by extension, the Green New Deal. We have consistently voiced our skepticism toward the Green New Deal, viewing it as a misleading promise that lulls those concerned about climate change into a false sense of security regarding their modern lifestyles. Rather than relying on technological advancements to provide answers, we argue that radical conservation is essential, whether adopted voluntarily by affluent societies or imposed by circumstances during crises.
The NACLA Report on the Americas emphasizes that our previous cynicism was not sufficient. The discourse around the green transition, they argue, often leads to more fossil fuel use while enabling a new form of eco-colonialism and environmentally damaging activities such as lithium mining and rare earth processing.
By Sabrina Fernandes and Breno Bringel
Sabrina Fernandes is a Brazilian sociologist and political economist, currently the Head of Research at the Alameda Institute. She is involved with the Ecosocial and Intercultural Pact of the South, serves on NACLA’s editorial committee, and acts as a Senior Research Advisor at Oxford’s Technology & Industrialisation for Development (TIDE) centre. Breno Bringel is a professor at the State University of Rio de Janeiro and a Senior Fellow at Complutense University of Madrid, where he coordinates the Observatory of Geopolitics and Ecosocial Transitions. They are both contributors to The Geopolitics of Green Colonialism (Pluto Press, 2024). This piece was originally published in the Fall 2025 issue of NACLA’s quarterly print magazine and is syndicated in partnership with the North American Congress on Latin America (NACLA).
Understanding the Green Capitalism Narrative
The idea of a green transition has become a dominant narrative of our times. Even amidst ongoing climate denial, various stakeholders—including governments, corporations, and multilateral institutions—present themselves as pioneers of sustainability and environmental stewardship. In the Americas, this narrative has been adopted with fervor, repackaging traditional forms of exploitation as “green” development. However, the stark truth is that the current transition is not a departure from fossil capitalism; rather, it represents its reinvention as a form of fossil gattopardismo, characterized by an increased energy demand and intensified hydrocarbon extraction, all under the deceptive guise of “net zero” policies. As Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa reminds us in his 1958 novel Il Gattopardo (The Leopard), “If we want things to remain the same, things will have to change.”
This special edition of NACLA’s Report on the Americas offers a critical view of the rise of green capitalism in the region. We explore how its underlying logic and tactics shape policies and territories, enabling new forms of dispossession and exacerbating historical inequalities. We expose the pitfalls of a corporate-led transition that claims to be equitable and clean but, in effect, perpetuates systems of exploitation. Simultaneously, we highlight grassroots movements, communities, and alternative visions that challenge these false solutions and advocate for genuine ecosocial transformations.
Believing that capitalism can effectively address the climate crisis it has generated is not only misleading but also perilous. Today’s green capitalism extends market ideologies under the banner of environmental stewardship, broadening profit margins while assimilating environmental rhetoric into a new capitalist consensus on “decarbonization.” In this scenario, nature becomes a financial commodity; territories morph into “sacrifice zones” for green initiatives, while Indigenous and traditional communities are often seen as obstacles to progress. The outcome of this is a new phase of colonialism that legitimizes dispossession in the name of climate justice, fostering new dynamics of extraction and appropriation of natural resources, goods, and labor to further a purported “green” energy shift.
The Implications of COP30 and Corporate Greening
The upcoming COP30, set to be held in Belém, Brazil, in November 2025, symbolizes both an opportunity and a paradox. While grassroots organizations are poised to elevate local demands and climate justice issues on the global stage, corporate players and governments continue to dictate the terms surrounding these discussions. As noted by Gina Cortés Valderrama and Isadora Cardoso in this issue, prevailing frameworks for climate policy often perpetuate colonial and racist ideologies, sidelining decolonial and intersectional approaches that emphasize justice, autonomy, and care.
The Corporate Transition and the New Face of Extractivism
The concept of green capitalism thrives on the art of branding. Throughout the Americas, extractive industries are being reimagined as sustainable to align with the transition narrative. In Brazil, for instance, the so-called “Lithium Valley,” characterized by water scarcity and community resistance, is being presented as a cornerstone for sustainable development. Despite this rebranding, the harsh realities of extractivism remain prevalent, as illustrated by Bárbara Magalhães Teixeira and Marina Paula Oliveira.
In Chile, the push for lithium extraction and green hydrogen projects has resulted in sacrificial zones in Antofagasta and the Atacama Desert. Gabriela Cabaña and Ramón Balcázar Morales discuss how these initiatives perpetuate patterns of territorial appropriation and environmental racism in the name of decarbonization. In the Caribbean, new forms of green colonialism are emerging, as Colin Bogle highlights in his analysis of deep-sea mining. This approach attempts to recast the ocean as a “conflict-free” zone— a space free from social struggles where environmental degradation can proceed unchecked, treating non-human species and ecosystems as expendable.
The corporate transition is a global phenomenon but finds its roots in local contexts. Lital Khaikin documents how Canadian mining corporations are encroaching upon the Colombian Amazon, claiming to advance climate goals while displacing Indigenous populations. Meanwhile, in Brazil’s Cerrado, Morena Hanbury Lemos and Shanna Hanbury Lemos track the unchecked proliferation of eucalyptus monocultures—an instance of greenwashed agribusiness that often escapes rigorous scrutiny. Agribusiness, a significant contributor to emissions, deforestation, and land use change, often gets overlooked in discussions of climate and extractivism, yet it remains a driving force behind these issues.
Debt, Finance, and the Trap of Green Sovereignty Loss
Green capitalism is also fundamentally reshaping the financial landscape of climate action. Beyond traditional loans and structural adjustment, new financial instruments are emerging that present themselves as benevolent solutions, including debt-for-nature swaps, green bonds, and climate-related development financing. While these mechanisms are often framed as progressive, they frequently create new dependencies and diminish state and popular sovereignty. Nevertheless, they have been embraced by governments across the political spectrum.
A vivid example can be found in the Galápagos Islands, where the largest debt-for-nature swap in history has led to green militarization that restricts local community autonomy while aligning conservation with international creditors’ interests. In Honduras, Jennifer Moore, Aldo Orellana, Karen Spring, and Luciana Ghiotto illustrate how corporate lawfare is being employed to suppress local resistance and secure green energy contracts, putting self-determination at risk. Similar dynamics can be observed in Pará, Brazil, where Claudia Horn and Carlos Ramos reveal how green infrastructure projects undermine democratic processes and perpetuate existing inequalities.
It’s critical to note that green capitalism does not always rely on new political actors. Often, the same corporations and elites that propelled the fossil economy are now leading the so-called green transition. In Brazil, the federal government continues to support offshore oil drilling, even as it promotes renewables and green hydrogen. In Colombia, President Gustavo Petro’s opposition to new oil exploration has simultaneously opened doors for controversial megaprojects. Meanwhile, in Jamaica, the endorsement of deep-sea mining conflicts with the nation’s image as a climate-vulnerable territory. The promotion of tourism is often lauded as a cleaner economic model, but it increasingly justifies land dispossession and the establishment of green enclaves, as seen in the Galápagos and parts of Jamaica and Honduras.
Between Resistance and Ecosocial Transformation
While the expansion of green capitalism across the Americas presents a daunting landscape, the narrative is not solely one of dispossession and false solutions. In various regions, powerful movements are taking shape. Communities are resisting land grabs, denouncing the green facade of extractivist violence, and organizing for control over energy, food, territory, and their own modes of existence. These movements expose the shortcomings of the prevailing transition model while offering grounded, collective visions for authentic alternatives.
In Puerto Rico, for instance, communities have developed inspiring proposals for energy justice, addressing years of corruption and systemic failures. Through decentralized, community-driven solar energy initiatives, they are moving toward a more equitable energy future—one that is less entwined with commodification. As Jesse Kornbluth highlights, these struggles extend beyond renewables; they represent an anti-colonial quest for democracy and a people-centered approach to energy futures across the Global South.
This spirit of grassroots activism resonates in the social movements advocating for the right to the city in Belém, where COP30 will take place. Mariana Guimarães and Rosaly Brito document how local efforts challenge the contradictions of a green summit hosted in a city marked by ecological injustices, deep inequalities, and the marginalization of Black and Indigenous residents. Concurrently, Claudia Horn and Carlos Ramos reveal the ways in which carbon markets and green infrastructure projects in Pará erode local democracy and concentrate power among economic elites.
In Honduras, the Garífuna community exemplifies resistance against green capitalism’s territorial ambitions. Giada Ferrucci illustrates how Garífuna land-defenders are protecting their ancestral territories from tourism expansion, agroindustrial projects, and new green investment schemes that continue the cycle of dispossession while masquerading as sustainable. Their struggle rests on a profound legacy of autonomy, cultural identity, and territorial defense, providing valuable insights for other resistance efforts throughout the Americas.
What unites these diverse movements transcends mere opposition; they are constructing visions of collective existence that reject extractivist paradigms altogether. Emerging from various worldviews, these alternatives share critical characteristics: a commitment to relational understandings of nature, the safeguarding of territorial sovereignty, and an inclination toward transitions that arise organically rather than being externally imposed.
In this sense, the act of resistance is intertwined with the creation of alternatives. They represent dual aspects of the same struggle: opposing the commodification of life while inventing new frameworks for organizing energy, food, land, and political authority. These are not abstract ideals; they arise from lived experiences, historical contexts, and political experimentation. The narratives shared within this issue emphasize this duality of resistance and renewal. The voices of activists from Pará, Jamaica, Puerto Rico, Honduras, Putumayo, and the Brazilian Cerrado showcase the creativity and resilience of popular struggles under immense challenges. Some mobilize through legal systems; others organize in assemblies, streets, and open lands, reviving ancestral practices and forging connections between movements—from Indigenous self-determination to feminist economies of care.
Crucially, these movements raise fundamental questions about power that are central to this edition of the NACLA Report: Who dictates the terms of transition? Who determines the meaning of sustainability? Who decides which areas are sacrificed and which are preserved? These enquiries extend beyond technical or economic realms—they delve into the political and ethical dimensions. Such initiatives may commence locally, but they plant the seeds of what might evolve into a broader eco-territorial internationalism.
Anticipating COP30 and Future Developments
As COP30 approaches, the Amazon is poised to become a focal point for global climate discourse. This moment embodies both opportunities and threats. It could bring renewed attention to grassroots movements and underscore the ecological significance of the region. Conversely, it risks devolving into another green spectacle that utilizes symbolic representations of nature and Indigenous cultures while legitimizing deceptive solutions, corporate interests, and fresh waves of extractivist investments—a trend increasingly evident at COP meetings.
We must remain vigilant regarding both potentials. The Amazon should not be perceived merely as a carbon sink for the Global North or a marketplace for green finance. It is home to vibrant cultures and ecosystems, each with futures that cannot be dictated from corporate offices or summit resolutions. Likewise, lithium-rich deserts, bioeconomy zones, and energy corridors throughout the region should not be treated simply as “resources.” They are territories alive with struggle and potential. This edition of the NACLA Report aims to contribute meaningfully to the ongoing political discourse. By documenting the mechanisms, effects, and conflicts inherent in green capitalism in the Americas, we provide readers with essential insights to comprehend and contest the prevailing narratives surrounding transitions. Furthermore, by amplifying the voices of those who resist and redefine transitions on their own terms, we hope to illuminate paths toward genuinely just, democratic, and sustainable futures. Transitions are inevitable; the pressing question remains: whose transitions, and toward what vision of the world?
