The war in Ukraine is tragic, infuriating, and unspeakably sad. It is also an unexpected turning point for environmentalism. Until a few days ago, climate change topped the global agenda, with science-based targets pointing the way to a cleaner, more sustainable future. It is hard to believe that global environmental efforts have any chance of succeeding within such a fragile system.
Strikingly, this realisation has not yet dawned on those engaged in environmental work. A week into the war, the United Nations hailed a major agreement on single-use plastics as a “triumph” for planet Earth. But such agreements depend on the mutual recognition of sovereign nation-states.
The war also imperils efforts to transform the energy system through global co-operation. Sharp increases in oil and gas prices are testing the goodwill of governments and companies. Many suppliers are seeking to profit from the situation rather than helping to mitigate the shock. Yes, high oil and gas prices and the clear security risk implied by dependence on petrostates like Russia may well accelerate the shift away from fossil fuels. But the economic turmoil on the horizon will discourage investment, and green energy may find itself competing against the military-industrial complex for public finance.
These developments pose a significant challenge for contemporary environmentalism, a still-young intellectual framework that has seldom had to deal with geopolitical issues. With roots in the pacifist, anti-capitalist movements of the 1960s, the movement became institutionalised at the 1992 UN Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro, where the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change and the Convention on Biological Diversity were established. In addition to serving as the backbone of the environmental movement for three decades, these agreements long stood as a monument to the post-Soviet world order.
Comforted by the notion that all countries could agree, in principle, to be held accountable to environmental objectives, activists and environmental institutions focused their efforts on private and public actors’ predatory and illegal behaviour. Taking the rules-based system for granted, they relied on science-based targets to produce global roadmaps to desired outcomes. For a while, this politically neutral approach allowed everyone to avoid the question of whether outcomes delivered by authoritarian states are acceptable. But those days are over: environmental goals can no longer be considered separately from the sources of power that define state authority.
Consider the issue of biodiversity protection. Most environmental organisations have mobilised behind a “30x30” target – protecting 30% of land and ocean areas by 2030. But protecting nature requires more than advocacy. It ultimately depends on the regulatory power of the state, which exercises sovereignty over territory, using force if necessary. Conservation depends on state power, so it matters very much which state we are talking about.
Traditional Western environmentalism grew up protesting an order that it now must defend. The question is whether it is prepared, or even equipped, for the task. German Chancellor Olaf Scholz apparently saw no need to consult his Green Party coalition partners before he greenlit sending weapons to Ukraine and vastly increasing Germany’s military spending – two paradigm-shifting policy changes.
Moreover, as governments around the world sanction Russian oligarchs, we should not forget that many environmental initiatives have also benefited from wealth created under authoritarian regimes.
Modern environmentalism may now need to re-examine its methods. With the war in Eastern Europe dragging on, it is already clear that the movement can no longer afford to ignore the nature of political power. The defence of self-determination and political agency now must become a fundamental principle of environmental action.