Although colonialism has formally ended, its effects persist, as seen with carbon bombs and the weaponization of ‘clean energy.’ However, as Franziska Müller argues in her “Pluriverse of Peace” contribution, energy must stop being a tool of domination and a playground for investors. Instead, energy should become a commons: locally owned, socially controlled, and ecologically grounded.
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Colonialism is not an event; it’s a structure. It is a condition that will probably persist longer than many expect, despite successful struggles for liberation. Colonialism affects society as a whole. Powerful spheres such as energy infrastructures, energy economies, policies, and single projects link energy histories and futures, as well as old and new dependencies, power games, and greed.
In contrast to these grim reminders, the prospect of a global energy transition is presented as humanity’s escape route: a ‘green’ revolution that will free us from our dependence on fossil fuels, stabilize the climate, and usher in a sustainable future. Solar parks in the Sahara, wind farms at sea, and transnational hydrogen infrastructures dominate the imaginations of politicians, corporations, and even the ecomodernist faction of the climate movement. However, the brown-to-‘green’ transition does not occur in a vacuum. It grows out of the fossil system, which refuses to die quietly. Fossil and ‘green’ energy are in a dialectical relationship. ‘Clean’ energy systems are built on top of fossil counterparts, thus sometimes being labeled ‘fossil fuel+.’ There is an ever-growing need for electricity and resources, as well as new dependencies on resources and complex value chains.
Energy colonialism
The result is a double grip. On one hand, the end of the fossil energy era has launched new extractivist projects that continue to rely on a carbon-based business model despite the advent of ‘peak everything’ times. On the other hand, the ‘green’ frontier is expanding through deals and infrastructures that are likely to follow (neo)colonial logics. Together, these forces constitute what I call energy colonialism: the continuation and reinvention of colonial domination through energy systems.
The concept of energy colonialism emerged in the early 2000s as a critique of large-scale renewable energy (RE) production in North Africa under the auspices of the “Desertec Project.” At that time, researchers at the liberal Brussels think tank Clingendael feared that such initiatives could be considered “a new form of energy colonialism” and recommended diplomatic sugarcoating and increased communication. However, the concept thrived, primarily as a political slogan capturing EU energy relations with the Maghreb region – specifically Morocco, the occupied West Saharan territories, Algeria, and Tunisia – and documenting protests against high-voltage power lines and disentangling nearly total petrochemical energy dependencies, with the former colony Puerto Rico as a case in point.
In line with decolonial thought, energy colonialism is a threefold concept linking the coloniality of power, knowledge, and being. Energy colonialism is manifested as power over energy transition processes. It acts as an epistemic force regarding knowledge orders and transfer. Furthermore, it intervenes on an individual scale, affecting livelihoods and human-nature relations.
Fossil end times
As it leaves, the fossil empire is burning down the house. Around the world, corporations are pushing forward carbon bombs – gigantic fossil fuel extraction projects that will generate more than one gigatonne of CO₂ over their remaining lifetimes. Currently, there are 425 carbon bombs in operation or in the start-up phase. TotalEnergies’ gas projects in Mozambique have displaced entire communities in Cabo Delgado. Despite the climate emergency, Namibia’s newly discovered offshore oil fields are hailed as a ‘game-changer.’ Meanwhile, Canada is moving forward with Bay du Nord, its first deepwater oil project, even as it promotes itself as a ‘climate leader.’
These projects adhere to the familiar logic of extractivism, perpetuating (neo)colonial notions by deepening dependencies, exploiting resources, and erasing local livelihoods. After the formal end of colonialism, postcolonial statehood often sticks to the “sinews of war and trade” entwined with governance, institutions, and economic systems, even while enjoying the benefits of neoliberal systems. Yet, when these projects are no longer economically feasible, they leave behind stranded assets – fossil infrastructure that is no longer economically viable but remains as toxic ruins. Communities that never profited from these projects bear the burden of the debts, pollution, and lost livelihoods.
Some last-ditch business models even prey on the most vulnerable factions of the dying fossilist system, yet label this as a beneficial move. Karpowership, a Turkish company, rents floating gas power plants to countries such as Ghana, South Africa, and Zambia that experience power shortages due to an increasing demand for energy and deteriorating state-owned infrastructure. Karpowership’s fleet docks at ports and provides unstable grids with fossil gas through long-term, dollar-denominated contracts. This locks governments into dependency, endangers local fisherfolk and marine ecosystems, and allows investors to profit from a short-sighted business idea. This is what the end of the fossil fuel era looks like: a final scramble to squeeze every last profit out of a dying system.
‘Green’ frontiers
While the use of fossil fuels continues, the ‘green’ frontier surges ahead, while cultivating an image of ‘energy innocence.’ If ‘renewables’ lived up to their name by employing cradle-to-cradle production, recycling solar panels and electric cars, and embracing energy sufficiency, it would pave the way for a sustainable energy revolution. However, trapped in an ecomodernist scheme fueled by growth dogma, the insatiable demand for more and more energy means that ‘green’ geopolitics and ‘green’ extractivism are on the rise. For example, this results in increased metal mining, which fosters deforestation in Brazil, Indonesia, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. This mining is induced by low-carbon technologies that require more and different metal components than their carbon counterparts.
Consider the hydrogen boom. The European Union has declared hydrogen to be its future fuel, and Germany, in particular, has acted as a first mover by investing heavily in Namibian hydrogen production. The framing is one of ‘mutual benefit,’ which could materialize if planned projects pay sufficient attention to ecosocial standards in line with ‘hydrogen justice.’ However, Namibia’s vision of reinventing itself as the world’s first hydrogen state, fueled by a tailor-made energy regime, is based on extreme financial dependence, an increase in desalination systems producing large amounts of brine, and the designation of vast areas as production zones, including sites commemorating the Herero and Nama. Meanwhile, the lithium triangle of Argentina, Bolivia, and Chile is at the heart of the battery revolution in Latin America. There, lithium extraction drains fragile ecosystems and consumes enormous amounts of water in already arid regions. Indigenous communities lose access to their salt flats and pastures. What is presented as ‘clean mobility’ in the Global North deepens dispossession in the Global South.
Even wind and solar parks, symbols of progress, often have colonial undertones. In occupied Western Sahara, for example, Morocco uses wind energy to power industries that entrench its control while exporting ‘green electricity’ to Europe.
While colonial power dynamics, such as old and new dependencies, land use conflicts, and financial risks, are most visible, the coloniality of knowledge points to the epistemic dimension, addressing questions of skilled and unskilled labor division and stalled knowledge transfer. Colonialities of being highlight the ways in which large-scale energy systems, whether brown or ‘green,’ affect everyday livelihoods, especially when sociotechnical ownership of technologies and participation in planning processes are ruled out.
Resistance and alternatives
Yet, people across the world resist. In Tunisia, NGOs and civil society organizations are speaking out against transcontinental hydrogen projects. In Chile, indigenous communities are pushing back against lithium mining and demanding water rights and sovereignty. After Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico, grassroots networks built community solar projects to reclaim energy autonomy from U.S.-controlled grids, proclaiming an Afrocentric vision of energy abolitionism. In Norway, the Sami continue to fight against wind farms that violate their grazing lands, insisting on indigenous rights over European ‘green’ agendas.
These struggles remind us that energy and energy justice are not simply matters of technology. Rather, it is about justice, autonomy, sovereignty, and collective survival amidst a world stricken with political, socio-ecological, and socio-economic collapse. Alternatives exist, such as cooperatives, decentralized grids, energy sufficiency, and economic degrowth. These alternatives are the seeds of energy democracy and sovereignty, pointing to a decolonial future where energy serves life rather than capital.
Towards decolonial energy futures
Energy colonialism is the hidden driving force behind today’s transition. Dismantling it requires more than technical innovation. We need ecosocial solidarity across borders, reparative justice for communities sacrificed to fossil and ‘green’ extractivism, and a radical rethinking of the purpose of energy: fostering connections with others, meeting basic needs, ensuring safety and security, and guaranteeing societal reproduction. There is a world beyond thermodynamics and brown-and-green geopolitics.
Energy must cease being a weapon of domination or a playground for investors. It must become a commons – locally owned, socially controlled, and ecologically grounded.
If we allow the transition to proceed on (neo)colonial terms, we will repeat history and build a ‘greener’ empire on the same foundation of dispossession. However, if we confront both the end of the fossil era and the rise of ‘green’ frontiers, we can forge another path: one of decolonial energy futures rooted in energy justice and collective survival.