Firstly, it is abundantly clear that climate change does not affect everyone equally. Globally, those least responsible for rising emissions are the ones bearing the brunt of extreme weather, food insecurity and displacement. Meanwhile, the industries and nations driving the climate crisis continue to grow their wealth, deepening the divide between those who can shield themselves from climate impacts and those left without options.
This growing disparity is referred to as climate apartheid: a stark reminder that climate change is not just an environmental issue but a matter of justice. Wealthy countries and corporations, long reliant on extractive economies, have built prosperity at a cost that is now being paid by communities with fewer resources to adapt. The consequences are clear: rising sea levels threatening island nations, deadly heatwaves disproportionately affecting lower-income populations, and agricultural crises pushing millions toward migration.
This has raised pressing questions: What happens when those most affected are not given a voice? When traditional activism struggles to bring change, what forms of action become necessary?
The answers are not simple, but the urgency is clear. The longer these inequalities persist, the harder it becomes to build a future that is both sustainable and fair. Climate justice is not just about reducing emissions – it’s about rethinking who holds the power to shape what happens next.
The silent war against the Global South
The roots of climate apartheid run deep, tangled in the legacy of colonialism that built the wealth of the Global North on the backs of the Global South. For instance, Africa, responsible for just 4 % of global carbon emissions, now faces the brunt of climate disasters. According to the Notre Dame Global Adaptation Initiative (ND-GAIN Country Index), 9 out of the 10 countries most vulnerable and least resilient to climate change are in Africa.
From Latin America to Southeast Asia, multinational corporations are still plundering resources, grabbing land, and leaving pollution and mass displacement in their wake. In Peru, Indigenous communities have been fighting against oil spills that have contaminated their water and land. The North Dakota Access Pipeline battle showed how fossil fuel projects continue to violate Indigenous rights in North America. While the world has changed, the patterns of exploitation remain – only now, climate change is accelerating the crisis.
The structural violence of climate apartheid manifests in countless ways. The Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre reports that in 2021, 23.7 million people were internally displaced due to weather-related disasters – the majority in Asia and the Pacific. These are not just numbers; they are lives uprooted, communities shattered, and cultures at risk of disappearing.
The failure of diplomatic solutions and multilateralism
For decades, climate conferences have come and gone: bold commitments made, ambitious targets set and numerous signed agreements. Yet, emissions keep rising, and the world edges closer to an environmental catastrophe.
The Paris Agreement has become more symbolic than substantive. Despite its goals, global emissions remain on an upward trajectory. The promised $100 billion in annual climate finance for developing nations is still unmet. Furthermore, a report by Oxfam found that the real value of climate finance provided in 2017-18 was only $19-22.5 billion, far short of the promised amount.
Meanwhile, fossil fuel companies promote their green credentials while expanding operations. A PLOS One study found that ExxonMobil, Chevron, Shell, and BP spent over $750 million annually on branding campaigns highlighting environmental efforts while simultaneously lobbying against climate policies. Moreover, institutions like the IMF and World Bank are complicit in policies that trap the Global South in ecological debt. A campaign by the Global Action for Debt Cancellation shows how these institutions impose conditions that push developing nations to prioritize debt repayment over climate action.
In 2021, the IPCC launched its „code red for humanity“ report. It was a wake-up call that shook many to their core. The report stated that human influence has ‘unequivocally’ warmed the planet, with some changes now irreversible. If this level of crisis doesn’t justify radical action, what does?
The ethics and efficacy of radical climate resistance
With time running out, one question remains: In a world burning around us, is non-violence still the answer? When peaceful protests fall on deaf ears and our children’s future hangs in the balance, don’t we have a right, even a duty, to defend life itself through more forceful means?
Maybe it’s time to rethink what we call violence. If a pipeline is poisoning water and land, is shutting it down really an act of harm? Or is it a form of self-defence against the destruction already happening? History shows this isn’t a new debate. Gandhi is often held up as proof that non-violence can work, but independence movements in places like Algeria and South Africa found that a diversity of tactics – including armed struggle – was necessary to break the chains of oppression. The African National Congress in South Africa, for instance, only adopted armed resistance after decades of peaceful protest were met with violent repression. Nelson Mandela himself said: “It would be wrong and unrealistic for African leaders to continue preaching peace and non-violence at a time when the government met our peaceful demands with force.”
Swedish author Andreas Malm argues that the climate movement needs its own “Suffragettes” – activists willing to engage in strategic property destruction to force change. He points out that the British women’s suffrage movement only made real progress once it escalated to window-breaking and arson. In his book „How to Blow Up a Pipeline“, Malm writes:
“Here is what this movement of millions should do, for a start: announce and enforce the prohibition. Damage and destroy new CO2-emitting devices. Put them out of commission, pick them apart, demolish them, burn them, blow them up. Let the capitalists who keep on investing in the fire know that their properties will be trashed.”
Other climate experts have also argued that destroying fossil fuel infrastructure is not only justified but necessary to stop the destruction of the planet.
This isn’t just theoretical. We’re already seeing a rise in what some call „eco-sabotage”. For example, the Indigenous-led resistance against the Dakota Access Pipeline included not just protests but also direct attempts to disable construction equipment. In Europe, the „Tyre Extinguishers“ movement has been deflating SUV tires in cities to protest gas-guzzling vehicles.
These actions do come with serious risks and ethical dilemmas. Some critics argue that property destruction could alienate potential allies and give governments an excuse for harsher crackdowns. There’s also the very real danger of unintended consequences – what if an action meant to disable fossil fuel infrastructure accidentally harms workers or nearby communities? There are no easy answers. But as the crisis worsens, so does the debate over what it will take to bring about real change.
The moral imperative of climate resistance
The usual ways of protesting haven’t been enough, and activist movements such as Extinction Rebellion, Just Stop Oil, and Indigenous-led Land Back campaigns know this. That’s why they’re taking action that challenges the limits of traditional activism. They see what’s at stake and aren’t waiting for slow reforms.
For instance, Extinction Rebellion has shut down parts of London, glued themselves to government buildings, and disrupted fossil fuel facilities, and Just Stop Oil activists have thrown soup on famous paintings and blocked major roads. These tactics are controversial, but they’ve succeeded in forcing climate change into the headlines and putting pressure on governments.
Furthermore, Indigenous resistance has been particularly powerful. A study by the Indigenous Environmental Network and Oil Change International found that Indigenous-led resistance to fossil fuel projects in the United States and Canada has stopped or delayed greenhouse gas pollution equivalent to at least 25 % of annual U.S. and Canadian emissions.
With entire species, ecosystems, and communities at risk, radical action to protect life becomes a moral imperative. It’s not about destruction – it’s about preservation. It’s about recognizing that the real violence is the system tearing apart our planetary home.
It is evident that no generation before us has faced this kind of responsibility. This claim is supported by philosopher Dale Jamieson, as he pointed out in his paper ‘Responsibility and Climate Change‘,
“Humanity is transferring fossil carbon to the atmosphere at an almost unprecedented rate. Unless something unexpected intervenes, this will result in vast damages to much that we care about: human lives, property, species, natural ecosystems, and so forth. In addition to causing incremental damages to what we value, this transfer of fossil carbon risks disrupting climate in a way that will be truly catastrophic.”
The choices we make today don’t just shape the present; they also determine the future for billions of people and countless other species. For many years, ethicists have grappled with the idea that our obligations to future generations might require us to reconsider or expand our conventional ethical frameworks. If sabotaging a pipeline today potentially prevents immense suffering in the future, isn’t that the right thing to do?
The path forward
The time for half-measures and empty promises is over. We need a global shift in how we define justice, survival, and resistance in the face of climate collapse. That doesn’t mean resorting to violence without thought. It means carefully considering what actions are truly necessary and effective, building strong communities of resistance that can support each other through the challenges, recognizing the colonial legacies that continue to drive climate apartheid and centring the voices and leadership of those most impacted by climate apartheid – Indigenous peoples, frontline communities, and the Global South. Their leadership and voices need to be at the centre of any real solution.
We must also recognize that radical action alone isn’t enough. It needs to be part of a broader strategy that includes building alternative systems, pushing for policy change, and shifting cultural narratives. The goal isn’t just to tear down the old world but to birth a new one that is more just, more sustainable and more alive. This generation faces a harsh reality that fighting for a habitable planet may mean pushing beyond conventional limits of acceptable resistance. The chains of climate apartheid are strong, but they’re not unbreakable. But are we willing to do what it takes to shatter them? The clock is ticking. The world is burning. It’s time to act.
For me, joining Extinction Rebellion Deutschland as a peace and climate justice activist introduced me to a global network of changemakers which reinforced the urgency of this fight. Also, Swedish author Andreas Malm’s work has challenged my perspective on radical climate action and pushed me to think critically about the role of resistance. But nothing shaped my understanding more than working in the Somali region of Ethiopia, where I witnessed the worst drought in 40 years: entire communities displaced, livestock lying dead, and women bearing the brunt of climate disasters. It was a stark wake-up call that climate destruction isn’t a distant threat; it’s unfolding now.