Green European Journal

Energetická transformace k obnovitelným zdrojům nabírá v celé Evropě na tempu. V ekologickém hnutí přitom vznikají spory mezi zastánci rychlého budování rozsáhlé obnovitelné infrastruktury a stoupenci participace místních komunit.

Až donedávna panoval v energetické politice západního světa opatrný konsensus: udržovat stávající model založený na fosilních palivech a zároveň vlažně podporovat dekarbonizaci. Tento konsensus se nyní bortí a energetickou politiku v rostoucí míře určuje otevřený konflikt.

Političtí aktéři hájící zájmy fosilního průmyslu se čím dál nepokrytěji staví proti energetické transformaci, což se projevuje zejména rostoucím odporem vůči projektům rozvoje obnovitelných zdrojů. V Evropské unii se zvlášť na krajní pravici prosazuje rétorika proti obnovitelným zdrojům, která vykresluje větrnou a solární energetiku jako ekonomicky nevýhodnou, diktovanou shora a odtrženou od „reálných“ potřeb běžných lidí.

Rychlý rozmach obnovitelných zdrojů však nenaráží jen na zájmy fosilního průmyslu. Vyvolává také spory mezi aktéry, kteří v zásadě zelenou transformaci podporují.

Na lokální a regionální úrovni se řada ekologických organizací postavila proti konkrétním projektům, jež jsou součástí přechodu k obnovitelné energetice. Například v jižní Francii podnikly spolky jako France Nature Environnment a Liga za ochranu ptactva (LPO) právní kroky proti parkům větrných elektráren, které v chráněných lokalitách ohrožovaly vzácné ptačí druhy. V jižním Španělsku zahájila skupina Ecologistas en Acción kampaň proti projektu rozsáhlé solární elektrárny s odůvodněním, že by znehodnotil půdu a narušil místní flóru.

Tyto debaty nejsou jen typickými příklady sporů o ekologickou spravedlnost či odporu místních obyvatel k výstavbě v jejich okolí (tzv. NIMBY efekt — z anglického Not In My Backyard, tedy Ne na mém dvorku), přestože se s nimi v mnoha ohledech prolínají. Jde spíše o ukázku konfliktů uvnitř zeleného hnutí — o střety mezi navzájem soupeřícími ekologickými prioritami.

Aktéři uvedených sporů se sice shodnou na potřebě dekarbonizace a ochrany přírody, ale rozcházejí se v tom, jaké typy obnovitelných zdrojů by se měly využívat, kde by se elektrárny měly stavět a kdo o tom má rozhodovat. Jelikož jsou spory daného typu čím dál častější a mají zásadní politické důsledky, zasluhují si zevrubnější analýzu, o niž se tu chci pokusit.

Soupeření mezi prioritami

Termín „green-on-green conflicts“, tedy konflikty uvnitř zeleného hnutí, zavedl v roce 2004 britský geograf Charles Warren. Inspiroval se přitom vojenským výrazem „blue-on-blue“, který označuje střelbu do vlastních řad. Warren už tehdy upozornil, že podobné střety předznamenávají budoucí debaty v rámci ekologického hnutí: „Společnost se přiklonila k zelené politice, ale jakou podobu by zelená politika měla vlastně mít?“

Spory mezi ekologickými aktivisty se často točí kolem umístění energetické infrastruktury, ochrany ohrožených druhů či procesů plánování, v principu se však jedná o konflikty politické. Nutí nás totiž klást si otázky, kdo v rámci zelené transformace definuje veřejný zájem a co lze ještě považovat za přijatelné vedlejší škody.

Spory uvnitř zeleného hnutí nejsou ničím novým. Odrážejí dlouhodobé napětí mezi různými proudy, které hlavní důraz kladou na odlišné aspekty ekologické krize. Nejčastěji proti sobě v posledních desetiletích stanuly dva tábory. Na jedné straně to jsou ti, kteří usilují o zmírnění klimatické změny a upřednostňují rychlou, systémovou transformaci ve spolupráci s vládami a průmyslem, což zahrnuje i výstavbu rozsáhlé infrastruktury.

Proti nim se postavili ti, kteří hájí zájmy místních komunit a regionů a akcentují ochranu biodiverzity, půdy a přírodních zdrojů. Popsanou dělicí linii bychom neměli přeceňovat, faktem ale zůstává, že v řadě sporů uvnitř zeleného hnutí stojí proti sobě právě uvedené dvě skupiny, což odráží také dlouhodobý střet mezi odlišnými politickými kulturami uvnitř hnutí.

Ačkoli do odporu proti projektům v oblasti obnovitelné energie často vstupují i jiné příčiny, konflikty mezi ekologickými aktéry si zasluhují zvláštní pozornost. V zemích EU vedla zrychlující se energetická transformace v posledním desetiletí k čím dál častějším a viditelnějším střetům daného typu.

Každý ze sporů je sice zasazen do specifických místních souvislostí, které nelze vždy snadno zobecnit, přesto se do nich často promítají podobné vzorce. Zatímco evropská fosilní energetika se obvykle opírá o těžbu v odlehlých oblastech a o infrastrukturu soustředěnou do nemnoha lokalit, zelená transformace spočívá na početnějších a územně rozptýlených zdrojích výroby energie. Tím se produkce energie dostává do mnohem těsnějšího kontaktu s obydlenou krajinou a místními komunitami.

Při prosazování projektů energetické transformace se obvykle argumentuje naléhavou potřebou dekarbonizace, křehkou energetickou bezpečností či nutností dosáhnout energetické nezávislosti. Odpor proti projektům obnovitelné energetiky naopak postrádá jednotný scénář. Bývá spíše situační, promítají se do něj specifika daných projektů a jejich konkrétní dopady na místní přírodu a krajinu. Navzdory různorodosti odporu lze říci, že jednotlivé sektory energetiky zpravidla vyvolávají specifické typy protestů podle konkrétního dopadu na životní prostředí.

Ohniska sporů

Zřejmě nejčastější a rovněž nejdiskutovanější příčinou sporů uvnitř zeleného hnutí je výstavba větrných elektráren, které v Evropské unii vyrábějí asi čtyřicet procent obnovitelné energie. Jedním z důvodů je jejich nepřehlédnutelnost. Vnitrozemské větrné parky proměňují ráz krajiny a výrazně zasahují do životního prostředí, čímž vyvolávají tradiční formy odporu proti velkým infrastrukturním stavbám.

Dobře je to vidět na příkladu Galicie v severozápadním Španělsku. V regionu, který byl kdysi největším španělským producentem větrné energie, nyní naráží rozšiřování pevninských větrných elektráren na tvrdý odpor. Ekologické organizace vystupují proti desítkám nových projektů a podávají stovky žalob s argumentem, že rychlá výstavba ničí krajinu i chráněné oblasti.

Řada projektů tak byla dočasně pozastavena, což vyvolalo bouřlivou celospolečenskou debatu. Kampaň přitom neodmítla větrnou energii jako takovou: odpůrci naopak zdůrazňují, že větrná energie je „pro ochranu planety před dopady současné klimatické krize zásadní“. Svou kritiku však směřují proti „spekulativnímu a predátorskému modelu“ rozsáhlých projektů větrných elektráren, které jsou prosazovány shora v zájmu velkých energetických korporací.

Takovýto přístup podle nich může způsobit „nezvratné ekologické, kulturní, společenské a ekonomické škody“. Podobné spory kolem větrných parků se objevily také v dalších částech Evropy, například v Německu, Švédsku nebo na Kypru.

Podobné diskuse vyvolávají i solární projekty, které zajišťují asi čtvrtinu evropské energie z obnovitelných zdrojů. Například plány na projekt Dama Solar v rumunské župě Arad, který se měl stát největším fotovoltaickým parkem v Evropě, napadlo u soudu místní ochranářské sdružení. Jeho zástupci tvrdí, že umístění projektu do chráněného území Natura 2000 ohrožuje tamní vzácné druhy.

Konflikt postavil ochranáře do přímého střetu s developery a státními úřady, kteří projekt hájí jako nezbytný pro dosažení klimatických cílů a posílení energetické bezpečnosti země. Celý spor, který byl později po mimosoudní dohodě pozastaven, odráží širší vzorec, s nímž se můžeme setkat třebas i v některých částech Francie, Španělska a Polska.

Vedle větrné a solární energetiky jsou tu ovšem i další základní pilíře transformace, které sice nepřitahují tolik pozornosti, ale jsou právě tak klíčové. Posilování přenosových sítí nebo výroba baterií rovněž vyvolává na různých místech v Evropě spory uvnitř zeleného tábora. Vůbec nejsilnější odpor se však zvedá proti těžbě některých kritických surovin; vlna protestů proti těžařským projektům se objevila v zemích jako Srbsko nebo Švédsko.

V severním Portugalsku vyvolaly vlnu odporu plány na těžbu lithia nedaleko obce Covas do Barroso. Ačkoli úřady projekt prezentovaly jako strategický příspěvek k evropské energetické transformaci, místní obyvatelé a ekologické organizace okamžitě zareagovali demonstracemi a přípravou právních kroků.

Protestující mluvili o tom, že jejich krajina má být „obětována“ a že zdejší životní prostředí utrpí jen proto, aby dekarbonizace pokročila někde jinde. Vadilo jim také, že rozhodnutí přišlo shora bez ohledu na jejich názor. Jedna z organizací, která se na protestech podílela, Unidos em Defesa de Covas do Barroso, shrnula kritiku argumentem, že „energetická transformace, která obětuje životní prostředí a je komunitám vnucena shora, místo aby vznikala ve spolupráci s nimi, přehlíží zkušenosti místních lidí s jejich vlastní krajinou a vytváří nebezpečný nedemokratický precedent“.

Od klimatu ke krajině

Stále častější konflikty uvnitř zeleného hnutí svědčí o hlubších rozporech v pojetí ekologického aktivismu. Patrná je zejména rostoucí nespokojenost s tím, že se výhradním středobodem ekologických kampaní stává samo klima. Některé proudy radikálního ekologického hnutí dnes vnímají „klima“ jako příliš abstraktní a technokratické téma, které je navíc úzce svázáno s politikou establishmentu.

Jejich skepse často pramení z frustrace z mainstreamové klimatické politiky, kterou mnozí považují za příliš pomalou a neefektivní. Takováto kritika zaznívá už dlouho, širší odezvy se jí však začalo dostávat až po neúspěchu klimatických protestů v roce 2019. Většina účastníků akcí tehdy nabyla dojmu, že ani masová mobilizace veřejnosti nevedla k prosazení smysluplné politické změny.

Zatím nelze hovořit o tom, že by v Evropě obrat od soustředění na klima ke komplexnějšímu vnímání ekologické krize nastával v širším měřítku, některé případy však naznačují, že se takováto dynamika začíná postupně prosazovat. Jasným příkladem je francouzská radikální organizace Povstání země (Les Soulèvements de la Terre), která sdružuje aktivisty různých názorových proudů včetně těch, kteří jsou rozčarováni vývojem dosavadních klimatických protestů. Francouzská organizace prohlašuje, že klimatická politika zůstává odtržená od žité reality, a namísto toho vybízí k lokálním zápasům, které „vracejí ekologické hnutí zpátky na zem“.

Uvedený obrat je zčásti odrazem lokálního ekologického aktivismu. Odpor proti projektům energetické transformace často navazuje na dlouhodobé tradice hnutí proti jaderným elektrárnám, budování přehrad, těžbě či průmyslovému zemědělství. Takováto hnutí obvykle chápou ekologický konflikt jako obranu krajiny a každodenního života proti vzdáleným centrům politické a ekonomické moci.

Historicky se takovéto iniciativy vyvíjely v určitém odstupu od agendy klimatické transformace. S tím, jak se nyní přechod k zelené energii zrychluje, napětí mezi různými tradicemi ekologického hnutí vystupuje na povrch a v některých případech přerůstá v otevřený konflikt.

Svou roli hraje také rostoucí vliv antikapitalistických postojů v ekologickém aktivismu. Pro mnohé skupiny totiž není hlavním tématem sama dekarbonizace, ale spíše její prosazování prostřednictvím tržních mechanismů. Z tohoto pohledu se zelený průmysl nejeví jako rozchod s minulostí, ale spíš jako stará známá logika exploatace zdrojů a kumulace kapitálu v novém kabátě.

To pak znemožňuje přistoupit na to, jak si energetickou transformaci představují vlády či korporace, a to i v situacích, kdy panuje široká shoda na nutnosti skoncovat s fosilními palivy. Popsané posuny nám pomáhají pochopit, proč se určité proudy zeleného aktivismu přiklánějí stále více k lokálním konfliktům a jak spolu s tím vzrůstá i nedůvěra vůči klimatické politice. Objasňuje se tím také vznik nových spojenectví mezi radikálními ekologickými aktivisty, ochranářskými organizacemi a obyvateli venkovských či příměstských oblastí.

Spory o pojetí zelené politiky míří do vyšších pater

Vnitřní konflikty zeleného hnutí se neprojevují jen lokálními protesty, ale stále častěji pronikají i do vysoké politiky. Ačkoli obě roviny nemusí být vždy přímo provázané, často zrcadlí stejné základní napětí.

To jen potvrzuje, že nejednotnost hnutí zdaleka není jen záležitostí lokálních sporů. U některých ekologicky zaměřených stran to pak vede k odmítání dekarbonizačních projektů, které by vyžadovaly jakékoli kompromisy.

Ačkoli se rétorika politických stran nemusí vždy přesně krýt s argumenty v lokálních sporech „zelených proti zeleným“, často s nimi sdílí podobnou vnitřní logiku. Příklady z nedávné doby najdeme po celé Evropě. Ve švýcarském kantonu Valais se například postavila Strana zelených proti vybudování fotovoltaických elektráren v alpských oblastech. V Portugalsku se zase levicový Bloco de Esquerda zapojil do kampaní proti těžbě lithia, v níž varuje před ničivými dopady na tamní krajinu.

Další, taktéž výmluvný příklad najdeme ve Španělsku, kde se podobný střet odehrál na parlamentní půdě. Poté, co zemi v roce 2025 postihl rozsáhlý výpadek elektrické energie, navrhla vláda opatření k posílení stability distribuční sítě a navýšení podpory obnovitelných zdrojů.

Vládní návrh byl však nakonec zamítnut, a to i s přispěním levicové strany Podemos, která se k zelené politice jinak hlásí. Její poslanci argumentovali tím, že reformy nijak neposilují veřejné vlastnictví ani demokratickou kontrolu, a naopak obsahují hrozbu, že upevní pozici stávajících energetických hráčů.

Uvedené obavy nebyly neopodstatněné. Bezprostředním důsledkem však byla patová situace: vládní návrh byl smeten ze stolu a žádná alternativní opatření se nepřijala. Odmítání obnovitelných energetických projektů s odůvodněním, že přinášejí prospěch především energetickým gigantům, se stalo trvalou součástí rétoriky Podemos.

Všechny uvedené případy mají jeden společný rys: aktéři, kteří nenesou přímou odpovědnost za dodávky energií a politiku v oblasti průmyslu, snáze odmítají kompromisy spojené s energetickou transformací. Naproti tomu ti, kteří jsou u moci, jsou strukturálně nuceni na ústupky přistupovat.

Nevyhnutelné napětí

Evropské spory uvnitř zeleného hnutí nabývají na intenzitě v kontextu zcela specifické politické situace. Odehrávají se v kontextu celosvětové vlny odporu proti ekologické politice, což se v Evropské unii projevuje rostoucí snahou vytlačit ekologický aktivismus na okraj. Evropská unie se přitom paradoxně snaží urychlit budování energetické a průmyslové infrastruktury založené na obnovitelných zdrojích, a to navzdory mnohým rozporům ve svém vlastním zeleném programu. Popsaná dynamika pak vyvolává stále naléhavější otázky ohledně směřování evropské ekologické politiky.

Popsaný vývoj lze interpretovat jako upevňování jakéhosi evropského energetického státního zájmu (raison d’état). Členské státy a instituce Evropské unie se stále častěji zaštiťují klimatickými cíli a energetickou bezpečností a velké energetické a průmyslové projekty označují za strategickou prioritu, kterou je nutno realizovat rychle a bez zbytečných průtahů.

Takovýto trend potvrzují i nedávné politické změny, jako je zrychlení schvalovacích procesů či upřednostňování strategických projektů. V unijním politickém diskursu se už energetická transformace nezdůvodňuje ani tak ochranou lidí a životního prostředí, jako spíše nutností zachovat konkurenceschopnost prostřednictvím ambiciózních, velkokapacitních projektů.

Bude-li takovýto vývoj pokračovat cestou oslabování ekologických pojistek, pravidel územního plánování a veřejné kontroly, lze očekávat, že i vnitřní střety v zeleném hnutí naberou na síle a prohloubí se polarizace. Některé spory pak mohou přerůst institucionální rámec a nabývat ostře konfrontačních podob.

Fragmentace zeleného hnutí znamená velké politické riziko — zejména v době, kdy ekologičtí aktéři potřebují utvářet široké a stabilní koalice, aby dokázali čelit sílícímu odporu vůči klimatické politice. Má-li zelený tábor prosadit podstatné změny, musí najít společnou řeč napříč celým spektrem zastánců zelené transformace, aby se rozdílné priority dařilo překonat jednáním, spíše než aby vedly k rozkolům.

Nicméně soudržnost nelze vynucovat. Mnohé požadavky, které ve vnitřních konfliktech zeleného hnutí zaznívají, jsou zcela legitimní. Projekty energetické transformace často prosazují hráči, jejichž prioritou je korporátní zisk, nikoli ekologické či sociální zájmy — a škody, které působí, jsou zcela reálné.

Mnozí z těch, kdož se odvolávají na naléhavost situace, se často jen pokoušejí odsunout požadavky na participaci, inkluzi či spravedlnost na vedlejší kolej. Z tohoto pohledu jsou debaty uvnitř zeleného hnutí nezbytné. Nutí totiž centra moci ke konfrontaci s konkrétními místy, kde zelená transformace získává svou hmatatelnou podobu, a podtrhují zásadní argument: energetická transformace si nemůže nárokovat legitimitu, pokud při své realizaci ničí ekosystémy, biotopy a místní komunity.

Na hlubší úrovni popsané rozpory odrážejí ústřední dilema klimatické krize. Dekarbonizace musí proběhnout rychle a ve velkém měřítku, jenže aktéři, kteří by ji dokázali provést sociálně spravedlivě a s citlivostí ke krajině, momentálně nemají v rukou politickou moc.

Vzhledem k naléhavosti a rozsahu celého úkolu si lze jen stěží představit, že by energetická transformace mohla proběhnout hladce a bez třenic, a to i za těch nejpříznivějších politických okolností. Ačkoli tedy zůstává hlavním úkolem budování rozsáhlých akceschopných koalic k odvrácení klimatické katastrofy, vnitřní konflikty v zeleném hnutí budou pravděpodobně přetrvávat.

Takovéto spory nejsou chybou v procesu zelené transformace, nýbrž jen symptomem toho, jak hluboko do různých vrstev ekologické a politické reality celý proces zasahuje. Z toho důvodu je bezkonfliktní transformace nejen nerealistická, ale dost možná i nežádoucí. Skutečnou otázkou tedy není, jak střetům mezi zastánci zelené politiky zabránit, ale zda je lze zvládat tak, aby se zelené hnutí mohlo stát silou, která energetickou transformaci usměrní, namísto toho, aby ji paralyzovalo.

Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz was defeated by a grassroots movement that faced down systematic intimidation in an extraordinary act of popular mobilisation. The attempt to restart democracy in Hungary stands a better chance of success than at any time since 1989. Will Péter Magyar take the country in the right direction?  

The events in Budapest on the night of Viktor Orbán’s election defeat on 12 April were pivotal and unforgettable. Hundreds of thousands of people flooded the streets in a carnival-style fiesta. This level of popular enthusiasm was seen neither in October 1989, when the new republic was proclaimed, nor in May 1990, when the first democratically elected government was formed. “It was like winning the World Cup,” witnesses said. 

Younger generations, who have spent all their adult lives under Orbán’s rule, campaigned hardest for change and feel that they are the main winners. Generation Z’s overwhelming support for Péter Magyar’s Tisza party spread to older age groups, too, and was a game-changer across the country. 

According to political scientists Andrea Szabó and Zoltán Gábor Szűcs-Zágoni, what happened on 12 April 2026 was “not just a critical election, a landslide or a change of government. It can truly be described as an electoral revolution: a bloodless constitutional political shift marking the beginning of a new era driven by the collective power of society.” 

What made this “electoral revolution” possible? What consequences is Viktor Orbán’s downfall likely to have in Hungary, Europe and beyond? And how easy will it be to restore democracy to a country in which the division of powers has effectively collapsed? 

Changing course 

The Hungarian constitutional system is modelled on Germany’s Kanzlerdemokratie and gives the prime minister a particularly strong position vis-à-vis the other parts of government. However, after 2010, Orbán effectively turned Hungary into an “absolute republic”, a term coined by political scientists Gábor Török and Péter Farkas Zárug to describe a system combining electoral democracy with the unrestrained use of state resources and a personality cult surrounding the leader.1

János Széky wrote in Élet és Irodalom that Magyar’s victory in fact ends Viktor Orbán’s 28-year reign, which began during his first term in office between 1998 and 2002. But the significance of the 12 April vote pertains to an even larger period of recent Hungarian history. These elections also mark nearly four decades since the transformation from a one-party system to a Western-type liberal democracy in 1989. 

A former frontrunner of westernisation in the east-central European context, Hungary began to lose ground in the 2000s. The overwhelming vote for change can be interpreted as a call for another push towards the West after the previous attempt in 1989–90, which started promisingly but ultimately failed. 

The 12 April election also marks the end of decades of fruitless and detrimental political rivalry between a triumphant radical right and an increasingly frustrated and powerless Left. The “cold civil war” that Orbán has been waging since 2004 with his left-wing counterpart, the former prime minister Ferenc Gyurcsány, has finally ended in mutual destruction. Gyurcsány’s Democratic Coalition received just one per cent of the popular vote and will not be represented in parliament. Orbán is also leaving parliament after 36 continuous years as an MP. 

For the first time since 1920, there will be no left-wing or liberal parties in the Hungarian parliament. The political landscape now comprises three different shades of right: EU-compatible, moderate conservatism (Tisza); anti-EU radical illiberalism (Fidesz); and neofascism (Mi Hazánk, or “Our Motherland”). 

The absence of left-liberal opposition in the Hungarian parliament sends a grim message to the rest of Europe. If left-wing political parties cannot connect with voters, those voters will have to look elsewhere for political representation. Almost two-thirds of the 3.4 million Hungarians who voted for Tisza came from liberal, left-wing or green backgrounds. There are several new MPs in the 141-strong Tisza group with left-wing and/or liberal leanings. Despite its conservative profile, represented by Magyar himself, Tisza is a surprisingly diverse party, where leaders and rank-and-file activists from different backgrounds coexist. 

Political scientist Balázs Jarábik has argued that the elections demonstrated Hungary’s ongoing democratic potential. But if Péter Magyar truly intends to effect change, he must address the long-standing illiberal tendency to grant the government almost unlimited power. Will Magyar make wise use of the complex network of legal instruments that could easily transform a democratically elected prime minister into a plebiscitarian leader and potential autocrat? And can he resist the temptation to use his supermajority to consolidate his personal power? 

These are the real questions awaiting answers. Viktor Orbán’s authoritarian path was not an anomaly or a bug in the system, but the extreme consequence of a constitutional mindset anchored in the idea of a dominant party and “stable” governance. 

A defeat for Putin 

Following the vote, Fidesz pundits began arguing that Orbán’s swift acceptance of the results showed that the system was far less authoritarian than his opponents claimed. However, this is contradicted by the evidence. For almost two years, Fidesz had employed a variety of tactics, legal and illegal, to suppress the dissent voiced by Tisza. Since 2024, the Hungarian government had exploited the powers of the security agencies and received covert support from Russia and, to a lesser extent, the United States to destroy the only genuine contender and secure Orbán’s fifth consecutive term in office. 

Orbán’s ultimate decision not to crack down on the opposition was motivated not by respect for the democratic will of the Hungarian people but because of an unprecedented display of force from Europe. It is tempting here to draw a parallel with the changes of 1989. However, in 1989, the peaceful transformation of communist Hungary into a multi-party democracy was supported by all the major powers and took place at the end of the East–West ideological divide. During this election campaign, by contrast, both Putin’s Russia and Trump’s United States openly backed Fidesz. 

Since late February, Orbán had been plagued by damaging press leaks. These originated from an entity of which Hungary was still a part, but which Orbán had started to label as his “main enemy”: the European Union. Several European security agencies cooperating on the Hungarian file had intercepted phone conversations between Orbán’s foreign minister, Péter Szijjártó, and his Russian counterpart, Sergei Lavrov, as well as between Orbán and the Russian president, Vladimir Putin. They revealed a pattern of strategic cooperation and moral collusion that made Orbán’s presence in Brussels undesirable. 

The exposure of the public misconduct of senior Hungarian officials went far beyond the well-known issue of systemic corruption. The failed geopolitical ventures of the Orbán system were exposed, including the attempted armed rescue of former Bosnian–Serb leader Milorad Dodik in 2025, which was thwarted by decisive American intervention, and the scandal surrounding the planned Hungarian military mission to Chad. While rumours could be heard in diplomatic and military circles about Hungarian involvement in the African operations of the infamous Wagner Group, the truth appears to be more straightforward. The deployment of 200 military personnel to a high-risk combat zone of little strategic importance to Hungary may have been driven by the glory-seeking ambitions of Gáspár Orbán – the son of the outgoing prime minister and then-army captain – who wanted to save local Christians regardless of potential losses among his fellow soldiers. 

According to analysts in both the West and Russia, Orbán’s departure represents a significant strategic setback for Putin. Although Hungary is not a major military or economic power, it has played a crucial political role in advancing Russian interests. Moscow has lost its most valuable and long-cultivated “insider” within the European Union and NATO. As a legitimate European leader rather than a puppet, Orbán was the Kremlin’s most effective tool within the West. 

Moscow secures loyalty by offering cash, business opportunities, and political attention. Amplifying fears of migration, war, and the loss of national identity has helped to translate pro-Kremlin sentiments into local politics across the region. Now, with the collapse of the invincibility myth, other pillars of Russian influence in East-Central Europe may also be under threat. 

Moscow has lost its most valuable and long-cultivated “insider” within the European Union and NATO. […] Now, with the collapse of the invincibility myth, other pillars of Russian influence in East-Central Europe may also be under threat. 

Péter Magyar has said his government will seek pragmatic cooperation with Russia, particularly on energy, and an immediate “crusade” against Moscow is not in sight. Nevertheless, Hungary will cease to be a “spanner in the works” in the EU, enabling more coherent decision-making. Putin’s loss of his only real foothold in Europe is a significant setback for Russian foreign policy. 

The revolt of “deep Hungary” 

Much has been said and written about Péter Magyar, the mole within the system who has exposed its moral decay and corruption more than anyone else. Gábor Bruck, one of Hungary’s leading election campaign strategists, has said that in his many decades in the field, he has never witnessed a performance of such calibre. For around two years, Magyar travelled the length and breadth of the country – literally on foot for weeks at a time – visiting no fewer than 700 locations and reaching millions of citizens in person. Many Hungarians living outside Budapest had never had the opportunity to shake hands with or speak to a national politician. 

Counting on the support of Budapest – a long-standing stronghold of the anti-Fidesz liberal left – Magyar instead focused on the hidden, invisible Hungary of 2,500 villages and hundreds of small towns with populations of just a few thousand. The election results show that support for Tisza was spread across the whole country and not limited to the cities. Orbán’s electoral and cultural stronghold, “deep Hungary”, turned its back on him and embraced the vision of radical change promoted by Magyar. 

However, it would be reductive to focus solely on the top level of the Tisza Party. Magyar deserves historic credit for daring to issue an existential challenge to Orbán’s power within the unfair electoral system Orbán had established. Nevertheless, he had something that Orbán’s power machine lacked: a genuine grassroots movement with widespread support. In the years to come, Tisza will likely be studied as the model of a “popular front” democratic mobilisation, capable of uniting right, left and centre behind a common cause. 

The party’s structure was organised into three distinct yet loosely connected tiers. The first was Péter Magyar, a political animal with innate charisma, a huge capacity for work, and exceptional strategic instincts. András Körösényi, the doyen of Hungarian political scientists, pointed out that Magyar’s extraordinary success highlights not only the fragility of an autocratic system, but also an increasingly widespread and pronounced trend towards plebiscitary democracy. 

The second tier, which has so far been almost imperceptible, concerns the party as a formal political structure. With only a few dozen members, the party could easily be described as an electoral committee centred around its founder and natural leader. 

The third tier is perhaps the most intriguing. Since 2024, over two thousand “Tisza islands” have spontaneously formed in hundreds of Hungarian localities, including villages where there has probably been no political activity since 1945-46 or the turbulent days of the 1956 uprising. 

Although it is impossible to estimate the exact number, it is safe to say that hundreds of thousands of people have been actively involved in opposition politics over the past two years. This is in a country with barely eight million potential voters. The Tisza Islands have no legal status and are not formally affiliated with the small party headquarters. The members form a grassroots civic community of equals and have become a powerful example of informal, bottom-up democracy in a country that has lost its institutional democracy. After long complaining about the lack of civic commitment and interclass solidarity in Hungarian society, social scientists have finally found a topic of great interest: the emergence of a politically oriented social force outside the traditionally progressive capital city of Budapest. 

The best example of grassroots action came on election day, when Tisza mobilised 50,000 unpaid volunteers. Despite the personal risks, they dedicated themselves to political change – the first time this has happened in recent Hungarian history. Almost 5,000 civilians patrolled the polling stations most affected by Fidesz’s well-established vote-buying scheme. As the documentary film A szavazat ára (“The price of the vote”) revealed, this ranged from bussing voters to polling stations to handing out alcohol and drugs to addicts. Fidesz reportedly even threatened to take away people’s jobs or custody of their children. Vote-buying gained the ruling party more than 200,000 votes in 2022; its campaign strategists hoped it would secure up to twice that number in 2026. 

The presence of these volunteers, who were travelling around by car or motorcycle, managed to curb the phenomenon. In areas where “electoral tourism” had been most heavily monitored, observers prevented tens of thousands of people from voting fraudulently. 

Tisza is also leading a quiet gender revolution in a country where politics has always been heavily male-dominated. Women make up one-third of its parliamentary group, while only 17 of Fidesz’s 135 MPs during the previous parliamentary term were women. According to the party’s list, successful businesswoman Ágnes Forsthoffer will become president of the National Assembly, while the former diplomat and energy expert Anita Orbán has been designated foreign minister. 

The greater presence of women in the Tisza is not the result of compliance with “gender quotas”, but a sociological reality and cultural breakthrough. Female activism has played a decisive role in establishing and operating Tisza. These women are primarily middle-aged and active in the private sector. Dissatisfied with the state of the country, they have the time and practical experience of managing daily life to contribute to the community. 

Democratic culture 

All this said, the damage inflicted on representative democracy in Hungary between 2010 and 2026 will be long-lasting. Orbán’s System of National Cooperation found fertile ground due to the established pattern of patronage-based autocracy and the lack of functioning democratic models. 

The largely spontaneous social mobilisation that brought about the downfall of the Orbán regime is not enough to overcome the longstanding weakness of Hungary’s democratic culture. Magyar’s parliamentary supermajority enables him to dismantle the former power system brick by brick without putting the legal system under strain, as happened in Poland after the defeat of PiS in 2023. The question is whether he will be able to restrain his own almost unlimited power, or whether his charismatic leadership of the party will backfire when serious issues concerning democratic standards arise. 

Perhaps even more importantly, the new government will need to democratise the education system and political discourse. Mutual hate, grievances and scapegoating must be replaced by a new collaborative spirit. The hundreds of thousands of young people who voted for democracy and integration with the West should be given the opportunity to learn about democracy while attempting to implement it. 

The support received by the new elite on 12 April brings great historical responsibility. Magyar and his government will need to study the errors made during the 20-year experiment that began in 1989–90 in order to avoid repeating them. For example, the political reintegration of the former authoritarian elite should be preceded by a process of lustration; crimes should be prosecuted and publicly exposed. 

Above all, however, the new government must abandon the anti-democratic practices deeply rooted in the past century – from Miklós Horthy to Viktor Orbán and János Kádár – and establish a democratic state capable of addressing the numerous challenges of the current one. 

This article first appeared in Eurozine. It is republished here with permission.

1. Péter Zárug Farkas, Gábor Török: Orbán ​kora. Vázlat egy abszolút köztársaság felemelkedéséről, Budapest, L’Harmattan, 2026. ︎

Europe’s climate movement is often portrayed as the domain of younger generations. Yet from landmark legal victories to everyday practices of sustainability, a different picture is emerging: older Europeans are proving to be among the most committed and effective climate actors. As the continent continues to age, could this overlooked demographic reshape how climate action is understood and mobilised across Europe?

In April 2024, a group of Swiss women, most of them in their 70s and 80s, stood on the steps of the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg, surrounded by a wall of microphones and cameras from around the world. They had just heard the verdict in one of the most significant climate cases in European legal history. The KlimaSeniorinnen Schweiz had won.

The ruling found Switzerland in violation of the European Convention on Human Rights for failing to adequately protect its citizens from the effects of climate change. The judgment, formally known as Verein KlimaSeniorinnen Schweiz v. Switzerland, now sets binding legal precedent across all 46 Council of Europe member states. Switzerland has since pushed hard for the case to be closed, but the Committee of Ministers, which monitors its implementation, has refused the request twice.

The story of how about 3,000 Swiss women forced their country to one of the highest courts in Europe is striking in its own right. Yet it also points to something broader: a growing, largely invisible force within the climate movement that Europe’s ageing democracies might not be able to overlook for much longer.

Beyond the generational divide

The climate movement’s most visible faces – such as activists Greta Thunberg in Sweden or Féris Barkat in France – tend to be on the younger (if not much younger) side, and it has become common to identify Gen Z as its most fervent defender. But researchers who study the intersection of ageing and environmental engagement argue that the mainstream perception of generations within the climate movement may be flawed.

“There is a slight tendency for younger generations to have opinions that are more favourable towards climate policy,” said Jan Rosset, a sociologist at the University of Applied Sciences and Arts of Western Switzerland who has studied climate engagement across age groups in Switzerland alongside political scientist Jasmine Lorenzini. “But all generations are very favourable to climate policies. There is no real generational divide.”

That finding echoes the conclusions of a 2025 study published by Parlons Climat, a French research organisation, which found that older adults take climate change and environmental degradation just as seriously as the rest of the population. The myth of a disengaged older generation does not seem to hold up to scrutiny.

What differs across generations, Rosset and Lorenzini found, is not the level of concern but the form that engagement takes. Older adults are significantly more likely to buy local and seasonal produce for environmental reasons, to renounce air travel on ecological grounds, and to practice unglamorous household sustainability: buying second-hand, reducing electricity use, cooking from scratch. Younger people, on the other hand, might be more likely to adopt plant-based diets and participate in public protests. It should, however, be noted that the data is mixed.

Researchers who study the intersection of ageing and environmental engagement argue that the mainstream perception of generations within the climate movement may be flawed.

“On almost every indicator, it is people in mid-life, those between roughly 35 and 60, who engage the least,” Rosset says. “But that is not an ideological position. It’s a question of time and capacity; they have demanding jobs and family responsibilities. It is a life-cycle issue, not a generational one.”

Rosset and Lorenzini also found a consistent gender gap: across all age groups, but especially among older adults, women showed significantly more favourable attitudes toward climate action and higher levels of engagement than men.

“This gap was almost stronger than other socioeconomic factors, like income or education level,” Rosset said.

The case that set a precedent

When Greenpeace Switzerland began exploring the possibility of legal climate action in the mid-2010s, it ran into an obstacle: Swiss law does not allow class actions. Any case would need to be brought by individuals who could demonstrate they were personally and particularly affected. The research pointed to one group. Studies following the 2003 European heatwave – which killed an estimated 70,000 people across the continent, with the elderly among the hardest hit – had shown that older women died in disproportionate numbers. More recent research has confirmed this vulnerability: a 2024 study by Penn State researchers found that older women reach dangerous heat thresholds at lower temperature and humidity levels than older men and that middle-aged women are as heat-vulnerable as men over 65.

Heatwaves increase illnesses, causing heat stroke, heart and lung problems, diabetes complications, mental health issues, and trouble with daily activities. The vulnerability of older generations is not just physical: many live alone, have limited mobility, or cannot easily access emergency services. People in cities face “heat island” effects, where concrete and asphalt trap heat, while rural residents often have fewer cooling centres or medical resources. Climate change also worsens air quality, raising levels of ozone, fine particulate matter, and other pollutants, which worsen respiratory and heart conditions. These combined factors make ageing populations especially vulnerable to the health impacts of climate change.

One senior activist who committed herself to the Swiss climate fight is Elisabeth Stern, a cultural anthropologist and board member of KlimaSeniorinnen Schweiz. “It was clear that when I got retired, I would use my time in a climate group,” she said. “I tried a few that were not the right fit for me until I found the KlimaSeniorinnen, who I sort of met on the same eye level.”

Stern’s fellow activist, Anne Mahrer, KlimaSeniorinnen’s co-president, had spent years watching climate policy stall in parliament as a member of the Swiss National Council. When a colleague reminded her of the Urgenda case in the Netherlands, where a court had ordered the Dutch government in 2015 to cut emissions, the question became: could something similar be done in Switzerland? In August 2016, KlimaSeniorinnen Schweiz was formally established to achieve that goal.

The Swiss courts, however, were not moved. At every level, the association was told it lacked standing. One court noted that the women were concerned not only about Swiss emissions but wanted to reduce them worldwide. Another placed winter tourism in the same category of climate-affected interests as the health of women threatened by heatwaves. The most striking argument, Stern recounts, was that the women might not still be alive by the time global warming reached 1.5 degrees and therefore could not complain. “If you follow their reasoning, climate action in court would only be possible when it’s already too late,” Mahrer said.

The European Court of Human Rights took a different view. It declared the application a priority case, engaged seriously with reports by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), and referred the case to its Grand Chamber of 17 judges. “Unlike politicians, who do not listen to scientists, the judges listened to the scientists, and they took into account the third-party interventions in support of the case,” Mahrer explained.

The court delivered its verdict on 9 April, 2024. It found Switzerland in violation of Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights – the right to respect for private and family life – which the court ruled encompasses a right to effective state protection against the severe effects of climate change on life, health, wellbeing, and quality of life. Switzerland was also found to have violated Article 6 – the right to a fair trial – for its domestic courts’ refusal to hear the case on its merits.

The ripple effects spread quickly and travelled farther than anyone had anticipated. The ruling is now cited in climate litigation across Europe. In South Korea, groups of young activists successfully pursued a similar case. In the Netherlands, residents of the island of Bonaire have taken legal action against the Dutch state, drawing on the KlimaSeniorinnen precedent. The International Court of Justice, prompted by the small island nation of Vanuatu, issued an advisory opinion in July 2025 stating that governments which fail to protect their populations from climate harm are acting unlawfully, reinforcing the Strasbourg ruling and opening new avenues for litigation worldwide.

Across Europe, a generation of older activists has been following a similar model. European Grandparents for Climate, active in Belgium and Norway, and Omas for Future in Germany and Austria, are building on the same instinct: that people who have watched the world change across six or seven decades have both a particular stake in the future and a special capacity to act.

European Grandparents for Climate participates in demonstrations, writes letters to ministers, and monitors parliamentary votes on climate at both the Belgian and European levels. In Germany, Omas for Future joins Fridays for Future strikes, runs climate workshops in schools, and has organised nationwide campaigns such as the “Klimabänder” initiative, in which thousands of handwritten climate messages were bicycled to Berlin ahead of the 2021 federal election.

Sustainability by habit

Beyond courts and campaigns, there is a quieter dimension to older adults’ climate engagement, rooted not in ideology but in force of habit and the practical knowledge of generations who lived before the age of mass consumption.

Serge Guérin, a French sociologist and author of Et si les vieux aussi sauvaient la planète? (“And what if the Elderly Also Saved the Planet?”), points to a kind of practical sustainability that older generations carry without naming it as such. They grew up returning glass bottles for a deposit, cooking whatever was in season, and mending rather than replacing. A startup working on bottle recycling, he recalls, found it far easier to explain the concept to older people because “When they were young, they used to return the milk bottle, the wine bottle, and get a few cents back. For them, it was totally normal,” he says.

Helene Blasquiet-Revol, a geographer whose research examines civic engagement among seniors in rural France, describes what she calls “ordinary” forms of climate engagement: practices so ingrained they are not even labelled as activism. For instance, she found that community gardens established by older residents in the Allier region gradually opened up to schools and youth workshops, transmitting practical knowledge in ways that were rarely planned or publicised.

There is a quieter dimension to older adults’ climate engagement, rooted not in ideology but in force of habit and the practical knowledge of generations who lived before the age of mass consumption.

Researchers are increasingly identifying the potential for a form of intergenerational knowledge transfer that is already happening informally, and which could be deliberately cultivated. Rosset, for instance, found that among older climate activists, there was no statistically significant relationship between having children or grandchildren and the propensity to get involved, meaning people were not fighting for their own descendants. “It is really universal,” Rosset said. “It is a solidarity expressed towards future generations, towards all of humanity. We did not expect that result at all.”

Renewal needs the old

Europe is ageing fast. According to projections from the European Commission’s Joint Research Centre, the share of older adults across EU member states is growing steadily and will continue to do so for decades, driven by declining fertility rates and rising life expectancy. This demographic shift also increases the need for climate-adapted healthcare, adequate urban planning, and social support systems for vulnerable seniors.

“There is a widespread idea that with generational renewal, the problem will be solved, that new generations will be more environmentally conscious,” Rosset said. “Our research shows this is not the case. And in addition, there will be more and more older people.”

Guérin also notes that designing urban environments, housing, and transport for ageing populations often produces outcomes that are better for both people and the planet. Accessible public transport means more people leave their cars behind. Shared housing models reduce per-capita energy consumption. Local services cut down the need for long-distance travel. And when older people are less isolated, they are in better health.

“When you reduce isolation, people use fewer resources, they are less at risk and share more,” Guérin said, adding that these shifts can lower both land use and carbon footprints. “When you take vulnerability into account, you very often improve things for everyone. And it’s really when people feel their capacity to act, especially at the local level, that things begin to move.”

Stern sees the perception gap playing out in real time in media coverage. “There are certain media and certain politicians who want us to believe that interest in the climate has vanished,” she says. “It is in their interest to tell people: ‘It has vanished anyway, so you don’t have to get involved, just enjoy life.’ But the truth is, when you ask people what concerns them a lot, the climate crisis comes up either first or second.”

The KlimaSeniorinnen continue to monitor Switzerland’s compliance with the Strasbourg judgment, sending observations to the Committee of Ministers, lobbying ambassadors, and speaking at universities across the country. For Stern, meaningful compliance means confronting Switzerland’s financial sector, which through continued investment in fossil fuels generates emissions many times greater than those in the country itself. A documentary about the association’s decade-long legal journey recently toured cinemas.

Whatever the future of the climate movement and its coverage, it is clear that the generational conflict narrative is not accurate. The evidence from researchers points to something more complicated and more hopeful: a Europe where different generations, engaged in different ways, with different tools and different knowledge, are already working on the same problem.

Evidence that Parkinson’s, the fastest-growing neurodegenerative disease globally, may be linked to pesticides used in agriculture has been accumulating for decades. Yet, after finally appearing to take experts’ concerns seriously, EU authorisation bodies have failed to take meaningful action. An excerpt from Dirk de Bekker’s book Het pesticidenparadijs (“Pesticide Paradise”).

“If you are the CEO of Bayer, tossing and turning in bed at night, how can you justify this to yourself… Suppose that Roundup is the cause of Parkinson’s, how are you able to sleep soundly?”

It is 29 March 2022. Sitting opposite me is Bas Bloem, professor of neurology and an internationally renowned expert on Parkinson’s disease. He has just explained to me, speaking rapidly and in precisely formulated sentences, which processes in the brain are disrupted when someone develops Parkinson’s disease. Although he speaks fluently and barely pauses for breath, something changes in him from the moment the words “pesticides” and “glyphosate” are uttered. His gaze becomes more intense, his voice louder, and his sentences a fraction slower.

We are at the Parkinson’s Center of Expertise at Radboud University Medical Center in Nijmegen, in the southeast of the Netherlands. Here, scientists are working on treatments for a disease that does not yet have a cure. Current therapies, procedures, and medication are aimed at slowing down and alleviating the symptoms. Tremors, stiff movements, and difficulty speaking – those are what the general public is familiar with, but describing Parkinson’s as “that shaking disease” is incorrect, says Bloem. “The disease is like an iceberg.” Most symptoms – including depression, dementia, bowel dysfunction, sleep disorders, balance problems, loss of smell, and pain – are often just as serious but are hidden beneath the surface.1

Most people with Parkinson’s experience many symptoms simultaneously. Often, new ones continue to develop and become increasingly severe. As a result, the disease is very disruptive – both physically and mentally – for patients and their loved ones.

Bloem is sounding the alarm. Parkinson’s is the fastest-growing neurodegenerative disease – not only in the Netherlands, where the number of cases has risen by 30 per cent over the last 10 years, but worldwide.2 There are now approximately 12 million people globally with Parkinson’s. According to recent estimates, this figure will more than double by 2050 to 25 million.3

This explosive increase can be partly explained by age: Parkinson’s is more common at advanced ages, and the global population of older people is growing. Furthermore, average life expectancy is rising worldwide. However, even after adjusting for ageing, researchers are seeing rapid growth. So there is more to it than that.4

As early as the 1980s, there were strong scientific indications that exposure to pesticides was an important risk factor for the development of Parkinson’s disease. Over the past 10 years, the evidence supporting this has grown significantly.

For this reason, Bloem views Parkinson’s as a disease not primarily caused by ageing per se but by “all sorts of rubbish” in our environment. By this, he means pesticides and other hazardous substances. As people live longer, there is more time for them to be exposed to these substances. Furthermore, the disease often develops over decades before it manifests itself. As people live longer on average, this also means that accumulated neurological damage has a greater chance of becoming apparent.

As early as the 1980s, there were strong scientific indications that exposure to pesticides was an important risk factor for the development of Parkinson’s disease.

Growing concerns

A disease that is growing explosively, the increasingly clear link to pesticides, the fact that there is still no prospect of a cure – all of this is cause for concern. But Bloem’s full-blown alarm comes from somewhere else: a conversation he had at the Dutch Board for the Authorisation of Plant Protection Products and Biocides (the College voor de toelating van gewasbeschermingsmiddelen en biociden, Ctgb) in late 2020.

At his request, the Dutch authorisation body agreed to personally meet with him in November 2020 to explain step by step how the approval procedure for pesticides works. The meeting was intended to allay his concerns, but the opposite happened: he was struck with terror. “It was only then that I fully realised that we actually know nothing when it comes to the risk of Parkinson’s.”

During the presentation, Bloem was told that existing approval tests for the neurotoxicity of pesticides only examine external characteristics in laboratory animals. For example, do the animals move more slowly or display apathetic behaviour after coming into contact with a pesticide? “That is completely inadequate,” according to the neurologist. “It takes years for Parkinson’s to develop; you don’t immediately see anything on the outside. You therefore need to look inside the relevant areas of the brain: does the substance damage the substantia nigra?”

The substantia nigra (Latin for “black substance”) is the area of the brain where dopamine is produced. This chemical plays a key role in essential functions such as movement, memory and well-being. In people with Parkinson’s, the substantia nigra deteriorates, slowly but surely. It is only when 60 to 70 per cent of the substantia nigra has already been affected that the outward symptoms of Parkinson’s become noticeable. But by that point, the disease has already been long in the making. “You also need to know if, say, 40 per cent of the substantia nigra is destroyed and you can’t yet see anything externally. Currently, this is simply not tested.”

Bloem and his fellow neurologists are increasingly seeing patients in their clinics who report having been exposed to pesticides. They are not alone: more and more general practitioners and physiotherapists working in agriculture-intensive regions are also voicing concerns about the rising number of Parkinson’s cases they are seeing in their practices.5

The cover of Dirk de Bekker’s book Het pesticidenparadijs (“Pesticide Paradise”).

“I recently had a woman with Parkinson’s at the outpatient clinic. She had just buried her husband, who also had Parkinson’s. In addition, six other people in her street had the disease. They live next to a field where small planes used to spray pesticides,” says Bloem.

Over the years that I have been publishing on pesticides, I have also regularly heard striking accounts from people with Parkinson’s who attribute their illness to pesticides. They mention having peeled bulbs for years, or working for the parks department with pesticide tanks on their backs and spray guns in their hands, or growing up on fruit farms where they played hide-and-seek in the orchards. I’ve also heard from people who have worked with pesticides for long periods of time in laboratories, in greenhouses, or on their own fields. Multiple members of a family are sometimes affected by the disease.

Puzzles and cocktails

The sheer frequency with which such personal anecdotes crop up is striking, although they prove nothing in themselves. But these stories do not stand alone.

A growing body of scientific studies shows that Parkinson’s disease occurs significantly more frequently among people living in areas of intensive cultivation. In France, for example, Parkinson’s is 8.5 per cent more common in the most intensive wine-growing regions compared to the national average.6 Consequently, the French government officially recognises Parkinson’s as an occupational disease among winegrowers.7 Studies in the United States and Canada, among other places, reveal the same pattern: in the examined regions, Parkinson’s disease is spread across the map like a patchwork quilt, and the areas with the most intensive farming practices – and the highest pesticide use – stand out most clearly in terms of the number of cases.8

It is virtually impossible to establish a definitive causal link in this type of “map-based study”. To do so would require a great deal of specific data: which substances were used, where and when? What is the residential history of the individuals who became sick in the area under investigation? What is their occupation? What did they eat? What is their genetic makeup? Are there other polluting activities in the area? The aim of such research is therefore not to establish or rule out an irrefutable causal link; it is about identifying a potential problem. In combination with other studies, the puzzle can then be pieced together more fully.

Although the scientific puzzle is not yet complete, the pieces that are already in place suggest that the explosive rise in Parkinson’s disease over the past decades can at least partly be attributed to exposure to pesticides. There is, for instance, a historical piece of the puzzle: the rapid post-war growth in Parkinson’s largely coincides with the period when pesticide use increased dramatically. In itself, this is not very convincing evidence, but together with the piece showing that the disease occurs more frequently in areas with intensive arable farming and high pesticide use, the picture changes. It becomes even clearer when you add the piece showing that farmers and gardeners in particular have a significantly increased risk of developing Parkinson’s.9

Therefore, contrary to what various agricultural organisations still regularly claim, the missing pieces of the puzzle do not so much lead to the question of whether a link exists, but rather to the question of exactly how strong that link is, and which specific substances are responsible. Scientists are also wondering whether there are substances that pose no risk individually, but can be dangerous in combination. This, in turn, raises other questions: what is the smartest way to investigate such “pesticide cocktails” without having to test an endless number of combinations? Are there genetic factors that increase the risk of harm following exposure to pesticides? Are there interactions between pesticides (or cocktails of pesticides) and other pollutants in the environment? And what is the situation with other neurodegenerative diseases, such as ALS and dementia, for which links to pesticides also exist?10

It has already been established that some specific pesticides, such as rotenone and paraquat, can damage the substantia nigra. This was not discovered during the official assessment of these pesticides but later in independent studies (and subsequently they were withdrawn from the European market). However, this type of research has not been carried out on the vast majority of substances, let alone for pesticide cocktails.

A recent large-scale study has found that trifluralin and tribufos, two pesticides frequently used in combination on cotton plantations in the United States, do not pose a proven risk for Parkinson’s when used individually. When used together, however, they prove to be highly damaging to dopamine-producing brain cells, suggesting that they can indeed cause Parkinson’s in combination.11 This highlights the importance of taking pesticide cocktails into account in the authorisation process, and placing this topic high on the research agendas of independent scientists in relation to both Parkinson’s and other conditions.

Lack of action

According to Bloem, the way the risk of Parkinson’s is handled in the authorisation procedure violates the precautionary principle. “Given all these clear links, should we say that we are only going to ban this rubbish once it has been irrefutably proven that they cause Parkinson’s? Or, with all the evidence that already exists, should we say that we are only going to re-authorise the substances once it has been proven that they are safe? In reality, what happens is the former, meaning the burden of proof has been reversed.”12

The way the risk of Parkinson’s is handled in the authorisation procedure violates the precautionary principle. 

Bloem is not calling for an immediate ban on all pesticides. He does, however, advocate for subjecting the substances that are already authorised to a special Parkinson’s test as soon as possible. And as far as he is concerned, this should become standard practice when new pesticides are assessed. To this end, a testing procedure must be developed that makes it possible to look inside the brains of laboratory animals following prolonged exposure. There, it must be determined whether the substantia nigra has been damaged – for example, by counting the number of dopamine-producing cells. In the near future, it should be possible to carry out this procedure without subjecting animals to testing, by isolating the relevant cells outside their bodies.

The weedkiller glyphosate seems to be the most appropriate substance to first undergo testing for a link to Parkinson’s disease. It is by far the most widely used pesticide, and everyone is exposed to it to a greater or lesser extent. Moreover, several studies suggest a link between glyphosate and the development of Parkinson’s. The evidence, though far from conclusive, gives neurologists more than enough reason to be on alert.13 In addition, an increasing number of studies are emerging that show that even low doses of glyphosate can lead to disruptions in the gut flora.14 Such disruptions in the microbiome might – indirectly – increase the risk of Parkinson’s due to the communication between the gut and the brain. Researchers suspect that these disruptions could lead to a change in the structure of alpha-synuclein, a protein essential for communication between nerve cells. In mice, it has been established that this altered protein can reach the brain, where it subsequently damages the substantia nigra.15

Notably, the Dutch pesticide authority, the Ctgb, supported Bloem’s call for the speedy development of a Parkinson’s test. The November 2020 presentation was a wake-up call not only for the neurologist, but also for the Ctgb itself. This was evident in the fact that a few months later, in March 2021, the Ctgb wrote a letter to the agency responsible for pesticide risk assessment in the EU – the European Food Safety Authority, or EFSA – asking it to facilitate research into the development of an adequate testing procedure for Parkinson’s.16

The EFSA could not ignore this appeal by the Ctgb. Not only is it one of the leading national authorisation bodies with which the EFSA cooperates, but also, in its appeal, the Ctgb explicitly referred to Bloem – internationally renowned and known to frequently pop up in the international press to voice his concerns. Bloem’s message and extensive media reach have made many people in the pesticide world – from regulatory authorities to pesticide manufacturers – quite nervous.17

The EFSA responded just two weeks later with a proposal to organise a working conference “to take stock of the situation from a scientific and multidisciplinary point of view”.18 But over a year later, as I learned during my conversation at that time with Bloem at the Parkinson’s Centre of Expertise, that conference was yet to happen. Bloem could not contain his frustration. “How on earth do you explain to future generations – with a disease that is skyrocketing and an environmental role that seems so obvious – that we are not taking more decisive action?”

Breakthrough and disappointment

Six months later, however, on 8 September 2022, Bloem was again in high spirits. The conference that the neurologist had been pushing for over the past two years had finally taken place.19 In the presence of the EFSA and an international panel of experts, he was able to share his concerns about the authorisation procedure and Parkinson’s disease. And this had yielded results. All 49 attendees – experts affiliated with the EFSA as well as external research institutes and national authorisation bodies – reached an agreement. This is a rare occurrence among such a large group of international, often independent-minded experts. “There was broad consensus that the currently existing procedures […] offer an inadequate assessment of the risk of developing Parkinson’s disease in case of human exposure,” the minutes of the meeting state. The EFSA emphasised the urgent need to develop a new testing method that can actually provide insights into the risk of Parkinson’s. “A real breakthrough,” said Bloem. This was the first time that the EFSA had unconditionally acknowledged that the system it uses to assess pesticides was flawed.

The EFSA decided it would issue a call for tenders for a 3.5-million-euro contract aimed at the development of the required test. Specialised scientists were invited to submit bids.

The EFSA personally approached two Dutch research organisations with the request that they respond to this call: the Radboud University Medical Center (Bas Bloem’s employer) and RIVM, the National Institute for Public Health and the Environment. “That’s how strongly they felt about our case,” explained neurotoxicologist Harm Heusinkveld, who attended the conference on behalf of the RIVM. For years, toxicologists at the RIVM had also been worried about pesticides and Parkinson’s – concerns that were finally being taken seriously by the EFSA with this research call. ‘‘Afterwards, we thought: guys, something is really going to happen now.’’20

This sense of urgency and enthusiasm felt by many researchers was heightened by the fact that the European re-evaluation of glyphosate was taking place at the same time. If the EFSA call for tenders were to be released quickly, there might still be an opportunity to use the weedkiller as the first case for the Parkinson’s test under development, perhaps even before the reassessment of the pesticide was completed.

Seven long months passed before the EFSA finally sent out the official Parkinson’s tender on 9 April 2023. But when he read the text, Bas Bloem immediately realised that something was wrong. “At the meeting, everyone was in complete agreement: we need to develop a good new testing method for pesticides and Parkinson’s. And then I read the call, in which the EFSA has made no money whatsoever available for such a new testing method. It was as if that conference had never taken place.” He lets out an audible sigh over the phone. His voice, so enthusiastic after the conference, is now filled with disbelief. Neurotoxicologist Harm Heusinkveld reacted with the same astonishment: “This is a huge mystery. I really haven’t the faintest idea how they arrived at this.”

The original intention was to develop a comprehensive Parkinson’s test in one go, based on the substantia nigra. But the promise made earlier by the EFSA to issue a research brief for this purpose was not fulfilled. The research brief set out in the call specifically concerned the development of a testing method focused on the mitochondria, the cell’s energy powerhouses. “But that test already exists, so you’d just be rehashing the same thing all over again. Besides, that test is far too limited,” commented Heusinkveld.

The Radboud University Medical Center and the RIVM were so taken aback by the research mandate that landed in their inboxes that they sent a joint letter on 17 July to EFSA Director Bernhard Url to express their disappointment. It is particularly noteworthy that a third party signed on to their objection: the Ctgb.

It is unusual for the Ctgb to hold a view that is at odds with an opinion of the EFSA. These two authorities, one working at the national level and the other at the European level, cooperate closely within the same legal framework. The letter, which came into my possession during an investigation into glyphosate for De Groene Amsterdammer, offers a rare glimpse behind the scenes.

“Specifically, we were disappointed as to what the call envisioned to achieve, considering […] the broad agreement that an ambitious and novel approach was required,” the three parties wrote. “We had the clear impression from the workshop that the EFSA had decided to move forward, but the recent call solely repeats steps that had already been taken earlier. […] The resulting testing strategy will not provide full insight in the potential of chemical substances to induce or progress [Parkinson’s disease].” In conclusion, the RIVM, the Radboud University Medical Center and the Ctgb stated that, “despite the explicit question and encouragement” from the EFSA, they would not be competing for funding for the proposed research.

A contested report

Four months later, in July 2023, the EFSA announced its recommendation to renew the authorisation for glyphosate for the maximum period of 15 years. Bloem was stunned, and he was not the only one. Scientists all over the world criticised the EFSA’s decision in a reaction that was unusually vocal for the scientific community.

Although during previous glyphosate authorisations the debate revolved primarily around the risk of cancer, this time concerns about Parkinson’s dominated. Ecotoxicologist Peter Leendertse succinctly summarised the essence of the many scientific comments on the re-authorisation: “If there are so many questions surrounding a substance, surely you cannot approve it for the maximum term? Extend it by two years if there is no other option, and in the meantime, ensure that you get clarity on the risk of Parkinson’s disease.”21

In an effort to calm tensions, the European Commission ultimately decided to reduce the maximum term from 15 to 10 years. As far as critics were concerned, this was little more than a token gesture. They pointed out that not only independent studies but also the EFSA’s own assessment report provided sufficient grounds for revoking the license altogether.

The glyphosate report runs to a total of 6,354 pages. What is striking is the large number of “data gaps” that are mentioned. The EFSA generally uses this term to indicate that knowledge is lacking and further research is required. Data gaps can thus influence the decision to grant authorisation and the potential duration of that authorisation.

The EFSA identified data gaps regarding the effects of glyphosate on gut flora, biodiversity and groundwater, amongst other things. However, none of these were considered “critical concerns”. That determination already made many scientists raise their eyebrows – but what the report says regarding Parkinson’s led to even greater surprise. There is no mention of a data gap anywhere in the passages on Parkinson’s disease, giving the impression that there is no lack of information on this topic whatsoever. On the contrary, the report’s conclusion is that current evidence “does not trigger a concern for parkinsonism”.22

Although the EFSA acknowledged that risks of Parkinson’s could not be ruled out under the current authorisation procedure, the agency chose to ignore this conclusion in its glyphosate report.

“Absurd”, said ecotoxicologist Peter Leendertse. “Of course there is a huge data gap when it comes to Parkinson’s. Surely the report should mention that no reliable testing procedure exists. The findings of that conference are now simply being swept under the carpet.”

In short, although the EFSA itself acknowledged at the September 2022 conference that risks of Parkinson’s could not be ruled out under the current authorisation procedure, the agency chose to completely ignore this conclusion in its glyphosate report published the following summer.

The minutes of the September 2022 conference (which I obtained shortly afterwards) proving that the EFSA knows (and acknowledges) that a good Parkinson’s test does not exist have never been officially released. This is highly unusual – a considerable amount of information from comparable EFSA conferences is publicly available, ranging from advance announcements, participant names and meeting transcripts to complete video recordings. It is as if the much-heralded meeting in the late summer of 2022, attended by 49 international experts, including six EFSA staff members, never took place; as if the unequivocal conclusion regarding Parkinson’s was never reached.

Three EFSA staff members who attended the conference were also directly involved in the reassessment of glyphosate. Therefore, the assessors had first-hand knowledge of the discussions held during the conference regarding Parkinson’s disease and the lack of a sufficient test. Nevertheless, they did not include any of this in the dossier when the neurotoxicity of glyphosate was re-examined.

What makes the course of events even more peculiar is that during the re-assessment of glyphosate, the EFSA worked closely with the Ctgb. Alongside the national pesticide authorities of Hungary, Sweden and France, the Dutch authority was one of the responsible parties to which the assessment work had been outsourced. In other words, the Ctgb itself played a leading role in the decision to extend the authorisation for glyphosate for the maximum period. This is difficult to reconcile with the critical letters it sent to the EFSA during the same period: the first, dated 9 March 2022, requesting that EFSA Director Bernhard Url make room for research into a testing procedure for Parkinson’s disease, and a joint letter with the RIVM and Bas Bloem on 17 July 2023 complaining that the EFSA had broken its promise to make funds available for a Parkinson’s test.

It is as if there were two completely different Ctgb bodies. Whilst one was sending critical letters to the EFSA regarding Parkinson’s, the other was assisting the EFSA with the re-authorisation of glyphosate without raising any critical objections to the fact that the substance has not been tested for a link to Parkinson’s – even though such testing might be more urgent for glyphosate than for any other European-authorised pesticide.

The missing test

In a formal response to my questions, the Ctgb stated that a “very extensive data package” was available during the re-evaluation of glyphosate, containing “many more studies than merely the required ones”, including epidemiological research. While there may not be an adequate test to rule out Parkinson’s, said the Ctgb, the assessors decided that there was no cause for concern after studying a great deal of other supplementary information. “That is something different from being able to establish this with scientific certainty,” the Ctgb concluded.

The EFSA in turn denies that the conclusion regarding Parkinson’s disease reached at the conference has ever been its official position. The meeting was “merely informative” and should only be seen as “preparatory exchanges” for subsequent future tenders, the agency informed me shortly after the publication of the glyphosate report. EFSA also stressed that the assessment of glyphosate was carried out entirely “in line with the current legal framework”.

When I published the outcomes of the conference in De Groene Amsterdammer in September 2023, I received an angry email from the EFSA. The September 2022 meeting had not been a real “conference” at all, the message said, but merely a “procurement meeting”. And the outcomes of that meeting, the EFSA communications department emphasised once again, in no way represented the official position of the EFSA. “It’s a pity,” the email concluded, “[that you] decided to provide an angle which does not factually represent reality”.  

This reaction did not surprise me. By making information from the meeting minutes and the Ctgb’s letter to the EFSA public through my publication, the European pesticide authority was left exposed. After all, these documents prove that what the EFSA publicly states about Parkinson’s disease does not correspond with its own behind-the-scenes views on the matter.

What the EFSA publicly states about Parkinson’s disease does not correspond with its own behind-the-scenes views on the matter

The fact that the EFSA has neither publicly disclosed the conference’s conclusions nor included them in its assessment of glyphosate is, I suspect, essentially a legal strategy. If, following the conference, the EFSA had officially acknowledged that there is a gaping hole in the authorisation system, this would have provided the necessary ammunition for parties seeking to obstruct pesticide use. Invoking the precautionary principle in court is much easier if the shortcomings of the authorisation procedure regarding Parkinson’s disease are officially documented by EFSA itself. In that case, EFSA would be admitting that the risk of Parkinson’s disease “cannot be determined with sufficient certainty”, one of the basic conditions for invoking the precautionary principle.23

Due to the lack of a Parkinson’s test, the risk of the disease cannot be completely ruled out in connection with any authorised pesticide. Officially acknowledging this on the record could throw the authorisation system – and with it the entire pesticide industry and the world of agriculture – into chaos. This would also happen if the EFSA were to officially acknowledge that the pesticide models it uses were not developed in a neutral manner.24

When Bloem and the Ctgb sat down together in November 2020, both the neurologist and the pesticide authority realised that the authorisation procedure was flawed with respect to Parkinson’s. Three to five years: that would be the time needed to develop an adequate testing protocol, thought Bloem. “I think we need to do this together as soon as possible,” confirmed the then director of the Ctgb, Ingrid Becks-Vermeer, emphasising the need for a Parkinson’s test when I questioned her in 2022. She envisioned a development process lasting “a number of years”.25

More than five years have passed since Bloem’s meeting with the Ctgb, and the EFSA conference took place three and a half years ago. The authorisation system still does not include a Parkinson’s test. Legally speaking, the EFSA may be able to defend this situation. The question, however, is how long they can keep up their defence in a society increasingly confronted with Parkinson’s disease.

This article is a lightly edited translation from Het pesticidenparadijs (“Pesticide Paradise”), an investigative book by Dirk de Bekker on the hidden world of pesticides, published by De Arbeiderspers in the Netherlands in January 2026.

1. Over the past few years, I have interviewed Bas Bloem on several occasions. Parts of these interviews have previously appeared in publications such as the podcast Red de Lente and the Dutch periodical De Groene Amsterdammer. See for example: De Bekker, D., et al. (24 January 2023). “Parkinson en pesticiden” [Parkinson’s and pesticides]. Red de Lente, season 2, episode 3. De Bekker, D. (25 September 2023). “De gezondheidsrisico’s van glyfosaat” [The health risks of glyphosate]. De Groene Amsterdammer. In this text, I draw on all the conversations held. Where necessary, I mention the date on which these conversations took place in the main text. ︎
2. Van der Gaag, B.L., Hepp, D.H., Hoff, J.I., Van Hilten, J.J., Darweesh, S.K.L., Bloem, B.R., and Van den Berg, W.D.J. (8 September 2023). “Risicofactoren voor de ziekte van Parkinson” [Risk factors for Parkinson’s disease]. Nederlands Tijdschrift voor Geneeskunde, 167. ︎
3. Su, D., Cui, Y., He, C., Yin, P., Bai, R., Zhu, J., Lam, J.S.T., Zhang, J., Yan, R., Zheng, X., Wu, J., Zhao, D., Wang, A., Zhou, M., and Feng, T. (2025). “Projections for prevalence of Parkinson’s disease and its driving factors in 195 countries and territories to 2050. Modelling study of Global Burden of Disease Study 2021.” BMJ, 388e080952. ︎
4. See for example: Bloem, B.R., Hoff, J., Sherer, T., Okun, M.S., Dorsey, R. (2021). “De parkinsonpandemie: Een recept voor actie” [The Parkinson’s pandemic: a call to action]. Poiesz Publishers. ︎
5. Opten, N., Wildenborg, F., Bolwerk, P. (2023). ‘Hoe het gifspook door de Betuwe waart. “Aan hun manier van lopen kun je zien dat ze het ook hebben.”’ [‘How the poison spectre haunts the Betuwe: “You can tell by the way they walk that they have it too.”’]. De Gelderlander. 3 November. 
   Folkerts, N. (23 July 2025). “Bestrijdingsmiddelen zorgen voor onrust in Drentse dorpen: ‘Op één dag zag ik vijf patiënten met parkinson’” [“Pesticides cause unrest in Drenthe villages: ‘In one day I saw five patients with Parkinson’s.’’]. Trouw. ︎
6. Kab, S., Spinosi, J., Chaperon, L., Dugravot, A., Singh-Manoux, A., Moisan, F., and Elbaz, A. (2017). “Agricultural activities and the incidence of Parkinson’s Disease in the general French population”. European Journal of Epidemiology, 32(3), pp. 203-216. ︎
7. Within the EU, in addition to France, Italy – and more recently Germany – also recognise Parkinson’s as an occupational disease. ︎
8. Barbeau, A., Roy, M., Bernier, G., Campanella, G., and Paris, S. (1987). “Ecogenetics of Parkinson’s Disease. Prevalence and environmental aspects in rural areas”. Canadian Journal of Neurological Sciences/Journal Canadien des Sciences Neurologiques, 14(1), pp. 36-41.
   Hugh-Jones, M.E., Peele, R.H., and Wilson, V.L. (2020). “Parkinson’s Disease in Louisiana, 1999-2012. Based on hospital primary discharge diagnoses, incidence, and risk in relation to local agricultural crops, pesticides, and aquifer recharge”. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 17(5), 1584.
   Li, S., Ritz, B., Gong, Y., Cockburn, M., Folle, A.D., Del Rosario, I., Yu, Y., Zhang, K., Castro, E., Keener, A.M., Bronstein, J., and Paul, K.C. (2023). “Proximity to residential and workplace pesticides application and the risk of progression of Parkinson’s diseases in Central California”. The Science of the Total Environment, 864, 160851.
   After Het pesticidenparadijs was published,a Dutch study appeared showing regional clustering of Parkinson’s in the Netherlands, but no clear overlap with intensive arable farming areas was found. Although pesticide use and exposure were not taken into account, the authors suggested that the Dutch regional disparities “are not readily explained by known environmental indicators, warranting further investigation”. See: Simões, M., Peters, S., Huss, A., Darweesh, S. K., Bloem, B. R., & Vermeulen, R. (2026). “Incidence and spatial variation of Parkinson’s disease in the Netherlands (2017–2022): a population-based study”. The Lancet Regional Health – Europe, 62, 101565. ︎
9. Elbaz, A., Clavel, J., Rathouz, P.J., Moisan, F., Galanaud, J., Delemotte, B., Alpérovitch, A., and Tzourio, C. (2009). “Professional exposure to pesticides and Parkinson Disease”. Annals of Neurology, 66(4), pp. 494-504. ︎
10. See for example: Meerman, J.J., Wolterink, G., Hessel, E.V., De Jong, E., and Heusinkveld, H.J. (2022). “Neurodegeneration in a regulatory context: The need for speed”. Current Opinion in Toxicology, 33, 100383. ︎
11. Paul, K.C., Krolewski, R.C., Moreno, E.L., Blank, J., Holton, K.M., Ahfeldt, T., Furlong, M., Yu, Y., Cockburn, M., Thompson, L.K., Kreymerman, A., Ricci-Blair, E.M., Li, Y.J., Patel, H.B., Lee, R.T., Bronstein, J., Rubin, L.L., Khurana, V., and Ritz, B. (2023). “A pesticide and ipsc dopaminergic neuron screen identifies and classifies Parkinson-relevant pesticides”. Nature Communications, 14(2803). ︎
12. For more background information on this ruling, see: Darweesh, S.K.L., Vermeulen, R.C.H., and Bloem, B.R. (2024). “Paraquat and Parkinson’s Disease. Has the burden of proof shifted?”. International Journal of Epidemiology, 53(5). ︎
13. See for example: Bloem, B.R., and Boonstra, T.A. (2023). “The inadequacy of current pesticide regulations for protecting brain health. The case of glyphosate and Parkinson’s Disease”. The Lancet Planetary Health, 7(12), pp. e948-e949. ︎
14. Lehman, P.C., Cady, N., Ghimire, S., Shahi, S.K., Shrode, R.L., Lehmler, H., and Mangalam, A.K. (2023). “Low-dose glyphosate exposure alters gut microbiota composition and modulates gut homeostasis”. Environmental Toxicology and Pharmacology, 100, 104149.
    Matsuzaki, R., Gunnigle, E., Geissen, V., Clarke, G., Nagpal, J., and Cryan, J.F. (2023). “Pesticide exposure and the microbiota-gut-brain axis”. The ISME Journal, 17(8), pp. 1153-1166.
    Puigbò, P., Leino, L.I., Rainio, M.J., Saikkonen, K., Saloniemi, I., and Helander, M. (2022). “Does glyphosate affect the human microbiota?”. Life, 12(5). ︎
15. Singh, Y., Trautwein, C., Romani, J., Salker, M.S., Neckel, P.H., Fraccaroli, I., Abeditashi, M., Woerner, N., Admard, J., Dhariwal, A., Dueholm, M.K.D., Schäfer, K., Lang, F., Otzen, D.E., Lashuel, H.A., Riess, O., and Casadei, N. (2023). “Overexpression of human alpha-Synuclein leads to dysregulated microbiome/metabolites with ageing in a rat model of Parkinson disease”. Molecular Neurodegeneration, 18(1).
    Silva, B.A., Breydo, L., Fink, A.L., and Uversky, V.N. (2012). “Agrochemicals, a-Synuclein, and Parkinson’s Disease”. Molecular Neurobiology, 47(2), pp. 598-612.
    Uversky, V.N., Li, J., Bower, K., and Fink, A.L. (2002). “Synergistic effects of pesticides and metals on the fibrillation of a-Synuclein. Implications for Parkinson’s Disease”. NeuroToxicology, 23(4-5), pp. 527-536. ︎
16. De Leeuw, J.F. (9 March 2021). Subject: possible relation between the use of specific pesticides and the development of Parkinson’s Disease. Ctgb, reference number 202103090024. ︎
17. See for example: Brzeziński, B. (2025). “Parkinson’s is a man-made disease”. Politico. 14 April. Bloem, B., Boonstra, T. (11 October 2023). “Glyphosate: ‘En tant que médecins spécialistes des maladies neurodégénératives, nous avons trois conseils à donner au ministre de l’agriculture Marc Fesneau’” [“Glyphosate: ‘As doctors specialising in neurodegenerative diseases, we have three pieces of advice for the Minister for Agriculture, Marc Fesneau’”]. Le Monde. ︎
18. Url, B. (n.d.). Subject/Re.: Possible relation between the use of specific pesticides and the development of Parkinson’s Disease. EFSA, Ref. ic2021-24570142. Although the letter is undated, the upload date provided by the Ctgb (23 March 2021) suggests that it was probably received two weeks later (and in any case no later than that). ︎
19. The following reconstruction is partly a reworking of my earlier research article in De Groene Amsterdammer, which was published on 25 September 2023. ︎
20. Quote from: De Bekker, D. (25 September 2023). “The health risks of glyphosate”. De Groene Amsterdammer. ︎
21. Ibid. ︎
22. Álvarez, F., et al. (2023). “Peer review of the pesticide risk assessment of the active substance glyphosate”. EFSA Journal, 21(7), paragraph 9. EFSA. (July 2023). Peer Review Report on Glyphosate, Part 3 of 6, p. 163. ︎
23. Commission Communication on the precautionary principle (2 February 2000), Document 52000dC0001, p. 3. ︎
24. Elsewhere in the book, I write about the pesticide models that are currently in use to calculate the distribution of pesticides through the environment. I conclude that these models, which form the basis of the authorisation system, were developed in close cooperation with the pesticide industry. ︎
25. Quoted from: De Bekker, D., et al. (5 June 2022). “The director of the Ctgb responds”. Red de Lente, season 1, episode 8. ︎

Recent polls and elections in the UK, New York City and Germany tell a story of polarisation: disappointed with the centrist consensus, voters are looking for alternatives to politics as usual. A focus on affordability could channel this discontent towards progressive options. 

For years now, the radical right has appeared to be the sole beneficiary of a strong anti-institutional, anti-political sentiment. For voters who felt betrayed by the status quo and ignored by the political class, the far right seemed to offer a visible avenue for protest. Or, in many circumstances, a lit match to take to the political consensus.  

However, the winds may be changing. Under the leadership of Zack Polanski, the Green Party of England and Wales has surged in popularity to more than double its 2024 election vote share. The Greens are mounting a formidable assault on the country’s political consensus on an unashamedly left-wing platform. At the time of writing, the party is polling at 16 per cent, a dead heat with Labour and one point below the Conservatives. Its campaign touts it as the strategic choice for those wanting to keep the far-right Reform UK out of power in the upcoming May local elections. Until recently, the UK was thought of as a two-party system.  

The 2025 German federal election also told a story of growing polarisation. The centre-right CDU/CSU (and, to a lesser extent, the outgoing coalition of Social Democrats, Greens, and Liberals) expected to lose voters to the far-right AfD, which recorded its best result to date with a 21 per cent vote share. What was surprising was the late surge of Die Linke (“The Left”), reportedly as a result of a viral TikTok campaign featuring its co-leader, Heidi Reichinnek. From polling at just 3 per cent one month before the election, the party more than doubled its 2021 result, winning 9 per cent of the vote. Since the election, Die Linke has continued to gain in popularity, and at the time of writing, is polling just 2 per cent below the Social Democrats. 

In the US, the New York City mayoral election provided another blueprint for the shift towards a more “fringe” left politics: Zohran Mamdani’s win over the Democratic old guard demonstrated the potent electoral appeal of a “services for all” platform. 

The insurgent left is finally a player in the polarisation game. Regardless of whether one laments the deterioration of legacy parties and institutional politics, that must be a better outcome than the far right holding an unchallenged monopoly on protest politics.  

Economic justice first 

Something powerful and, crucially, replicable that these campaigns have in common is a focus on left economic populism. They refuse to centre “culture war” issues and instead have adopted an unrelenting focus on affordability, trying to awaken class consciousness. They have each outlined a clear narrative of deprivation where the victim/hero is embodied by the working people, characterising large corporations and the mega-wealthy as the enemy. They propose “radical” economic reforms to expand the welfare state and transfer wealth, including rent reductions, a higher minimum wage, free public transportation, and heavier taxes on the wealthy.  

This platform proves effective for a few simple reasons. First, affordability remains on average the number one thing on European voters’ minds. Second, people (at least in Western European democracies) more or less agree on what’s to blame: elite collusion and government mismanagement. This story is easier to tell from the left than from the right.  

According to research carried out by Mandate, the organisation I work for, in August 2025,1 left-wing economic populism has the potential to be a consensus platform.  

Figure 1.

The cost of living “crisis” has hardly followed the temporality of a typical short-term shock. It’s been around for a while. The cost of living overtook health as the public’s number one concern in Europe in the wake of the pandemic sometime in 2021. This was first picked up by the Winter 2021 Eurobarometer survey, where it was one of the top two concerns for 41 per cent of respondents. The “crisis” had already been listed as the top concern for the EU overall since the spring of that year.  

In 2025, the inability to afford basic necessities remained the most pressing concern for both men and women (though slightly more so for women), and across all age groups except those aged 75 or older 2. This was hardly a surprising result. We’d seen the cost of living top the most important issue tables in every country we surveyed for years; it did again in our most recent cross-country survey in March 2026. Nor were we surprised by voters’ growing pessimism about their country’s trajectory. The 2025 survey showed that half of all voters thought their country was moving in the wrong direction. In some cases, this number had increased substantially since we last asked this question three months earlier (by as much as 8 per cent in France).  

The hardship was palpable, and the resentment directed. When we asked respondents what was “most to blame for high inflation in recent years”, a majority in six out of eight countries pointed the finger at the political class and their mismanagement of the economy 3. 

Figure 2. What the numbers tell 

When Europeans are asked to define a successful economy, their vision is strikingly left-wing. Far from the early 21st-century neoliberal consensus, their priorities suggest that the hallmarks of a flourishing society are in communal stability and the strength of the state.  

A significant 34 per cent of voters define success as an economy that can fund quality public services for all, while 33 per cent prioritise secure employment. These features of the European post-war social democratic movement are consistently prioritised over neoliberal totems; only 16 per cent of voters view global leadership in technology as an economic priority, and 14 per cent believe rewarding entrepreneurship is a top-tier goal.  

The data also suggests that the public does not instinctively view low migration as a good economic indicator, with only 18 per cent ranking it as a feature of a successful economy. This indicates that the far right isn’t as successful at linking high migration to high inflation. 

Figure 3.

Another clear finding from the survey concerns attitudes towards progressive taxation. Higher taxes on the wealthy are often resisted by free market logic, which states that, if faced with a wealth tax, billionaires will take their business elsewhere. Most Europeans don’t buy this theory. When asked which statement comes closest to their views, the majority of the public believes that higher taxes on the wealthy will give them exactly what they want – better-funded public services – rather than triggering capital flight.  

Figure 4.

We also evaluated the diverse narrative frameworks Western governments currently use to address the cost of living and housing crisis. Messaging ranged from far-right, anti-immigrant framing to technocratic and centrist positions (“We just need to build more homes!”), right capitalist small-state arguments, through to overtly left-populist framings.  

The overall winner, with a net approval of over 50 per cent in all countries, was the left economic populist message. This message frames the cost of living as a conflict between “working people” and “billionaires”. Its policy imperatives to cut grocery prices and bring down rents speak directly to real, material changes for working people and the instant transfer of wealth from property owners and large megacorporations to the working class. These policies mirror the Mamdani playbook, and are popular even when not delivered by the dimpled man himself. 

There’s room on the board for the Left to define a political enemy on their own terms. And there’s a clear candidate for the role: the uber-wealthy.  

A more traditional market-liberal message about investing in businesses and reducing barriers to trade is also highly competitive. While voters want systemic change, they are not necessarily “anti-business”. On the other end of the spectrum, centrist triangulation touting legacy politicians as the “grown-ups” in the room delivering systemic change receives far less universal support. As does linking green energy to long-term economic growth targets. Voters want to see real change in the price of their everyday lives, and they want to see it yesterday.  

Interestingly, not every statement that punches up towards “elites” cleans the board. In fact, explicitly populist messaging bookends the spectrum of best and worst performers. While the left-populist proposition that explicitly offers billionaires as the enemy of the working class is favoured by consensus, a similar statement message framed in far-right populist terms – where the “elite” conspiracy is to prioritise immigrants over native-born people – is the least universally popular message in all surveyed countries (except Romania, by 1 percentage point).  

When talking about the cost of living, immigrants aren’t an effective scapegoat. While voters care about immigration deeply – it’s their second most important issue on average (see Figure 1) – they aren’t forming a knee-jerk association between high immigration and the cost of living despite elite messaging. This remains true even when messaging frames immigration as aligned with elite interests. Voters simply aren’t buying that there’s a link between immigration and inflation. There’s room on the board for the Left to define a political enemy on their own terms. And there’s a clear candidate for the role: the uber-wealthy.  

The opening for an insurgent Left  Figure 5.

The data further suggests that the economy is unclaimed territory in the current party landscape. We asked voters to pick, from a list of issues, what they think the main “progressive” party and far right party in their country “cares about” the most. The coordination and message discipline of the far right, and the disorganisation of the institutional left, are laid bare in the results. While the far right has a clear and dominant issue profile – they care about immigration above all, but are also the party of security and crime reduction – progressives are floundering. The most chosen response is either that the respondent doesn’t know what the progressive party in their country stands for, or that they stand for “none” of the salient issues. “Social security” and the “cost of living”, once the bread and butter of the social-democratic movement, come in a weak third and fourth. 

Figure 6.

According to respondents, high inflation is primarily a consequence of political incapacity, where leaders want to help but are unable to, and political indifference, where they possess the means to act but choose not to. In each country, we see that politicians suffer from a perception of indifference rather than impotence on the cost of living.  

A belief that parties are trying but failing to make things more affordable is tricky to overcome, but not terminal: they can blame technical limitations or pass the buck to the private sector. But indifference is a death sentence. When voters believe you have the ability to help them but are choosing not to, frustration turns to anger, and, as we have seen in the recent waves of anti-incumbency, they take their vote elsewhere.  

In this climate, credibility on the cost of living would have to come from outside the system. And the ultimate outsiders – the far right – are also stumbling in this important issue space. There is a huge hole in the issue space begging to be filled, and a clear mandate from voters as to what they want to see fill the gap.   

Facing the far right 

The era of radical-right dominance over anti-establishment sentiment may be reaching a structural limit. Cost of living remains a persistent priority for the European electorate. And, while legacy parties are paralysed by a perception of institutional indifference and the far right remains laser-focused on immigration, a significant opening has emerged for an insurgent left.  

Voters are clear on the type of economy they desire. They want quality public services and secure employment prioritised. They’re seeking bold messaging framing redistribution as a necessary transfer of wealth to fund the social contract. They’re rejecting centrist rhetoric that serves as a veil for inaction, and aren’t willing to lay the blame at the feet of migrants.  

There is a rare opportunity here to (re)define and (re)own an issue that actually matters to voters. Left economic populism does appear to be a consensus platform, allowing challenger left and green parties to grow their base. Here may be an opportunity to challenge the far right’s grip on voter frustration, and channel anti-institutional sentiment leftwards.  

1. In the following countries: France, Germany, Italy, Poland, Romania, Spain, Sweden, UK.  ︎
2. Where concerns were divided between the cost of living, immigration, and healthcare. ︎
3. The exceptions are Germany and Sweden, who still laid a lot of the blame on the Ukraine war. ︎

The Russian state nuclear enterprise Rosatom has become the most active exporter of nuclear technology in the world over the past decade. Wherever the corporation operates, it presents atomic energy development as indispensable for climate action and national sovereignty. Yet beyond building reactors, Rosatom establishes an integrated model of political and societal influence, often entrenching censorship and eschewing democratic oversight.

When Russia’s state nuclear corporation Rosatom signs an agreement to build a nuclear power plant, it exports far more than turbines, containment domes, and fuel assemblies. Alongside engineering contracts and state-backed loans comes a broader ecosystem: educational programmes, public diplomacy platforms, youth initiatives, science centres, cultural partnerships, and communication strategies designed to shape how nuclear energy is perceived.

Over the past decade, Rosatom has become the most active exporter of nuclear technology in the world. Its reactors are under construction across Europe, Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. But its expansion cannot be understood purely in terms of energy capacity or industrial success. Rosatom has evolved into a vertically integrated actor that offers governments a full package: construction, financing, fuel supply, operational management, training, and long-term service agreements. Embedded within that package is something less visible but equally strategic: soft power influence.

In many host countries, nuclear cooperation is accompanied by programmes aimed at cultivating “public acceptance,” shaping youth perspectives, and aligning local institutions with Rosatom’s long-term presence. In political environments where civic space is limited or fragile, this model can intersect with authoritarian governance structures, narrowing public debate and marginalising dissent. Rosatom presents its activities as supporting development, sovereignty, and clean energy. Critics argue that its approach often produces long-term dependencies – technical, financial, and political – while reshaping the civic landscape around major infrastructure decisions.

Weak independent oversight

Rosatom actively promotes itself as a global leader in corporate social responsibility. It highlights awards for sustainability and transparency and emphasises adherence to international anti-corruption standards. Its official narrative presents nuclear energy as a driver of national modernisation and energy independence.

Yet a closer look at where Rosatom operates reveals a pattern. Many of its flagship international projects are located in countries governed by authoritarian or semi-authoritarian regimes, or in states with severely constrained civic space. These political environments are not incidental. They are often conducive to large-scale infrastructure agreements that require limited public debate, minimal parliamentary oversight, and restricted independent review.

In Hungary, the Paks II nuclear project has been framed as essential for energy security. Early public protests were dispersed, and critics have long argued that the project advanced without meaningful public consultation. Despite tensions between Russia and the European Union following the invasion of Ukraine, Paks II has continued under sanctions exemptions, illustrating how deeply embedded nuclear agreements can complicate broader geopolitical positioning.

In Turkey, the Akkuyu Nuclear Power Plant is being built under a build-own-operate model, granting Rosatom long-term operational control. Workers protesting conditions at the site have faced police intervention, while environmental activists opposing the project have been arrested. Public access to detailed safety and financial information remains limited.

Many of Rosatom’s flagship international projects are located in countries governed by authoritarian or semi-authoritarian regimes, or in states with severely constrained civic space.

In Kazakhstan, public hearings on proposed nuclear expansion have reportedly restricted critics’ participation. In Bangladesh, the Rooppur Nuclear Power Plant has been accompanied by allegations of corruption and concerns raised by civil society groups about emergency preparedness infrastructure. Rosatom has rejected corruption allegations and, in some cases, threatened legal action in response to claims.

The most extreme case is Ukraine. During Russia’s occupation of the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant, employees were detained, interrogated, and reportedly subjected to coercion and abuse. While this situation is not directly comparable to commercial nuclear projects abroad, it underscores how nuclear infrastructure can become entangled with state power in coercive contexts.

Across these cases, one pattern recurs: nuclear projects often advance in environments where independent oversight is weak and dissent carries political risk.

Manufacturing Public Acceptance

Rosatom’s strategy does not rely solely on executive agreements. It systematically invests in shaping public narratives around nuclear energy. In multiple countries, memoranda of understanding include commitments to “form a positive public attitude” toward nuclear power. Around project sites, Rosatom supports networks of aligned NGOs, expert councils, grant initiatives, and public forums that present themselves as platforms for dialogue and consensus.

The messaging surrounding these projects often follows strikingly similar patterns across different regions. In Hungary, the Paks II project has been promoted as “key to Hungary’s energy future” and essential for “energy security”. In Turkey, the Akkuyu plant has been framed as a step toward “technological sovereignty” and “new energy for a powerful Turkey”. In Bangladesh, the Rooppur project is regularly justified through the language of “energy independence” and the claim that development “cannot happen without nuclear energy”. Similar narratives appear in Kazakhstan, where nuclear expansion has been promoted as a “path to stability”, and in Egypt, where the El Dabaa project is framed as a matter of “national pride” and a source of “clean electricity”. In Rwanda, nuclear cooperation has been described as a way of “leapfrogging to modernity,” while in several African states cooperation agreements are presented as tools for national development.

Large-scale events such as Atomexpo, World Atomic Week, and regional nuclear forums position Rosatom as a convener of global legitimacy. These gatherings feature government officials, regulators, and industry-aligned experts discussing nuclear energy as indispensable for climate action and national sovereignty. Independent environmental organisations and critical voices are often marginal or absent, while company-aligned NGOs and expert councils that operate under the language of dialogue, sustainability, and climate action are fully supported. Initiatives such as “Mission Impact” are presented as inclusive platforms bringing together youth, experts, and industry leaders to shape a sustainable future.

This narrative framing is consistent: nuclear energy is presented as clean, modern, and essential; alternatives such as decentralised renewables, energy efficiency, or demand reduction are rarely foregrounded. Over time, repetition across multiple forums and countries can create the impression of an emerging global consensus.

Rosatom’s Information Centres on Nuclear Energy (ICNE) represent another layer of this strategy. By 2026, 27 such centres operate across Russia and partner countries including Bangladesh, Turkey, Uzbekistan, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Vietnam, and Egypt. These centres function as high-tech educational spaces offering interactive exhibits, science competitions, youth festivals, and virtual plant tours.

Officially, they are designed to promote science education. In practice, they embed nuclear energy within local narratives of modernisation and progress. By linking atomic technology to national pride and technological sovereignty, they help transform complex industrial agreements into symbols of national achievement.

Exporting governance practices

Critics argue that Rosatom exports more than nuclear hardware. It also exports governance practices. Large-scale nuclear projects require centralised decision-making, restricted information flows, and strong executive coordination. In democratic systems with robust oversight, such projects can face lengthy public scrutiny. In more centralised systems, they can move forward with fewer obstacles.

Where civic space is limited, opposition to nuclear projects can be framed as anti-national or anti-development. In Bolivia, legal frameworks have restricted the operating space of NGOs critical of extractive and infrastructure projects. In Egypt, public protest around major state projects is effectively banned. In Myanmar, nuclear cooperation agreements have been signed under military rule, including memoranda referencing the promotion of a positive public attitude. Rosatom has signed cooperation agreements with nearly 20 African countries, the majority of which have repressive governmental systems.

The interplay between nuclear expansion and constrained civic environments raises questions about whether the technology’s governance requirements reinforce existing authoritarian tendencies. While Rosatom does not create these political systems, its projects often align comfortably within them.

Building a generation of atomic advocates

Youth engagement is perhaps the most forward-looking component of Rosatom’s soft power strategy. The corporation funds scholarships and educational programmes that bring students from partner countries to Russia to study nuclear engineering and related disciplines. Participants receive technical training, internships, and access to professional networks that frequently lead into Rosatom-linked projects at home.

Within Russia, the Rosatom Corporate Academy and youth science competitions cultivate early identification with the nuclear sector. International youth forums such as the International Youth Nuclear Forum in Obninsk and the BRICS Youth Energy Summit reinforce this professional pathway.

Rosatom has also extended its presence into global youth policy spaces. Representatives associated with Rosatom-supported initiatives have organised and participated in side events at the United Nations Economic and Social Council Youth Forum and during UNFCCC climate conferences. In these arenas, nuclear energy is framed as central to sustainable development and decarbonisation.

Such engagement is presented as empowering young leaders. Yet it also embeds nuclear advocacy within influential international platforms where youth participation carries moral authority. Over time, this may help normalise a particular model of energy transition – one in which centralised, state-backed nuclear infrastructure plays a dominant role.

Rosatom’s global expansion is not simply an industrial story. It is a political and societal one. By combining reactor construction, state-backed financing, fuel supply, long-term operational control, narrative management, and youth engagement, Rosatom has built an integrated model of influence. In many partner countries, this model operates within political environments where public scrutiny is limited and dissent carries risk.

Rosatom’s global expansion is not simply an industrial story. It is a political and societal one.

Nuclear energy projects, by their nature, create decades-long commitments. When those commitments are bundled with soft power instruments – public information centres, aligned civil society platforms, elite training pipelines, and international forums – the result is not merely energy infrastructure, but institutional alignment.

As nuclear energy regains prominence in global climate discussions, the governance dimension of these projects deserves equal attention. The question is not only whether nuclear power can reduce emissions, but how decisions are made, who shapes public understanding, and what forms of political dependency accompany the technology.

In the case of Rosatom, reactors are only part of the story. The rest is built through influence carefully constructed, globally networked, and designed to last as long as the plants themselves or even longer.

This article originally appeared on the website of the Heinrich Böll Stiftung as part of a dossier marking 40 years after the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. It is republished here with permission.

The temporary closure of the Strait of Hormuz, triggered by the US-Israeli war on Iran, has once again exposed Europe’s dangerous dependence on imported fossil fuels. As geopolitical shockwaves ripple through transport, industry, and household budgets, Spain is better positioned to face this challenge. A decade of sustained investment in renewables has made it a blueprint for coordinated European action towards energy independence.  

The war in Iran and the temporary closure of the Strait of Hormuz – through which one-fifth of the world’s oil and LNG flowed – have once again placed energy at the heart of the global political economy over the past month. The recent ceasefire agreement offers some relief, but it does not eliminate the current geostrategic risks. 

As with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, geopolitical instability has quickly spilt over into international oil and gas markets, driving up fossil fuel prices. This surge in fossil fuel prices has been feeding through the economy via multiple channels. It raises transportation and industrial costs, while also pushing up electricity prices, as gas continues to act as the marginal price-setting technology in many countries. The result is rising energy inflation that – if the conflict persists after the recent ceasefire – will spread throughout the entire price structure of economies. 

 The EU has been reminded of this vulnerability in stark terms. In just the first month of the conflict, its fossil fuel import bill rose by more than 7 billion euros.

Exposed EU 

The European Union is particularly exposed. Highly dependent on imports – it sources more than 90 per cent of its natural gas and nearly all of its oil from abroad – the EU has been reminded of this vulnerability in stark terms. In just the first month of the conflict, its fossil fuel import bill rose by more than 7 billion euros. Yet the impact has not been uniform. Differences in energy mixes, domestic generation capacity, and levels of electrification are producing markedly divergent outcomes across countries. 

In economies such as Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands, where natural gas remains central to both electricity generation and final consumption, higher gas prices translate directly into elevated energy costs and stronger inflationary pressures. 

By contrast, countries with more diversified and electrified energy systems are proving more resilient. Among the eurozone’s largest economies, Spain stands out. Its rapid expansion of renewable energy is reducing its exposure to fossil fuel volatility. 

The Spanish exception 

Over the past decade, Spain has invested heavily in wind power and, above all, solar photovoltaics, significantly increasing their share in the electricity mix. This accelerated energy transition (Figure 1) means that, by 2025, 56 per cent of Spain’s electricity generation came from renewable sources – 22 percentage points more than in 2019. 

Figure 1. Spanish energy mix (electricity produced, 2019-2025).  
Source: Red Eléctrica (2025) 

At a time of turbulence in fossil fuel markets, countries most reliant on gas for electricity generation are also the most vulnerable to price spikes. Indeed, the sharp rise in gas prices across Europe has driven up the cost of electricity produced from gas by over 50 per cent since the outbreak of the conflict. Spain, however, has largely broken this link between gas and electricity prices. The expansion of renewable energies has reduced the impact of costly fossil-fuel power generation on electricity prices by 75 per cent since 2019. 

The payoff is clear. Throughout 2025, Spain’s electricity prices have been 33 per cent lower than in Germany, the UK, and the Netherlands, and 50 per cent lower than in Italy. While Spain is not immune to geopolitical shocks, its energy system has proven significantly more resilient since the onset of the war in Iran. In March, wholesale electricity prices averaged 52 euros per MWh – roughly half the level seen in Germany and the UK, and just one-third of Italy’s (Figure 2). Among Europe’s major economies, only France, with its nuclear-based system, has posted similar figures. 

Figure 2. European wholesale electricity, €/MWh (average for the past seven days)  
Source: Market data 

Beyond resilience, the energy transition is also creating new industrial opportunities. Electricity prices for Spanish industry are now 20 per cent below the EU average, whereas during the previous expansion (2014–2019) they were 25 per cent above it. This reversal positions renewables as a powerful driver of reindustrialisation, capital attraction, and international competitiveness. 

These gains could be amplified further if the European Union reformed its marginal pricing system, preventing the most expensive technology from systematically setting prices for all others. Such a reform would accelerate the decline in energy costs. A precedent already exists: during the 2022 energy crisis, Spain implemented the so-called “Iberian exception,” which reduced wholesale electricity prices in the Iberian market to levels up to three times lower than elsewhere in Europe. As economist Natalia Fabra has argued, this should now be seen not as a national advantage, but as a blueprint for coordinated European action. Spain is pointing the way, but others can follow. 

 Spain, […] reduced the impact of costly fossil-fuel power generation on electricity prices by 75 per cent since 2019. Throughout 2025, electricity prices have been 33 per cent lower than in Germany, the UK, and the Netherlands, and 50 per cent lower than in Italy.

A new era 

That said, Spain’s energy transition is not without its shortcomings. Not everything shines under the sun. Investment in grid infrastructure – essential for integrating high shares of renewables – has lagged behind. Between 2019 and 2024, Spain recorded the lowest grid spending in Europe, allocating just 0.30 euros to grids for every euro invested in renewables, compared to a European average of 0.70 euros. Addressing this gap will be critical if Spain is to sustain its progress without jeopardising supply security. 

More broadly, a new era in the geopolitics of energy is clearly emerging. The succession of crises – Ukraine in 2022, Iran in 2026 – has exposed the structural fragility of fossil fuel-dependent economies. Far from ensuring energy security, oil and gas leave importing countries vulnerable to price volatility, supply disruptions, and unpredictable risks. 

Renewable energy, by contrast, offers a strategic advantage. It acts as a buffer against external shocks while strengthening economic sovereignty. In this new paradigm, energy security is no longer defined by reliable access to imported fuels, but by the ability to generate clean electricity domestically. As the Ember think tank has shown, scaling up renewables, electric vehicles, and heat pumps could reduce fossil fuel imports by up to 70 per cent. Decreasing exposure to the instability of distant fossil fuel supply chains is therefore essential – not only for energy policy, but for broader monetary, macroeconomic, and social stability.

L’accent mis par le capitalisme sur le travail acharné comme clé du succès occulte commodément une triste réalité : celle d’une main-d’œuvre confrontée à des conditions de travail qui se détériorent et à une précarité croissante, tandis que l’extractivisme a conduit la planète au bord de l’effondrement écologique. Des enseignements d’André Gorz à la quête d’équilibre entre vie professionnelle et vie privée de la génération Z, la libération du temps est au cœur des efforts visant à améliorer nos conditions de vie – non pas seulement pour consommer librement en tant qu’individus, mais pour nous rassembler en tant que communauté.

Dirk Holemans: Pour les progressistes un peu plus âgés, André Gorz a été une source d’inspiration. Mais une question fascinante est aussi ce que Gorz a à offrir aux nouvelles générations.

Céline Marty: Gorz mérite d’être redécouvert parce que c’est quelqu’un qui, dès les années 70, relie la critique du travail aux enjeux écologiques, et c’est quelque chose qui manque dans le débat contemporain. Cinquante ans après, penser le travail et l’écologie ensemble reste essentiel, sinon on réduit l’écologie soit à une sphère individuelle, soit à des changements d’infrastructure qui se feraient finalement indépendamment du travail et de la vie professionnelle.

Donc il y a, d’une part, le fait qu’il relie les deux et qu’il essaye de rassembler les mouvements sociaux du travail et les mouvements sociaux écologistes. Et ça, c’est toujours un geste militant actuel que d’essayer de faire converger les deux mouvements. D’autre part, c’est une pensée de la décroissance qui revient au goût du jour aujourd’hui dans le débat public. J’ai d’abord lu ses textes sur l’écologie politique et j’y ai trouvé une critique radicale, claire et franche du capitalisme. Donc c’est une écologie qui est unique, qui ne peut pas se compromettre dans le développement durable ou dans les petits gestes. Et ce faisant, c’est beaucoup plus radical, et en même temps clair dans les stratégies et les solutions à adopter.

Quand j’ai lu Métamorphoses du travail, qui date de 1988, j’y ai trouvé un texte qui s’appliquait complètement à notre société. Puisque, d’une part, la critique de l’idéologie du travail est toujours pertinente, parce que nous, en France, avec le « travailler plus pour gagner plus » de Sarkozy, on a complètement renforcé cette vision. C’est cette idéologie du travail qui avait été discutée dans les années 80 et qui avait permis de réfléchir à la réduction du temps de travail. Donc tout ce que Gorz reproche à l’idéologie du travail est toujours valable aujourd’hui. Et aussi sa critique à l’égard de la société de services, du fait qu’on cherche à tout prix à créer des emplois, même avec les promeneurs de chiens, même avec les livreurs de sushi, etc. : tout cela est complètement actuel.

On peut aussi dire qu’aujourd’hui, l’accent est trop fixé sur le pouvoir d’achat. Si cela reste central, les autres défis, eux, sont moins élaborés. Parce que combien d’argent on a besoin pour vivre, cela dépend du coût du logement, du coût de la nourriture, du coût des services publics.

C’est vrai que, finalement, on peut partir de cette revendication du pouvoir d’achat en interrogeant, d’une part, la redistribution des richesses. Et ça, c’est intéressant. Dans le débat public européen, on a tous les débats autour de Zucman, qui ciblent à nouveau l’augmentation énorme de la richesse des plus riches, et donc l’enjeu de redistribution, et donc de justice sociale et fiscale. Et de l’autre côté, il y a un enjeu plus qualitatif de défense des services publics, en montrant que la force du système français, par rapport au système américain, c’est que vous avez des salaires moindres, mais qu’en fait vous avez toute une partie du coût de la vie qui est socialisée. Puisque vous ne payez pas pour l’école, vous payez peu pour l’université, vous ne payez pas pour les transports publics en partie, etc., de même qu’avec l’assurance maladie et toute une partie de notre protection sociale. Donc finalement, une des réponses aussi qualitatives à cette revendication du pouvoir d’achat, c’est aussi de défendre des services publics collectifs. C’est aussi l’occasion de dire que ce ne sont pas seulement des revendications économiques et matérialistes, mais des revendications pour mieux vivre.

Et donc, en fait, ça ne s’arrête pas à la question des salaires : ça va de pair avec une fiscalité, avec des enjeux d’investissements pour l’avenir, et notamment des investissements vers l’écologie, par exemple.

Dans l’œuvre de Gorz, l’idéal de l’autogestion est très important, ce qui met à distance l’étatisme qui a dominé la gauche. Mais la justice sociale, la transition écologique, est-ce possible sans l’État ?

Je propose une relecture de toute la philosophie de Gorz à travers le concept d’aliénation et la réponse qu’il donne par le concept d’autogestion. Il parle d’autogestion de la vie sur le plan écologique, puis il place cela dans le rapport au temps : l’autogestion du temps, ce pour quoi il va défendre la réduction du temps de travail et le revenu universel.

Alors, sur le rôle de l’État, notamment pour instaurer la justice sociale : l’une des compétences premières de l’État, c’est de lever l’impôt. Et peut-être que, justement, là où on a besoin de l’État, c’est pour collecter l’impôt de façon plus juste que ce qui est le cas actuellement. Et donc là, on est en plein dans les débats actuels. Macron a fait beaucoup de cadeaux fiscaux aux plus riches, comme aux entreprises. Donc le rôle de l’État, c’est de collecter l’impôt. Et la question, c’est aussi comment on le redistribue et comment on permet, à différents échelons territoriaux, d’être autonomes en matière de finances pour pouvoir mener des projets locaux. C’est aussi un débat sur la fiscalité à l’échelon territorial.

Parce que sans cette autonomie-là, ils sont obligés de mendier auprès de l’État pour avoir des financements pour leurs projets locaux. Gorz disait déjà que les maires sont obligés d’aller mendier à Paris auprès de l’État pour avoir de l’argent afin de financer leurs projets. Et donc, on a besoin que l’État se dessaisisse d’une partie de son pouvoir. D’une certaine façon, et c’était ce que Gorz disait aux socialistes quand le slogan de Mitterrand en 1980 était « On va changer la vie » : eh bien, Gorz lui répondait dans les pages du Nouvel Observateur : « On ne veut pas que vous changiez notre vie à notre place. »

On a une société avec différentes générations. On parle de la génération Z qui, entre autres, est très axée sur l’équilibre entre la vie professionnelle et la vie privée. Est-ce qu’on peut comprendre cela comme une interprétation contemporaine de la philosophie de Gorz ?

Il y a des sociologues du travail qui disent que les jeunes veulent la même chose que les autres générations et que, pour eux, le travail reste important. Moi, je pense qu’on peut aussi expliquer les différences générationnelles par des vécus historiques différents. On a défendu un modèle en disant aux gens que la mobilité sociale passait par le statut de cadre, par exemple, et donc par le fait d’avoir fait des études. Et on voit aujourd’hui, en termes de conditions de travail et de conditions d’étude, qu’il y a une forme de déclassement.

C’est-à-dire que les jeunes se rendent compte que, même après un master ou deux, ce n’est pas évident de trouver un emploi qui les intéresse dans de bonnes conditions de travail. Je pense aussi que, quand on a 25 ans aujourd’hui, on a vu la dégradation des conditions de travail de nos parents, et donc l’idée que, si on jouait le jeu du capitalisme — avec les bonnes études, avec les bons postes —, tout allait bien se passer. En fait, on se rend compte que c’est un peu mensonger, parce que les cadres de 50 ans sont maintenant eux aussi maltraités par leurs conditions de travail.

Le capitalisme a-t-il donc changé de forme ?

Le fait que, dans le capitalisme financier actionnarial, on puisse vite se débarrasser des travailleurs, y compris des cadres dirigeants, alors que dans le modèle capitaliste plus paternaliste on prenait davantage soin des gens jusqu’à la fin, change profondément le rapport au travail. Moi, je pense toujours, par exemple, que les enfants des travailleurs suicidés de France Télécom ont un autre rapport au travail que leurs parents. Quand on voit que le travail est capable de tuer nos proches, quand on voit à quel point les conditions de travail peuvent faire souffrir les gens, ça génère un autre rapport au travail. Et donc je pense que maltraiter les travailleurs, maltraiter les parents, c’est à terme faire émerger des enfants assez rebelles, parce que ça crée une distance critique : on voit bien que vivre en suivant le jeu du capitalisme, parfois, ça n’avance pas, ça ne paie pas, et ça peut être très décevant.

Et donc je pense que ce qu’on appelle parfois des phénomènes de démission, de critiques, ou le fait de ne pas vouloir s’investir longtemps dans un emploi, de vouloir en changer rapidement, est en fait le résultat d’une grande perte d’illusions vis-à-vis du capitalisme contemporain. Perte d’illusions vis-à-vis du modèle où l’on devait avoir sa carrière, où l’on pouvait faire confiance à son emploi. Je pense qu’en fait, on a bien conscience qu’on peut se faire jeter, que ce n’est pas un contrat de confiance, aussi bien du côté des organisations privées que du côté des organisations publiques. Quand il y a des restructurations, des coupes dans les effectifs, cela amène une situation de distance critique.

Et ce n’est pas un point de vue générationnel au sens strict : cela se rejoue selon les classes sociales, selon les conditions d’employabilité. Quand vous avez confiance en votre employabilité, quand vous avez un premier emploi où ça se passe bien, vous vous permettez autre chose, vous vous permettez de changer d’emploi. Quand votre premier enjeu est d’avoir à tout prix un emploi stable plutôt qu’un emploi précaire, vous n’avez évidemment pas les mêmes exigences.

L’une des grandes idées de Gorz est la distinction entre le temps libre et le temps libéré. Ce dernier peut être utilisé de manière autonome, indépendamment de ce que le capitalisme exige de nous.

Sur ce temps libéré collectif en France, on a quand même une tradition de l’engagement bénévole. Je crois que les statistiques montrent qu’environ un quart de la population a un engagement bénévole, donc un engagement associatif. On a cette culture de l’engagement associatif qui peut commencer très jeune, par des activités sportives ou culturelles. Je dirais que c’est surtout au moment des études qu’il y a encore ces engagements, de différentes façons. Et c’est vraiment à l’entrée dans la vie active qu’on a l’impression que le travail prend toute la place et qu’il devient difficile de dégager du temps pour faire autre chose, puis d’être assez confiant dans son emploi pour pouvoir dire : moi, je pars tôt et je fais d’autres choses.

Mais en effet, c’est aussi un enjeu d’avoir des institutions collectives qui permettent de passer ce temps libre en dehors de la rationalité capitaliste. Parce que, bien sûr, on sait bien — notamment avec toute l’économie des réseaux — que leur but est de capter notre temps libre et notre « temps de cerveau disponible » pour nous faire consommer davantage par la publicité en ligne, etc. Là-dessus, je trouve qu’il est intéressant de revenir à ce qui s’est passé dans les années 80, quand on parlait de réduction du temps de travail, de société de culture, de « changer la vie ». Dans les années 80, on a mis en place beaucoup de politiques culturelles pour développer des bibliothèques, des piscines, des terrains de sport, pour développer le théâtre, etc.

Avec l’idée que réduire le temps de travail, c’était aussi proposer des infrastructures collectives pour passer ce temps-là, tout comme l’avait fait le Front populaire dans les années 30, en développant le sport et les infrastructures de vacances. Ce sont des politiques qui ont été mises à mal, puisqu’on coupe les budgets de la culture, du sport, des associations, et qu’on affaiblit toutes ces structures qui permettaient de passer le temps libre de façon collective et réflexive. Parce que c’est la culture, c’est le sport qui permettent aussi d’exister en dehors de notre fonction productive capitaliste. Quand vous participez à un groupe de sport, de théâtre ou de danse, vous existez en dehors de votre emploi. Et si on affaiblit toutes ces structures en dehors du marché de l’emploi et de la vie économique, on ne laisse pour le temps libre que des opportunités de consommation. C’est pour cela qu’il me semble hyper important de défendre, à contre-courant, par les services publics, une culture du temps libre.

Pour finir, qu’est-ce qui est le plus central et nécessaire pour la transition écologique ?

Je pense que toute la critique de l’idéologie du travail est une stratégie argumentative pour convaincre que la seule voie, c’est la décroissance et la sobriété. Travailler moins pour vivre mieux, faire mieux avec moins. Donc c’est hyper important de se rappeler que son horizon, c’est la décroissance. La crise écologique est une crise de surproduction, une crise de trop de travail, de trop de matières extraites, de trop de productions gâchées à de multiples niveaux.

La crise écologique est aussi causée par le mode de vie des plus riches, et c’est donc à eux qu’il faut demander d’en faire moins. C’est aussi cela, cet horizon de justice sociale. Et je pense que travailler moins est un idéal qui peut parler à toutes les personnes qui subissent leurs conditions de travail au quotidien.

Si vous proposez un projet écologique de sobriété du travail qui consiste à dire que l’écologie, c’est travailler moins, c’est quand même très attractif. Je pense que cette sobriété du travail est l’une des propositions les plus séduisantes que l’on puisse faire pour la transition écologique. En fait, ça fait du bien quand on fait une pause dans le travail, quand on travaille moins, et il faut l’assumer.

The capitalist emphasis on working hard as the key to success comfortably ignores an ugly reality: that the workforce faces worsening conditions and increasing precarity, while extractivism has brought the planet to the verge of ecological collapse. From the teachings of André Gorz to Gen Z’s quest for work-life balance, liberating time is at the centre of endeavours to achieve a better life – not just to consume freely as individuals, but to come together as a community.

Dirk Holemans: For older progressives, André Gorz has been a major source of inspiration, but even more interesting is what he could offer to new generations.

Céline Marty: Gorz deserves to be rediscovered because he’s someone who, even back in the 1970s, was linking critiques of work culture to environmental issues, a perspective which is sorely missing from contemporary discussions. Fifty years later, we still have to think about work and environmentalism in tandem; otherwise we risk reducing environmentalism either to spheres of individual influence or to infrastructure changes that ultimately take place beyond the confines of our work and professional lives.

Gorz’s efforts to unite labour and environmental and social movements still constitute a relevant political action today, but his way of understanding degrowth is also making a comeback in public debates. When I first read his texts on political ecology, I found them to be a radical, clear, and frank critique of capitalism. His is a unique form of ecology that won’t settle for sustainable development or small gestures. This makes it much more radical, and also much clearer in the strategies and solutions it proposes.

When I read Métamorphoses du travail (“Metamorphosis of Work”), I found a text that was wholly relevant to our society. Its critique of the ideology of work is still pertinent today. In France, Sarkozy’s mantra of “work more to earn more” firmly entrenched this mindset. It was this ideology of work that was debated in the 1980s, and which led to discussions about reducing working hours. Today, all of Gorz’s criticisms of the ideology of work are still valid, and his view of the service industry – the fact that we are trying at all costs to create jobs, even ones like dog walkers, sushi delivery drivers, and so on – is completely applicable to modern society.

We could also say that today, there is too much emphasis on purchasing power. It plays a central role, while other challenges are talked about less. But how much money you need to live depends on the cost of housing, food, utilities, etc.

Ultimately, we can approach this demand for purchasing power by exploring how wealth is redistributed. It’s actually very interesting. In European public discourse, we have all these debates around [French economist Gabriel] Zucman that highlight the enormous increase in the wealth of the ultra-rich. This naturally points to the issue of redistribution, and thus to social and fiscal justice. But there is also a more qualitative issue: defending public services and showing that the strength of the French system compared to the American system is that, despite lower salaries, much of the cost of living in France is socialised. We don’t pay for school, and we pay next to nothing for university. Moreover, we don’t pay the full cost of public transport, health insurance, or a significant part of our social welfare.

So, ultimately, one qualitative response to this demand for purchasing power is to defend public services. It’s also an opportunity to say that these are not just economic or material demands, but demands for a better life.

So, this is not just an issue of wages. It goes hand in hand with things like taxation and investing in the future, particularly environmental investments.

Another idea that is very important in Gorz’s work is grassroots autonomy. This distances him from the belief in centralised government that has dominated much of the Left. But are social justice and the green transition possible without the state?

I propose a reinterpretation of Gorz’s entire philosophy by examining the concept of alienation – and his response to it – through the concept of self-management. He notes that life is self-managed on an ecological level and then relates this to the self-management of one’s own time, for which he advocates reducing working hours and implementing a universal basic income.

Regarding the role of the state, particularly in implementing social justice, one of its primary responsibilities is to collect taxes, and that may actually be its most needed role: to do so in a fairer way than we currently do. That’s the current focus of public discourse as well, with Macron having given many fiscal gifts to the country’s richest people. The question is also how we redistribute wealth and how we can, at different geographic levels, be financially autonomous enough to manage our own local projects. This is also a debate about how to handle taxes on a local level.

Without this autonomy, people are forced to beg the state for funding for their local initiatives. Gorz criticised the fact that mayors are forced to go begging to the government in Paris for money to finance their projects. So, we clearly need the state to relinquish some of its power. In a way, this was what Gorz said to the socialists in response to [socialist president François] Mitterrand’s 1980 slogan, “We are going to change life itself”. In his weekly Le Nouvel Observateur Gorz replied: “We don’t want you to change our lives for us.”

But society is divided among different generations. For instance, Generation Z are very focused on finding a balance between their personal and professional lives. Can we understand this as a contemporary interpretation of Gorz’s philosophy?

Some sociologists who study work culture say that young people want the same things as other generations and that, for them, work still matters. Personally, I think that we can explain generational differences through different life experiences.

We have historically told people that social mobility depends on rising through the executive ranks, which itself requires a university degree. But today we see that the conditions for working people and students have declined. This means young people are realising that, even after completing a master’s degree or two, they can’t find a job that interests them and also offers good working conditions. I also think that if you’re 25 today, you’ve watched your parents’ working conditions get worse and worse. This undermines the idea that if you play the capitalist game right, getting the right degrees and experience, everything will work out. In fact, you might see it as a bit misleading, because even 50-year-old senior professionals are now working under poor conditions.

When we quit, criticise, or are reluctant to commit to a job, or when we change jobs all the time, this is in fact the result of a great loss of faith in contemporary capitalism.

So, has capitalism changed form?

In shareholder capitalism, workers, including senior managers, can be quickly dismissed, but under the more paternalistic capitalist model, people were looked after more closely until the end. This fact has profoundly changed how people relate to work. I still believe, for example, that the children of the France Télécom employees who committed suicide have a different relationship with work than their parents did. When you see that work can kill your loved ones, when you see how much working conditions can cause people to suffer, it creates a different relationship with work. Moreover, I think that witnessing their parents being mistreated at work ultimately leads children to become quite rebellious, because it creates a critical distance. Seeing that living by the rules of capitalism doesn’t necessarily get you anywhere can be very disheartening.

And so, I believe that when we quit, criticise, or are reluctant to commit to a job, or when we change jobs all the time, this is in fact the result of a great loss of faith in contemporary capitalism. It also signals a rupture in the idea that you need to have a career and that you can count on your job in the long term. I think that, in fact, we are well aware that we are disposable, and that there is no contract of trust in either the private or public sector. Restructurings and staff cuts lead to a situation of critical distance.

This isn’t a strictly generational phenomenon either – it plays out according to social class and employability. When you are sure of your own employability and have a good experience in your first job, you can allow yourself to imagine that there might be something else better out there. But when your primary concern is just finding stable employment instead of precarious work, you obviously do not have the same ambitions.

One of Gorz’s key ideas is the distinction between free time and “liberated time”. The latter of these can be used autonomously, free of the demands of capitalism.

In France, where we have this idea of collective “liberated time”, we maintain a tradition of volunteering. Statistics show that around a quarter of the population is involved in some kind of volunteering or community work, and this culture of community involvement can start at a very young age, through sporting or cultural activities. I would say that this kind of involvement even increases during one’s university years, and it’s only really when you enter working life that you start to feel that work takes up all your time. It becomes difficult to find time to do other things, and to be confident enough in one’s job to be able to say, “I’m leaving early, I’ve got other stuff to do.”

It’s also important to have collective institutions that allow us to spend this free time outside of capitalist logic. Because, of course, we know full well – especially with the online economy – that the goal is to occupy our free time and our “available brain time” and make us consume more through online advertising. On this point, I think it is interesting to look back at what happened in the 1980s, when there were discussions on reducing working hours, of a cultural society, and of “changing life”. During that time, many cultural policies were put in place to build things like libraries, swimming pools, sports grounds, theatres, and so on.

Talking about reducing working hours also meant proposing shared infrastructure and places where we could spend that time. The Popular Front did this in the 1930s by developing sports and holiday infrastructure. Subsequently, these policies were undermined by budget cuts to culture, sports, and associations, weakening the structures that enabled people to spend their free time collectively and reflectively.

Culture and sports also enable us to exist outside of our productive capitalist role. When you participate in a sport, theatre, or dance group, you exist outside your job; if we weaken all these structures outside the job market and the economy, our free time will be dedicated to consumption and consumption alone. That’s why I think it is extremely important to go against the grain and defend a culture of leisure through public services.

The environmental crisis is a crisis of overproduction, of too much work, of too much extraction, of wasteful production on many different levels.

What do you think is the most central and necessary element for the ecological transition?

For me, criticising the ideology of work is a deliberate strategy to convince people that the only way forward is to take degrowth seriously. Working less to live better, doing things better with less. It’s therefore vitally important to remind people that degrowth is the horizon we’re working towards. The environmental crisis is a crisis of overproduction, of too much work, of too much extraction, of wasteful production on many different levels.

The environmental crisis is also caused by the lifestyles of the wealthiest. They are the ones who must be urged to consume less, and this means it is also a question of social justice. I believe that the ideal of working less is appealing to everyone whose working conditions cause them suffering on a daily basis.

If we can put forward serious environmental projects that assert that the environmentally friendly way forward is working less, then that’s a very attractive idea. I think this idea of “work austerity” is one of the most appealing proposals that can be made as part of the ecological transition. It feels good when you take a break from work or work less, and that’s something we need to stand by.

Politiste et maître de conférences à l’Université Paris-Dauphine, Jérôme Heurtaux est un universitaire spécialisé sur la sociologie politique des changements de régime, en particulier en Europe centrale et au Maghreb. Ces différentes recherches l’ont amené à réfléchir aux effets du droit sur les sociétés. C’est ainsi qu’il a voulu s’emparer du sujet de Gaza dans son dernier ouvrage, Le droit international est-il mort à Gaza ? aux éditions Riveneuve. L’auteur y analyse comment la destruction de la bande de Gaza par l’armée israélienne constitue un enjeu fondamental pour l’ensemble des normes juridiques internationales. Nous l’avons rencontré en marge de sa conférence au Salon du livre de Genève, le 18 mars dernier.

Benjamin Joyeux : Pourquoi cet ouvrage maintenant, alors que vous n’êtes pas un spécialiste du Proche-Orient mais plutôt de l’Europe de l’Est ?

Jérôme Heurtaux : Je voudrais avant tout souligner à quel point il est important de parler de Gaza, y compris dans le contexte actuel de guerre en Iran. Compte tenu de l’escalade militaire au Moyen-Orient, l’intérêt pour la Palestine en général, et pour Gaza en particulier, reste évidemment trop insuffisant et très inférieur à ce qu’il devrait être. Cette attention à la Palestine est de toute façon, en général, structurellement discontinue, fluctuante et très souvent biaisée. La multiplication des entraves au droit international dans l’ensemble de la région, qui sont évidemment manifestes et qui nous touchent, ne doivent pas occulter chacun des théâtres particuliers sur lesquels ces violations interviennent.

D’où la nécessité de revenir à Gaza. Ce retour à Gaza, il est important pour de multiples raisons et tout d’abord parce que le crime commis à Gaza par l’armée israélienne, en réponse aux attaques des groupes armés palestiniens le 7 octobre 2023, est un crime « majuscule ». La brutalité militaire exceptionnelle, l’ampleur et le caractère systématique des atteintes et des violations contre les civils, la mortalité sans précédent des enfants, l’usage de la famine comme une arme militaire, la destruction des écoles, des hôpitaux, des universités, des lieux de culte et l’ensemble des formes de déshumanisation contre les Palestiniens, ont conduit un certain nombre d’acteurs politiques, mais surtout d’acteurs de la société civile, notamment des juristes internationaux, à mobiliser en masse des catégories du droit international pénal, en particulier celle de « crimes de guerre », de « crimes contre l’humanité » mais aussi et pour la première fois depuis bien longtemps, celle de crime de « génocide ». Le massacre de Sabra et Chatila en 1982 avait déjà été qualifié de génocide par l’Assemblée Générale des Nations Unies. Mais c’est véritablement la première fois que, de manière répétée et convergente, un grand nombre d’acteurs qui ne cessent d’ailleurs de grossir, concluent au crime de génocide à Gaza. De fait, un crime de très grande ampleur qui a fait reculer l’espérance de vie à Gaza de l’ordre de 35 ans en 2 ans, selon des études très sérieuses. À titre de comparaison, la France, entre 1913 et 1918, avait vu son espérance de vie chuter de 17 ans. Et cette très forte baisse de l’espérance de vie est due à la surmortalité chez les plus jeunes à Gaza. C’est aussi l’endroit au monde où on l’on compte le plus grand nombre d’enfants amputés par habitant.

Benjamin Joyeux : C’est donc principalement l’ampleur des crimes commis à Gaza qui nécessite selon vous d’y porter une attention toute particulière en tant qu’universitaire ?

Jérôme Heurtaux : Ce n’est pas seulement l’ampleur des crimes commis à Gaza qui suppose qu’on y revienne, mais c’est aussi pour dire que, quand on parle de crime, il faut parler de justice. Qui dit « crime » dit « criminel ». Ce n’est pas parce qu’actuellement il y aurait moins de crimes à Gaza, puisqu’il n’y a plus les bombardements systématiques comme avant, que les crimes disparaissent pour autant. Leurs traces sont nombreuses et les auteurs des crimes, eux, sont toujours là, et ils devront peut-être rendre compte de leurs actes devant la justice. D’une certaine manière, plus on parle de Gaza, plus on s’autorise à penser à un horizon possible de justice à l’avenir, une justice pénale, nationale et internationale, qui puisse juger tous ceux qui ont été auteurs de crimes de guerres, de crimes contre l’humanité et de crimes de génocide. 

Et puis il y a une autre raison tout aussi importante : ces crimes de masse ont été perpétrés sous nos yeux, sous les yeux des dirigeants des pays occidentaux, sous ceux de notre classe politico-médiatique, sous nos yeux à nous, citoyens. Didier Fassin a ainsi écrit avec raison que « Le consentement à l’écrasement de Gaza a créé une immense béance dans l’ordre moral du monde. »

Gaza est donc une épreuve pour le droit international, mais c’est aussi une épreuve morale qui s’impose à toute la société. Et je pense que nous avons une exigence éthique de ne pas baisser les yeux et de soutenir le regard face à ce qui se passe à Gaza. D’une certaine manière, Gaza nous tend un miroir, un miroir individuel et collectif. Ce que j’ai vu personnellement dans ce miroir, c’est le désarroi d’un enseignant-chercheur et citoyen français impuissant face aux crimes commis, indigné par les discours qui l’ont justifié et révolté par l’assentiment implicite et souvent explicite de nos dirigeants face à ces crimes, qui ont été commis en notre nom.

La dernière raison est que même si Gaza n’est plus sous un tapis de bombes, étant donné le cessez-le-feu de l’automne dernier, l’écrasement des Gazaouis continue, mais sous des formes moins visibles et d’autant moins visibles que les médias s’en détournent. Il y a encore des bombardements, certes moins intenses, mais qui auraient causé au moins 600 morts et plus de 1600 blessés depuis le cessez-le-feu. Les conditions de vie à Gaza continuent de se dégrader du fait de la poursuite du blocus, de la destruction du système économique, du système sanitaire et du système scolaire avec des effets à long terme, parce qu’Israël continue d’entraver l’aide humanitaire en contrôlant ou en criminalisant les ONG. Face à cela, nos États se contentent de publier des communiqués où ils condamnent avec des mots, mais sans jamais passer aux actes. Conséquence, le président de Médecins du Monde, Jean-François Corty, disait récemment que nous avions à Gaza plus d’1,5 million de personnes en insécurité alimentaire et plus de 20 000 blessés en train de mourir à petits feux, faute de soins.

Les chiffres officiels, basés sur la comptabilité des administrations obtenues par le Hamas, estiment à 73 000 le nombre de morts directs. Ces chiffres sont fiables mais ils sont sous-estimés, parce qu’il y a une mortalité directe qui n’a pas été attestée du fait qu’un grand nombre de corps sont toujours sous les décombres et une mortalité indirecte qui est plus difficile à mesurer. Les plus basses estimations plausibles estiment à au moins 100 000, c’est-à-dire presque 5% de la population, le nombre de morts à Gaza. 5% de la population, pour faire une comparaison absolument macabre, c’est à peu près le niveau de mortalité des migrants qui ont cherché à traverser la Méditerranée.

Benjamin Joyeux : Comment expliquez-vous que la majorité de nos gouvernements en Europe aient pu cautionner de tels massacres et continuent plus ou moins de le faire ?

Jérôme Heurtaux : Le soutien de nos gouvernements à l’armée israélienne et à son écrasement de Gaza a reposé sur trois arguments qui, à mon avis, manifestent une inversion totale des valeurs.

Le premier, c’est qu’on a soutenu cette guerre au nom de la paix. C’est un raisonnement classique, évidemment, que de faire la guerre en prétendant obtenir la paix. C’est en tout cas le discours tenu par nos gouvernements pour justifier le soutien inconditionnel ou quasi inconditionnel à Netanyahou. Or comment justifier, au nom d’une paix à établir, une guerre qui soit aussi punitive, comment justifier qu’un tel régime de terreur se soit abattu sur les Palestiniens ? Parce qu’il faut toujours se souvenir que ce conflit est asymétrique.

Le deuxième argument mis en évidence, c’est la justification de cette guerre au nom de la lutte antiterroriste. Pour rappel, Emmanuel Macron a d’abord proposé de mettre à profit la coalition antiterroriste internationale mise en place contre Daesh pour combattre le Hamas, avant de reculer. Faisant fi de toutes les complexités des mouvements armés palestiniens, on a soutenu cette guerre au nom de la lutte antiterroriste. On sait à quel point cet argument peut être légitime dans la société française qui a été l’objet précisément de terribles attaques terroristes dans son histoire récente. Mais comment dès lors justifier au nom de cette lutte ces atteintes massives au droit international ayant conduit à l’écrasement de la population de Gaza, considérée par l’armée israélienne comme toute entière composée de terroristes ?

Le troisième argument, enfin, est le soutien à cette guerre au nom d’un principe encore plus fragile, celui de la solidarité entre les « démocraties », faisant donc un partage du monde entre d’un côté les « démocraties », dont ferait partie Israël, et de l’autre les régimes autoritaires. Les premières feraient un usage vertueux de la violence, à la différence des seconds. Ce grand partage du monde a été très largement mobilisé par nos dirigeants pour justifier le soutien à Israël. Mais qu’est-ce qu’une démocratie qui soutient la poursuite violente de la colonisation de la Cisjordanie et qui est décrite par des acteurs internationaux, comme Amnesty International, comme un régime d’apartheid ? Qu’est-ce qu’une démocratie qui se livre à une campagne militaire sans retenue contre toute une population civile ?

Benjamin Joyeux  : Comment analysez-vous le fait qu’on puisse en France aujourd’hui soutenir une campagne militaire et un gouvernement qui ne respectent pas les droits humains, et quels sont les effets concrets de ce qui se passe à Gaza sur la société française?

Jérôme Heurtaux : Plutôt que provoquer un choc moral et une prise de conscience en France, les crimes commis par l’armée israélienne ont non seulement été justifiés et leur critique voire leur dénonciation a été disqualifiée, parfois même criminalisée. Or le conflit israélo-palestinien, contrairement à ce qui est asséné par une partie des médias, n’est pas importé en France par « l’extrême gauche » ou par calcul cynique de Jean-Luc Mélenchon. C’est en réalité un conflit qui, depuis ses origines, imprègne la société française, étant en réalité un baromètre des tensions qui agitent notre pays.

Les effets de cette guerre contre Gaza en France sont nombreux. On assiste d’abord à une banalisation du droit international, de plus en plus considéré comme une variable d’ajustement, comme un outil politique parmi d’autres dans les rapports de force internationaux, y compris en France, qui s’est longtemps présentée comme la patrie des droits de l’homme. L’idée de mon livre est d’ailleurs née le jour où la France a décidé qu’elle ne ferait pas appliquer la décision prise par la Cour pénale internationale (CPI) de délivrer les mandats d’arrêt contre deux dirigeants israéliens, dont Benjamin Netanyahou.

On observe ensuite une critique croissante de la soi-disant « partialité » des ONG nationales et internationales, caricaturées comme militantes. Certains acteurs politiques dénoncent l’aide extérieure de l’État au nom d’une préférence budgétaire nationale. L’ONU et les acteurs qui agissent dans sa nébuleuse sont de plus en plus critiqués. Ainsi de Francesca Albanese, la Rapporteuse spéciale des Nations Unies sur les territoires palestiniens occupés. Elle a récemment fait les frais d’une polémique appuyée par le ministre de l’Europe et des Affaires étrangères, Jean-Noël Barrot, stigmatisant son travail de juriste internationale, présenté comme du militantisme pro palestinien.  Ce que certains appellent désormais en France le « palestinisme », un néologisme pour disqualifier immédiatement comme relevant d’une idéologie militante toute promotion du droit international en général et tout soutien aux Palestiniens en particulier.

On a en outre observé un durcissement législatif en France visant à pénaliser, au nom de la lutte contre l’antisémitisme, celles et ceux qui dénoncent les crimes commis par Israël. Une loi visant à lutter contre l’antisémitisme dans l’enseignement supérieur a été votée l’an dernier. Une nouvelle loi dite loi Yadan contre « les formes renouvelées de l’antisémitisme » est actuellement en cours de discussion et vise en réalité non pas à lutter contre toutes les formes de racisme, de xénophobie et d’antisémitisme, mais bien à empêcher la critique d’Israël. Ce texte, s’il était voté, porterait atteinte à la fois à la liberté d’expression et à la liberté académique.

Ces évolutions se conjuguent dans l’intensification d’une « activité définitionnelle » consistant à redéfinir ce qu’est l’antisémitisme, l’antisionisme, le terrorisme et son apologie. Un certain nombre de militants, de syndicalistes ou de chercheurs sont désormais poursuivis pour « apologie du terrorisme » alors qu’ils ne font que dénoncer des crimes.

Tout ceci est très préoccupant car la négation pure et simple du droit international, l’instrumentalisation de la lutte contre l’antisémitisme et l’activisme judiciaire contre les militants propalestiniens, forment un combinatoire très préoccupant pour l’État de droit et notre démocratie. 

Benjamin Joyeux : Qu’est-ce que votre livre cherche-t-il à apporter de plus au débat en cours sur Gaza, notamment au niveau du droit international ?

Jérôme Heurtaux : – Au fond, Gaza est une épreuve et un test grandeur nature pour le droit international, mettant en évidence à la fois ses atouts et surtout ses limites. Les limites sont évidentes, mais il y a aussi des atouts que le grand public n’a pas suffisamment perçus : il s’agit des effets indirects, induits, symboliques voire dissuasifs du droit international. On attend en général du droit – du moins ceux qui agissent en son nom – qu’il puisse empêcher les crimes ou qu’il en punisse les coupables. Mais en réalité, il peut aussi faire toute autre chose.  

Je consacre le premier chapitre de mon livre à mobiliser l’ensemble des rapports qui ont été publiés pendant toute la guerre à Gaza, par des ONG nationales et internationales, par les rapporteurs spéciaux et les commissions des experts indépendants de l’ONU, mais aussi les articles produits par les médias. Il faut savoir qu’à Gaza, des télévisions internationales comme Al Jazeera sont présentes ainsi qu’un grand nombre de journalistes dont certains travaillent de manière quasi bénévole. Les journalistes ont payé un très lourd tribut à cette guerre, puisqu’on compte au moins 293 journalistes tués à Gaza. Ces articles et ces rapports très substantiels ont permis de produire une connaissance en temps réel du conflit. Nous savons ce qu’il se passe à Gaza depuis le premier jour : on sait le nombre d’hôpitaux visés, on sait le nombre d’enfants qui devraient être vaccinés, on sait exactement le taux de malnutrition de la population de Gaza, etc.

On dispose également du dossier judiciaire de l’Afrique du Sud en appui à la requête déposée contre Israël auprès de la Cour internationale de justice (CIJ) pour violation de la Convention de 1948 sur la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide, en décembre 2023. Ce dossier très documenté a permis d’identifier un certain nombre de crimes internationaux et surtout de les qualifier, au regard des catégories du droit pénal international. C’est aussi cela à quoi sert le droit : à produire une connaissance critique juridiquement établie. Plus on avance dans le temps, plus a été affinée la qualification juridique de ces crimes.

Au printemps 2024, avec le premier rapport de Francesca Albanese depuis le 7 octobre 2023, le terme de « génocide » est utilisé pour qualifier l’action d’Israël à Gaza. Depuis lors, malgré le brouillard entretenu par certains  médias et politiques qui accusent la juriste italienne d’être « une militante politique qui agite des discours de haine » selon les termes de Jean-Noël Barrot, la plupart des « acteurs de l’incrimination », ceux qui cherchent à qualifier juridiquement ce qui se passe à Gaza, convergent dans leur analyse et accusent Israël de génocide, au terme d’un raisonnement juridique somme toute classique, qui consiste à analyser une situation de conflit au regard des normes du droit international.

Benjamin Joyeux : Est-ce que tout cela n’est pas un peu vain, puisque le droit international n’a pas empêché les crimes d’être commis ?

Jérôme Heurtaux : Je ne pense pas que ce travail de mise en forme juridique soit vain, bien au contraire. Le droit offre un langage commun à tous les acteurs qui se mobilisent pour Gaza et au-delà aux citoyens du monde. Il forme une langue universelle, qui permet d’établir et de constater des crimes, sans se contenter de décrire une réalité. Tout le monde, partout dans le monde, peut comprendre ce qu’il se passe, à condition bien évidemment de bien vouloir l’entendre. La convention de 1948 pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide a, comme son nom l’indique, un volet préventif. Cela veut dire que dès lors qu’un État repère un risque de génocide, l’ensemble des États parties à la convention doivent tout faire pour empêcher la commission de ces crimes. C’est un droit qui est complexe et qui autorise à parler de « génocide » même si celui-ci n’a pas encore eu lieu. C’est ce qui fait sa force. Certes, la décision de la CIJ concernant Israël, en janvier 2024, n’a pas été suivie d’effet mais elle a au moins donné des arguments à ceux qui se sont opposés à Israël au nom du droit international.

Le droit international est donc un instrument de connaissance, un outil de dénonciation, un levier de mobilisation et c’est aussi une possibilité de justice. Je consacre le dernier chapitre de mon livre aux procédures judiciaires en cours, tant auprès des juridictions internationales que nationales. Des procédures sont en cours auprès de la CIJ, qui règle les litiges entre État et de la CPI, qui poursuit des individus. Certains tribunaux nationaux, comme en France, en Allemagne, en Angleterre, aux Pays-Bas, en Belgique, etc., ont reçu des plaintes et parfois ouvert des enquêtes, soit contre des soldats israéliens, notamment binationaux, soit contre des personnes accusées de complicité. Des communications accusant de complicité des responsables politiques et des dirigeants d’entreprise ont également été adressées à la CPI. Tout ceci relève de la bonne volonté de la mobilisation de la société civile organisée. 

Il s’agit pour le droit international d’une sorte de moment historique. Il est désormais de plus en plus saisi par les États et les populations victimes. On en a vu les prémices avec la guerre en Syrie et le conflit en Ukraine. On assiste à une sorte d’appropriation du droit international par des États issus de la décolonisation et par des États en position périphérique à l’épicentre de l’ordre mondial. Ainsi par exemple du Nicaragua qui pose une requête devant la Cour internationale de Justice contre l’Allemagne pour complicité de crime de génocide à Gaza. Symboliquement, ce n’est pas rien ! Et puis, des populations peuvent désormais se saisir du droit international comme d’un outil de contestation, de mobilisation mais également de mémoire.

Plus on parlera du génocide à Gaza dans les catégories du droit international, plus on a des chances que tous ces crimes ne disparaissent jamais de notre mémoire collective. Ainsi, malgré l’horreur de la situation, il y a toute une série de raisons de croire et d’espérer en la possibilité d’une renaissance du droit international à travers la guerre menée contre Gaza. »