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About a decade ago, I traveled through the Rasuwa region of Nepal as a conservation and environmental protection worker. I remember looking at the Himalayas with a kind of pride that is difficult to explain to someone who has never stood beneath them. The mountains seemed eternal. The glaciers looked like frozen rivers from another age. The valleys seemed impossibly deep, the rivers impossibly powerful. I felt proud that these mountains were part of my country. I felt proud that Nepal, a small and economically poor nation, held a landscape so important to the world.

Today, when I look at the photos and videos coming out of Rasuwa after the region’s devastating and deadly floods, that pride is mixed with grief. The mountains I once saw as a symbol of Nepal’s strength are becoming a symbol of our vulnerability. People have died. Homes and livelihoods have been destroyed. Roads and bridges have disappeared. Communities have been cut off. Families are searching for loved ones.

And behind the immediate tragedy are questions that I cannot escape:

Did the people of Nepal do something to deserve this? Did a Nepali farmer cause the glaciers to melt? Did a Nepali child cause the atmosphere to warm? Did a family living in a remote Himalayan village build the coal-fired power plants that have powered the industrial world for generations? Did the people now mourning their dead choose the fossil-fuel economy that has transformed the planet?

If not, why are they being asked to pay the price?

This is where the story of Rasuwa becomes larger than Nepal. It becomes a story about climate justice. The Himalayas are warming rapidly. Glaciers are retreating. Snow and ice are changing. Permafrost and mountain slopes are becoming increasingly unstable. Warmer air can hold more moisture, while a warming cryosphere can create new hazards and amplify existing ones. Climate change is altering the conditions under which Himalayan disasters occur.

But that scientific reality should not result in political blindness. The immediate cause of the disaster must be investigated carefully. Scientists must determine the precise sequence of geological, hydrological, and climatic events that produced the destructive flood.  At the same time climate change should not be used to overlook other factors such as unchecked development or poor planning that may have contributed to this disaster.

The question, then, is not whether climate change alone caused Rasuwa. The more important question is this: What kind of world have we created when people who contributed least to climate change are increasingly exposed to its most dangerous consequences?

Nepal is one of the clearest examples of this injustice. Its contribution to global carbon dioxide emissions is tiny. Its per-person emissions are among the lowest in the world. Yet its geography places it directly in the path of a warming climate. Nepal has glaciers that are retreating, mountains that are becoming increasingly unstable, rivers that can turn violently destructive, and communities with limited financial resources forced to prepare for what is coming.

The average American produces more than 20 times as much carbon dioxide than the average Nepali. China’s per-capita emissions are many times higher than Nepal’s. India’s are also substantially higher. China is now the world’s largest annual emitter, while the United States remains one of the world’s largest emitters and carries an enormous share of historical responsibility for the carbon accumulated in the atmosphere since industrialization. Yet the atmosphere does not send the bill back to the country that emitted the carbon. It sends the bill everywhere. And in places like Nepal, the bill can arrive as a flood.

This is the great moral failure at the heart of the climate crisis.

The people who benefited most from fossil-fuel-driven economic growth generally have the greatest financial and technological capacity to protect themselves from climate impacts. Those who contributed little often have the least capacity to adapt. That is not merely an unfortunate coincidence. It is an injustice.

For decades, the global economy treated the atmosphere as if it were an unlimited dumping ground. Coal could be burned. Oil could be extracted. Gas could be consumed. Factories could grow. Cars could multiply. Cities could expand. The benefits were measured in economic growth. The costs were pushed into the future.

That future has arrived in the Himalayas. It has arrived in the Pacific islands. In drought-stricken Africa. In South Asian floodplains. And it is arriving in the homes of people who never had a meaningful share in creating the problem.

The Himalayas deserve particular attention because what happens there will not remain there.

The mountains are often described as the roof of the world. They are also one of Asia’s great water towers. Their glaciers, snow and rivers support hundreds of millions of people across Nepal, India, China, Bhutan and Bangladesh. They feed agriculture, drinking-water systems and hydropower. They sustain forests, wetlands, wildlife and entire human cultures.

When the Himalayas become unstable, the consequences travel downstream. A mountain disaster can become a water crisis. A glacier crisis can become an energy crisis. A flood can become an economic crisis. And repeated climate disasters can eventually become a migration and security crisis.

The world should therefore stop treating Himalayan climate risk as a remote Nepalese problem. It is a global problem with a Himalayan address.

This is also why China and India cannot be left out of the conversation. China is the world’s largest current annual emitter, but it is also a country that has lifted hundreds of millions of people from poverty and is investing heavily in renewable energy. India faces a different but equally difficult dilemma: It must expand energy access and economic opportunity for a huge population while trying to avoid locking itself into decades of high-carbon development.

The answer cannot be to tell developing countries that they are forbidden from pursuing the prosperity that wealthy countries achieved through fossil fuels. That would be hypocritical. But neither can the developing world repeat the same carbon-intensive development pathway and expect the poorest and most vulnerable countries to absorb the consequences.

Every country has a responsibility. But every country does not have the same responsibility.

That distinction is at the heart of climate justice. The United States, Europe and other historically high-emitting economies have an enormous obligation to reduce emissions rapidly and provide financial and technological support to vulnerable countries. China has a responsibility commensurate with its present influence on the climate system. India and other rapidly growing economies have a responsibility to pursue development without reproducing the most destructive elements of the old fossil-fuel model.

And Nepal has a responsibility too. We must protect our forests. We must build safer infrastructure. We must stop treating fragile mountain slopes as empty spaces for roads and construction. We must strengthen disaster preparedness. We must invest in science. We must listen to local communities. But Nepal cannot adapt its way out of a crisis created by a warming planet.

There is a limit to what a small country can do when the atmosphere continues to heat because of decisions made elsewhere. That is why climate finance must stop being treated as charity.

Nepal does not need pity. Nepal needs justice.

It needs predictable resources to monitor glaciers and glacial lakes. It needs early-warning systems capable of reaching remote communities before floodwaters arrive. It needs high-altitude scientific research. It needs resilient roads, bridges and hydropower systems. It needs access to satellite data and international scientific networks. It needs effective mechanisms for loss and damage when climate-driven disasters destroy lives and development gains.

Justice also includes recognition that the people standing beneath melting glaciers are not merely victims waiting for international assistance. They are citizens of a world whose climate system is shared by everyone. The international community should establish stronger Himalayan climate cooperation involving Nepal, India and China. Glaciers do not recognize political boundaries. Rivers do not stop at checkpoints. Atmospheric warming does not respect national sovereignty.

The countries that share the Himalayas therefore have a common interest in monitoring its transformation and protecting the people downstream. But this responsibility must extend beyond Asia. The countries that have historically emitted the most carbon cannot simply send condolences after every disaster. They must help prevent the next one. Every country should have measurable climate obligations. Every government should be accountable for meeting them. Every major emitter should be required to do more, not less. And the countries with the greatest historical responsibility should contribute proportionately.

Climate agreements should not become annual rituals in which leaders make promises, take photographs and return home to business as usual. The world needs climate protocols with consequences. It needs transparency. It needs accountability. It needs finance that actually reaches vulnerable communities.

Most of all, it needs recognition that climate responsibility is not simply about tons of carbon. It is about people. It is about the child in Rasuwa who no longer has a home. It is about the mother searching for a missing family member. It is about the farmer whose land disappeared in a flood. It is about the community whose road to the outside world vanished overnight. It is about the people who did almost nothing to heat the planet but are now being forced to live with a climate they did not choose.

When I think back to that journey through Rasuwa more than a decade ago, I remember how proud I felt standing beneath the Himalayas. I still feel that pride. But now it is accompanied by other emotions. Fear. Not only fear for the mountains, but fear for the people who live among them. And anger. Not anger at one country or one government, but at a global system that has allowed responsibility and vulnerability to become so badly separated.

The question I asked myself after seeing the destruction in Rasuwa was painfully simple: Why should Nepal pay for a crisis it did not create?

I do not think Nepal is asking the world to answer with sympathy. I think Nepal is asking the world to answer with responsibility. The Himalayas belong to Nepal, but they are not only Nepal’s. The water they store sustains Asia. The climate they are experiencing is the product of a global atmosphere. And the consequences of their destabilization will eventually cross every border that politics has drawn across the mountains.

For years, the world has described Nepal as a vulnerable country. Perhaps that language needs to change.

Nepal is not simply vulnerable. Nepal is exposed. Exposed to a crisis created by a global system in which it had almost no voice.

The people of Rasuwa did not choose the carbon economy. They did not burn the coal. They did not fill the atmosphere with greenhouse gases. They did not decide how fast the planet should warm. Yet they are the ones standing in the floodwater. That should trouble every government on Earth.

Because if climate justice means anything, it must mean this: No country should be left to bear alone the consequences of a crisis it did little to create. And if the world continues to ignore that principle, the Himalayas will not be the last place to send us the bill. They may simply be one of the first places where the bill has become impossible to ignore.

Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy. Previously in The Revelator:

The Last Breath of the Himalayas: Can We Stop the Collapse?

 

The post The Himalayas Didn’t Cause the Climate Crisis. Why Are Nepalis Paying the Price? appeared first on The Revelator.

As efforts to expand energy access across Africa grow, experts and policymakers have called this week for greater coordination and investment to power food production with renewables, arguing the sector has been treated separately from energy policy and therefore faces barriers in going green.

Hailemariam Desalegn, former prime minister of Ethiopia, said energy is critical across the food value chain – from irrigation and processing to cold storage and transport – and should therefore be considered a key pillar of strengthening food systems for the future.

“Energy is not separate from the nutrition challenge. Irrigation needs energy. Cold storage, transport, processing, as well as markets – all need reliable energy,” Desalegn told a panel at the 20th session of the Africa Food Systems Forum in Kigali. He said investments in sustainable energy systems could help reduce post-harvest losses and make nutritious food more accessible and affordable.

Africa loses up to 30% of its food before it reaches markets annually, largely due to poor roads, weak storage and inadequate cold chains, according to a 2025 report by the Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA).

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Akinyi Walender, Africa director at development charity Practical Action, said poor energy supply in rural communities – where much of Africa’s food is produced – is also limiting productivity. Across the continent, about 600 million people currently live without access to electricity.

“The lack of energy access goes well beyond the inconvenience of not having lighting at home,” Walender said, adding that renewable energy has the potential to power local economies. “When people can access this sort of energy, it can raise rural incomes, improve food security, improve resilience, empower women and stimulate enterprise while creating jobs,” she added. 

Breaking down silos

Unlocking the potential of energy across food systems requires greater coordination, Walender argued, pointing to institutional fragmentation and isolated pilot projects as major barriers. 

“Organisations working on agriculture and energy often operate according to different modalities and the interdependence between agricultural and energy markets is often overlooked,” Walender said, adding that finance institutions also tend to work in silos.

High level dialogue on climate resilience at the Africa Food Systems Forum in Kigali, September, 2026.(Photo: AFS Forum)

Dana Rysankova, global lead for energy access at the World Bank, told a separate event at the forum that the bank is working to break down those barriers through its newly established Productive Use of Energy (PUE) Centre of Excellence based in Nairobi, which has a mandate to foster collaboration and help develop and design programmes across different sectors.

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In June, the World Bank Group and the African Development Bank Group said that over 50 million people had been connected to electricity across 40 African countries under their Mission 300 initiative, which aims to provide electricity access to 300 million Africans by 2030.

Rysankova said the programme has shown that energy access is just the foundation for linking with other sectors to deliver real economic transformation by boosting productivity and local incomes. 

Mission 300 also aims to electrify schools and healthcare services, as well as bringing power to farmers so that they can use it for irrigation, cold storage and other agricultural activities, she added. 

Bridging the finance and infrastructure gap 

Experts said bigger investments are needed in infrastructure and finance to turn energy access into increased productivity and economic value. 

AGRA’s 2026 foresight report, launched at the forum, puts the annual agrifood financing gap at $180 billion, while estimating that closing Africa’s yearly $67 billion-$108 billion shortfall in infrastructure finance could halve post-harvest losses and increase farmer incomes by up to 40%.

However, the cost of transitioning to clean energy is still a major barrier for farmers and agribusinesses.

Delegates at the Africa Food Systems Forum, September, 2026 (Photo: AFS Forum) Delegates at the Africa Food Systems Forum, September, 2026 (Photo: AFS Forum)

Atinuke Lebile, CEO of Nigerian food processing company Cato Foods, told Climate Home News she would like to switch to using renewables but has been held back by the upfront cost of setting up the systems the firm needs.

Rwandan farmer Gezel also said she would like to invest in a solar irrigation pump, but “it is so expensive”.

Practical Action’s Walender said the challenge is no longer whether solutions exist, but how financial support can reach the communities and businesses where it could have the greatest impact.

“Customers are dispersed and have low incomes. Markets are fragmented, and there are high upfront costs for much energy equipment,” Walender said, adding that financial institutions also often perceive agriculture as a high-risk sector.

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For food processing, the business case for using cleaner energy more efficiently is particularly strong, said Vivian Maduekeh of Partners in Food Solutions, which has worked with more than 2,000 companies across Africa.

Maduekeh said food processing firms account for between 42 and 70% of energy use across food systems, while energy represents 15-22% of their total production costs. African food businesses also use roughly twice as much energy per kilogramme of product as their global competitors, putting them at a competitive disadvantage.

The problems they face in shifting to clean energy are “risk, perception of risk and the cost”, she explained, adding that financial mechanisms are needed to help businesses overcome those issues.

Maduekeh encouraged policymakers to consider measures like tax rebates on imported equipment and spending more on research and development to bring down the cost of productive-use technologies.

Making a range of affordable equipment available – such as smaller irrigation pumps – could also help make the transition more accessible, she said. The evidence in favour “is very clear”, she added. “We just need to package it and communicate it to the priorities of investors.”

The post More support needed to power Africa’s food systems with renewables, experts say appeared first on Climate Home News.

This week on Talking Headways, we’re joined by Joshua Schank to talk about his book, “New Tricks for Old Bureaucracies: Improving Policy Outcomes in the Public Sector.” In a broad-ranging discussion about urban dysfunction, Schank talks about the inner workings of LA Metro, the benefits of openness and transparency, and, of course, the importance of strategic planning.

Of course, no one gets away easy; we also share frustrations about meetings, transit board structures, and agency fiefdoms.

You know the drill. On Talking Headways you can:

• Read an excerpt of our exhilarating conversation below.
• You can read the entire text (with some transcription typos) here.
• Our you could do the right thing and put on some headphones and click “play” in the player below:

Here’s the edited portion:

Jeff Wood: What was it like when you got to LA Metro? I read the section about the “Board staff,” and I wanted to throw the book at the wall! But I also then thought, “You’re in LA, why don’t we make a ‘Parks and Rec’-type TV show about this group of folks who control, but don’t control, but do control, but don’t control the whole process of creating policy and moving things through the line at LA Metro?”

Joshua Schank: Yeah, it was quite the shock — “Board staff” definitely being one of the examples of a thing that was a big shock to me.

I’d obviously had worked around public agencies my whole life. I started my career at MTA in New York. I knew something about how agencies functioned, but I didn’t quite understand how bad it could be. I imagined in my naive mind that most people working in the agency shared the goals that I had. Like, basic things, like improving public transportation or reducing the number of trips by car — you know, the types of things that you would assume if you’re working at Metro, you care about.

But there’s a whole swath of people working in and around Metro, or any public agency, who just don’t care about those things because that’s not why they got into it.

The person running HR is unlikely to be passionate about transportation. The person running procurement is unlikely to be passionate about transportation. And then the Board staff are the most egregious example, because the Board staff is essentially political people who are now put in a position of dealing with transportation experts at this big agency.

So for those who don’t know, the “Board staff” is essentially support staff for the elected officials who run Metro, who sit on LA Metro’s board. They’re the equivalent of congressional staff (and I was a congressional staffer one time). I understand how that works. The difference is that as a congressional staffer, you get to make really important decisions behind the scenes that lead to legislative change, right, and you help inform your boss about how to vote on those decisions, what amendments to put in, et cetera.

In this case, the people are in the job themselves because the electeds have another job. The elected’s job isn’t to be on the board of Metro. The elected’s job is to be the county supervisor, be the mayor of Los Angeles, be whatever that role is, which also includes sitting on the Metro board. So that you wind up with these staff who have an outsized role and outsized influence, and that’s one thing that makes it unusual.

The second thing is that because of the Brown Act, the Board staff can serve as a proxy sometimes for responding to Metro board items, because the Brown Act says that if you’re going to have all the board together in a discussion, that you have to have it be a public meeting.

You can’t do that behind closed doors, except under a special set of circumstances. So Board staff briefings at Metro were created so that the Board staff could hear Metro items before they go to the board, and give the likely reaction of Metro board members behind closed doors. And those Board staff briefings are where a lot of policy gets made and people hear and discuss what’s going to happen. You essentially have staffers who are 25 or 30 years old, or maybe they’ve been there 40 years, but they’re political people who are reacting to transportation experts who have come up with answers to solutions.

So it becomes a very challenging situation that when I got there, I almost couldn’t believe it was happening.

Jeff Wood: I imagine that’s how it’s like at a number of agencies, and it’s all structure upon structure upon structure upon structure. I mean, you have the Brown Act, you have the requirements of the legislators, you have all this stuff that has to happen, but then it creates this convoluted way of communicating with each other, which then itself doesn’t make sense.

The structures make sense from trying to protect the public, right? But then when you put them all together and mash up, it’s a recipe that doesn’t taste good.

Joshua Schank: That’s right, and I think the fundamental issue is that elected officials serving directly on the board of a regional agency can be very problematic, and it’s problematic because they are primarily serving their constituents, and the agency is a second job.

In California, almost all the agencies are structured that way. You almost always have elected officials on the board, or sometimes in a couple of cases, they’re elected directly to the board, which I’ve heard is even worse. But if you’re an elected official serving on a board of a transit agency, everything that the transit agency does is going to be put through that hyper-political lens, and it’s gonna be much harder to have the regional perspective.

I would argue, based on my experience at Metro, that strong governance reforms are necessary in California if we’re going to have public transit agencies that are successful.

Researchers in Finland have developed a way to make leather-like fabrics from fungi at large scale using industrial equipment. This is a key advance towards vegan plastic-free leather alternatives for the mass market.

“Our process uses renewable feedstocks and mild conditions and does not involve livestock or chemically intensive processes,” says Géza Szilvay, and industrial biotechnologist and food scientist at VTT Finland, who published the research in the journal ACS Applied Bio Materials. “In this respect the process differentiates clearly from production of animal or synthetic leathers.”

Humans have for eons used animal hides to make clothing, utensils, and tools. Scientific advances have led to ethical synthetic leather. But those materials are made from fossil fuel-based plastics, so they create carbon emissions and linger in the environment for decades.

In the hunt for sustainable vegan leather alternatives, researchers and a few startups have recently looked at fungus. More specifically mycelium: the soft white mass of fibers that form the root-like underground structure of fungus.

Besides being free of animal cruelty, mycelium-based leather is sustainable. Mycelium grows in as little as two weeks requiring minimal water and energy, and it fully biodegrades at the end of its life. This has also prompted researchers to explore its use for sustainable building materials and electronics. Once harvested and processed into mats, mycelium looks and behaves much like leather. It is soft and supple, and has a surface that manufacturers can texturize and dye.

 

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But it it challenging to work with. It can be inconsistent in thickness and more fragile than hide. That’s because “most approaches grow mycelium directly as sheets, leveraging on a natural bottom-up biofabrication process,” Szilvay says.

He and colleagues took a different approach. They first grow the mycelium in a nutrient-rich liquid in a bioreactor to create a wet pulp. Then they wash the pulp and mix it with sorbitol and cellulose. Sorbitol makes the mass soft and less brittle, while the cellulose adds strength. Then they spread the flexible and durable fungal mass into thin sheets and dry them.

The team was able to make 1 meter of the material per minute using a roll-to-roll process. This approach offers greater flexibility in formulations so the properties of the fabric can be tuned, Szilvay says. “With certain formulations we achieved mechanical properties that are in the range reported for animal leather.” But the researchers still need more work to make materials with the same tear strength and abrasion resistance as animal leather.

“We believe the concept has the potential to become a viable alternative to non-renewable synthetic leathers,” he says. “More broadly, the paper shows how the range of biotechnology derived materials expands beyond chemical building blocks, bioplastics and proteins towards new kinds of materials.”

Source: Pauliina Ahokas et al. Production of Mycelium-Based Nonwoven Fabrics via Submerged Fermentation. ACS Applied Bio Materials, 2026.

At what point does a woman's life become a femicide statistic? At what point do we stop seeing their faces, their stories, their dreams, and their life plans? What has to happen for the files of the thousands of women still waiting for justice to stop gathering dust in state archives?

The post Beyond the numbers: femicide in Honduras as an expression of structural violence against women 2020-2026 appeared first on La Via Campesina - EN.

CALGARY — KARI HYDE, Director of the Pembina Institute’s Customer Energy Solutions program, made the following statement in response to new federal framework for responsible data centre development. “Canada’s electricity system is undergoing a...

Miközben a fejlett mesterséges intelligencia-technológiák kifejlesztéséért folyó technokratikus-autoriter verseny teljes gőzzel folytatódik, a Szilícium-völgy szabályozási napirendekre gyakorolt befolyása már vetekszik – sőt, akár meg is haladja – számos államét. A globális szuperhatalmak és a MI-óriások ambíciói között azonban Európának lehetősége nyílik arra, hogy valami jobbat keressen. Interjú a díjnyertes újságírónővel és írónővel, Karen Haoval.

Alessio Giussani: Számos metaforát hoztak fel a mesterséges intelligencia fejlesztésének jelenlegi modelljének leírására – például egy papagáj vagy egy tükör. Miért választotta éppen a birodalom metaforáját?

Karen Hao: Úgy gondolom, ezek a metaforák mind rendkívül hasznosak. A „birodalomra” összpontosítok, mert nem csupán magát a technikai eszközt és azt vizsgálom, mi történik, amikor azt a társadalomban alkalmazzák, hanem a technológia előállítását is, valamint azokat a szereplőket, akik rendkívüli mértékű gazdasági és politikai hatalmat halmoznak fel annak előállításához.

Négy fő okból nevezem ezt a rendszert birodalomnak. Először is, ezek a vállalatok olyan erőforrásokra tartanak igényt, amelyek nem az övék: az egyének adataira, valamint az írók és alkotók munkájára. Másodszor, rendkívüli mértékben kizsákmányolják a munkaerőt, és ez vonatkozik mind azokra a munkavállalókra, akiket a gyártási folyamatban és a technológiák ellátási láncában kizsákmányolnak, mind pedig azokra, akiknek a munkajogait a technológia bevezetése során csorbítják.

A harmadik szempont az információellenőrzés. A birodalmak terjeszkedésének egyik fő jellemzője az a képesség, hogy minden tudástermelést és információt a birodalmi céljaik szűrőjén keresztül szűrjenek, és pontosan ezt teszik a mesterséges intelligencia vállalatok is. Ők ellenőrzik és cenzúrázzák a tudományt azáltal, hogy a legtöbb mesterséges intelligencia-kutató munkáját pénzügyileg támogatják, és olyan információs technológiát építenek ki, amelyet a központi portállá kívánnak tenni, amelyen keresztül mindenki más kapcsolódik a világhoz, beleértve az oktatást is.

Végül mindezt egy civilizációs küldetésbe burkolják. Azt állítják, hogy azért foglalkoznak ezzel a munkával, mert végső soron olyan technológiát akarnak az emberiség rendelkezésére bocsátani, amely egy utópikus állapotba emel minket, és ha a „rosszfiúk” – ami általában Kínát jelenti – előttünk fejlesztik ki, akkor inkább egy disztópikus állapotba süllyedünk. Ez egyfajta vallási narratíva, amely a régi birodalmak körében is gyakori volt.

Az MI-birodalom, ahogyan Ön leírja, nem korlátozódik egy vállalatra; ez egy rendszer, egy logika. Mi áll az OpenAI-ra és annak vezérigazgatója, Sam Altman személyére irányuló figyelme mögött?

Az egyik válasz az, hogy az embereknek szükségük van történetekre, amelyek segítenek konkrét formába önteni azt, ami egyébként elvont ötlet maradna. De az OpenAI azért is különösen érdekes, mert minden olyan fontos döntést hozott, amely megváltoztatta az iparági normákat, és a birodalomépítés irányába terelte azt. Az OpenAI volt az, amelyik úgy döntött, hogy minden áron bővül, nagy nyelvi modellekkel dolgozik, és chatbot-szerű felületet hoz létre számukra. Szinte minden, amit a közvélemény ma a mesterséges intelligenciával társít, először az OpenAI falai között dőlt el.

Ha elmeséljük ezt a történetet, sokkal nyilvánvalóbbá válik, hogy a mesterséges intelligencia nem elkerülhetetlen, mert rájövünk, hogy valódi emberek hozták meg azokat a döntéseket az értékeik, világnézetük, személyes bosszúvágyuk alapján – bármi is volt az, ami valójában meghatározta a mesterséges intelligencia fejlődésének pályáját. Sam Altman ideológiái nem csupán elvont értelemben áthatják a modellt. Gyakran hallani azt a közhelyet, hogy a modellek tükrözik alkotóikat, de én azt akartam megmutatni, hogy ez valójában hogyan történik. A vállalatokról, az emberekről, valamint a gazdasági és ideológiai környezetről van szó, amelynek részesei.

Ahogy ezek a technológiák egyre hatékonyabbá válnak, az alkalmazásuk feletti ellenőrzés megszerzése egzisztenciális kérdéssé válik. Láttuk, hogy a Big Tech meghajolt Trump előtt a második beiktatásán, de azt is látjuk, hogy a mesterséges intelligencia területén működő vállalatok vezérigazgatói egyre inkább szembefordulnak a kormánnyal. Kié lesz végül a végső szó – az államé vagy a magánvállalatoké?

Folyamatban van a harc arról, ki fogja a döntéseket hozni. A Washington és a Szilícium-völgy közötti kapcsolatot kényelmi szövetségnek tekintem, de egy nagyon feszültnek. Két különböző birodalmi modellt képviselnek, mindkettő a saját birodalmi terveivel. Mindkettő terjeszkedni próbál, és szó szerint több területet akar átvenni más országoktól, de a Trump-kormányzat az MI-vállalatokat az állam birodalmi törekvéseinek eszközeiként tekinti. Eközben a Szilícium-völgy a Trump-kormányzatot saját birodalmi törekvéseinek eszközeként tekinti, de valójában nem járnak egy hullámhosszon, mert mindkettő azt akarja, hogy ő legyen a legfőbb hatóság, amely a csúcsra kerül.

Voltak olyan pillanatok, amikor az amerikai kormány bebizonyította, hogy még mindig ő az úr – amikor Trump és Musk összetűztek, Muskot kirúgták. Amikor azonban a Hadügyminisztérium összetűzésbe került az Anthropic-kal, a vállalat bebizonyította, hogy ebben az esetben ő az erősebb fél: Pete Hegseth védelmi miniszter a „nukleáris opciót” vetette fel, azzal fenyegetve, hogy a vállalatot ellátási lánc-kockázatnak nyilvánítja – mint végső eszközt, amellyel az Anthropic-ot engedelmeskedésre kényszerítheti –, de a vállalat még így sem hajlott engedésre. Elég kínos módon a Háborús Minisztérium mélyen függővé vált egy olyan magánszereplőtől, amely nem hajlandó a kormány feltételei szerint együttműködni, és a kormány semmit sem tehet ellene.

Mindkét birodalmi szereplőnek elszámoltathatónak kell lennie, és ez az elszámoltathatóság egyiküktől sem fog származni; a néptől kell származnia. Alulról felfelé építkező, alulról jövő szerveződésből, amelynek virágzását kezdjük látni szerte a világon, beleértve az Egyesült Államokat is. Bármennyire is áthatolhatatlannak tűnik ez a kényelmi szövetség, valójában rendkívül törékeny, és vannak lehetőségek arra, hogy felgyorsítsuk bukását azáltal, hogy nagyobb nyomást gyakorlunk a gyenge pontjaira.

Ahelyett, hogy a mesterséges intelligenciát a jók és a rosszak közötti globális versenynek tekintenénk, inkább azon kellene gondolkodnunk, hogy milyen jövőképünk van a társadalomról.

A mesterséges intelligencia fejlesztésének jelenlegi állása úgy tűnik, mint egy versengő verseny a mélypont felé a rivális vállalatok és a globális szuperhatalmak között. Milyen szerepet játszott a Kínával folytatott geopolitikai verseny abban, hogy a mesterséges intelligencia a jelenlegi nehéz helyzetbe került?

Kína egy olyan kártya, amelyet a Szilícium-völgy már egy évtizede kijátszik, gyakorlatilag azóta, hogy kiutasították Kínából. Ha azonban megvizsgáljuk ennek az érvelésnek a korábbi eredményeit, láthatjuk, hogy a valóságban mindig pont az történt, ami a Szilícium-völgy előrejelzéseivel ellentétes volt.

Azt állították, hogy a szilícium-völgyi vállalatok szabályozásának elmaradása – és Kína exportkorlátozásokon keresztüli szabályozása – révén az amerikai technológia világszerte dominálni fog. Mégis a TikTok a legnépszerűbb közösségi médiaplatform, és a kínai nyílt forráskódú mesterséges intelligencia-modellek egyre népszerűbbek világszerte, az Egyesült Államokban is. Azt is megígérték, hogy a Szilícium-völgy dominanciája liberalizáló hatással lesz a világra, de ez sem valósult meg; hatásuk éppen ellenkezőleg, mélyen illiberalizáló volt. A demokratikus intézmények rendkívüli mértékű eróziója és a demokrácia visszaesésének gyors felgyorsulása volt tapasztalható, amit a Szilícium-völgyi platformok és a mesterséges intelligencia-technológiák is elősegítettek.

Ahelyett, hogy a mesterséges intelligenciát a jók és a rosszak közötti globális versenynek tekintenénk, inkább azon kellene gondolkodnunk, hogy milyen jövőképünk van a társadalomról, milyen mesterséges intelligencia-technológiák támogatnák ezt a jövőképet, és milyen erőforrásokra van szükségünk annak megvalósításához. Nem a Szilícium-völgy által meghatározott versenyben kellene versenyeznünk, hanem azokban az elképzelésekben és értékekben, amelyeket fenn akarunk tartani. És úgy gondolom, Európának itt lehetősége nyílik arra, hogy a világnak egy harmadik utat mutasson, amely eltér az Egyesült Államokétól és Kínáétól, és amely új szabályokat állít fel.

Az Európai Bizottság nemrég elfogadott egy technológiai szuverenitási csomagot, amely része annak az erőfeszítésnek, hogy Európa saját technológiai útját járja. Hogyan fogalmazzuk meg ezt a jövőképet úgy, hogy ne egy megfigyelésen alapuló, oligarchikus üzleti modell európai változatát kapjuk?

Az a vezetőcsillag, amelyet Európának követnie kell, nem a szuverenitás a szuverenitás kedvéért, hanem az a cél, hogy ezt a szuverenitást elérjük. Európa – vagy legalábbis nagy része – a demokrácia egyik utolsó bástyája a világon. Támogatja az emberi jogokat és szabadságokat, és szüksége van a technológiai szuverenitásra, hogy előmozdítsa ezeket az értékeket. Amíg rendkívül függő marad az olyan rendszerektől, amelyeket nagyon autoriter módon fejlesztenek ki, és amelyek az európai társadalmak aláásására törekednek, addig nem tudja fenntartani értékeit.

A szuverenitás mint fogalom hajlamos elmosódni, ha pusztán öncélként kezdjük el értelmezni. Ennek egy cél eléréséhez vezető eszköznek kell lennie.

Milyen koalíciókból, érdekcsoportokból vagy konfliktusok színtereiből kellene kiindulnunk annak érdekében, hogy felépítsük ezt az alternatív jövőképet?

Először is, az MI-irányítást tágabb értelemben kell felfognunk. Például a munkavállalói jogok megerősítése és a civil társadalom védelme is az MI-irányítás részét képezi. A diákoknak, a tanároknak és az egészségügyi dolgozóknak is ott kell ülniük az asztalnál, hogy segítsenek alakítani és megkérdőjelezni, hogyan fejlesztik és alkalmazzák a mesterséges intelligenciát a társadalomban. Az oktatás kulcsfontosságú, mind szektorként és olyan koalícióként, amelyet be kell vonnunk, mind pedig a mesterséges intelligenciával kapcsolatos társadalmi felvilágosítás szempontjából.

Egy másik fontos szempont a mesterséges intelligencia kutatóinak és vállalkozóinak finanszírozása, hogy kiderítsék a fejlesztésük technikai részleteit és az alkalmazás módját. De nem adhatunk nekik egyszerűen pénzt anélkül, hogy a társadalom többi részének is szót adnánk; ellenkező esetben csak megismételjük azokat a problémákat, amelyekkel az Egyesült Államokban szembesülünk, ahol lényegében a technokraták vagy a technokonzervatívok hoznak döntéseket.

Nem a nulláról indulunk. Már rengeteg munkát végeztek annak érdekében, hogy meghatározzák azokat a közös célokat, amelyek felé a társadalomnak törekednie kell. Például a fenntartható fejlődési célokra gondolok. Ez kiindulópont lehet annak kitalálásához, hogyan finanszírozzuk a mesterséges intelligencia terén történő innovációt.

A jelenlegi mesterséges intelligencia-technológiákkal kapcsolatos narratívák rendkívül polarizáltak. Az egyik oldalon vannak azok, akik szerint ezekben a technológiákban nincs semmi különösebben új, és hogy a buborék hamarosan kipukkad. A másik oldalon pedig azok állnak, akik úgy vélik, hogy a mesterséges intelligencia átalakítja az életünket, forradalmasítja az ellátási láncokat, és mindannyiunkat feleslegessé tesz. Mit gondol ezekről a különböző álláspontokról?

Igaz, sokan hajlamosak túlzottan felnagyítani az előnyöket anélkül, hogy figyelembe vennék a technológiák költségeit, vagy éppen a költségeket emelik ki túlzottan, anélkül, hogy látnák az előnyöket. De szerintem elég nagy azok aránya, akik egyetértenek abban, hogy szeretnénk élvezni a mesterséges intelligencia előnyeit, de nem a méltóságteljes életvitelünk árán – amelyhez hozzátartozik a jó egészségügyi ellátás, a gazdasági lehetőségek, az egészséges környezet és a virágzó bolygó. Ez a legkiegyensúlyozottabb megközelítés.

A mesterséges intelligencia (MI) sokféle technológia gyűjtőneve, ezért alaposan át kell gondolnunk, melyekbe fektessünk be, és mely új technológiákat szeretnénk kifejleszteni, mert mindegyik más-más kompromisszumokkal jár; ezek közül néhány összhangban áll azzal a jövővel, amelyet építeni szeretnénk, mások viszont nem. Bölcsen kell választanunk.

A mesterséges intelligencia (MI) számos különböző technológiát jelöl, ezért alaposan át kell gondolnunk, melyekbe fektetünk be, és mely új technológiákat szeretnénk kifejleszteni.

Milyen a saját viszonya a meglévő MI-eszközökhöz?

Három fő okból nem használom őket. Először is az etikai álláspontom miatt. Másodszor a magánélet védelmével kapcsolatos álláspontom miatt: ezeket a vállalatokat vizsgálom, és ezek végső soron a valaha feltalált leghatékonyabb megfigyelési technológiák. Harmadszor, ezek az eszközök nem igazán hasznosak ahhoz a speciális készségkészlethez, amelyre a munkám elvégzéséhez szükségem van.

Nem azt mondom, hogy mindenkinek ugyanezt kellene tennie. Sok emberrel beszéltem, akik egyértelműen profitálnak ezekből az eszközökből, vagy akiknek a szakmai szerepük részeként kötelező azok használata. Inkább az a megoldás a jelenlegi problémára, ha ugyanazt tesszük, amit a múltban más iparágakkal, például a divatiparral is tettünk. Amikor rájöttünk, hogy ruháink nagy részét valóban szörnyű körülmények között gyártják, nem egyszerűen csak megszabadultunk a ruháktól. Számos fogyasztói és munkavállalói szerveződés, kormányzati szabályozás és általános közvélemény-visszhang kellett ahhoz, hogy az iparágot kordába szorítsák. Természetesen a divatipar még mindig messze nem tökéletes, de legalább ma már vannak alternatívák, és a fogyasztók a pénztárcájukkal szavazhatnak arról, hogy milyen ellátási láncot és vállalati gyakorlatokat támogatnak.

Ugyanezt kell tennünk a mesterséges intelligenciával is. Jelenleg nincs elég alternatíva a felhasználók számára, és ahhoz, hogy ez megváltozzon, több munkavállalói szerveződésre és nagyobb nyilvános ellenállásra van szükség. Akik tudnak tartózkodni ezeknek a technológiáknak a használatától, azoknak feltétlenül bojkottálniuk kell őket, a kormányoknak pedig be kell avatkozniuk, hogy segítsenek új piacokat teremteni az alternatívák számára.

A fogyasztóknak fontos befolyásuk van, de ez nem az egyetlen. Emberként, egyénként munkavállalói, oktatói és polgári szerepet is betöltünk, és el kell gondolkodnunk azon, hogyan használhatjuk fel ezeket a szerepeket a mesterséges intelligencia fejlesztésével kapcsolatban annak javítása érdekében.

Enquanto iniciativas democráticas lideradas por cidadãos, as comunidades de energia desempenham um papel importante nos esforços em acelerar a transição da Europa para as energias renováveis. No entanto, por detrás da sua imagem progressista, persistem desigualdades familiares: as mulheres e as FLINTA continuam amplamente ausentes da adesão e da tomada de decisões. Se estes projetos populares de base têm como objetivo reformular não só a forma como a energia é produzida, mas também quem detém o poder, a questão do género não pode ser tratada como secundária.

As comunidades de energia são frequentemente consideradas um dos desenvolvimentos mais promissores ligados à transição energética — e por boas razões. A REScoop.eu, a federação europeia de comunidades de energia, descreve-as como uma «forma de organizar cidadãos que pretendem cooperar juntos numa atividade relacionada com o setor energético, baseada numa participação e governança abertas e democráticas, de modo a que a atividade possa prestar serviços ou outros benefícios aos membros ou à comunidade local». Isto abrange uma vasta gama de organizações e iniciativas, com dimensões e formas de produzir energia muito diferentes, desde a solar e hídrica à eólica ou biomassa. Em comum têm a produção de energia descentralizada e autogerida, a aposta nas renováveis e — infelizmente — uma persistente sub-representação das mulheres. Estudos mostram que mais de 70 por cento dos membros de comunidades de energia elétrica e mais de 83 por cento dos seus conselhos de administração são do sexo masculino.

Pode parecer picuinhas discutir a dinâmica de género no contexto da transição energética em geral, e ainda mais no microcosmos das comunidades de energia, que estão ainda a estabelecer-se na maioria dos Estados-membros da UE. No entanto, o género continua a ser uma lente útil para descrever a experiência de mais de metade da população e para analisar fenómenos políticos, incluindo a política energética.

Nas comunidades de energia, há uma persistente sub-representação das mulheres. Estudos mostram que mais de 70% dos membros e mais de 83% dos conselhos de administração são do sexo masculino.

Além disso, as comunidades de energia são laboratórios interessantes, pois abordam a transição energética a partir das bases, em proximidade com a vida quotidiana das pessoas. As estruturas e dinâmicas presentes nestes contextos podem simultaneamente refletir e moldar a direção da mudança.

Uma transição política
Os nossos sistemas energéticos atuais têm um impacto mais negativo nas mulheres do que nos homens. Isso começa com a extração de combustíveis fósseis, que coloca as mulheres indígenas e as pessoas two-spirit num risco acrescido de violência (incluindo sexual). Estes grupos também sofrem mais com os efeitos imediatos do consumo de combustíveis fósseis, como na poluição derivada de cozinhar. Os efeitos a longo prazo das alterações climáticas também mostram ter um viés de género: as mulheres enfrentam mais riscos para a saúde, estão em maior risco durante as catástrofes climáticas, e por aí fora.

O setor energético emprega menos mulheres e paga-lhes menos, agravando também a sua pobreza (energética). Do mesmo modo, a governança energética tem sido dominada por homens no passado, tanto a nível nacional como europeu. No fundo, os sistemas energéticos atuais não funcionam para as mulheres em imensos aspetos e as comunidades de energia ainda não se libertaram desta dinâmica. Por isso, o género precisa de ser tido em conta para a justiça energética, a par das experiências interseccionais de desigualdade e opressão, que incluem também a classe, a sexualidade, a etnia e a idade. No entanto, como demonstrou a investigadora Barbara Nicoloso, a vertente política da transição energética não tem recebido a devida atenção.

Os sistemas energéticos atuais não funcionam para as mulheres em imensos aspetos e as comunidades de energia ainda não se libertaram desta dinâmica.

A política energética é sensível à política em geral e aos interesses políticos instalados. A reação contra o Pacto Ecológico Europeu (o Green Deal) visa abrandar a transição energética — mesmo quando os estudos refutam, uma e outra vez, a ideia de que os eleitores se opõem às medidas climáticas. Ao mesmo tempo, os riscos geopolíticos ligados à dependência dos combustíveis fósseis ficaram bem visíveis desde a invasão da Ucrânia, com os elevados preços da energia a agravar a pobreza energética na Europa. Nos anos que se seguiram à invasão, a UE conseguiu diversificar o seu fornecimento de energia (ainda que por vezes com contrapartidas dolorosas), mas as renováveis estão a ser difamadas pela extrema-direita. Na Alemanha, por exemplo, a Alternativa para a Alemanha (AfD) tem criticado frequentemente a energia eólica e defendido a retoma das importações baratas de combustíveis fósseis vindas da Rússia.

A política energética reflete as estruturas e as prioridades das sociedades em que é criada. Isto significa que a sub-representação das mulheres num nicho de prosumidores de energia ativos não é uma coincidência, mas um produto da política. É um sinal de alerta de que a transição energética, se for tratada como forma de sair de um sistema e entrar num novo, mesmo por defensores das renováveis, vai arrastar consigo pontos cegos contraproducentes e injustos.

Equilibrar o terreno

As comunidades de energia representam um microcosmos das questões mais amplas com que progressistas e Verdes se debatem em toda a Europa. Pode a transição energética ser verdadeiramente participativa? Como pode ser acelerada e o seu alcance alargado? As dinâmicas sociais e políticas são, pelo menos, tão importantes quanto as considerações técnicas.

A sub-representação das mulheres num nicho das comunidades de energia não é uma coincidência. É um produto da política.

Dado que as comunidades de energia são, na maioria das vezes, fundadas e mantidas vivas apenas por voluntários, ter mais membros significa maior envolvimento, mais recursos e, em última análise, mais dinamismo. Embora as comunidades de energia tenham surgido de um movimento ambicioso para a transição energética, atualmente, ficam tantas vezes limitadas a um grupo homogéneo de homens altamente qualificados e com rendimentos elevados.

Se as comunidades de energia conseguirem aumentar o número de mulheres entre os seus membros, a transição energética descentralizada ganha velocidade. O que pode ser feito para criar um ciclo positivo entre a participação das mulheres nas comunidades de energia, a igualdade de género e a transição energética?

O caso das comunidades de energia alemãs é particularmente interessante porque a Alemanha é o país com mais comunidades de energia na UE e tem uma longa história de ativismo de base e turbulência política relacionados com a transição energética.

Segundo Lara Track, gestora de projetos na Netzwerk Energiewende Jetzt e.V., uma organização de apoio às comunidades de energia, é impossível ignorar a ligação entre a luta pela igualdade de género e a transição energética, mesmo que esta tenha sido negligenciada durante demasiado tempo.

Se as comunidades de energia conseguirem aumentar o número de mulheres entre os seus membros, a transição energética descentralizada ganha velocidade.

As mulheres, lésbicas, pessoas intersexo, não-binárias, trans e agénero (por vezes designadas em alemão pelo acrónimo FLINTA) estão muito menos representadas nas comunidades de energia, mas também na transição energética como um todo. Lara Track, que trabalhou extensivamente sobre o papel das FLINTA na transição energética, afirma que é essencial aumentar a sua Teilhabe, o seu «ter um papel», que é mais do que apenas participação (Teilnahme).

Centrar apenas na participação como veículo para a igualdade de género e a representação tem-se revelado vulnerável ao tokenismo e à simplificação excessiva. Em contrapartida, ter um papel (através da liderança de um projeto, fazendo parte de uma administração ou simplesmente integrando uma comunidade) significa ter voz e, em última análise, poder. Este tipo de participação mais forte costuma ser mais acessível para pessoas abastadas, proprietários de habitação e homens cisgénero, pois têm mais oportunidades de participar, explica Track. Quem quiser colocar o género nas comunidades de energia tem de nadar contra a maré na sua luta por representação, inclusão e poder. Segundo Track, embora o género seja um tema importante, as comunidades de energia podem acabar por dar prioridade a outras áreas e não conseguir criar estruturas de participação.

Ter um papel significa ter voz e, em última análise, poder.

Kiara Groneweg, que trabalha na área da energia na Women Engage for a Common Future (uma rede sem fins lucrativos dedicada à ligação género-clima), concorda com Track que uma participação e representação meramente simbólicas arriscam reforçar o status quo em vez de trazerem uma mudança transformadora e maior igualdade.

A título de exemplo, Groneweg menciona Katherina Reiche, atual ministra da energia alemã e ex-CEO de uma subsidiária do gigante energético E.ON, como exemplo de mulheres que usam as suas posições de poder para impedir mudanças estruturais. Reiche propôs restrições à expansão das renováveis, como exigir que estas suportem os custos de extensão da rede e limitar a compensação pela injeção de eletricidade na rede. O ex-secretário de Estado Verde Sven Giegold criticou estas propostas como uma tentativa de travar a produção renovável descentralizada.

Quem quiser colocar o género nas comunidades de energia tem de nadar contra a maré na sua luta por representação, inclusão e poder.

Ainda assim, Groneweg reconhece que, no que diz respeito à representação nas comunidades de energia, «as mulheres atraem mulheres e as FLINTA atraem FLINTA». E acrescenta: «Se tivermos um conselho de administração masculino com um tempo de palavra muito elevado, algumas FLINTA simplesmente não vão querer entrar e participar nas discussões, porque a estrutura não se adequa logo à partida.» A atração que acompanha o aumento da representação é crucial para abrir as estruturas dominadas por homens. Como refere Track, «as pessoas gostam de trabalhar com pessoas com quem conseguem sentir uma ligação com relativa facilidade.»

No entanto, as desigualdades socioeconómicas constituem um obstáculo ao aumento da representação, afirma Groneweg. Para ela, o debate sobre uma transição energética socialmente justa precisa também de ser lúcido quanto ao acesso desigual ao capital, à habitação e à propriedade. Este acesso é limitado na Alemanha, onde mais de metade da população vive em habitações arrendadas e uma em cada cinco pessoas está em risco de pobreza ou exclusão social — valor que duplica nos agregados familiares monoparentais.

Estes números têm uma forte dimensão de género. As mulheres representam a grande maioria (85 por cento) dos agregados monoparentais, ganham 16 por cento menos e têm pensões em média muito mais baixas do que os homens.

Com 75 por cento do parque habitacional europeu classificado como energeticamente ineficiente, a transição no aquecimento é o ponto mais vulnerável da transição energética. Groneweg sublinhou que, no aquecimento, as soluções individuais são praticamente insuficientes, sobretudo para os 53 por cento de pessoas na Alemanha que alugam habitação. Uma vez que as renovações e a adaptação com bombas de calor têm sido politicamente inflamadas na Alemanha, estas grandes soluções estruturais ficam por resolver, deixando as populações a compensar sozinhas os elevados custos de energia.

Uma mentalidade competitiva

Quando Marina Braun — engenheira, fundadora e membro do conselho de administração de várias comunidades de energia — decidiu envolver-se no setor, pensou no facto de ser a primeira mulher a aderir a uma comunidade de energia inteiramente masculina. Conhecia até alguns dos homens na administração, o que facilitou. No entanto, acabou por dedicar os seus esforços a uma comunidade de energia mais jovem e diversa.

«Apercebi-me de que a motivação era, de alguma forma, completamente diferente», recorda. «Havia mulheres envolvidas também. Tive um pressentimento de que me sentiria mais confortável do que na outra comunidade de energia porque estavam ativamente à procura de mulheres. Pensei que talvez não houvesse aquela ‘mentalidade de cotoveladas’ — e bem, isso foi um fator decisivo para mim.»

A representação não é uma cura milagrosa para a igualdade de género.

Kerstin Lopau, engenheira e cofundadora da SoLocal Energy, teve uma experiência negativa em comunidades de energia dominadas por homens, onde se deparou com uma falta de generosidade conversacional e uma mentalidade competitiva — a tal mentalidade de cotoveladas também mencionada por Braun. Na sua experiência, uma cultura de comunicação mais agradável conduz também a uma maior produtividade e a uma abordagem cooperativa na resolução de problemas.

Tal como Track e Groneweg, Lopau acredita que a representação não é uma cura milagrosa para a igualdade de género. Por exemplo, fazer parte do conselho de administração de uma empresa — uma estrutura tantas vezes muito hierárquica e conformista — pode levar as mulheres a seguir ideais masculinos e a perder solidariedade com outras mulheres. Nas comunidades de energia, porém, o panorama é um pouco diferente, segundo Lopau: as direções tendem a ser mais democráticas, com vários mecanismos para garantir o controlo e a transparência, o que evita o afastamento e a perda de solidariedade.

Cultivar o terreno
As comunidades de energia alemãs são frequentemente Genossenschaften (cooperativas) que englobam uma ética, um estatuto jurídico e uma estrutura específicos. Estas organizações visam ajudar os seus membros a prosseguir os seus próprios objetivos económicos, sociais ou culturais através de operações conjuntas. Seguem tradicionalmente os princípios de entreajuda, autorresponsabilidade e autogestão.

No seu trabalho, Track observou que as comunidades de energia podem desencadear conversas em torno de novas formas sustentáveis de criar e reter valor. As comunidades de energia são alavancas para as pessoas beneficiarem localmente da transição energética, em especial as que não beneficiam atualmente, observa. No setor da energia, isto é crucial. Demonstrou-se que os projetos de energia comunitária geram entre duas a oito vezes mais receitas locais do que se o projeto fosse realizado por um agente externo. Na Alemanha, onde grande parte da eletricidade produzida no leste do país flui para oeste, agravando os desequilíbrios existentes, este aspeto local tem um potencial imenso.

O debate sobre uma transição energética socialmente justa precisa também de ser lúcido quanto ao acesso desigual ao capital, à habitação e à propriedade.

Track diz que é surpreendente que mais municípios não recorram às comunidades de energia para combater o fenómeno «not in my backyard» (NIMBY) e construir uma democracia energética local. Segundo Groneweg, porém, dado o tempo e o esforço voluntário necessários para criar comunidades de energia (sobretudo num país como a Alemanha, sobrecarregado por enormes obstáculos burocráticos), as comunidades de energia não devem ser as únicas responsáveis por eliminar barreiras estruturais e resolver problemas políticos mais amplos como a pobreza energética.

Em vez disso, o movimento das comunidades de energia poderia unir forças com outros movimentos sociais, como as comunidades feministas e climáticas. «Espero um movimento energético feminista que lute para crescer os sistemas de energia descentralizados. Teríamos então mais pessoas a envolver-se. Isso significaria que, numa comunidade de energia que talvez tenha agora cerca de 20 voluntários, de repente 200 estão envolvidos, e cresce de cidade em cidade, ou de aldeia em aldeia», diz Groneweg.

As comunidades de energia são alavancas para as pessoas beneficiarem localmente da transição energética, em especial as que não beneficiam atualmente.

Para Lopau, é um desenvolvimento positivo que os painéis solares se tenham tornado um produto de massa, retirando a geração de energia do domínio dos geeks da tecnologia e trazendo-a para o mundo familiar do supermercado local. Os pequenos módulos fotovoltaicos tornam muito acessível para os inquilinos criar o seu próprio sistema solar nas varandas. Para quem consome pouco ou está em situação de pobreza energética, as poupanças geradas por um módulo solar numa varanda são relativamente maiores do que para quem consome muito.

As renováveis permitem a produção local de energia e são a forma mais democrática e acessível de fornecer energia até à data. No entanto, estas fontes de energia ainda são fortemente influenciadas pelos sistemas energéticos anteriores e pelas suas dinâmicas de género, observa Lopau. Ela vê as renováveis como um terreno fértil que agora precisa de cultivo para alcançar o seu potencial, nomeadamente através da inclusão de pessoas FLINTA nas comunidades de energia. No entanto, persistem pequenos e grandes obstáculos que as comunidades de energia têm de superar para equilibrar a sua participação.

«As comunidades de energia não existem num vazio»

Os primeiros obstáculos que os potenciais novos membros de uma comunidade de energia enfrentam são os custos iniciais e recorrentes associados à adesão. As comunidades de energia podem antecipar-se a isso oferecendo modelos de preços solidários.

O movimento das comunidades de energia pode unir forças com outros movimentos sociais, como as comunidades feministas e climáticas.

Lopau, que tem estado ativa na democratização dos sistemas solares de varanda, reconhece que as renováveis muitas vezes não são uma prioridade para quem enfrenta a pobreza (energética) e o peso mental e o stress a ela associados. Afirma que as comunidades de energia devem depender menos das motivações internas das pessoas com consciência ambiental. Para que isto se torne uma realidade, os potenciais utilizadores devem ser procurados de forma proativa e apoiados.

Mas as barreiras financeiras não são o único obstáculo à participação. Uma vez que as comunidades de energia dependem da eficácia individual e coletiva, as pessoas que não tenham autoconfiança ou experiência na sociedade civil ou em iniciativas coletivas locais, como associações desportivas, podem enfrentar barreiras mentais e subestimar-se a si próprias e às suas capacidades. Para Braun, é importante lembrar às pessoas que as comunidades de energia são uma iniciativa coletiva. Os membros trabalharão sempre com outros; ninguém ficará para trás, e seguem sempre um princípio de trabalho a 4 ou 6 mãos, afirma.

Para antecipar os obstáculos financeiros à adesão, as comunidades de energia podem oferecer modelos de preços solidários.

Os estereótipos de género também contribuem para a sub-representação das mulheres. Braun, que estudou engenharia, sugere que a disparidade de género nas áreas STEM também tem que ver com os nomes dos programas de licenciatura e a ênfase nos aspetos técnicos. Termos como tecnologia energética ou tecnologia renovável tendem a colocar em primeiro plano os elementos técnicos tradicionalmente associados à masculinidade, ocultando as questões jurídicas, organizacionais e sociais ligadas às renováveis.

Braun sublinha que os estereótipos de género podem ser desafiados. «Este é um tema que qualquer pessoa pode aprender e compreender. Basta dedicar-lhe tempo, tal como é preciso tempo para aprender a tricotar, a pintar e qualquer outra competência que se queira desenvolver.»

A disparidade de género nas áreas STEM também tem que ver com os nomes dos programas de licenciatura e a ênfase nos aspetos técnicos.

No entanto, a escassez de tempo também afeta desproporcionalmente as mulheres. Na Alemanha, as mulheres passam 44,3 por cento mais tempo em trabalho de cuidados do que os homens, constituindo um segundo turno não remunerado de 30 horas por semana. Estima-se que este trabalho equivale a 826 mil milhões de euros por ano não remunerados, sendo a condição prévia de todo o trabalho remunerado. Sem dar e receber cuidados, como ensinar as crianças a falar, a resolver conflitos ou a construir relações sociais, outras atividades económicas simplesmente não seriam possíveis. Quando os governos pressionam para o alargamento da semana de trabalho a fim de aumentar a produção económica, arriscam reforçar a disparidade de cuidados entre géneros. Reduzem também o tempo disponível para o envolvimento e a participação democráticos.

Estas são questões mais amplas que inevitavelmente afetam as comunidades de energia, que dependem maioritariamente do trabalho voluntário. Como refere Track: «As comunidades de energia não existem num vazio. E tudo o que fazemos estruturalmente para promover a igualdade de género vai beneficiar a igualdade de género dentro das comunidades de energia.»

As competências que importam

Uma das estratégias que os organizadores das comunidades de energia seguem para atrair pessoas FLINTA é destacar que são necessárias competências diversas. As competências em comunicação, administração, direito ou finanças são essenciais para construir a organização antes de qualquer ventoinha eólica ou campo de painéis solares ser aprovado.

Braun explica que, especialmente no início, é essencial ter pessoas a bordo que saibam como construir uma organização — de forma prática e social. «As mulheres são simplesmente muito boas a construir organizações estruturalmente, em gestão de projetos, são muito ponderadas, muito empáticas — e é isso que é essencial para uma comunidade de energia.» Chegar às pessoas, convencê-las e integrá-las está ligado a um conjunto de competências emocionais e sociais (que são, de facto, competências, e não qualidades inatas) que as mulheres e as pessoas FLINTA frequentemente têm.

As competências em comunicação, administração, direito ou finanças são essenciais para construir a organização antes de qualquer ventoinha eólica ou campo de painéis solares ser aprovado.

Os investigadores demonstraram provas sólidas dos benefícios de trabalhar em equipas mais diversas. Um exemplo, mencionado por Braun, é a maior aversão ao risco. Na sua experiência, enquanto os homens tendem a assumir mais riscos e a adiar a abordagem de cenários pessimistas, uma maior interação entre géneros nas discussões equilibra estas tendências, conduzindo, por exemplo, a uma avaliação de risco mais sólida sobre no que investir.

Para Lopau, procurar ativamente uma adesão mais diversa pode também ter efeitos dominó importantes, como abrir novas perspetivas e oportunidades para fazer crescer a comunidade, e tornar o espaço mais acolhedor para todos — incluindo potenciais novos membros.

Track menciona o exemplo de uma comunidade de energia liderada por mulheres com que trabalhou: «Acho interessante que, quando há duas presidentes, se pense em programas de apoio à infância.» E acrescenta: «Não são as únicas, mas nem toda a gente o faz.»

Com vista à transição energética, que por vezes luta para ter o apoio das comunidades e fazer face ao fenómeno NIMBY, torna-se evidente que as competências sociais e organizacionais — tradicionalmente associadas a género e desvalorizadas — são as que determinam o impacto de uma comunidade de energia. Embora do exterior possa parecer que a falta de competências tecnológicas torna a participação nas comunidades de energia sem sentido, na verdade, são as competências sociais e organizacionais que podem fazer crescer e escalar o movimento.

«Não ouças os homens»

Kerstin Lopau quer combater a sub-representação das mulheres nas comunidades de energia pela raiz e fazer as coisas de forma radicalmente diferente. Em anos anteriores, organizou uma escola de verão para jovens aprenderem a instalar painéis solares. Depois de receber feedback de que algumas pessoas FLINTA não se inscreveram porque não se sentiam seguras, Lopau pôs mãos à obra. Desde então, ela e os seus colegas da SoLocal Energy têm organizado campos solares concebidos especificamente para FLINTA. A sua abordagem é estar atenta às lacunas, «tentar sempre olhar atentamente para o que as pessoas precisam. Sabemos pela nossa própria experiência no terreno o que parece estranho, por isso tentamos perceber o que poderia ser melhor.»

Estes campos solares pretendem também ser uma rampa de lançamento para o emprego futuro daqueles que gostariam de seguir este caminho profissionalmente. Lopau tem sido estratégica na construção de relações com o setor local de mão-de-obra especializada no Norte de Hesse. Contou com a sua experiência e conhecimento, mesmo quando tal não era estritamente necessário. Estas colaborações levaram a alguns contactos muito úteis. Ela recorda que os profissionais «viram no local, ‘ok, elas sabem mesmo o que estão a fazer, e são competentes — e não são tão más como pensávamos. Talvez possamos recrutar alguns estagiários e trabalhadores aqui.’ Por isso foi uma situação em que todos saíram a ganhar.»

Um pilar central deste campo de verão é o networking, já que a construção de relações entre estes futuros profissionais de energia durante o campo tem sido valiosa. Desenvolve a literacia energética e a confiança das participantes, permitindo-lhes aparecer de forma diferente, mais empoderada, nas suas comunidades de energia ou em futuros empregos. Lopau partilha que uma antiga participante do campo de verão lhe enviou um e-mail com uma questão técnica. «Disse que era assim que se tinha de fazer, mas os homens aqui dizem que não é preciso fazê-lo assim», escreveu a participante. Lopau respondeu: «Não, não ouças os homens. Lembraste-te corretamente.»

Este artigo foi inspirado pelo trabalho de Barbara Nicoloso, cujo ensaio “Gender Power: The energy transition through a gender lens” e o policy brief “Gender at the Heart of the EU Energy Transition: Key learnings from the French case” foram anteriormente publicados pela Green European Foundation.

O que distingue os humanos da inteligência artificial? A autora alemã Nina George vê a resposta na capacidade de criar aquilo que até então não existia. No entanto, à medida que o alcance da IA se expande para cantos cada vez mais distantes das nossas vidas – desde o conteúdo que consumimos até à forma como falamos –, arriscamo-nos a perder a nossa liberdade e criatividade.

Mais de três anos após o seu lançamento no mercado, em novembro de 2022, o ChatGPT, a robótica geradora de texto criada pela OpenAI na sagrada Silicon Valley, continua a ser adorado como se fosse o «Pancriador» (como o autor e filósofo da tecnologia Stanisław Lem chamou o «construtor racional do mundo» na sua obra de 1964, Summa Technologiae).

Segundo um estudo da própria OpenAI, 800 milhões de utilizadores, predominantemente jovens entre os 18 e os 25 anos, submetem uma média de 18 mil milhões de pedidos por semana ao seu chatbot. Recorrem ao ChatGPT para trabalhos de casa, candidaturas a emprego, slogans de marketing, e-mails, newsletters, excertos de propaganda para bots das redes sociais, para produtos que se assemelham a livros, críticas ou traduções; para cartas de amor à la Cyrano de Bergerac versão ciborgue, respostas automáticas ao cliente, resumos; e conselhos de relacionamento ou de vida. Claro que o ChatGPT é apenas um entre muitos chatbots – existem muito mais de 1000 grandes modelos de linguagem, e as suas aplicações estão disponíveis em todo o mundo.

O número de pedidos oscila no início e no fim do semestre e das férias escolares. Segundo um inquérito da HEPI e da Kortext no Reino Unido, a proporção de estudantes que usam ferramentas de IA generativa como o ChatGPT para trabalhos avaliados saltou de 53 por cento em 2024 para 88 por cento em 2025. Tal como a escrita, também a leitura está em declínio. Docentes universitários na Europa e do outro lado do Atlântico relatam que um número crescente de estudantes não está habituado a ler e considera mental, emocional e fisicamente exaustivo ler textos mais longos do que um poema.

Embora fosse fácil culpar estes desenvolvimentos na OpenAI, Meta, Anthropic e os restantes suspeitos do costume do colonialismo digital norte-americano, a IA apenas acelerou uma tendência que já era visível, inclusive na Europa. O poder computacional e a estatística baseada em dados, frequentemente apresentados como «inteligência artificial», são um espelho amplificador de condições pré-existentes desoladoras.

Tal como a escrita, também a leitura está em declínio. Docentes universitários na Europa e do outro lado do Atlântico relatam que um número crescente de estudantes não está habituado a ler e considera mental, emocional e fisicamente exaustivo ler textos mais longos do que um poema.

Um admirável mundo velho

As tentativas, desde os anos 1960, de replicar as vias neuronais do cérebro humano através de estatística baseada em dados produziram aquilo a que chamamos «IA fraca». A IA fraca só consegue concentrar-se numa única tarefa – ao contrário dos humanos, que conseguem processar 11 milhões de impressões sensoriais por segundo e filtrar as 40 mais importantes para reações imediatas. Ao conduzir um automóvel, nós pensamos, mudamos de mudança, viramos o volante, reagimos aos sinais vermelhos e mantemos o olhar na criança no banco de trás que está a enfiar um chocalho no nariz.

O ChatGPT, o Gemini, o LlaMA, o Microsoft Copilot e semelhantes só conseguem conduzir sempre em frente ou reconhecer o sinal vermelho. Além disso, não compreendem nem o significado nem o contexto daquilo que misturam, porque todas as letras, palavras, frases, contextos e informações são convertidos em fórmulas algorítmicas. A linguagem humana é convertida em matemática de máquina, e a matemática é cuspida de volta como comunicação simulada.

Numa era de policrises complexas, da ascensão da extrema-direita e de uma inundação de bots de propaganda nas redes sociais, a comunicação automatizada funciona como acelerador de futuras ditaduras linguísticas.

No entanto, este resultado é rigorosamente pré-censurado: os chatbots de IA estão programados para evitar uma lista crescente de termos proibidos e temas sensíveis, através de um «controlo de conteúdo» definido de fábrica. Esta lista inclui palavrões e termos sexualmente explícitos, mas também adjetivos incomuns e assuntos politicamente sensíveis (e, com o atual governo dos EUA, a lista é cada vez mais longa). O resultado é, na melhor das hipóteses, uma linguagem medíocre e conservadora, desprovida do elemento humano.

Os chatbots de IA estão programados para evitar uma lista crescente de termos proibidos e temas sensíveis, através de um «controlo de conteúdo» definido de fábrica. O resultado é, na melhor das hipóteses, uma linguagem medíocre e conservadora, desprovida do elemento humano.

Esta linguagem está a mudar não só a comunicação humana escrita, mas também a oral. Investigadores do Instituto Max Planck para o Desenvolvimento Humano analisaram mais de 770.000 podcasts e vídeos e concluíram que estamos a começar a falar no estilo do ChatGPT. Esta erosão da diversidade linguística e cultural aumenta consideravelmente o perigo de manipulação de opinião. Numa era de policrises complexas, da ascensão da extrema-direita e de uma inundação de bots de propaganda nas redes sociais, a comunicação automatizada funciona como acelerador de futuras ditaduras (linguísticas).

Uma análise a mais de 770.000 podcasts e vídeos conclui que estamos a começar a falar no estilo do ChatGPT. Esta erosão da diversidade linguística e cultural aumenta o perigo de manipulação de opinião.

Exploradores do tempo, da cultura e do conhecimento
Mas este não é o único problema com o entusiasmo em torno da IA. A base textual sobre a qual, por exemplo, o GPT-3 foi desenvolvido, consiste em 45 terabytes de material que a OpenAI muito provavelmente pilhou ilegalmente ao longo dos anos. Trezentos milhões de páginas de texto extraídas de sites privados, arquivos de meios de comunicação, fóruns do Reddit, avaliações da Amazon, redes sociais, entradas da Wikipédia. E também sete milhões de livros protegidos por direitos de autor e 81 milhões de textos científicos.

Equipas de investigação como a holandesa AI Safety Camp ou a dinamarquesa Rights Alliance provaram que as bases para grandes modelos de linguagem, como o Llama da Meta, foram construídas a partir de livros e coleções como a Books3, armazenadas ilegalmente em bibliotecas paralelas como a Library Genesis (LibGen), a Z-Library (Bok), a Sci-Hub e a Bibliotik – sites de pirataria.

O número de processos judiciais contra empresas de IA pela violação massiva de direitos de autor cresce todas as semanas nos EUA. Na Europa, as ações coletivas são difíceis de mover e financeiramente inviáveis para autores individuais.

O número de processos judiciais contra esta violação massiva de direitos de autor cresce todas as semanas. Em novembro de 2025, havia 75 processos contra a OpenAI, a Microsoft, a Meta e a Alphabet (empresa-mãe da Google). Os mais conhecidos são o do The New York Times contra a OpenAI e a Microsoft, e a ação coletiva movida pela Guilda dos Autores dos EUA (a maior organização profissional de escritores nos EUA) e 18 autores individuais (incluindo George R.R. Martin, Jonathan Franzen e John Grisham) contra a OpenAI. Outro processo, movido por três autores individuais, o caso Bartz v. Anthropic, resultou num acordo de 1,5 mil milhões de dólares. Na Europa, as ações coletivas são difíceis de mover e financeiramente inviáveis para autores individuais. Mesmo que os juízes norte-americanos decidam contra a pilhagem feita pela IA, isso não fará justiça aos autores europeus.

Danos de mercado pelo resultado da IA

O linguista Noam Chomsky chamou ao ChatGPT um «plagiador de alta tecnologia» que copia de livros amostrados ilegalmente para produzir texto que reflete o estilo dos autores originais. Apesar deste roubo, os resultados são considerados «domínio público» e podem ser reutilizados por qualquer pessoa. Mas isto é um problema colateral – o dano real é que produtos de IA semelhantes prejudiquem os mercados precisamente das pessoas cujas obras foram roubadas.

Noam Chomsky chamou ao ChatGPT um «plagiador de alta tecnologia» que copia de livros amostrados ilegalmente para produzir texto que reflete o estilo dos autores originais.

A Amazon, que sempre aplicou software de controlo de conteúdo em todos os e-books para filtrar pornografia infantil, discurso de ódio e negacionismo do Holocausto, adicionou um detetor de IA. No entanto, continua a permitir o carregamento de livros gerados por IA na plataforma (máximo de três por dia por utilizador), sem etiquetas ou avisos visíveis para os clientes. Entre 10.000 e 40.000 «fraudes literárias» produzidas por IA inundam a plataforma todos os meses, enganando os consumidores e chegando mesmo a colocá-los em perigo (por exemplo, quando «guias» não verificados prescrevem tratamentos sem sentido, conselhos de vida fatais, ou declaram que cogumelos venenosos são comestíveis).

Ao mesmo tempo, os livros reais de autores humanos tornam-se menos visíveis, e as receitas da autopublicação estão a encolher. Por exemplo, a remuneração dos escritores através do modelo de partilha de receitas da Kindle Direct Publishing está a diminuir, à medida que mestres de bots e outros utilizadores sem escrúpulos embolsam uma grande parte do dinheiro. Os livros gerados por IA são frequentemente feitos para se assemelharem aos verdadeiros lançamentos de autores conhecidos (ou são apresentados como «resumos» e «material secundário»). Biografias de pessoas famosas, lançadas quase instantaneamente após a sua morte, são também uma forma fácil de ganhar dinheiro com IA.

Um fenómeno semelhante pode observar-se no setor da música: segundo um estudo da aplicação de streaming Deezer, 34 por cento das canções carregadas diariamente na plataforma são geradas por IA, o que, por sua vez, reduz a remuneração de compositores e músicos humanos através do modelo de receita partilhada das plataformas.

Tradutores, ilustradores e narradores de audiolivros são os grandes perdedores neste jogo. As aplicações geradoras de texto são amplamente usadas em todo o mundo, incluindo dentro do setor editorial. A Amazon acabou de lançar o seu «serviço de tradução» por IA para autopublicadores. No Reino Unido, um terço dos tradutores relatou ter perdido trabalho devido à IA, e 37 por cento dos ilustradores viram o seu rendimento diminuir pela mesma razão. Os tradutores estão a começar a mudar de profissão ou a trabalhar como pós-editores mal pagos, reparando textos e traduções gerados por máquina. Entretanto, vários narradores de audiolivros disseram-me, em confidencialidade, que se veem perante a escolha entre aceitar que as suas vozes sejam clonadas, ou serem «colocados na lista negra» pela indústria.

No Reino Unido, um terço dos tradutores relatou ter perdido trabalho devido à IA, e 37 por cento dos ilustradores viram o seu rendimento diminuir pela mesma razão. Os tradutores estão a começar a mudar de profissão ou a trabalhar como pós-editores mal pagos, reparando textos e traduções gerados por máquina.

Pagar aos escritores pela utilização passada ou futura do seu trabalho iria, segundo as gigantes tecnólogicas, prejudicar o desenvolvimento da IA. A administração Trump está do lado dos oligarcas tecnológicos: em maio, despediu Shira Perlmutter, chefe do Gabinete de Direitos de Autor dos EUA, depois de o seu gabinete ter divulgado um relatório que concluía que os usos não autorizados de obras protegidas por direitos de autor para treinar sistemas de inteligência artificial generativa poderiam ser ilegais. (O Supremo Tribunal suspendeu, por agora, a demissão de Perlmutter.)

A linha de defesa da Google é a de que as máquinas não são assim tão diferentes de um humano a ler um livro. No entanto, os humanos não conseguem memorizar livros inteiros, nem copiam o seu conteúdo como modelo de negócio. Nenhum autor que queira construir ou manter uma reputação se apropria do estilo de outro; em vez disso, dedica milhares de horas de trabalho a encontrar a sua voz única e original. O truque de equiparar máquinas a humanos e atribuir direitos humanos às máquinas é popular entre as GAFAM (Google, Amazon, Facebook, Apple, Microsoft; a OpenAI deveria ser acrescentada a esta lista) para evitar pagar aos autores.

Isto não é surpreendente no setor cultural. As empresas tecnológicas têm uma longa tradição de pilhar ideias de escritores e poetas. Ciborgues, máquinas humanoides, a internet, as redes sociais, máquinas de escrever automáticas omniscientes, videochamadas, carros autónomos e robôs domésticos existiram todos na literatura muito antes de aparecerem no mundo real. Os verdadeiros inovadores não são Mark Zuckerberg, Sam Altman e Bill Gates, mas Stanisław Lem, E. M. Forster, Neal Stephenson, George Orwell, Mary Shelley, Karel Čapek e Isaac Asimov, entre outros. Termos como avatar, robô, mundos virtuais ou metaverso também têm origem nas mentes de autores.

Os humanos não conseguem memorizar livros inteiros, nem copiam o seu conteúdo como modelo de negócio. Nenhum autor que queira construir ou manter uma reputação se apropria do estilo de outro; em vez disso, dedica milhares de horas de trabalho a encontrar a sua voz única e original.

Deveríamos nós, escritores, deixar de conceber tais ideias, sabendo que muito provavelmente se tornarão realidade?

Perder a própria voz

Não devíamos. O poder dos seres humanos de imaginar utopias ou distopias nunca antes concebidas é o que os distingue das máquinas. Se as máquinas viessem a apoderar-se da narrativa da humanidade, a evolução primeiro estagnaria e depois regrediria. O óbvio desenraizaria por completo o extraordinário – nenhuma ideia nova, nenhuma nova proposta de coexistência, nenhum novo conceito para dar sentido a policrises em constante evolução.

Prevê-se que, até 2030, a infraestrutura física que alimenta as aplicações de IA venha a exceder as necessidades energéticas de toda a força de trabalho humana.

Os direitos de autor e os direitos morais, o direito à integridade e a não ser censurado, o direito dos autores de decidir como e por quem as suas obras e o seu trabalho são usados – estes não são direitos exclusivos de profissionais culturais e artistas. São o resultado de uma mudança de paradigma na autoperceção da humanidade: o reconhecimento da criatividade humana, do livre arbítrio, da individualidade, da autonomia e da capacidade de decisão. E também da responsabilidade individual: todo o autor, seja profissional ou amador, blogger ou comentador no Facebook, é responsável por aquilo que exprime; e, ao mesmo tempo, tem permissão para o fazer. Os direitos de autor dizem respeito à liberdade.

Escrever ou dedicar-se a atividades artísticas tem também um efeito multifacetado na identidade humana: quem consegue pensar consegue decidir; quem consegue decidir consegue agir. Quem consegue ler, compreender e escrever é menos suscetível à propaganda, à desinformação e à manipulação, venha ela das «promoções» da Black Friday ou de forças políticas antidemocráticas. Podem ser participantes ativos na democracia, em vez de meros consumidores ou eleitores. Em contrapartida, quem depende da linguagem automatizada já não consegue falar por si próprio; perde a sua voz.

Quem consegue pensar consegue decidir; quem consegue decidir consegue agir. Quem consegue ler, compreender e escrever é menos suscetível à propaganda, à desinformação e à manipulação, venha ela das «promoções» da Black Friday ou de forças políticas antidemocráticas.

Ter voz própria e saber usá-la é ainda mais necessário face às crises democráticas, sociais e ecológicas que enfrentamos. Do ponto de vista ecológico, a IA deveria ser encarada com a mesma atitude crítica que outrora se dirigiu aos clorofluorocarbonetos ou à poluição por partículas. Prevê-se que, até 2030, a infraestrutura física que alimenta as aplicações de IA venha a exceder as necessidades energéticas de toda a força de trabalho humana. É provável que numerosos empregos desapareçam, não só no setor cultural, aumentando o fardo sobre Estados que já se debatem com o desemprego e o envelhecimento das populações. Se isto acontecer, um punhado de monopólios de comunicação terá cimentado o seu domínio, determinando também a orientação política da Europa. Este seria o desfecho final da globalização digital, um sistema em que poucos decidem o destino de muitos – a menos que os muitos decidam usar a sua voz.

Quem depende da linguagem automatizada já não consegue falar por si próprio; perde a sua voz.

Adeus à liberdade?

O autor individual, enquanto ator liberal e responsável, está a ser apagado pela simulação de comunicação automatizada. A IA generativa é, na verdade, degenerativa: perturba as capacidades de quem a usa regularmente, e fá-lo à custa dos trabalhadores da palavra.

O anseio por uma máquina superior aos humanos, um golem, um deus ex machina, é o eterno defeito humano. É um desejo de criar uma entidade maior, mais permanente, melhor do que a humanidade, e de mergulhar com deleite numa passividade infinita e reconfortante, enquanto o piloto automático assume o controlo. Finalmente livre! Livre da responsabilidade e da necessidade de tomar decisões. Livre do fardo desta vida hedionda e confusa, com as suas muitas crises e humilhações.

Talvez essa seja a consequência mais lamentável da atual religião das máquinas: aqueles que não escrevem nem falam, mas deixam que as máquinas escrevam e falem por si, abraçam a supressão da sua própria liberdade de expressão.

The Letter to the UN special rapporteurs calls for an independent investigation, protective measures for those affected and a response from the Panamanian State within 60 days.

The post Complaint regarding alleged illegal surveillance of social organisations in Panama submitted to UN special rapporteurs appeared first on La Via Campesina - EN.

On Friday afternoon, Sept. 25, Food Tank and Pilot Light will host “The Future of Food Education” during Climate Week NYC 2026. The invitation-only gathering will explore how meaningful food education can help young people make healthier choices, understand where their food comes from, and become leaders in building a better food and agriculture system.

Educators, school leaders, policymakers, chefs, nonprofit leaders, and advocates will come together to highlight what’s already working—and what it will take to make food education a meaningful part of every student’s learning experience.

“Incredible work is already happening in food education, but the question now is how we build on it so every student has the opportunity to learn about food,” says Alex DeSorbo-Quinn, Executive Director of Pilot Light.

“This summit brings together educators, policymakers, industry leaders, chefs, and advocates to share what’s working and think about what comes next. I hope participants leave seeing not only what’s possible, but also a path toward making food education part of every child’s education.”

Sessions will look at the barriers preventing schools from implementing food education, the models and resources that can help programs scale, and the role of local partnerships in extending learning beyond the classroom.

Farmer Linda Carmen Bryant, Co-Founder of the San Antonio Million Gardens Project and Pastor of Grant Community AME Church in Texas, will also take the stage to share her story of helping families grow their own food—and using gardening as a tool to build knowledge, connection, and community.

The event will begin at 1:30 PM at WNYC-NPR Studios’ The Greene Space in New York City, with food, drinks, and live musical performances. A reception will follow, with programming concluding at 4:30 PM.

Confirmed speakers include Alexandra DeSorbo-Quinn, Executive Director, Pilot Light; Nancy Easton, Executive Director and Founder, Wellness in the Schools; Gerardo Martinez, Marine Corps Veteran and Founder, Wild Kid Acres; Taylor Meredith, Education Policy Advisor, Pilot Light; Shanon Morris, Chief Program Officer, Harlem Grown; Danielle Nierenberg, President, Food Tank; Kim Severson, Journalist, The New York Times; Jeremy Walter, Deputy Executive Director, Office of School Wellness Programs, New York City Department of Education; and Karen Washington, Food Justice Advocate, Farmer, and Author.

“The Future of Food Education” will also feature a special musical performance by Jenna Bainbridge, a Broadway actor, singer, and disability rights advocate currently starring as Nessarose in Wicked. Bainbridge previously made history in Suffs as the first wheelchair user to originate a role in a new Broadway musical.

She will be joined by Maria Caputo, a New York-based composer, pianist, vocalist, music director, and Broadway music copyist whose work spans musical theater, jazz, classical, and contemporary music.

This summit will be streamed live on FoodTank.com and Food Tank’s YouTube channel, here. Join the Food Tank newsletter list for reminders, and click here for Food Tank’s full lineup of events at Climate Week NYC 2026.

Articles like the one you just read are made possible through the generosity of Food Tank members. Can we please count on you to be part of our growing movement? Become a member today by clicking here.

Photo courtesy of the U.S. Department of Agriculture

The post Bringing Food Education into Every Classroom appeared first on Food Tank.

Headline News:

• “China’s CO₂ Emissions Fall In Q2 2026 Due To Plummeting Oil Use ” • China’s carbon dioxide emissions fell by 1% in the second quarter of 2026, as oil consumption plummeted with the strait of Hormuz crisis. The country’s use of oil fell by 9% overall and by 16% for transport, after the disruptions to supply from the Gulf through the strait. [CleanTechnica]

Great Wall of China (Hanson Lu, Unsplash, cropped)

• “Designers Unveil Wind Installation Ship Blueprints” • Designs for a new jack-up monopile and wind turbine installation vessel were unveiled by Deltamarin and Offshoretronic. The designs of the Vitruvian Class vessel will address anticipated demand from 20-MW to 30-MW turbines entering commercial service by 2030, the companies said. [reNews]
• “Global Warming Will Exceed Limit, UN Says” • In a strategic retreat in the fight against climate change, the UN acknowledged that the Earth has lost its chance to prevent some of the worst of global warming’s harms. So now the world must figure out how to get temperatures below the danger zone and back to safety, officials say. [ABC News]
• “NY’s Plan To Charge Fossil-Fuel Producers $75 Billion For Climate Change Damages Struck Down” • New York’s attempt to make fossil fuel industries pay into a $75 billion fund to repair the damage of climate change was struck down by a federal judge, who said the law reaches beyond a state’s purview and into an area of federal interest. [ABC News]
• “Trump Twiddles Thumbs As The Balcony Solar Movement Takes Off” • For all his bleating, braying bluster over fossil fuels, US President Donald Trump is presiding over a solar power revolution. So far on his watch, a total of nine states have now adopted balcony solar legislation, with New Jersey being the latest addition to the list. [CleanTechnica]

Have a spontaneously funny day.

For more news, please visit geoharvey – Daily News about Energy and Climate Change.

Fueled by climate change and a strengthening El Niño, record-setting marine heat waves are gripping oceans worldwide and playing havoc with sea life. Mounting evidence from recent events suggests the damage could be severe and long-lasting, both onshore and off.

Read more on E360 →

The summer we love is slipping away From the Southwest to the Jersey shore, climate change is altering the traditions and norms that have defined summer for generations.

By Beth Gardiner

Sep 6, 2026

Topic

Climate + Regulation

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There was a time when summer felt easy to recognize. In childhood, summer was a time of freedom and adventure. Even into adulthood, it is a time many of us feel most free to enjoy each other and the natural world — from lazy afternoons at the beach to camping trips and swimming holes, from family cookouts and neighborhood block parties to the simple pleasure of biting into peaches and tomatoes so ripe the juice runs down your wrist. It’s when our time of dreaming through the cold comes to fruition. The time when the vegetables and fruits we planted in the spring are harvested, the time when we finally spend our precious accrued vacation time and hard-earned cash, when we treat our children to the best of what life has to offer.

But summer is changing. Over the past half-century, annual hot-season temperatures in parts of the United States have warmed by as much as 4 or 5 degrees Fahrenheit, driving heat waves, droughts, and downpours. This past July was the hottest month ever recorded for the contiguous U.S., according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. We are witnessing the slow erosion of our old summer normal. As climate change makes the season more extreme, our habits, traditions, and pastimes are also evolving, in ways both subtle and truly seismic. 

The swarm of flickering fireflies at dusk in Georgia, the cool afternoon monsoon rains in Arizona, and the mild mountain summers in the Rockies — none of these are as reliable as they once were. As the planet warms, our relationships with the places we love are evolving, and the summer we once knew is becoming harder to find. Here are some of the changes Grist staff have witnessed in the places they love most.

Southwest Rachel Glickhouse / Grist Arizona

In the Sonoran Desert, rain is a cause for celebration — especially the summer monsoons.

On stormy days, you’ll often see massive curtains of rain in the distance, and rainbows arching against pitch-black clouds in one direction as the sun beams brightly in the other. When a downpour starts, I run to tell my husband and usually head outside to the patio to watch. When it rains as infrequently as it does here in Arizona, it’s easy to revel in the sight of raindrops and inhale the heady scent of petrichor and the herby smell of creosote. I’ll often text my friends or family across town to see if it’s raining there, too, since the storms here are incredibly localized. In other places, the weather may be a source of small talk; in the desert, it is a legitimate conversation topic. 

If it rains a decent amount, I’ll go to a state or national park in search of running water, natural pools, or waterfalls. When there’s a lot of water in those ephemeral streams and pools, I’ll often encounter families with chairs and coolers, and see kids playing in the water like they’re at the beach. When I recently went out of town and my area got a huge downpour, I felt a pang of grief to have missed it.

Summer storms weren’t always such a novelty, though.

In Tucson, annual precipitation has declined by nearly 3 inches since 1970, according to the research nonprofit Climate Central. That’s a lot considering the average annual rainfall is roughly 11 inches. Most of it comes in the summer.

People who have lived here for more than a decade all say the same thing: The monsoon has become more erratic and unpredictable, which sometimes means less rain than normal. During the summer months, the monsoon used to arrive like clockwork nearly every afternoon. Now, it often feels like a happy surprise, and people often post photos and videos of the storms in local social media groups. Even in the five years I’ve been in Arizona, each year has been different: One year, the monsoon brought so much rain that it carved temporary rivers in our nearby state park and flooded the entry road; another year, the rains barely reached our house. 

But it’s not just less predictable precipitation; we’re getting more days of triple-digit temperatures, too. On those rainless, oppressive days, all one can do is stare longingly at the empty sky from the safety of air-conditioning.

— Rachel Glickhouse, director of partnerships

Frida Garza / Grist Texas

I live in New York City, but I grew up in Texas and Mexico, so I brag a lot about being from a warm place. When my peers threaten to wither like grapes on the vine as temperatures reach 88 degrees Fahrenheit, I like to say, Keep it coming. Dry heat, wet heat, I like it best when it’s 90 degrees or higher. I wait all year for the summer heat: I feel most myself with the sun on my bare arms and legs, or when I am reapplying sunscreen (do NOT sleep on sunscreen) and powerful bug spray to said bare arms and legs. These are smells I’ve grown deeply fond of, because they signal that something good could happen any moment now. That was how I felt about summer, at least, until this year. 

For me, trips back home to visit family in El Paso usually involve playing basketball with my brother, swimming in my parents’ backyard pool, counting down the days until my relatives come over for a night of grilling, and telling stories outside late into the night. This year, there was none of that. Even though summers in El Paso are hot (did you get that already?), and in that arid desert climate, triple-digit days are not uncommon, this year’s heat was particularly unrelenting. So far this summer, there have been 45 days where the temperature has been 100 degrees or higher — or roughly half of each month. 

This uptick of very hot days — which this year is expected to last into September — has been driven by climate change. Global warming pushes summer temperatures up, making heat waves in West Texas both more frequent and more intense. On top of the heat, poor air quality disrupted my El Paso summer plans. Dust is an ordinary part of living in the desert, but pollution from vehicle emissions, along with contamination from a local petroleum refinery around the time of my visit, exacerbated the poor air quality. Not wanting to admit the pesky air quality bothered my throat, I ventured into the backyard during my August visit to spend the afternoon with a good book. When my parents asked what I was doing, I remained steadfast: I was going to enjoy being outside! But despite my initial determination, I couldn’t hack it and soon retreated inside. The whole experiment only lasted about 10 minutes. 

I am not much of a hiker, but it is sad to think of how my advice for friends visiting El Paso has changed over the years. The city is home to stunning mountains and ancient caves that are perfect for hiking, and I always recommend them to out-of-towners. But now I caveat that recommendation with statements like, “It’s beautiful, just stay safe! Go early to beat the sun! Bring lots of water!” 

The city I call home is being remade in other ways, too. When my brother and I recently visited downtown, usually a bustling strip of shops, restaurants, and bars, I noticed much less foot traffic than usual — a sign he chalked up to increased fears of apprehensions by immigration officials. El Paso is an international city, bordered by the Franklin Mountains to the north and the U.S.-Mexico border to the south. One of the main strips downtown leads right to a port of entry to Ciudad Juarez, but it was mostly empty that day. A key feature of the city, its binational culture, seems at risk of being dampened by both extreme weather and a national mass deportation agenda, making people practice extreme caution in their day-to-day lives. We spotted very few other people on our walk, mostly office workers heading to or from lunch — as I saw them, I too longed for air-conditioning. 

— Frida Garza, staff writer

The Rockies Austin Corona / Grist Colorado

Every summer, thousands of Texans make an uphill journey to the Rockies, drawn by the mild mountain weather. Though you won’t find them in any botany books, Lone Star state license plates seem to bloom like an alpine wildflower from June to August.

Many Coloradans complain about the southerly visitors, but they also quietly acknowledge their importance to local economies. The high country’s biggest summer export is its cool, dry days; and Texans, along with fellow travelers from other sweaty states, are willing to pay big for it.

But drought, wildfire, and heat have whittled down the luxuries of high-mountain summers. Weather stations above 9,000 feet are recording near-90-degree days at an unprecedented rate. The peaks regularly lose their white winter veils earlier, and then shed their ragged definition entirely as oceans of wildfire smoke obscure the mountain air. Swimming in creeks and rivers often really means squatting on uneven stones beneath the water’s sinking surface. When the rivers are full to brimming, it usually means a federally managed reservoir has released emergency flows to quench the fields of desperate downstream farmers. Servers in mountain resort restaurants overhear harrumphing from tables of Texans: “And to think, we came here to get away from the heat!”

As temperatures climb, one would expect tourist numbers to fall. But even as Colorado saw its second hottest July on record in 2026, resort lodging occupancy at mountain towns is up from the previous summer. Perhaps even a hot, smoky alpine summer is still preferable to an infernal Texas one. Shrunken streams are still full of squatting bathers, and baking streets are still full of lily-white Texas license plates. The trend has left mountain summers feeling less blissful, and more crowded, than ever.

— Austin Corona, energy reporter

Ellis Juhlin / Grist Montana

In Montana, there are several peak events that define summer. For some with seasonal depression, it may be the solstice when we hit almost 16 hours of daylight. For anglers and tourists eager to enjoy blue ribbon trout streams, it’s the salmonfly hatch: Bugs the length of your finger swarm the skies as the trout feast indiscriminately on insects — and their foam replicas at the end of a fishing line. 

And just as the bugs seem to know how to emerge into the world during the right time of the summer, so too do the tubers. As the days grow longer and warmer, flotillas of inner tubes dot the surface of any moving river, along with hordes of paddleboards, inflatable rafts, and even the occasional blow-up shark. It’s a phenomenon known by many as the tube hatch.

But climate change means Montana is warming quickly. Snowpack averages have declined steadily since the 1980s, and snowmelt is happening earlier than ever before. That means rivers run lower, and levels start dropping well before peak floating season — sometimes, before the heat even fully hits. With more summer days over 90 degrees than ever before, traffic on the river is increasing as larger crowds seek a way to cool off while still enjoying the outdoors. Tubers, anglers, and wildlife reliant upon shady shorelines are competing for space across an ever smaller stretch of river. 

Montana isn’t a place that’s always been hot, which means when the heat hits, we’re a lot less prepared for it. We have one of the lowest average number of homes with air-conditioning out of any state in the country. Rivers and lakes can be one of the only effective ways to cool off when the mercury rises. 

That can make for a much less pleasant floating experience. Take this year, when for my birthday in mid-July I decided on a river float. My friends and I loaded up the cooler with ice and beer, blew up tubes ’til it felt like our cheeks would pop, and buckled my dog Zayda into her purple life jacket. We clipped our tubes together with an elaborate rigging of paracord and carabiners, while Zayda and I opted to ride on a paddleboard. 

The first few minutes as the cold water washed over us were a relief, until we rounded the corner to find possibly every other resident of Missoula County floating along, too. I let my pup jump off the boat and swim ashore, her favorite activity. But when it was time to hop back on before the next wave train, she couldn’t figure out which flotilla was ours. I watched in horror as my timid, anxious rescue dog panic-swam between clusters of floaters and for the first time wondered if there really was enough river for us all.

— Ellis Juhlin, regional reporter, Montana

The West Coast Teresa Chin / Grist California

California is big — a region unto itself, one might say — and summer can mean a lot of things to those lucky enough to call it home. In sun-baked SoCal, it might be playing in suburban sprinklers during the day and heading to the beach for sunset. Inland, there are county fairs and harvest festivals (don’t miss out on Gilroy’s garlic ice cream). Along the Central Coast, Highway 1 beckons road trippers with panoramic views of gnarled Monterey cypress and thrashing ocean waves. Farther north, summer is the upside-down of seasons, where cool temperatures can prompt locals to don parkas and unprepared tourists scramble for overpriced “I left my heart in San Francisco” sweatshirts.

But climate change is altering many of these quintessential experiences. Where I live in the Bay Area, cool (nay, cold) summers are part of our DNA. Mark Twain may not actually have said that the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco, but that doesn’t make it feel any less true. The combination of cold ocean and hot inland creates an enhanced marine layer, or as many here like to call it: Karl the Fog. Yes, our fog is so iconic, he has a name and a social media following. 

But climate change is making Karl less predictable due to factors like warming ocean temperatures. One study found that coastal California’s summertime fog hours declined by 33 percent over the last century. That’s bad news for both locals and coastal redwood trees, which rely on fog as a critical source of water. Even though I grew up in sun-loving Southern California — where summer mornings were so warm that I would often eat my breakfast while lying on a towel in my parents’ backyard — I’ve become attached to the cold and moody mornings here. There’s something so peaceful about watching the mist roll in over the hills with a steaming hot cup of coffee in hand.

Across the state, hotter, drier conditions are increasing wildfire risk. Emergency go-packs now live in closets alongside beach bags, and road trippers need to check for route closures and evacuation orders. While most of California is not currently in a drought, water shortages are expected to worsen over time, which in the past has led local regulators to restrict lawn watering and pool use. For kids on break from school (and harried parents trying to keep them engaged), those conditions can mean sprinklers and splash time often have to give way to screens. That’s a real loss, especially considering that the gorgeous California outdoors is how many of us justify living in such an expensive state.

— Teresa Chin, executive editor of data & design

Kate Yoder; Matthew Craft / Grist Pacific Northwest

According to an old adage, summer in the Pacific Northwest doesn’t actually start until after the 4th of July. The cool, temperate month before is instead known as “Juneuary.” Growing up, I remember donning a specific summer outfit suited to the weather: a light hoodie or fleece on top (for the typical 50-degree mornings) and shorts on the bottom (for the afternoons in the high 60s or low 70s). Few people had air-conditioning, because a breeze from open windows and fans were more than enough to stay comfortable. 

But in the last decade, these idyllic summer days have become rare. Today, Northwest summers are hotter, and the heat starts earlier in the year. This was best exemplified by the infamous heat dome in June 2021, when temperatures in Seattle reached a record-breaking 108 degrees Fahrenheit — roughly 38 degrees hotter than the typical Juneuary highs. According to an attribution study of that event, climate change made the heat dome 150 times more likely compared to preindustrial conditions. 

Climate change is also reducing snowpack across the Pacific Northwest, and the dry, hot conditions have turned the region into a potential tinderbox. Wildfire smoke has become a regular feature of our summers. Checking the air quality index, or AQI, in August has become as routine as checking the weather, and many locals factor smoke levels into their summer activity plans. 

The combination of heat and smoke has made it harder to stay cool the old-fashioned way, with open windows and fans alone. During long periods of smoke, windows might stay shut all week, causing homes to heat up like greenhouses. As a result, Northwesterners are increasingly installing air-conditioning — so much so that Seattle recently lost its rank as the nation’s least air-conditioned big city. 

After enduring months of gray drizzle — known locally as the “big dark” — the promise of an extremely pleasant summer day always felt like the ultimate payoff. While extreme heat and smoke pollution are alarming and dangerous on their own, for many Northwesterners, losing our beloved summer weather is an additional sting.

— Jesse Nichols, senior visual producer

Midwest Juanpablo Ramirez-Franco; Mia Torres / Grist Illinois 

When I first moved to Chicago about a decade ago, it was in the middle of a still-warm September. My timing was terrible, I was told. I’d missed it — the completely singular experience of a Chicago summer. The golden season, they explained, is a hard-earned reward for a city under siege by long, bitter winters. The parties are outrageous, the beer cheap, and the big, blue lake free. 

At the time, I thought they were laying it on thick. But now I can attest to its truth. It’s hard to say exactly what makes a Chicago summer special — and why people here are convinced we have the best version of the season. My sense is that everyone who lives here knows you need to make it count: to be outside, to swim in the lake, to eat ice cream and hotdogs too, to stay up late, to dance, to kiss strangers, to go to the farmers market, to see your friends, to move in with your boyfriend, to wash away the failures and sorrows of the last year and start all over again. Whatever you want, Chicago summers can deliver. 

A lot of people talk like that around here; it’s a kind of boosterism that runs against my own sensibilities and can make us look desperate on the internet. But come to the Windy City in the summer, and you might find yourself drinking the same Malört-laced Kool-Aid. (Don’t actually mix those.) I don’t know if we’re all collectively redirecting 15 one-sided rivalries with other major American cities, but our summer really is something else. 

Which is why it was such a disappointment when this summer played out differently. For one, it was wetter than usual; the city’s emergency 11-billion-gallon reservoir and tunnel system very nearly hit capacity. Canadian wildfire smoke pushed local air quality readings to the unhealthiest levels the city has ever seen. More than 200 tornadoes made landfall in Illinois this year, a record-breaking figure for the state that’s very close to topping the national record. The same powerful winds also caused a terrible power outage in Gary, Indiana, just south of Chicago, where tens of thousands of people were without power for over two weeks. 

A less smoky, less humid, less rainy, less tornado-y do-over would be nice. But that’s not in the cards. Summer temperatures in Chicago are projected to keep climbing and are forecasted to coincide with increased variability between heavy rain and drought. 

The meteorologists tell us summer is technically over, but I’m wondering how much longer our summer will actually last.

— Juanpablo Ramirez-Franco, regional reporter, Illinois

Southeast Katie Myers / Grist Tennessee

Small farms and lush backyard gardens are a way of life in the Mountain South.  The growing season is long. But farmers and gardeners are faced with difficult decisions as the region’s humid summer extremes have grown more chaotic and intense.

This was a lesson that really hit home for me the last time I tried farmwork: a brutally hot summer day in 2020 in East Tennessee. I was working in a hundred-plus-degree greenhouse, up to my neck in spiny tomato plants as I strung them up and suckered them, itching, head pounding, blinded with sweat. Later, in the field, as I planted a bed of onions, the landscape seemed to undulate in front of me, and I dashed off to a nearby tree and vomited discreetly behind it. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. 

As I drove home, I thought, the $8 an hour just isn’t worth it.

In 2023, the U.S. Department of Agriculture updated its plant-hardiness zones, which guide gardeners and farmers based on the annual lowest temperature in their location. Much of the mid-South moved half a zone up — from 7a to 7b, or 7b to 8a — toward the humid subtropics. The USDA cautioned against understanding it as directly linked to climate change but acknowledged that the zones for most plants will shift northward as the planet warms. That’s in addition to the cyclical temperature swings gardeners deal with year to year.

Increasingly ferocious summer storms and flash flooding, interspersed with more extreme flash droughts, have also made growing food even more tenuous. Kelsey, a friend of mine who works as a flower farmer in nearby southeastern Kentucky, told me she had to switch to what she called an Andalusian daily schedule, getting up early and breaking for most of midday, sometimes only returning to the field with a headlamp after dusk. When the financial margins are thin, little costs like replanting, fungicides, and even electrolyte drinks add up. 

Even more than the heat, the uncertainty wears on people. Aside from the financial unpredictability, farmers and gardeners are also feeling the loss of tradition and ritual, like the old-timer’s practice of planting by moon phases and zodiac signs.

As the planet warms, many are focusing on the cool periods of seasonal transition, investing in plants that return annually, experimenting with tropical varieties like amaranth and malabar spinach, or trying to grow crops in the shade to keep them from withering. Kelsey is pinning her hope in seed saving, the ancient art of paying close attention to the plants that seem to survive most easily and preserving their genetics, in hopes of creating hardier varieties that can withstand the summers to come.

— Katie Myers, regional reporter, Appalachia

Jaime Buerger; Lyndsey Gilpin / Grist Kentucky

Going outside on a Kentucky summer day has always felt a bit like stepping into a rainforest. And if you live in mountainous eastern Kentucky, you actually are — the southern Appalachians are a lush temperate rainforest. It’s hot and sticky and beautiful. There are a thousand shades of green. The migratory tanagers and perulas chatter all day; the cicadas scream all night. Deep yellow goldenrod, coral honeysuckle, and purple coneflowers bloom. 

But the temperature and humidity are becoming unbearable: Multiple times a summer over the last three years, Kentucky has had prolonged extreme heat waves with heat index values up to 108 degrees, resulting in air quality alerts and heat advisories. These extreme temperatures usually break with huge thunderstorms that bring heavy rain and violent wind and sometimes lead to tornadoes and flash floods. 

Evenings aren’t the respite from the heat they once were. Last year, for instance, Waterfront Wednesday, Louisville’s free evening summer concert series, fell on heat advisory days two months in a row. It was still 94 degrees when a band took the stage at 7 p.m. (the crowd was large, regardless).

Kentucky’s summer average temperatures have risen by 2 degrees Fahrenheit since 1970. Louisville has seen temperatures rise by over 4 degrees; according to a 2016 study, the city had one of the fastest-growing urban heat islands in the country, and new research shows the problem has grown in the years since. Louisville is working on efforts to address the urban heat, but for the most part, event hours, amenities, and locations remain unchanged. As parents of young children, my friends and I find ourselves skipping out or cutting our day short unless there’s a water source — a playground splash pad, a pool, a decently clean creek — to cool off the kids in. 

In any city in the state in the summer, you’ll find festivals, church picnics, county fairs, and flea markets. But most are still taking place in the middle of the day, often on hot concrete, without fans or mist or free water or enough cooling centers. Of course, the bourbon is still flowing — but even with ice, it doesn’t go down quite as smoothly in 100-degree weather.

— Lyndsey Gilpin, senior manager of community engagement 

Anila Yoganathan / Grist Georgia

Summers have always been hot in Georgia. There’s the dread of getting in your car and burning yourself on the seats while smelling the acrid fumes from the pleather melting. The slick feeling of perpetual moisture on your skin as the humidity surrounds you most days. And there’s the knowledge that, when the sun is at its peak, you should only be outside for the minute it takes to go from your air-conditioned car to the air-conditioned building.

Having been raised in metro Atlanta, it’s something I grew up planning life around, like scheduling outings on days when the heat was tolerable or making plans after sunset. My favorite pastime during the season used to be sitting outside at twilight: the sky a burst of bright colors, the heat receded to the edge of pleasant, and the humidity just enough to feel a little cool moisture on your skin like dew. In those peaceful moments just before it got dark, I would quietly watch the fireflies create a magical scene in my parents’ yard. Now? The conditions of a Georgia summer just feel more intense.

For one thing, the heat from the day doesn’t drop as much as it used to at night. From June through July this year, the minimum temperature in Georgia was 2.5 degrees Fahrenheit above the average from 1901 to 2000.

If I’m not tired of the heat and can tolerate the humidity, I still have to prepare to be eaten alive. Rising nighttime temperatures can “enhance mosquito growth” during the summer, according to the University of Georgia. So I don’t go outside at dusk as often as I did growing up.

Things have also changed inside the house. In the summertime, my dad and brother often argue over the thermostat. My brother wants cooler temperatures so he can sleep better, and my dad worries about the rising electric bills, an issue that other Georgians are also grappling with. My parents’ late-1960s house, while beautiful, is energy-inefficient. The old attic fan that used to keep us pretty cool years ago kept breaking down, and we no longer use it. While we’ve debated upgrades, the costs are still high. So the inter-generational thermostat war continues.

These days when I visit Georgia, I still try to venture outside at dusk to see my favorite lightning bugs. And while I may see a few, I’m all too aware that they face growing threats from light pollution, pesticides, development, and yard management, which can impact larvae. Without them, summer in Georgia feels just a little less magical.

— Anila Yoganathan, regional reporter, Nebraska

Sachi Mulkey / Grist Florida

The pleasures of a summer in Florida were once simple: the sensation of hot concrete pushing through the soles of your recently air-conditioned feet. A cold gas station Slurpee in one hand and a bag of boiled peanuts in the other. The steam from an afternoon rainstorm, rising from the sun-baked roads. A frozen custard from Rita’s Italian Ice truck by the beach, where you spent the afternoon collecting sand dollars and bouncing in waves with your family.

But Florida’s subtropical climate, low elevation, and exposure to warm ocean waters on three sides leave it with little buffer against the changing climate. Scores of tourists are now passing out amid 100-degree heat at Disney World. In many neighborhoods, sidewalks become hot plates after 10 a.m., scalding dogs’ paws into pink blisters. It may not rain at all, for weeks at a time. And when it does, scientists say it’s raining harder. You can feel it — gripping your steering wheel during a sudden deluge that whiteouts the road and floods sidewalks. At night, the air is muggy and laden with mosquitoes while, somehow, still unbearably hot.

So if your family is like mine, you might hop in the car and head to the beach in the hopes of trading the pavement for sand, and reconnecting with the magic of summer.

But if that beach is near Miami or the Florida Keys, you might find yourself facing thousands of tons of sargassum, brown seaweed that can clog shorelines and prevent sea turtles from nesting. In recent years, the kelp has been growing relentlessly thanks to the right conditions: bathwater-like ocean temperatures and shifting climate patterns that boost ocean nutrients. The result is a rotting mass that releases hydrogen sulfide as it decomposes, making beachgoers’ eyes and lungs burn with noxious fumes.

Or if you drive toward Tampa, you might encounter a monthslong surge of red tide, shorthand for toxic algae blooms, also caused by warm waters and similar nutrient patterns. From Sarasota to Clearwater, locals know to stay away when piles of dead fish (and sometimes manatees, dolphins, or sea turtles) litter the beaches. In smaller beach towns like Sanibel and Cedar Key, rising sea levels and hurricane damage have crumpled the economy and closed the vintage shops I once loved to peruse. Whether your refuge is cooled by AC or whirring ceiling fans, summer in the Sunshine State has increasingly become a time to stay indoors.

— Sachi Mulkey, reporter

Northeast Katherine Bagley / Grist New Hampshire

After harsh winter temperatures and muddy spring months, summer in New England feels like a well-earned prize. The peaks and lakes of the Appalachian Mountain range, rocky coastlines, and cool waters of the Atlantic Ocean are a venerable playground after months of being largely stuck inside. There’s hiking and boating, lobster rolls and ice cream, and blueberry fields ripe for picking. We New Englanders don’t let a single moment during the precious months between Memorial Day and Labor Day go to waste.

But a warming planet has changed the conditions in which we are engaging in these activities. The region is heating up faster than any other place in the contiguous United States. The weather whiplashes between intense rain and flash droughts. And then there are the ticks. So. Many. Ticks.

Growing up in the 1980s and ‘90s, these blood-sucking insects were not a thing I worried much about. Their populations were isolated to small patches of coastal regions and stands of long grass. My friends and I played outside all day before crawling into our beds when the streetlights came on. Parents didn’t conduct nightly tick checks or spray their yards with pesticides. People didn’t keep tick-removal devices on their keychains or lint rollers in their cars to swipe down bodies after being in the woods. They didn’t capture embedded ticks in clear tape, waiting to submit them to a doctor if a bull’s-eye rash appeared at the bite site. 

Now, I do all these things. The ticks are everywhere. My son was just a year old when I found his first one on him, embedded in his upper thigh. We were at a lake where I spent my summers, and where I had never once gotten bitten growing up.

New Englanders still cherish their summers — our iconic stubbornness ensures that never goes away — but these months are a little less carefree, and the woods and lakes and coastlines a little less safe.

— Katherine Bagley, editor-in-chief

Jake Bittle / Grist New York

I’ve always thought of New York City as a summer town. There are a lot of people who disagree with me, as evidenced by the clogged outbound highways heading upstate and out to the Hamptons, but to me the best times to live here are when you can stroll a hot street with a Mister Softee cone and take the subway out to Rockaway Beach. The city has been getting hotter and muggier for some time now. The panel of scientists who ran the National Climate Assessment reclassified the city in 2020 from “humid continental” to “humid subtropical,” meaning it now has more in common with the lowlands of the Southeast than it does with the crisp pine forests of New England. 

I’m originally from Florida, so humidity and sudden afternoon thunderstorms don’t bother me. What does get to me, and the millions of other New Yorkers, is the smoke. This past summer, a curtain of smoke from wildfires in Ontario blanketed the city for days, elevating the air quality index so high that it was unsafe to step outside. I made the mistake of trying to attend a party in Lower Manhattan on what should have been a sultry Thursday night and found myself returning home through empty streets with a headache. I had planned to go to the beach the next day and the day following, but I canceled my plans. (A few weeks later, when I tried to go to the beach again, my friend Chris and I got caught in an apocalyptic thunderstorm.)

This year was nowhere near as bad as the smoke drift from Canada in 2023, which blocked out the sun and raised air quality to levels exceeding that of polluted cities like Mumbai, causing a jump in emergency room asthma visits. That time I went days without stepping outside, until I got a cold from prolonged exposure to my window AC unit. When I did go outside, I had to wear an N95 mask, as did the construction workers and delivery bikers who were still laboring for hours at a time in air that was toxic enough to make one faint. In both cases, scientists have found that climate change made the wildfires in Canada at least twice as likely.

Most of the Midwest and Northeast experienced at least some smoke this summer, but it felt acute in New York, where the line between inside and outside is always a little blurry in the summer. Most New Yorkers have at least one window air-conditioning unit, but around 1 in 5 residents of the poorest neighborhoods don’t. Even in homes that do have window units, they don’t cool down whole apartments, and many people leave other windows open to air out other rooms and save on power bills. When we leave the house, most of us can’t get anywhere without walking for 10 or 20 minutes to the subway. The whole premise of life here is freedom, the freedom to go wherever you want, to go nonstop day and night. In two different summers now, I’ve seen the impossible — climate change brought the city that never sleeps to a standstill.

— Jake Bittle, staff writer

Samantha Swinsburg New Jersey

The Jersey Shore is famous for a reason. It’s the quintessential summer destination for New Jersey and its neighboring states. The long series of barrier islands shielding the mainland boasts wide, white-sand beaches that have attracted summer visitors since the 18th century. Easy access from the nearby population centers of Philadelphia, North Jersey, and New York has guaranteed hordes of tourists enjoying the beaches and boardwalks from Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day for more than a century.

But for the people who actually live here, the day after Labor Day is the best of summer.

As if the atmosphere can read the calendar, the weather shifts from the brutal heat and humidity of August to the more temperate warmth of September. The ocean, cold enough to be uncomfortable throughout most of the summer, finally accumulates enough heat to be the perfect swimming temperature. Most of the crowds depart, leaving the usually-packed beaches open for those who live close enough to steal one more day of summer before the school year begins.

It’s a day for getting to the beach late because there’s no need to stake out territory, and staying until the sun sets because there’s no reason to leave. A day for long, lazy floats in the Atlantic, for finishing the last dregs of ice cream left in the freezer, for sneaking the dog onto the deserted beach even though dogs are technically still banned for a few more weeks.

At least it was. Now the warming air and water have made that crisp turn-of-the-page fuzzier. The warm September water is arriving sooner: In the third week of August this year, sea surface temperatures were already hitting the upper 70s, according to satellite data compiled by Rutgers. In the air, August’s dog days are bleeding into fall. Average temperatures from September through November in Atlantic City have already increased 3.4 degrees Fahrenheit since 1970, according to the research group Climate Central, with 14 more days of above-normal temperatures annually.

Or as my mom — a lifelong denizen of the shore — put it, “October is the new September.”

But October can’t be that first Tuesday in September, not with school in session and island businesses closed for the season. And the more summer temperatures bleed beyond their former season, the more that perfect, final, magic day of summer becomes just … another hot day at the beach.

— Emily Jones, regional reporter, Georgia

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The summer we love is slipping away on Sep 3, 2026.

One of the hottest, most fascinating new fields in science doesn’t sound particularly exciting: distributed acoustic sensing, aka DAS. It involves using fiber optic cables to spy on the environment, and is proving to be enormously powerful. By analyzing the way that vibrations scatter light through the wires, scientists can detect volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and even footsteps above. Last year, researchers laid a cable on the seafloor near a Greenland glacier, providing unprecedented insight into how the ice is rapidly deteriorating.

Now a team working in the mountains of Switzerland has used DAS to expose another troubling trend in ice, known as hydrofracturing, in which meltwater seeps deep down and creates pressure. By studying the phenomenon, scientists can get a better idea of how ice the world over will decline, and therefore better predict consequent problems like sea level rise. 

“It’s hypothesized to be a mechanism that can cause mass disintegration of ice shelves and ice sheets in the Antarctic, Greenland, et cetera,” said Thomas Hudson, a seismologist at ETH­ Zurich in Switzerland and lead author of a recent paper describing the work. “But no one’s really observed the mechanism in any detail.”

For all its simplicity, DAS provides incredible amounts of data. On a Swiss alpine glacier, Hudson and his colleagues laid out fiber optic cables in a grid pattern. Then, using a device called an interrogator, they fired laser pulses through the cable. Even the tiniest of disturbances along the cable sent the tiniest bits of light back to the device, where they were logged. 

A zoomed-in view of the grid of fiber optic cables (right) and its positioning on the glacier. Courtesy of Thomas Hudson

Using calculations based on the speed of light, the researchers could pinpoint an “icequake” — a fracture that generates seismic activity, similar to an earthquake — at different distances along the cable, since farther ones take ever so slightly longer to travel back. With an extensive grid pattern of cable, they detected vibrations in extreme detail. Compare this to a traditional seismometer, which detects shaking at a single point. “We can break that fiber optic cable into thousands of strain sensors,” Hudson said. “So, effectively equivalent to thousands of seismometers.”

In addition, fiber optic cables are relatively cheap, so if something catastrophic happened to the glacier, the researchers wouldn’t take as big of a financial hit. With all these crevasses around, glaciers can be extremely dangerous places for scientists to work. With DAS, though, they can lay the cable, leave the site, and get a constant stream of real-time data beamed from the interrogator. 

“Whereas streaming data back from seismometers is not trivial, and then you have to process all the data back in your lab,” Hudson said. “DAS is actually more promising as a monitoring method, just purely from a data logistics point of view.”

Indeed, using DAS, the team found that this alpine glacier isn’t just threatened with melting from rising air temperatures. Because liquid water is denser than solid water, it flows deep down into cracks and forces the ice apart, creating crevasses that compromise the overall structural integrity. “How deep these cracks go, and how many cracks there are, really matter for the stability of the glacier,” Hudson said. “These glaciers overhang critical infrastructure like train lines or villages, and so it’s really important in the future to potentially apply this technology.” 

Theoretically, a long-term DAS deployment could provide early warning of changes in stability. In just a week of this fieldwork, Hudson and his team detected more than a thousand icequakes. Furthermore, the resulting fractures allow meltwater to get deep into the glacier, which likely holds true for others beyond Switzerland.

One goal would be to develop DAS into an early-warning system for the kinds of catastrophic glacial collapses like what recently happened in Nepal. “I would be 99.999 percent certain that there were signals that you could pick up,” Hudson said of the disaster, though there would still be several steps to getting that information out in a way that would help protect people. “It’s still challenging, right? Our research still doesn’t address the question of how you turn the signals into an accurate early-warning system.”

DAS could also help monitor the ice in Greenland and Antarctica that is already collapsing into the world’s oceans. The issue isn’t so simple as the sun beating down on these ice sheets. In Antarctica especially, warming waters are eating at the undersides of ice shelves (the bits that float on the ocean), as underwater “storms” add more destructive turbulence. That other recent DAS study in Greenland found another dynamic: As ice violently calves, it stirs the water and breaks up an insulating layer of cold water resting against the ice, leading to still more melting — a sort of self-perpetuating cycle.

With DAS, scientists get an unprecedented look inside the ice, as seismic waves propagate and betray the destabilizing cracks. “If we can use this technology to understand how deep those cracks go,” Hudson said, “and how many cracks there are in the subsurface, then we will get a better idea of how stable those bigger glaciers are. And obviously that has implications for how fast these glaciers might break up and cause sea level rise.”

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Fiber optic cables reveal ‘icequakes’ in endangered glaciers on Sep 3, 2026.

Euan Ritchie is a senior research associate in the Europe programme at the Center for Global Development.

Andy Burnham, the UK’s latest prime minister, has suggested reducing the amount the British government gives as climate finance grants and providing some of its climate finance through loans instead, in a move it anticipates will save £400 million. 

The government plans to use the savings to fund a cap on bus fares in the UK, triggering accusations from the development sector that Burnham’s proposal “throws Global South countries under the bus”. One likely destination for these new loans is the Tropical Forest Forever Facility (TFFF). 

Will new UK PM’s green measures at home cause climate finance pain overseas?

The TFFF is a new initiative designed to provide payments to countries that protect their rainforests by raising money from governments and private investors, channeling that money into riskier and therefore higher return assets, and using the returns it earns to fund forest protection. But there is a catch. 

The UK has committed to provide around £6 billion in climate finance funded through aid (or official development assistance, ODA) over the next three years. If switching from grants to a loan to the TFFF reduces government spending, it will likely reduce the amount that counts as ODA as well. 

In other words, the government can make the £400 million saving, or meet its £6 billion aid budget-funded climate finance commitment, but it probably cannot do both. The UK cannot have its cake and eat it.

How will it score as ODA?

Whether any loan to the TFFF scores as ODA depends on the OECD’s Development Assistance Committee (DAC) which is currently deliberating on this topic. 

A plain reading of the DAC’s current reporting rules suggests that the TFFF would count as a multilateral organisation: the independent investment arm, the Tropical Forest Investment Fund, would ultimately be a global, official entity (with sovereign governments appointing the board and being sole equity holders), which pools capital from sponsor governments. This would mean that to count as ODA, any loan to it would have to charge less than 5% interest. 

Tropical forest protection fund at risk after UK stalls on pledge

The current concept note suggests a return for sponsor capital equivalent to US borrowing costs of a similar duration: currently around 5.2%, which would make any such loans ineligible. The UK could choose to charge less, but if the UK charges less than it borrows (also above 5%), the difference will add to the deficit in future years. And ODA accounting is not binary: if the UK charges just under 5%, only a small fraction of the loan would count.

At the same time, the risk profile of TFFF is not the same as your average multilateral, and there is speculation that the DAC could allow higher interest loans to TFFF to partially count (by changing the ‘discount rate’ used to measure how concessional the loan is). The TFFF’s own modelling suggests that the risk of the UK losing money on the loan would be fairly limited: roughly a 1% chance of some capital impairment in the riskiest scenario. But some analysts doubt the accuracy of this model and view the risk as much greater.

Launch event of the Tropical Forest Forever Facility (TFFF) fund in Belem during COP30. (Photo: Alex Ferro/COP 30) Launch event of the Tropical Forest Forever Facility (TFFF) fund in Belem during COP30. (Photo: Alex Ferro/COP 30) Would it really save money?

If the risk really is higher, then it might justify counting more ODA on a loan to the TFFF, but it also undermines the arguments that this would create savings for the government. Loans generally don’t count towards the deficit because they create an asset. But that only works if the loan is expected to be fully repaid. If there is a material risk of losing money, then at least some of the transaction will also count towards the deficit. 

One possibility is that the loan will be ‘partitioned’ into a financial asset (the part which is expected to be repaid and wouldn’t count towards the deficit) and a ‘capital transfer’ (the part not expected to be repaid). The greater the risk, the larger that second component, and the bigger the impact on the deficit.

This would be the ODA and public accounting rules working as intended. ODA is a measure of ‘donor effort’, usually taken to mean fiscal impact. If it counts as ODA, it should have an impact on the deficit. And the fiscal treatment itself is governed by numerous international accounting standards, a key purpose of which is preventing politically motivated obfuscation of how governments spend their money. If it costs money, there should be an impact on the deficit even if it is a loan. If it doesn’t, it shouldn’t count as ODA (even if there have been exceptions in the past).

UK halves Green Climate Fund contribution, as it spends more on security

Base funding on need, not accounting

We still know too little about the details to be sure how a loan to the TFFF (or a more exotic transaction) would count towards either ODA or the UK’s headline measures of debt and deficit. The key parameter for each is risk: the lower risk, the more likely it is that the transaction will save money, but the greater the chance that the government would have to spend more ODA elsewhere to meet its climate finance target. 

If the UK believes in the TFFF business model and wants to preserve tropical forests, then it should invest. But this decision should not be driven by optimistic accounting tricks. The government cannot expect to reduce the real value of climate finance to partner countries by giving less in grant money, without this having an impact on commitments to spend that money.

The post UK’s budget juggling trick with rainforest loan for bus-fare cap needs transparency appeared first on Climate Home News.

In many ways, Central and Eastern Europe is not a newcomer to degrowth. It helped shape some of its foundational ideas.

Drawing on the insights of more than 1,000 groups worldwide, here is a compilation of stories, guides, webinars and an ongoing discussion course to help communities drive long-term change.

We embarked on a journey of transformation, traveling to many sacred sites across the interior of the North American continent.

Victoria's former energy minister talks gas bans and coal closures – and says that without offshore wind in the state's mix, there will need to be "a hell of a lot more onshore."

The post Offshore wind “absolutely needed” and electrification efforts must defy “vested interests,” D’Ambrosio says appeared first on Renew Economy.