This a more elaborated version of the Editorial note

For too long, discussions about energy have been confined to the realms of technicians and engineers. The energy we consume and the infrastructures sustaining its seemingly endless supply—whether fossil fuels or electricity—have largely remained out of sight and out of mind for much of modern history. As anthropologist Jaume Franquesa (2018) points out, the invisibility of energy in our industrial societies is striking: energy infrastructure becomes noticeable only when it fails, despite the tenfold increase in energy consumption over the past century that has made it central to our modern experience. This ‘silence’ within much of the social sciences, along with the general invisibility of energy, has had problematic consequences. On one hand, it has left energy discussions devoid of political and power analyses, reinforcing the notion that energy belongs in the hands of physicists and engineers and thus ignoring the power dynamics embedded within it. On the other, it has influenced how we approach conflicts surrounding energy systems, infrastructure, and projects, and terms like “energy justice” or “energy transitions.” These struggles often underplay the historical and political contexts in which the energy transition is being imagined, designed, and implemented.

Despite occasional moments when energy disruptions became starkly visible—such as the 1973 OPEC oil embargo or disasters like the 2010 Deepwater Horizon spill—energy’s invisibility has persisted in shaping our understanding of modernity. The climate crisis has brought greater attention to energy’s role, revealing not just how hydrocarbons have fueled capitalist modernity, but also how it was built on a depoliticized view of energy, with much of its history, politics and violence remaining obscured. The increased visibility of energy, however, doesn’t necessarily lead—despite the assumptions of some activist groups—to an inevitable transition toward a ‘sustainable use of energy’. Some of these activists have often embraced an apolitical understanding of energy and transitions, aligning with a global hegemonic discourse on sustainable development that frames the transition in overly-simplified terms. Firstly, this discourse reduces the transition to a mere switch between fossil fuels and “renewable” energy, as if swapping sources could fully address the complex nature and relationship of energy and capitalist modernity. Secondly, it fosters a critique of energy infrastructure without grappling with the transition project itself—overlooking how this shift impacts not only material and territorial configurations but also the diverse knowledge systems, worldviews, and practices that will be affected. Finally, this narrative presents the energy transition –now increasingly ‘just’– as a global humanitarian mission capable of solving the climate crisis, inadvertently setting the stage for new rounds of colonial expansion, resource grabs, and extractive practices under the guise of improvement, adaptation, sustainability and/or climate mitigation.

In simple terms, the hegemonic framing of the energy transition—including variations like the “just energy transition” or “energy justice” and “energy security”—often reaffirms rather than challenges the core tenets of capitalist modernity: sustained economic growth, a narrow and linear definition of progress, and a mentality that separates and puts culture over nature. The energy transition models promoted by international organizations such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF), World Bank (WB), International Energy Agency (IEA), and United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), as Larry Lohmann (2024) points out, focus more on reducing atmospheric CO₂ levels than on addressing the industrial production and global accumulation systems that cause these emissions in the first place. Despite numerous reports from these institutions celebrating record-breaking adoption rates of “renewable” energy and the growing number of electric vehicles globally, there is no substantial evidence that a true transition—by their own definitions—is underway. The increased integration of renewable sources has yet to meaningfully shift the global dependency on fossil fuels. Paradoxically, most activists and NGOs continue down this path, advocating for a global energy transition while often overlooking the need for a deeper reexamination of how energy is conceptualized. This oversight reinforces problematic narratives, such as framing Indigenous, peasant, worker, and other subaltern groups as ‘regressive’ or ‘selfish’ for resisting “renewable energy” projects on their lands, thereby obscuring the reimposition of colonial dynamics under the green facade of the transition. Other problematic narratives include the formulation of ‘renewable energy’ and renewability itself, which not only obscures the fossilized dependency of low-carbon infrastructure such as solar and wind, but also fails to account for the new mining frontiers required to sustain this process (Dunlap, 2024) as we discuss below.

The concept of energy, with its thermodynamic and spatiotemporal implications ²⁾, has made “work” the primary measure of value. By mobilizing nature, workers, women, and subaltern classes as sources of labor, energy has historically served as a justification for imperial incursions into what is framed as “wasted” or “untapped” lands—spaces deemed to have potential for productive work. This drive to accumulate capital aligns seamlessly with imperial and extractive frameworks that reimagine certain spaces as “empty” or Terra Nullius, effectively erasing the biocultural complexity of these places in favor of a simplified notion of work. As anthropologist Anna Tsing (2015) argues, this process entails a profound alienation, wherein entities are abstracted from their contexts, becoming isolated and thus more easily commodified. Such alienation brings significant violence to both people and places with it, requiring an erasure of local knowledge and practices and a reduction of these areas to mere “potential.” This creates sacrifice zones, as the true uses of these landscapes—their ontological and epistemological dimensions—are rendered obstacles to capitalist aims. Forests, rivers, and entire landscapes are thus “put to work” by either extracting and alienating the energy ‘sources’ form their socioecological context or by absorbing the violent impacts of energy infrastructure and their ‘waste’ –including emissions, materials, toxifications, expulsions and dispossession resulting from the apparently unquestionable ‘need’ of millions of solar panels, batteries, turbine blades, and rotors—required for a global energy transition.

Figure 1: Energy and its relationship to work. “The Industry” by Richard Roland Holst.

It is no surprise then that energy has become a key driver of landscape transformation worldwide, reshaping spatial and temporal dimensions across various geographies. Capitalism’s relentless pursuit of perpetual economic growth, coupled with an increasing demand for energy, has turned attention toward ‘new’ extractive frontiers as the era of cheap energy—characterized by abundant, easily accessible fossil fuels—draws to a close. This shift signals a threshold marked by a need to sustain our high-energy modernity with less abundant energy sources (i.e. moving from fossil fuels to ‘renewable energy’). A process that paradoxically also increases the amount of energy required (or invested) to maintain it. Consequently, capitalism, along with its supporting structures of global supply chains, finance, and logistics, is being propelled toward a frontier reconfiguration to supply these energy flows. The world is believed to have passed its conventional oil production between 2005 and 2011, heralding a new era marked by ‘the end of cheap energy’ and an ever-increasing demand driving the expansion of mining for so-called “critical” or “transition” minerals, opening up new extraction sites across the globe; enclosing vast areas of otherwise arable, inhabitable or common places, for wind and solar projects, and relying on more and more harmful or unproven techniques like ‘fracking’ or deepsea mining highlighting the uneven socioecological costs of this so-called ‘energy transition’ (Riofrancos, 2022). ³⁾ As Figure 2 clearly states, there is no energy transition taking place, only an addition of ‘new’ sources that continues to maintain the apparently unending-drive for more and more energy embedded in capitalist modernity.

Figure 2: There is no energy ‘transition’ only an addition. Source: https://ourworldindata.org/energy-production-consumption.

As the Global North pursues “decarbonization,” these impacts are felt worldwide, particularly in the Global South. The transition to an individualized form of electromobility and renewable energy (primarily wind and solar) in Europe and the USA has accelerated new mining frontiers, reconfiguring global geopolitics around resources like lithium, cobalt, nickel, manganese, silicon, and other rare earth elements. This shift is also intensifying a new Cold War dynamic with China, steering Western interests toward “friend-shoring” or “nearshoring” as a means of securing access to these resources. In this scramble, mining companies are hastily pushing into uncharted territories like deep-sea mining, branding it a https://impossiblemetals.com/blog/sustainable-seabed-mining-to-extract-100-trillion-metal-reserves/ despite its potentially https://deep-sea-conservation.org/key-threats/. At the same time, billionaires are promoting visions of colonizing Mars or the Moon, raising questions about whether (“green”) capitalism can survive or even transcend Earth’s planetary limits, while activists and NGOs continue to advocate for a somewhat empty formulation of a ‘just energy transition’ that often translates into a re-formulation of the old colonial notion that was already embedded in the development enterprise: a perpetual ‘need’ for energy that remains unquestionable (Illich, 2010) as the debate centers on alternatives forms of rather than alternatives to the energy and this hegemonic and corporate-led form of transition.

The discourse surrounding the visibility of energy has evolved significantly. After a period of neoliberalism in which energy was sidelined, it has since resurfaced under the banners of “scarcity,” “security,” and “sustainability”—often justifying new imperial incursions, increasingly authoritarian policies, and colonial-extractivist strategies to secure land access. Yet, there remains something peculiar about how we understand “energy.” Scholars have tended to assume that all people and societies throughout history have shared a fundamental drive for ever-increasing energy supplies, measured in kilowatt-hours (Lohmann, 2024). This perspective not only distorts historical realities but also reveals the colonial biases embedded in our concept of energy. As Ivan Illich (2009) suggests, the concept of energy as we know it would have been incomprehensible to people before 1800. What we now define as energy—the capacity to do work—was shaped by a colonial, patriarchal, and imperial history that sought to make work measurable and comparable across different domains: human labor, natural processes, reproductive work, and more. Thus, the concept of energy embodies a largely concealed history of colonialism, patriarchy, extractivism, and imperialism.

Terms like “energy transition” and “energy justice” are now frequently used by activists and academics, often without fully addressing the complex implications of these concepts. Addressing the colonial roots of energy itself is a quite challenge; it requires recognizing not only the colonial underpinnings of energy’s origins but also the metabolic, thermodynamic, and spatiotemporal reconfigurations that energy systems entail, along with the conflicts surrounding what these so-called energy transitions involve. Environmental, energy, and climate justice activists have scrambled to respond to these issues. Some continue to advocate for the simplistic notion of “green growth,” hoping to achieve “Net-Zero” through decoupling economic growth from greenhouse gas emissions and material footprints—despite substantial evidence debunking this possibility (see Figure 3)—and by relying on accounting mechanisms like carbon markets and offsetting or on speculative, often risky technologies, such as climate geoengineering, which are themselves energy-intensive. Alternatively, other groups advocate for a more critical approach to the energy transition by questioning how energy is used, by whom, and for what purposes. Many of these groups—grassroots organizations, community-based initiatives, and other place-based practices rooted in solidarity and mutual aid—are fighting for territorial autonomy and resisting a capitalist system now repackaged as “green,” “clean,” or “sustainable.” They expose the (neo)colonial dynamics embedded in this form of transition, framing their resistance around broader goals such as autonomy, self-determination, dignity, and well-being. Concepts like “energy sovereignty,” “energy democracy,” “energy autonomy,” and even “energy insurrections” capture these struggles, emphasizing that energy is not merely a resource or a right but a relational concept shaped by social, ecological, and political contexts.

Figure 3: Shows the increase in greenhouse gas emissions with respect to the different international climate summits. Source. https://theconversation.com/cop27-what-to-expect-193556

Making energy “strange” involves rejecting the temporal frameworks imposed by industrial capitalism on the concept of energy transitions. This approach challenges the simplified dichotomies that currently dominate activism—such as fossil fuel versus renewable energy—and calls for an acknowledgment of the metabolic and spatiotemporal dimensions that a true energy transition would entail. Such a shift highlights the proliferation of (green) sacrifice zones, which spatially and temporally displace costs while perpetuating a “savior” or humanitarian narrative around climate adaptation and mitigation. Within the Global TapestryThe weaving of networks of Alternatives of AlternativesAre activities and initiatives, concepts, worldviews, or action proposals by collectives, groups, organizations, communities, or social movements challenging and replacing the dominant system that perpetuates inequality, exploitation, and unsustainabiity. In the GTA we focus primarily on what we call "radical or transformative alternatives", which we define as initiatives that are attempting to break with the dominant system and take paths towards direct and radical forms of political and economic democracy, localised self-reliance, social justice and equity, cultural and knowledge diversity, and ecological resilience. Their locus is neither the State nor the capitalist economy. They are advancing in the process of dismantling most forms of hierarchies, assuming the principles of sufficiency, autonomy, non-violence, justice and equality, solidarity, and the caring of life and the Earth. They do this in an integral way, not limited to a single aspect of life. Although such initiatives may have some kind of link with capitalist markets and the State, they prioritize their autonomy to avoid significant dependency on them and tend to reduce, as much as possible, any relationship with them. (GTA), this discussion has also remained on the periphery. For years, activists, land defenders, and grassroots struggles often overlooked energy as a critical point of contention, relegating it primarily to the domain of state policy and administration. Recently, some movements have begun to call for the recognition of energy as a human right, a process that is problematic, to say the least. This proposal risks resembling a call for “just colonialism” by encoding colonial structures within the framework of human rights. Is this the direction we want to pursue? Movements are justified in questioning this, as it is clearly not the intended goal; so, what is? The aim, we believe, is to open up discussions on energy’s colonial origins and, from there, develop a new language that enables us to critically engage with energy itself. This periodical seeks to make the concept of energy “strange.” Put differently, to truly understand the coloniality of energy, we must first open up the question of what energy is, how we approach it, and what its deeper implications are (Müller, 2024).

Our aim with this periodical is to highlight cases that challenge the technical and hegemonic framing of energy. While several contributions of this periodical are still dealing with some of the challenges brought about by capitalist modernity and its colonial formulation of what energy is, some of the contributions are now focusing on challenging this hegemonic formulation of energy which insists on reducing it to a ‘thing’ and to understand it in relational terms, that is, to see energy, like all entities that make up the world, as not having an intrinsic, separate existence by itself (Escobar, 2020). Movements and alternatives around the world are denouncing green extractivism, the use of energy projects to dispossess communities of their territories, and the forced “modernization” of their poverty to meet the unrealistic standards of global decarbonization. Most of these alternatives see the energy transition for what it truly is—a colonial framework designed to uphold the same principles that have driven capitalism for the past 500 years. In response, alternatives across the world are reconceptualizing energy as a key concern and as part of their struggles for autonomy. The issue extends beyond access, equity, and sustainability; it’s about the deeper implications embedded within the language of rights, justice, and transition. These concepts reflect a specific vision of energy, one typically focused on minimizing “negative consequences” without addressing the underlying institutional and social systems that perpetuate them: the reliance on industrialism and extractivism, the exploitation of nature and social reproductive labor, and the persistent use of colonial forms of domination.

In the first contribution, Soumya Dutta gives us a broad overview of our current epoch of climate inaction and some of the main challenges that both the need to address the urgency and yet, to not act hastily in the face of global climate catastrophe entails. Dutta offers a detailed contribution of the many ways in which the hegemonic energy transition has failed, and the enormous challenge that this poses from a global perspective. His account, however, shows that while there is a stagnation and an impasse at the highest levels of politics, there is movement and hope coming from below. In a second contribution, Christine Dann narrates a brief albeit rich history of electrification in New Zealand, clearly revealing its colonial origins, showing how the New Zealand government took a line from the Colonizer’s Playbook (in this case James Cook) which is still operational on the formulation of modernity and development, which still relies on the electrification and now, the rapid rise of other logistical and artificial intelligence challenges in the country, an issue that we now face at the global level. Dann clearly shows how the formulations of the likes of Lenin or Zola about granting energy access to everyone ought to be challenged in our current state of politics, placing our bets on a philosophy of enough rather than excess.

In a third contribution, Pablo Fernádnez writes about his experience working with the Tosepan Cooperative in the Northortiental Sierra of Puebla, in Mexico, where Indigenous communities have come together to reconceptualize their relationship to energy. Fernadez narrates his experience in the project of Energia para el Yeknemillis (Energy for good living) showing how the indigenous communities of the region have come together to reject the imposition of ‘death projects’ in favor of ‘life projects’, rooting their alternative vision of a good life into a relational formulation of energy, rejecting at the same time the construction of a large sub-electrical station and retaining their autonomy in the process. The contribution is followed by an interview/dialogue between Hamza Hamouchene, Lebohang Liepollo Pheko, and Yvonne Phyllis in which they discuss the concept of “green colonialism” and its impact on energy and climate justice within the Arab region. Through an intersectional lens, the article examines how colonial and capitalist legacies continue to shape environmental policies, leading to exploitation and displacement under the guise of sustainability. Key themes include the region’s historical integration into the global capitalist system, the creation of “sacrifice zones” for resource extraction, and the impact of “green” initiatives that replicate old imperial dynamics. The discussion critiques the concept of a just transition co-opted by neoliberal agendas and argues for a truly transformative approach that centers anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist, and decolonial principles. By advocating for reparations and recognition of local communities’ rights, the article calls for a reimagining of energy and climate justice grounded in solidarity and sovereignty.

Finally, Christine Dann offers a review of two books that reveal some of the main challenges that the energy transition poses for the immediate future. On the one hand, the review reveals the continued dependence on fossil fuels for renewable energy production, while also sheds light on the impossibility of simply decarbonizing the status quo capitalism. These energies are viable only with government subsidies, and as Peter Gelderloos has recently argued, this has barely made a dent to the supposed GHG emission reductions that they sought to combat. In this same vein, the review brings back the Polanyian concept of a fictitious commodity that resonates with our problematization of energy: by creating a right over the commodity without problematizing energy in itself, there is a skewed formulation of justice and transitions that seeks to operate only as clean supply of GHG free energy, discounting the coloniality embedded in the energy atoms themselves, the reorganization of spatiotemporal relations that such a transition entails as well as invisibilizing some of the struggles that movements, grassroots communities around the world are dealing with

Our hope is that this periodical engages with some of the key questions and concerns that might animate a more relational, convivial, decolonial and radical approach to understand what energy is and how an energy transition might be imagined, designed and implemented far away form the technocratic and hegemonic formulations of these concepts/processes. We of course do not see this periodical as a ‘final’ word on the issue, but part of an emerging set of praxis/thinking that allows us, like the zapatistas, to walk as we continue to ask questions. We invite you to read this periodical and to ask these questions with us.

Cederlöf, G. (2024). Energy as an object and relation: Thermodynamics, space, and emergent energy geographies. Geoforum, 150: 103968.

Dunlap, A. (2024). This system is killing us. Land Grabbing, the Green Economy and Ecological Conflict. London: Pluto Press.

Escobar, A. (2020). Pluriversal Politics. Durham: Duke University Press.

Franquesa, J. (2018). Power Struggles. Dignity, Value, and the Renewable Energy Frontier in Spain. New York: Indiana University Press

Illich, I. (2009). The Social Construction of Energy. Harvard Gazzette, 13-21.https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2009/11/landscapes-of-energy/

Illich, I. (2010). ‘Needs’ in. Sachs, W. (Ed.) The Development Dictionary. A Guide to Knowledge as Power. (pp:95-110). New York: Zed Books.

Lohmann, L. (2024). Provincializing energy transitions. The Journal of Political Ecology, 31: 1-13.

Muller, F. (2024). Energy Colonialism. Journal of Political Ecology, 31: 701-717.

Riofrancos, T. (2022). The Security–Sustainability Nexus: Lithium Onshoring in the Global North. Global Environmental Politics, 23(1): 20-41.

Tsing, A. (2015). The Mushroom at the End of the World. Princeton: Princeton University Press.