By Shepard Zvigadza
As ministers and civil society gather in Santa Marta, Colombia, for the First International Conference on the Just Transition Away from Fossil Fuels, a dangerous narrative is taking hold: that we can save the climate by burning our forests.
For those of us on the frontlines in Southern Africa, "connecting the dots" between energy and forests reveals a "bioenergy trap" that could derail the Paris Agreement and bankrupt our communities.
The Scientific and Fiscal Mirage
The greatest myth we face is the "carbon neutrality" of forest biomass. International policy often ignores the carbon parity gap—the 80 to 100 years it can take for a regrowing forest to offset the carbon released when its predecessor was burned for fuel. In a decade defined by "now or never" climate targets, this is a debt we cannot afford to owe.
Furthermore, the financial metrics are increasingly indefensible. According to the International Renewable Energy Agency (IRENA), the cost of bioenergy for power rose by 13% recently, while solar and wind costs have plummeted by nearly 90% over the last decade. Utility-scale solar PV in Africa now reaches a Levelised Cost of Electricity (LCOE) as low as US$0.033/kWh, making it significantly more affordable than bioenergy’s US$0.06 to US$0.09/kWh. For debt-distressed nations, pouring capital into a more expensive, land-intensive fuel source is a fiscal error that compounds our economic fragility.
The Multi-Billion Dollar Failure:
Quantifying the Trap
The scale of the bioenergy failure in Sub-Saharan Africa is a massive destruction of capital. Data from the Land Matrix reveals that over 2.04 million hectares of biofuel projects in Africa have already failed or been abandoned. Considering that cultivating just 10,000 hectares of jatropha requires approximately US$14 million in initial investment, billions in potential energy infrastructure have evaporated—capital that could have deployed double the capacity in solar power.
In Zambia, a nation navigating sovereign debt restructuring, jatropha-based biofuels were pushed as a "debt-exit" strategy. When these projects collapsed due to market volatility, the state was left with no revenue, while displaced households saw a dramatic drop in agricultural income. Similarly, in Ethiopia, the allocation of millions of hectares for biofuel feedstocks resulted in a "green land grab" that prioritized export-led ethanol over local food security, leaving the government with negative GDP effects in affected regions.
The Lived Reality: Voices from the Frontlines
For the 13,600 people affected by the Addax Bioenergy project in Sierra Leone, the "just transition" has been a hollow promise. The project paid just US$348,000 per year in land fees—roughly US$2 per affected person per month. One farmer in Worreh Yeama noted that sugarcane fields swallowed the community's only perennial water source, forcing women to abandon the gardens that were their families' last safety net.
In Northern Ghana, indigenous farmers describe how deception was used to claim 38,000 hectares of communal land. When land is seized, the social fabric tears; women, who often have the weakest formal land rights, are the first to lose their livelihoods.
A Blueprint for Integrity: Policy Recommendations
To ensure the transition does not become a "green land grab," African governments must implement protective policies:
1. Mandatory Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC): Legislate that no energy project can proceed without verifiable consent from local communities.
2. Recognition of Customary Land Tenure: Formalize communal rights to shield against extractive bioenergy contracts.
3. Debt-for-Nature Swaps, Not Biofuel Mandates: Negotiate debt relief tied to forest protection rather than conversion into fuel plantations.
4. Exit Clauses from ISDS: Prevent corporations from using international arbitration to block environmental protection or land restoration mandates.
5. Prioritize Decentralized Solar: Shift subsidies toward community-owned solar mini-grids that provide energy without taking land.
The choice is clear. We can have an energy transition that consumes our ecosystems and communities, or a just transition that restores them. At Santa Marta, we must choose the latter.
About the Author:
Shepard Zvigadza is the Regional Coordinator for Climate Action Network (CAN) Southern Africa. A veteran environmental scientist with over 20 years of experience in energy advocacy and forest governance based in Harare, Zimbabwe.