Microsoft’s pause exposes fragility of carbon removal market: Structural overreliance on corporate buyers risks derailing climate justice and Indigenous land sovereignty

Indigenous communities globally have condemned carbon removal markets as a continuation of colonial land theft, where ancestral territories are repurposed for corporate offsetting without Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC). Projects like the Kariba REDD+ scheme in Zimbabwe have displaced communities, violated land rights, and failed to deliver promised climate benefits. The commodification of carbon reflects a Western extractive mindset that treats ecosystems as tradable assets rather than sacred or communal lifeways.

Carbon offset markets trace their lineage to 1997’s Kyoto Protocol, which introduced the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM)—a system riddled with fraud, overestimation of emissions reductions, and harm to local communities. The 2000s saw scandals like the ‘HFC-23 loophole,’ where factories in India and China profited from fake offsets. Historical parallels abound: from the Enclosures Act to REDD+, each iteration of market-based climate solutions has reinforced extractive capitalism while failing to address root causes.

In Aotearoa (New Zealand), Māori communities have developed ‘kaitiakitanga’-based climate solutions that reject offsetting in favor of direct emissions reductions and ecosystem restoration tied to cultural values. African agroecological movements, such as those in Burkina Faso, demonstrate that regenerative agriculture—centered on community knowledge—can sequester carbon while addressing food sovereignty. These models contrast sharply with top-down carbon markets, which often prioritize corporate profits over ecological and social integrity.

Peer-reviewed studies (e.g., Fuss et al., 2014; Anderson & Peters, 2016) warn that carbon removal at scale is unproven, energy-intensive, and risks delaying emissions cuts. Direct air capture (DAC) and bioenergy with carbon capture (BECCS) require vast land, water, and energy inputs, often exacerbating ecological harm. The IPCC’s 1.5°C pathways assume unrealistic levels of carbon removal (up to 1,000 GtCO2 by 2100), yet these technologies remain at <0.1% of needed capacity.

Artists like Tania Bruguera and Indigenous activists have framed carbon removal as a ‘spectacle of false salvation,’ where corporations perform climate action while perpetuating harm. Spiritual traditions from Hinduism to animism reject the idea of ‘buying’ one’s way out of ecological debt, emphasizing instead the moral duty to live in reciprocity with the Earth. The ‘techno-utopian’ imagery of carbon removal—gleaming machines sucking CO2 from the air—masks the violence of its implementation on marginalized lands.

Scenario modeling by the Climate Action Tracker suggests that without immediate emissions cuts, carbon removal at scale could become a ‘moral hazard,’ enabling continued fossil fuel use while creating new geopolitical dependencies. A 2023 study in *Nature Climate Change* found that over-reliance on DAC could lock in 1.5°C pathways to failure by 2050 due to delayed action. Future risks include corporate monopolies on removal technologies, land grabs in the Global South, and the collapse of carbon credit markets, destabilizing climate finance.

Frontline communities in the Amazon, Congo Basin, and Indonesia have documented how carbon offset projects have led to violence, displacement, and loss of livelihoods, with women and Indigenous leaders facing the brunt of repression. In Kenya, the Kasigau Corridor REDD+ project has been linked to land conflicts and food insecurity, despite generating millions for Western investors. The carbon removal narrative silences these voices, framing communities as ‘obstacles’ to ‘green’ development rather than rights-holders.