This story is also available at Greenpeace Spain, in Spanish.

Every year, specifically in June, Pride Month fills social media, streets and institutional spaces with flags, messages, speeches and celebrations. Important dates are commemorated, celebrating advances in LGBTQ+ rights and making visible identities that have long been denied.

But this global image doesn’t always feel universal. From the Global South – especially from African and diasporic contexts – many of us experience this month with a complex mix of emotions: recognition, yes, but also distance, tension, and questions that don’t always find a place or space in dominant narratives.

What does the acronym LGBTQ+ stand for, and why is it not neutral?

The acronym LGBTQ+ (a condensed version of LGBTQIA2S+) is an umbrella term used to describe a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity. It stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer with the + representing other diverse sexual orientations and gender identities. This acronym has been fundamental in building political visibility and articulating common struggles. However, it is also necessary to recognise that it is a historical construct situated in specific Western contexts, shaped by languages, categories, and ways of understanding gender and sexuality that are not universal.

When these categories are presented as the only possible framework for naming diversity, they risk rendering invisible other forms of existence, identities that do not fit within them, and our relationships and connections. Because naming is not just describing: it is also ordering the world.

How colonial language, legal, religious and administrative systems erase collective memory

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Prior to European colonisation, across the African continent, there were multiple ways of understanding gender, the body, and sexuality that did not conform to a rigid binary model. These understandings were not homogeneous or identical, but they did share something important: they were deeply connected to spirituality.

For example, we could talk about Logun Ede, a minor orisha of the Yoruba pantheon, known as the crown prince, son of Oshun and Oshosi. He represents duality, beauty, youth, and transformation, living six months in the river (feminine characteristics) and six months in the forest (masculine characteristics).

In the community context, we could talk about “Female Husbands”: Historically, some Nigerian women assumed the role of husbands (an economic and social perspective) to marry other women, thus perpetuating lineages. With the process of colonisation, a legal, religious, and administrative system was imposed that reorganised all these realities according to a binary and punitive logic. Anything that did not fit into this order was often reinterpreted as sin, deviation, or crime. 

Anything that did not fit into this order was often reinterpreted as sin, deviation, or crime.

– Rusly Cachina

For example, there is the story of Francisco Manicongo, a person forcibly transported from the Kingdom of Kongo – today part of the Democratic Republic of Congo and Angola – to Brazil during the 16th century, in the context of the transatlantic slave trade. The reason for his persecution was not only his status as a slave, but also his gender identity and expression, since he dressed and acted according to Congolese traditions associated with the Imbandas, which the colonial authorities interpreted as “sin” (sodomy). His case illustrates how colonial violence not only exploited people but also persecuted and punished sexual and gender dissidence. In this process, not only were bodies criminalised, but memory was also rewritten.

What I am writing goes beyond seeking “proof”, beyond trying to find an African queer history. What emerges is something more complex: the evidence that multiple ways of life exist, which were systematically filtered, erased by colonial logic, or reinterpreted.

Africa is not a territory without queer history

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Stating this does not mean idealising the past or denying internal conflicts or tensions. It implies recognising that diversity is not a recent import.

The problem lies not in a lack of history, but in who has the power to narrate it.

– Rusly Cachina

In various African contexts, there have been non-normative gender roles, diverse relational practices, and historical figures whose existence challenged modern categories. Many of these memories unfortunately survive only in oral narratives, cultural practices, or local languages; others have simply been fragmented by centuries of colonisation and continue to be so due to neocolonialism, radicalisation, religious extremism and the statisation of law.

The problem lies not in a lack of history, but in who has the power to narrate it.

The queer present: violence, war and inequality

Discussing decolonisation cannot be relegated to the past. The here-and-now, the present, armed conflicts, political instability, and resource exploitation continue to shape the lives of billions of people in various territories of the Global South.

In regions like the Democratic Republic of Congo, armed conflicts – including the presence of groups like the M23 – cannot be understood without the broader context of extractive economies, decades of structural violence, and geopolitical interests. In these contexts, violence is embodied. It is not abstract.

These people – whom Western categories reduce to the acronym LGBTQ+, but who in their territories are known as Woubi, Mashoga, or Shoga, among many others – face social stigmatisation, a lack of institutional protection, and, in many cases, direct violence in contexts where state collapse and militarisation exacerbate all forms of abuse.

War is not only territorial. It is also bodily.

What has climate change and global inequality got to do with Pride?

Climate crises add multiple layers of complexity. They don’t affect everyone equally. In the Global South, their effects translate into displacement, food insecurity, loss of livelihoods, and forced migration. Within this scenario, people in our community face specific vulnerabilities: unequal access to shelter, dehumanisation in humanitarian contexts, and exclusion from protection networks.

The climate emergency is not just environmental: it is profoundly political and social.

Pride as a contested space

Pride, as it is celebrated today in many parts of the world, can be both a space for celebration and a space for exclusion. 

For many bodies from the Global South – migrants, racialised, black, or trans, as is my direct case – recognition is often partial: we are made visible at specific moments, or to put it bluntly, we are “exposed” or “displayed”, but we are forgotten within everyday structures.

We are invited to be part of it, but under conditions of legibility: fitting into pre-defined categories, translating into languages that do not always belong to us, molding ourselves to frameworks that do not always fully include us.

How can we decolonise Pride?

Decolonising pride doesn’t mean rejecting global struggles. Decolonising also means recognising that there isn’t just one way to experience diversity. It means accepting that acronyms, while necessary, aren’t enough. And above all, it means opening spaces for other memories, other languages, and other ways of naming who we are.

The history of diversity doesn’t begin in a single place or at a single moment. And because justice, to be real, must also be able to understand what has been silenced.

So what now?

If pride wants to be more than a celebration, then it should also be a practice of responsibility. For those who live in the so-called “global minority”, that means going beyond symbolic support or visibility during a specific month. It means facing the contradictions head-on.

It is inconsistent to celebrate progress while participating in systems that perpetuate violence in other territories.

– Rusly Cachina

It’s not enough for states to guarantee rights within their borders if, at the same time, they finance, negotiate, or maintain economic and political relationships with governments that persecute our community. It is inconsistent to celebrate progress while participating (directly or indirectly) in systems that perpetuate violence in other territories.

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Responsibility is also political. How can you embrace diversity in Pride and beyond?

It translates into demanding consistency from governments themselves: in their trade agreements, in their role in armed conflicts, in their foreign policies, and in their relationship with extractive industries that sustain economies of violence. It means getting informed, questioning, and not settling for a comfortable narrative where rights forget about the wars outside their own borders.

But it also means something closer: listening without imposing, leaving room for other ways of naming, not translating all realities into one’s own categories, and living diversity. It is not about “giving a voice”, but about stopping occupying all the space. Because decolonising and de-Westernising Pride is not an abstract idea. It is a daily practice.

And it begins by accepting that the struggle for diversity cannot be separated from the global structures that continue to produce violence, inequality and silencing.

Wellbeing for All

We’re asking governments to put wellbeing at the top of the agenda. Join our global movement and let’s demand wellbeing for all!

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Rusly Cachina is a Member of Migrantia, Equality Technician, Head of Afro-Queer Migrations, Coordinator of Voz Migrantia Lavapiés, Coordinator of AMIGRAS, Activist, and Trans Expert Peer.

Guest authors work with Greenpeace to share their personal experiences and perspectives and are responsible for their own content.

How the war on Iran fuels an energy shock and cost of living crisis

It has been 100 days since the US and Israel launched their attacks on Iran on 28 February 2026, throwing the region into deeper violence and pushing up fuel, food and transport costs around the world. This war is a human tragedy that is deepening a global cost of living crisis in a world still dangerously dependent on oil and gas.

This blog sets out six concrete policy ideas governments can implement now to protect people from the Iran energy shock and accelerate the shift away from fossil fuels.

History shows that moments like this can also unlock transformative decisions. After the Second World War, governments created social safety nets and public health systems; the 1970s oil shocks led to fuel efficiency standards, strategic reserves and, in some countries, the birth of modern environmental policy. Today’s overlapping crises – war, an unprecedented energy shock, a cost of living crunch and a worsening climate emergency – do not just echo past shocks, they expose a fossil fuel system that can no longer sustain the society built on it.

1. Ground private jets and mega‑yachts before grounding ordinary people

If governments are genuinely worried about fuel shortages and high prices, they should start with the most pointless and polluting uses of oil. Private jets and superyachts are the purest form of luxury emissions: they burn staggering amounts of fuel per person and are used by a tiny elite, while everyone else is told to “tighten their belts”.

Jet fuel markets are already strained, and shipping routes have been upended by the war on Iran, driving up marine fuel costs. Restricting or temporarily banning private jets and megayachts, would relieve pressure on fuel markets at the margins, but more importantly it would send a clear signal about fairness: in an emergency, the first flights grounded should be private, not the holiday or family trips of ordinary people. Combined with investments in affordable public transport, rail, and night trains, this is a simple way to show that governments are serious about putting people before luxury emissions.

2. Make public transport free using war‑profit taxes

The transport sector is responsible for around 60% of total oil demand globally. If one conflict can send fuel and ticket prices soaring, the least governments can do is make it easier and cheaper for people to move without being held hostage by oil. A bold way to do that is time‑bound free or ultra‑cheap public transport, funded by taxes on fossil fuel war profits.

This is not a fantasy. Spain’s free commuter rail, Germany’s 9‑euro ticket and Luxembourg’s nationwide free transit all showed that cheap or free public transport boosts ridership, cuts car use and lowers emissions, while saving households money. In Brazil, more than 100 municipalities have rolled out Tarifa Zero schemes offering fare‑free buses, and in India Delhi’s “pink tickets” policy has made buses free for women, improving safety and access to jobs and education.

A permanent surtax on the profits of fossil fuel companies – whose profits have again jumped on the back of the Iran war – applied at global level to the biggest oil and gas corporations could raise tens of billions, enough to pay for several years of free buses, trams and trains. That would give people immediate cost‑of‑living relief, provide funds for public transport electrification at scale, and help new habits stick long after the crisis ends.

3. Ban fossil fuel and meat advertising

Every time there is a war or energy shock, fossil fuel companies run the same PR play. First they warn of an “unprecedented crisis”, then they present themselves as the only grown‑ups in the room, and finally they spend millions on ads about “reliable energy” while lobbying quietly for more drilling, more subsidies and more delays to climate action. 

Big meat and dairy corporations use a similar playbook: marketing meat‑heavy diets as “normal” or even “healthy” while relying on highly polluting, methane‑intensive factory farming and deforestation that turbocharge the climate crisis and biodiversity loss. It is time to treat fossil fuel and industrial meat advertising the way the world treated tobacco ads and start phasing it out.

A comprehensive ban on fossil fuel and industrial meat advertising and sponsorship, including oil and gas logos on sports events like the upcoming FIFA World Cup 2026 in the US, Canada and Mexico, cultural institutions, “greenwashing” billboards and social media campaigns, as well as glossy ads that hide how meat giants are linked to forest destruction, land grabs and animal cruelty, would not cut emissions overnight. But it would strip the agribusiness and fossil fuel industries of one of their most powerful tools for buying social licence and political influence. Cities like Amsterdam, which has already moved to ban public adverts for meat and fossil fuels, show that this kind of rule is both possible and popular.

Several cities and regions have already moved to ban or restrict fossil ads. The war on Iran should be the moment to scale that up to national and international level and expand it to cover the most polluting forms of meat and dairy advertising too.

4. Cut plastic, cut oil: shift subsidies to reuse and refill systems

99% of plastic is made from oil and gas, which means the war on Iran energy shock is also a plastic price shock. As fuel and gas prices spike, the cost of everyday goods that are made of plastic or wrapped in it rises too, from food packaging to household products. In Europe, the price of PET plastic used in soda bottles and other food packaging jumped by around 15% in a single year, while polyethylene prices in North America climbed by nearly 30%, piling extra pressure on families who are already struggling with higher bills.

Governments can use this moment to stop pouring public money into petrochemicals and plastic, and instead back reuse and refill systems that cut fossil fuel demand at the source. Redirecting petrochemical and plastic subsidies into community‑centred reuse and refill infrastructure would support plastic‑free, standardised packaging across consumer goods sectors, with local, accessible reverse‑logistics that slash waste, resource use and emissions. Done right, this shift would also create sustainable jobs and reduce people’s exposure to toxic chemicals and plastic pollution in their food, water and homes.

This is already starting to happen. In France, a new national, standardised reuse system backed by legislated reuse targets is rolling out reusable glass packaging for popular food and drink products across several regions. Ottawa in Canada is piloting a city‑wide, multi‑brand reuse project for personal and home‑care products, and in Jakarta the Kecipir app links people directly with farmers using zero‑waste packaging. With the right rules and funding, national governments can phase out petrochemical and plastic subsidies, set binding reuse and zero‑waste targets, and empower local authorities and producer‑responsibility schemes to design reuse‑first systems that shorten supply chains, improve access and deliver real benefits to communities.

5. Build a Strategic Battery Reserve

After the 1970s oil crisis, countries like the United States created Strategic Petroleum Reserves, and International Energy Agency (IEA) members agreed to hold at least 90 days of net oil imports in emergency stocks. Fifty years later, the war on Iran is screaming that one of the real security tools we now need is a strategic energy reserve built around renewables and storage, not more fossil fuels.

A Strategic Battery and Energy Storage Reserve would mean a strategic energy reserve connected to the grid, spread across regions, that can store surplus wind and solar power and step in when renewable supplies are disrupted, including large‑scale battery systems in combination with other forms of storage such as pumped hydro, compressed air, thermal storage and flywheels.

A binding requirement on governments to hold a minimum level of grid‑scale energy storage – for example, targets proportional to each country’s electricity demand or peak demand, with IEA member countries ramping up from today’s levels towards tens of gigawatt‑hours of storage capacity over the next decade – would help keep the lights on during crises, stabilise grids day‑to‑day and provide a guaranteed market that drives storage manufacturing and deployment. Batteries are expected to provide the majority of new storage capacity in clean energy transitions, but other storage options such as pumped hydro have clear cost advantages for longer‑duration storage, and can reduce pressure on energy transition minerals.

Ensuring the use of appropriate battery types can considerably reduce the amounts of key minerals needed, and combining batteries with other storage technologies can further cut material demand. Countries like Spain and Italy already have storage targets, and at recent COP29 UN climate talks a group of governments pledged to increase global storage capacity sixfold by 2030.

China’s current “solar surplus” crisis shows what happens when grids and storage fail to keep pace with record‑breaking renewable roll‑out: without enough storage, clean power is wasted instead of replacing fossil fuels. At the same time, Ukraine’s experience with decentralised renewable energy during war has demonstrated that distributed solar and storage are a global security imperative, not just a climate solution, and many governments are now looking to learn from and fund this model. This crisis is the perfect reason to go from pledges to concrete storage reserve obligations.

6. Fix food security by breaking fertiliser addiction

The Iran war has exposed another ugly truth: modern food systems are dangerously dependent on fossil fuels, especially gas‑based synthetic fertilisers. When fertiliser prices spike, farmers struggle to afford them  and harvests are threatened, while Big Ag companies report record profits. A real solution is to fast‑track ecologically sound and localised food systems based on food sovereignty and resilience, shifting to agroecology and fossil‑free farming capable of surviving external shocks, either climactic or geopolitical. Agribusiness lobbyists use “food security” rhetoric to demand deregulation and subsidies whenever prices rise, even as fertiliser giants pocket windfall gains from crises like this one.

Instead of bailing them out, governments should foster food sovereignty and support farmers to cut synthetic fertiliser use, expand crop rotations, cover crops and nitrogen‑fixing plants, cap factory farming and prioritise food over animal feed, while investing in local, ecological food systems.

Public food stockholding and smart supply‑management tools can be more immediate actions that can stabilise prices, while emergency support goes directly to low‑ and middle‑income families, not corporate balance sheets.

Why these ideas matter

On their own, none of these ideas will end the war on Iran or dismantle the fossil fuel system that made it so dangerous. Together, though, they point to a different kind of crisis response: one that protects people first, makes war profiteers pay, and treats renewables, public services and ecological farming as essential defenses, not optional extras.

The last 100 days have shown that making the world dependent on fossil fuels is a recipe for permanent instability and economic disruption. The next 100 days should be about doing something bolder than tinkering with tax rates and releasing a few more barrels of oil from emergency caverns.

The tools to build a fair, renewable‑powered, war‑resistant economy are already here. The question now is whether political leaders will finally use them.

Make war profiteers pay

Tax fossil fuel profits to support communities hit by disasters and invest in energy independence.

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I am the mother of two funny and charismatic little kids who love being in nature. They love to run in the forest and play in the mud, collect slugs along the way and bike through puddles. Above all things, I care for their wellbeing. Like most parents, all I want for my kids is to have a safe and peaceful place to grow up in. For them to eat healthy food free of toxic pesticides, and breathe fresh air that doesn’t harm their little lungs. I want our climate to become stable and my kids to be protected from any impacts of extreme weather like storms, heat waves or heavy rains. I want them to experience the joys of growing up like I did, with a sense of security about the future.

Instead, we are living in times where it can be difficult to feel a sense of security as to what the future holds for them. 

A fallen (family) hero

Over a year ago, the region where I live was affected by heavy floods. Water was dripping from our basement walls. After an intense week of heavy rain, soggy soil and storms, our hundred-year-old apple tree fell like a toothpick. My kids were sad to see the majestic apple tree fall and anxious about the long-lasting rain. We feared for our friends living down the hill, who were affected even worse.

To me and my family, it is more than obvious that these extreme weather events are becoming more frequent and severe. I hold my heart imagining what an increasingly hotter planet will look like for our kids, how biodiversity collapse might impact their food security, how this might affect their friends and community. I can only imagine how parents in other parts of the world, where the situation is even worse, might feel. And I am very aware that the window to act on the climate and nature crisis is shrinking each year.

‘We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors. We borrow it from our children.’ 

Given the obvious urgency, you might assume our politicians are trying all they possibly can to prevent worse, right? Sadly, the opposite is true. A liveable planet and caring for our kids’ wellbeing seems out of fashion and not popular these days. Instead of putting the interests of our most precious little ones at the heart of meaningful climate laws and restoring nature to protect us against the next flood, I only hear politicians say there is no money for all of that. 

Really? No money for solutions that will keep our kids safe? No money for climate action, green housing and other basic social services that guarantee social security?

The “No Money” excuse

This narrative deployed by many politicians is not only handy for defending their own failure in protecting us, it also benefits one small, but very powerful group in society – the billionaires and the super-rich. A recently published Greenpeace Africa report showed that a very small group of ultra-rich individuals is linked to climate damage, driven by their financial investments in highly polluting industries like oil and gas, and their carbon-intensive lifestyles – think private jets. The report shows that richest 0.01% – that is a tiny fraction of the world’s population – is estimated to have nearly US$1 trillion in annual climate debt 

Now, if the very super-rich were taxed according to the climate damage they are estimated to have caused, wouldn’t there be enough money to work on protecting our kids and secure a stable planet we all need to survive?

Taxing the super-rich is common sense

We all pay taxes on our hard earned income and they form the super powers of our society. This is how we fund our fire fighters helping us against forest fires, but also how we fund our schools and hospitals. Taxes are how we fund more resilience against floods, or in an ideal scenario, halt the climate crisis. 

If we are serious about making the urgent changes needed to secure a liveable Earth, from transitioning to 100% renewable energy in affordable green homes that protects people from extreme heat and cold to ensuring ecological food systems and guaranteeing essential services for everyone, then taxing billionaires and the super-rich is inevitable. 

This is not a nice to have, it is a must have, and it can unlock trillions each year to fund climate action and protect nature. Even the super-rich themselves want to systemically contribute more fairly, as over 400 millionaires and billionaires from 24 countries, among them Hollywood actor Mark Ruffalo demanded earlier this year. They understand it is their responsibility to contribute their fair share and that it is totally unacceptable global leaders keep on ignoring what a broad movement of people are demanding: we urgently need new people-centric global tax rules to guarantee our ability to lead healthy, happy and dignified lives on a healthy planet

Breaking through the concrete

Funding a just and green future for all will ensure stability and peace. And above all we need a stable climate and thriving ecosystems, dignity and democracy, to pass down a sustainable and flourishing planet to the next generations. 

My 9-year-old daughter loves a song that she loudly sings along to: “Don’t wait for wonders, we’ll create them ourselves. Our future breaks like flowers through concrete” As parents we owe it to our kids to indeed not wait for wonders, but do all we can now to make their future flourish.

Christine Gebeneter is a communication specialist with the EU Socioeconomic campaign, with Greenpeace Central and Eastern Europe 

Tax the super-rich

Together, let’s urge governments to tax the super-rich and fund a green and fair future.

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Nairobi, Kenya / Bonn, Germany – A very small group of ultra-wealthy individuals is associated with disproportionate climate harm, driven alarmingly by their ownership of and investments in high-emitting activities alongside their carbon-intensive lifestyles, a Greenpeace Africa report revealed today. 

In 2022, the investments of the world’s richest 0.01% were associated with an estimated US$992 billion in what the report describes as climate debt – the monetised climate damages associated with emissions exceeding an equitable share of the remaining carbon budget consistent with a 1.5°C pathway. By comparison, the report estimates the consumption-based climate debt of the world’s richest 0.01% at US$405 billion in 2022.[1]

Clara Thompson, climate and tax justice lead campaigner at Greenpeace International, said: “We are learning that the climate impact of extreme wealth is far greater than previously understood. Yet governments often urge ordinary people to carry the burden of climate action while paying far less attention to those with the greatest climate debt and ability to cover the costs of climate breakdown: wealthy investors and major polluters. Something is fundamentally out of balance.” 

The report Understanding the Climate Debt of Extreme Wealth highlights how the climate crisis is increasingly also a crisis of extreme wealth concentration. The report argues that current climate policy frameworks focus primarily on production and consumption-based emissions, while largely overlooking emissions linked to capital ownership and carbon-intensive investment portfolios of the ultra-wealthy.[2]

Key findings from the report:

• The study estimates the average member of the global top 0.01% wealth group is associated with more than 130 times the ownership-based climate debt of the average member of the global top 10% wealth group. 
• For an average member in the global top 0.01%, the estimated ownership-based climate debt in 2022 was US$1.24 million – more than twice as large as consumption-based climate debt, estimated at US$506,783, highlighting the importance of looking beyond consumption (e.g. polluting private jets) alone when assessing climate responsibility.    
• The study estimates that, in 2022, the richest 1% accounted for approximately 41% of all ownership-based emissions, compared to 16.5% of consumption-based emissions attributed to the top 1% income group. 
• Wealth and ownership-based climate responsibility are concentrated in a relatively small number of countries, while many of the countries facing the greatest climate vulnerability and climate finance needs account for only a small share of global wealth.

As climate impacts such as damages from extreme weather, floods and droughts intensify globally, the gap between climate finance needs and its delivery continues to widen. The report suggests that taxing the climate damages associated with the ownership-based emissions of the world’s richest 0.01% alone could contribute significantly to climate finance needs in developing countries which are estimated to be at least $1 trillion annually.[3]

Koaile Monaheng, Fair Share Global Political Lead at Greenpeace Africa, said: “Taxing billionaires for the real costs of their polluting investments and lifestyles is not radical, it is a fair and necessary step toward funding climate action, addressing degradation of ecosystems and advancing climate justice for communities already paying the price for a crisis they did not cause. Without urgent action, the ultra-wealthy will continue to pollute and profit from the destruction and exploitation while the world is burning.”

Greenpeace International is calling on governments to integrate the polluter-pays principle into climate and fiscal policy frameworks and to commit under the UN Tax Convention (UNFCITC) to effective taxation of ultra-high-net-worth individuals and major corporate polluters, including through legally binding rules on taxing rights, transparency and measures to combat tax abuse. 

As climate finance needs continue to grow, discussions under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) and the UN Tax Convention should increasingly be seen as complementary processes to help mobilise the resources needed for climate action and sustainable development.

ENDS

Notes:

The executive summary of the report: Understanding the Climate Debt of Extreme Wealth – Executive Summary

[1] The report analyses the climate debt associated with the global top 10%, top 1%, top 0.1% and top 0.01% wealth and income groups. The study uses two approaches to estimate how global excess emissions – those exceeding the level consistent with limiting warming to 1.5°C – can be attributed across different wealth groups: one based on consumption and one based on ownership. The top 0.01% , or the ultra-high-net-worth individuals (UHNWIs), are approximately – for illustrative purposes –  those with more than US$38 million. This illustrative wealth threshold for the 0.01% is used by the World Inequality Report and is based on the world’s adult population – not the whole world population. The climate debt numbers are based on world population, however as the research didn’t find a source for the wealth threshold for whole populations it chose to use the WIR thresholds as an additional description of the 0.01%.

[2] The analysis was conducted by Forum Ökologisch-Soziale Marktwirtschaft (FÖS) e.V.

[3] Climate Action Network (CAN) (2024): Climate Action Network (CAN) Submission on the New Collective Quantified Goal (NCQG). 

Contact:

Greenpeace International Press Desk, +31 (0) 20 718 2470 (available 24 hours), pressdesk.int@greenpeace.org