For two days, the Global South gathered in the Venezuelan capital for the World Congress for the Defence of Our Mother Earth, bringing together 173 international delegates from 63 countries and more than 1,000 representatives of local movements, unions, and environmental communities.
The event was more than an environmental assembly; it was a reckoning, a moral and political declaration, and a reassertion of agency by nations and peoples who have too often borne the consequences of decisions taken elsewhere.
Walking into the grand hall in Caracas, one could feel the weight of history. The South has long been asked to play the role of the passive recipient of policies devised in distant capitals, of the silent victim of industrialization’s excesses.
Today, that silence was broken. From the opening session, it was clear that this gathering was not about technical definitions of carbon cycles or projections of temperature rise. It was about responsibility, justice, and naming the culprits.
Vice President Delcy Rodríguez, speaking with the authority of someone who understands the political dimension of ecological struggle, did not mince words. She denounced what she called “environmental colonialism,” the continuation of old patterns of exploitation under the new guise of a “green transition.”
Rodríguez reminded the world that the industrialized North, having already plundered the South for centuries — gold, oil, and the labour of generations — now seeks to extract what she called “green minerals”: lithium, cobalt, and nickel.
These are the resources that underpin the global shift to renewable energy and electric vehicles, but they are mined in the South and processed in factories in the North.
The North’s wealth and influence, she argued, allow it to lecture the rest of the world on emission reductions, while continuing to consume at rates that render those lectures hypocritical.
The richest one percent of the global population, she noted, consumes its annual share of carbon emissions within the first 10 days of the year, while 366 million people remain without electricity.
These figures are more than statistics. They are a moral indictment of a system that continues to thrive at the expense of the planet and its people.
For the South, the question is no longer whether emissions should be cut; it is whether the global order itself is fair, and whether the South has the right to develop on its own terms.
The conference made clear that environmental sustainability cannot be separated from economic justice, sovereignty, and historical accountability.
It was against this backdrop that the concept of environmental socializm emerged with clarity and purpose.
In Venezuela, under the leadership of President Nicolás Maduro, environmental socializm is not an abstraction, but a philosophy that integrates human development with ecological stewardship.
It is a vision in which the economy serves the cycles of nature rather than subjugating them, where agriculture regenerates soil rather than depleting it, and where organic food reconnects human beings with the rhythms of the Earth that industrial modernity has long disrupted.
The message was unmistakable: the solution is not to “change the climate” but to change the systems that created the climate crisis in the first place.
Maduro spoke of regenerative agriculture, returning to the land, and building a society where human activity is consonant with ecological limits.
Rodríguez framed the challenge in moral terms: the imbalance between the North and South is not only economic or technological; it is existential.
The North has failed to meet its commitments to finance clean energy technologies in the South, and it has not achieved the promised zero-emission targets for 2050. However, it continues to impose standards, carbon markets, and technical restrictions that constrain Southern development while absolving itself of responsibility.
For observers such as myself, participating in Caracas was to witness the emergence of a new narrative.
The South was no longer negotiating from a place of dependency. It was setting its own terms, defining its own priorities, and insisting that justice — environmental, social, and historical — is central to the discourse.
The rhetoric was forceful but rooted in lived reality, resonating with the knowledge that climate disasters are not abstract phenomena; they are experienced daily by the people, the land, and the rivers of the South.
Caracas also made clear that this vision is collective. The conference prepared the Global South for the COP30 climate summit in Belém do Pará, Brazil.
The goal was to articulate a unified agenda: a “Green Society, Green Economy, and Green Country,” emphasizing that environmental protection and social justice are inseparable.
This vision challenges the false dichotomy long promoted by Northern policymakers: that one must choose between economic development and environmental stewardship. In Caracas, the South insisted on a path that reconciles both.
The contrast between Northern and Southern “green” paradigms was evident. In the North, green is often a commodity, a brand, a marketable principle wrapped in the language of carbon trading and technological transfers.
In the South, green is life itself: the fertile land that feeds families, the forests that sustain communities, and the air that carries oxygen and hope.
For the North, carbon credits and green investment are tools to maintain advantage; for the South, they are instruments to claim fairness, equity, and survival.
The conference also highlighted the importance of indigenous knowledge, grassroots organization, and community-driven environmental initiatives.
Environmental socialism is not only about high-level policy; it is about practices that transform everyday life. From local conservation efforts to regenerative agriculture, from environmental education to community-based early warning systems, the South demonstrated that sustainability begins on the ground, with people whose lives are intimately connected to the land.
Returning to Cairo, I reflected on what Caracas represents for Egypt and the Arab world. Though our contribution to global emissions is comparatively modest, we are disproportionately affected by climate change through water scarcity, desertification, heatwaves, and threats to food security.
Caracas offers a lesson: environmental policy is not optional or peripheral; it is central to national security, social stability, and ethical governance.
The vision of environmental socialism, while rooted in the Venezuelan experience, provides a conceptual framework for rethinking development, prioritizing ecological balance, and ensuring that human needs are met without sacrificing the planet.
Caracas, in essence, was a rehearsal for the moral arguments of the 21st century. It reminded us that the South can speak with authority, that justice and sustainability are intertwined, and that the claims of those who bear the consequences of climate disruption must be recognized.
History, which has a long memory, will record that the Global South began to reclaim its voice in October 2025, insisting that defending the Earth is inseparable from defending human dignity and sovereignty.
The lessons of Caracas are clear. The South is no longer willing to accept a role defined by the North. It is asserting its rights to development, ecological stewardship, and historical accountability.
It is demanding that the global community recognize the moral and material debts owed by those who have long exploited the world’s resources. And it is insisting that environmental action is inseparable from justice, equity, and the ethical ordering of international relations.
Environmental socialism, as articulated in Caracas, is thus more than a policy prescription; it is a philosophy of life, a call to reorient human activity, and a challenge to the global order.
It demands that the excesses of the North be curtailed, that the voices of the South be amplified, and that the planet be recognized as a shared home, not a commodity to be traded in distant boardrooms.
It insists that human ambition must be reconciled with ecological limits, that prosperity must coexist with responsibility, and that justice must guide the allocation of resources, burdens, and benefits.
In the final analysis, the Global South spoke in Caracas not merely to assert its interests, but to articulate a vision of what global civilization could be: equitable, sustainable, and morally coherent.
The North, if it wishes to engage constructively, must listen. It must recognize that sustainability without justice is hollow, that development without morality is dangerous, and that the stewardship of the Earth is inseparable from the dignity of those who inhabit it.
Caracas may have been a conference, but it was also a declaration: the South will not be silent, and the planet will not be treated as property.
Environmental socialism is the language through which the South speaks, and in its words echoes the hope and resolve of billions who demand fairness, responsibility, and survival.
-------
* The writer is the head of the International Relations Unit and Energy Programme at Al-Ahram Centre for Political and Strategic Studies.
Short link: