In the battle against climate change, not all solutions are effective. Some look promising but may mask deeper issues. One such example is the soil carbon credit schemes taking root in East Africa, which may be more harmful than helpful.
At first, these projects seem beneficial. They claim to protect land, store carbon, and provide income for local communities. However, the reality is often different. Many communities face challenges, including loss of traditional land rights and exploitation.
In Tanzania, two significant projects raise red flags. The Longido and Monduli Rangelands Carbon Project aims to control nearly 970,000 hectares of Maasai land for 40 years. The Maasai International Solidarity Alliance (MISA) reports that contracts were often signed without legal guidance or community input. These projects impose strict grazing schedules that clash with the nomadic practices essential for survival in these arid regions.
Another initiative, the Resilient Tarangire Ecosystem Project, seeks to operate across 830,000 hectares. Together with the first project, they cover nearly two million hectares, an area larger than Qatar. Villages involved in these initiatives receive as little as $2 per hectare, while the carbon credits generated can sell for much more on global markets.
Supporters argue these initiatives help sequester carbon and improve livelihoods. Yet, research casts doubt on their effectiveness. According to the Food and Agriculture Organization, soil carbon storage in drylands is often unpredictable. Studies show that any carbon gains can easily reverse due to drought or erosion. Communities may be asked to change their ways of life for uncertain climate benefits, which could prove costly.
Tanzania’s carbon trading laws focus primarily on forests, leaving soil carbon projects unregulated and open to abuse. Meanwhile, Kenya has introduced its Climate Change (Carbon Markets) Regulations, 2024. However, this framework remains vague about soil carbon and community land rights. New projects are emerging in regions like Kajiado and Laikipia, often without proper consultation or transparency.
Some contracts even penalize communities for “carbon leakage,” which can pit villages against each other and disrupt long-standing traditions of shared grazing.
As interest in carbon markets grows, Kenya’s rangelands could become a new playground for investors. Many deals are being made in the name of sustainability, but they lack necessary community engagement. If left unchecked, Kenya risks making the same mistakes as Tanzania.
The Maasai International Solidarity Alliance is calling for a five-year moratorium on soil carbon projects. This isn’t a rejection of climate action; it’s a push for responsibility and fairness.
Governments and investors need to prioritize:
- Free, prior, and informed consent from local communities before signing land agreements.
- Legal protections for Indigenous land rights.
- Credible scientific backing for carbon initiatives, rather than relying on speculative markets.
Taking a step back would allow time for safeguards, sound science, and genuine community input.
Ultimately, this issue is about power: who makes decisions on climate action and who pays the price. Communities that have sustained the land shouldn’t have to sacrifice their rights for uncertain carbon credits.
Projects that exploit Indigenous lands under the guise of sustainability reflect a form of “carbon colonialism.” True climate justice demands equity, transparency, and respect for those whose lands are critical to the planet’s health. Anything less merely shifts one form of exploitation for another.
