Emancipatory Solidarity in a Time of Climate Collapse and Rising Repression

Solidarity is often evoked as a value, a sentiment, a call to action, but in these times of climate breakdown and political repression, it must become something more: an active, reflective, and enduring political practice.   

Across the globe, we are witnessing the criminalisation of dissent. From the banning of Palestine solidarity protests in Europe to the silencing of student voices across the campuses in the United States and elsewhere. The right to resist is under siege. The rise of authoritarian and far-right regimes cloaked in neoliberal promises and popular rhetoric is not just threatening individual rights or environmental regulations. It is undoing decades of hard-won progress by progressive movements.

In this moment, the work of building solidarity becomes both more difficult and more urgent. As we discussed in a recent episode of the  People vs Inequality  podcast hosted by Barbara van Paassen, and joined by AFSEE Fellows Amanda Segnini and Najma Mohamed, movements must rethink what it means to walk together even when we don’t fully agree. Solidarity doesn’t demand full alignment, but it does demand accountability, listening, and humility.

Solidarity Is Political, Not Just Moral 

As someone who has been part of India’s social movements for over two decades from resisting destructive dams to defending land and forest rights, I have come to understand solidarity not as a spontaneous gesture, but as a deeply political commitment. It must serve a purpose: to build people’s power, to advance emancipatory agendas, and to push back against the hegemonies—of caste, capital, patriarchy, race—that structure our world.

But solidarity is not just about intention. It is about consequence. Too often, solidarity from the Global North, or even from elite actors within the Global South, can reinforce the very hierarchies we are trying to dismantle.

Take the example of climate policy. Many Global South governments, including India's, are praised internationally for their renewable energy commitments. The Indian Prime Minister is often applauded for leading global solar alliances. Yet this same government is clamping down on dissent, bulldozing laws that protect tribal land rights, and criminalising those who question extractivism or declining democratic norms and values.

Can we really call it solidarity when large international NGOs or foundations applaud such regimes for ticking climate boxes, while ignoring their assault on human rights and democracy? As activists, we must insist: solidarity cannot be selective. We cannot have hierarchies of injustice. We cannot be silent about Palestine and vocal about Paris Agreements. 

Building Bridges Across Movements 

At the same time, we must acknowledge: solidarity is hard. Movements themselves are not immune to power imbalances. Within movement networks sometimes well-intentioned coalitions can be shaped by the louder voices, the larger constituencies, the more resourced groups. Building consensus means doing the slower, harder work of ensuring that marginalised voices of women, Dalits, Adivasis, landless workers, and other minorities are not drowned out. But it’s also in these difficult negotiations that real solidarity is born.

One example I shared in the podcast was the farmers’ movement in India during 2020–2021. For over a year, thousands of farmers camped on the borders of Delhi protesting the pro-corporate farm laws brought by the Indian government. While the leadership was largely male and often from patriarchal communities, women’s movements came forward in solidarity and pushed forward the issues of women farmers and workers. This created a powerful opportunity for mutual political education. Eventually, several movements and civil society coalitions came together to organise mahila kisan sansad (women’s farmers’ parliaments) at the protest site, an act that reshaped the movement’s imagination and identity.

This is what solidarity can do: it transforms. It doesn’t just show up, it shapes. And it demands that we engage with discomfort, contradiction, and complexity.

From Extractivism to Emancipation

In today’s climate justice movements, especially at the global level, there is often a rush to simplify. To campaign around easy slogans: 1.5 degrees. Just Transition. Net Zero. However, real solidarity demands that we ask harder questions. Who defines these goals? Who pays the price? Whose lands are taken? Whose labour is ignored?

We don’t just need a green transition. We need a just and fair transition. That cannot happen without building solidarity across the spectrum of progressive struggles—from anti-extractivist communities in Latin America to indigenous land defenders in India and from anti-racist campaigners in Europe to labour organisers in Africa.

To the wider AFSEE community, I want to say this: solidarity is not about perfection. It is about commitment. It is about staying in conversation, across geographies and ideologies, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. In these fractured and dangerous times, let us not be paralysed by our differences. Let us walk together where we can. Let us build an emancipatory politics rooted in dignity, dialogue, and the belief that another world is still possible.

This piece was written with reflections from the  People vs Inequality podcast. 

The views expressed in this post are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the Atlantic Fellows for Social and Economic Equity programme, the International Inequalities Institute, or the London School of Economics and Political Science.