We’re driving along a track in the middle of the Brazilian cerrado (savanna) attempting to get to a scattered farming community, Cana Brava, before nightfall. The subsistence farmers ahead are surrounded on all sides by eucalyptus plantations that provide the raw materials for the charcoal in the trucks. There is a chance we might be stopped by the armed guards that ‘protect’ the plantations. Between the encroaching twilight, the unpredictable trucks, the guards and the dust, nerves are beginning to fray.

Finally we arrive in the absolute darkness that can only be found in rural areas, far away from the orange glow of the city. The house we reach belongs to 48-year-old Maria Camargo Soares, whose grandmother worked the land here. Now she continues the family tradition of subsistence farming. She’s uncertain that her children can or will carry the traditions into the next generation.

Cana Brava dates from over a hundred years ago, which is a long time in the remembering of a young colonial nation like Brazil. The community is 22 kilometres from the nearest town along the aforementioned dirt road. There are over a thousand people living in the area; two thirds of the original inhabitants have now moved to the city as the encroaching plantations gobble up water and land around them.

‘They left because when the company came in 1975 the land become so little that people couldn’t support themselves. When my grandparents had their farm here there was enough land for everyone to live comfortably. Now the water has dried up and this year we didn’t harvest anything at all because of the drought and the drain on the water from the plantation,’ Dona Maria explains.

Juarez Teixeira, a local trade union worker, adds: ‘These people used to have freedom to use these lands, to come and go, to graze their cattle, to extract wood, to collect fruit and herbs. Today they are confined to this small area. One side it’s rock and on the other the armed guard of the company.’

The company in question is Vallourec & Mannesmann (V&M), a French-German steel company that uses the eucalyptus charcoal to fuel steel production. They have over 40,000 hectares of eucalyptus plantations in this region alone. In total there are five million hectares of eucalyptus in Brazil, a country where land issues are top of the political and social agenda. The history of eucalyptus is closely tied to that of the oppression of the military dictatorship, during which people were forcibly removed from their lands to make way for the ‘green revolution’.

V&M did not evict the people from the lands in Cana Brava, yet their more subtle tactics are just as effective. Dona Maria describes how the company flouts agreements by not terracing the land within the plantation, resulting in rains flooding through to her farm and causing silting. Her first home was destroyed when a V&M truck crashed into it after careering off the nearby road.

Juarez Teixeira catalogues many other problems caused by the company, such as health and safety violations where workers have been put in danger or poorly compensated for death and injury; outsourcing to small contractors who illegally log native forests so the company can not be held accountable; and breaking environmental laws by planting near to water sources. ‘The threat to workers and people here is great. Shots have been fired on people by the armed guards. They feel prisoners within their own lands.’

Perversely, an agreement designed to ameliorate climate change now adds to the burden local people face in the form of the new carbon market. In 2003, V&M announced a landmark deal with the Dutch government and Toyota to secure carbon credits as a result of their switching to wood charcoal instead of coal to fire their steelworks. At the time there were objections locally and internationally that support for the company meant new financial incentives to plant more eucalyptus, thereby increasing the pressure on the community’s water and land resources. According to Juarez Teixeira, ‘Carbon credits are just another way for V&M to make money and continue as before.’

The local people beg for intervention here, yet it seems the manner in which the international community has become involved seems only to increase pressure on an already fragile existence. The subsistence farmers of Cana Brava manage the land in an infinitely more climate-friendly way than companies like V&M. Unfortunately they don’t qualify for carbon credits.

The eldest in a large Irish immigrant family, my nan was seven when British involvement in the second world war began and a teen when it ended. Like every other teenager, war or no war, what she remembers most had to do with clothes: ‘My mum [my great grandmother] managed everything in the house and we never starved. But we had to sell our clothes ration to the richer people so we could buy extra food.’

My family was fortunate – they had relatives in the US who regularly sent clothes packages that made up for the trade-off. Others weren’t so lucky. They simply went without, selling their clothes rations to the wealthy to put more food on the table. There are no official figures about the scale of the rations trade but my nan remembers it as common practice.

All very interesting, you might say, but what has it got to do with climate change?

The answer is that recently rationing has made a reappearance in the guise of ‘domestic tradeable quotas’ (DTQs). Labour MP Colin Challen proposed a bill in November 2005 to introduce a system of carbon rationing for fuel and domestic electricity use. Like war rations, each person would get the same allowance, in the form of a ‘credit card’ to present when paying for petrol and energy – the difference being that in the second world war it was illegal to trade your allowances, whereas in this system it is central.

Challen argues that trading will increase the income of the money-poor. If they aren’t flying off to Bermuda for their holidays they can sell their rations to those who do.

The figures do seem to support this argument. The number of people living in fuel poverty (spending more than 10 per cent of their income on energy) has increased to more than three million since fuel prices rocketed. That is up from 1.2 million in 2004 and is set to worsen as prices continue rising.

Jonathan Stearn, from independent consumer group Energy Watch, explains: ‘What is needed for the fuel-poor is a substantial rise in income as this is more effective than other solutions like energy efficiency.’

So income from selling off carbon rations could be a solution. However, beneath the statistics lies a more complex human story. Prices of carbon rations would rise and fall daily depending on market dynamics and unpredictable forces such as changes in the weather. For those on low incomes, stability is crucial to managing the weekly budget. If you’re dependent on the vagaries of a carbon market, then disaster could easily be just around the corner.

Half of those in fuel poverty are the elderly on state pensions. Winter deaths, due in part to poor heating, number in the thousands every year. Jonathan Stearn reflects on his time at Age Concern, a charity working with and for older people. He found it extremely difficult to persuade the elderly he worked with to use more energy even when they could afford it. Their instinct was to conserve over keeping themselves safely warm. In this case, rationing sends the wrong message to this vulnerable group who need to increase their consumption, not decrease it.

There are alternatives that could be more effective. Although Energy Watch does not have a policy on carbon rationing, the group says the first step to getting emissions reduced is to install ‘smart meters’ that allow customers to see how much energy they use in money terms and the level of pollution created.

‘Where these systems are already in place, up to 15 per cent reductions in energy use follow because people can see how much they’re using and change their behaviour willingly,’ says Jonathan Stearn. Coupled with this, he says, a central part of tackling climate change should involve challenging fuel poverty by pressuring the government to increase incomes through the benefits system. Whereas Energy Watch puts faith in people and the government, the proponents of carbon rationing seem to leave it to the market.

Times have changed. We’re not at war with Germany any more. Yet carbon rationing seems oddly reminiscent of the past. No matter if the initial distribution is equitable, as with war rations, once superimposed on a society riddled with inequality, those with the greater access to material resources can gain the upper hand. Or as my nan wryly surmised: ‘The rich always find a way to get what they want.’

www.energywatch.org.ukHeidi Bachram is a research associate at the Transnational institute project, Carbon Trade Watch.

I sit outside the crowded cafe as the untrustworthy sunshine retreats and leaves me shivering into my soya cappuccino, waiting. When they arrive I ask one of them, Sally Reeve, to tell me about the ‘climate camp’, their plan for solving climate change.

Sally pauses thoughtfully. ‘The climate camp is an action camp taking place in the summer, getting people to engage with climate change and take action.’ Another intense pause and then: ‘I think people are really scared by climate change. They know that some massive response is needed and that actions by the government and corporations aren’t proportionate to the scale of the problem. We need to come together and educate ourselves, share ideas and do some really important direct action.’

Doubts enter my mind unbidden as I hear those two little words: direct action. A common response – a direct reaction – for many. Does that mean it’s all about climbing trees and fighting the boys in blue? Sally patiently replies: ‘Obviously direct action is an important part of the camp, but it’s not something we expect everybody to take part in. People who haven’t taken direct action before shouldn’t feel excluded.’

Ian Kilminster, another organiser of the camp, adds: ‘What we should remember is that solutions to climate change have to be grassroots and that encompasses direct action but needs to include all sorts of action. It’s not just about taking responsibility for yourself but making the changes around you collectively.’ I begin to relax a little and ask why they felt the need for a climate camp at this moment.

Sally explains that most of the focus for action on climate change has been on changing individual consumption, with little scrutiny of the institutions and economic forces driving the climate crisis. The bottom line of fossil fuel corporations precludes them from taking real action on climate change because it’s an inherent contradiction for their core business. She states that the real solutions must be determined by us, the people.

But why do we need to slum it in a campsite for two weeks in order to do this? Sally skims over my whining: ‘Most of the NGO campaigning is asking the government for reduction targets or persuading oil companies to be more socially responsible. We don’t believe that either of those is going to be effective because the government can only do what the corporations allow it to do. And the corporations can only push for more consumption because that’s the way they’re legally structured. Therefore it’s up to us.’

As we talk more about the camp, that it will be organised into ‘neighbourhoods’ to welcome people into an open but organised structure, the childcare available, the range of topics covered – from the effects of oil pollution in the ‘developing world’ to challenging the irrepressible aviation industry – I can no longer deny the effect they’re having on me and I spontaneously exclaim that they’ve even inspired me. Me! This is a disturbing experience which I’ve done my best to repress ever since by frantically watching Big Brother. Listening again to their words on my mini-disc later brings back those tired old stirrings of, is it …. hope? Through my headphones Ian enthuses: ‘If we don’t get this right everything else is wrong. If you want a fair and equitable future then it will have to be envisioned and created by everybody that will live in it. The camp won’t be the thing that does that but will be a kick-start for it. When the camp is over it’s just the beginning for grassroots movement on climate change.’

We may well be doomed, but this old hack will certainly be there this summer with the positive and the inspired. See you there?

The bank’s conclusions start from the assumption that the world will be reliant on fossil fuels for the next 20-30 years. Its solutions include a mix of energy efficiency, carbon capture and storage, dams, wind and solar power. These would be financed from new funds to cover up-front costs and future income flowing from carbon trading. The response from environmental and social justice activists was decidedly frosty, with accusations that the bank was merely reinforcing the status quo.

On the face of it, the bank is careful to put emphasis on energy efficiency and wind and solar energy, with an increase in funds of 20 per cent per year for renewables. So why the coolness from activists? Daphne Wysham, of the US-based Institute for Policy Studies, suggests we read between the lines: ‘What they spend on renewables is so low already that 20 per cent may sound significant. But when you realise that the bank is throwing billions at fossil fuel projects and mere millions at renewables, then you get some perspective.’

Can the World Bank overcome the antipathy? Professor Michael Dorsey, of the Environmental Studies Programme at Dartmouth University in the US, sees hope for the bank, but only if it can transform itself into a micro-lender targeting small loans with low interest rates at the most vulnerable groups. ‘Right now, since the level of response needed to climate change is obviously global and there is no other institution with the capacity to do this, the World Bank could be best placed to play a role,’ ventures Dorsey.

But although it’s true that the World Bank is in a unique global position, its failure to make significant advances towards eliminating poverty should make us nervous. Dorsey agrees: ‘The bank itself tells you that two thirds of its projects don’t work and a third to half are abject failures. With a track record like that you need to come up with a strategy for success or close the doors.’ Dorsey describes a process where the bank sets a definitive entry and exit strategy, ensuring that investment in renewables is not capital intensive – something that isn’t part of their current practices.

Many activists, however, believe that the bank is rife with inherent contradictions that prevent it from playing a positive role in developing renewable energies. The long-time World Bank activist, Professor Patrick Bond, based in the Centre for Civil Society in South Africa, says: ‘With the leading organic intellectual of the petro-military complex, Paul Wolfowitz, as bank president, there is no hope whatsoever for reforming the institution’s energy policy.’ Daphne Wysham also agrees that there are fundamental problems within the power structures of the bank. ‘They are a bank first and foremost and answerable to their largest investors: the G7 countries. So the result is like the man behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz, all whizz and bang out front but the same old hands pulling the strings.’

So what is the future for investment in renewable energy? Patrick Bond sees a fundamental problem in World Bank financing: ‘The interest on a World Bank loan soars when a third world currency declines. If the World Bank were not holding the reigns on most third world states’ monetary policy, more local fiscal resources could be used for renewables … The only serious strategy for progressives to pursue is the defunding and delegitimation of the Bank.’

In fact this is not such a radical suggestion. The bank’s own consultants reviewed its investments in fossil fuels and recommended funding cease for such projects by 2008 because they harmed the poor. The report, the Extractive Industries Review, was subsequently shelved by the bank.

Daphne Wysham sees this as a huge mistake. ‘The bank needs to immediately get out of fossil fuels,’ she argues. According to Wysham’s research, the World Bank’s oil, gas and coal projects financed since 1992 will release over 43 billion tons of carbon dioxide in their lifetimes. Perhaps the bank should take its own advice and stop being part of the problem.

Local environmentalists threw another punch by demanding that funds from the closure be used to invest in clean energy to provide jobs for the now unemployed coal miners. The Black Mesa campaign groups state that: ‘For years, the Navajo and Hopi people made major sacrifices … The people provided labour, coal, pristine water and bore the burden of pollution. Now that the facility has closed, we have a right to ask the owners to help us make the transition to a better future, to repay the debt.’

As greens don’t normally put themselves out for jobless miners, this may be a surprising turn of events. However, the unemployed are local people, mostly Navajo, and the principle of ‘just transition’ – building alliances between workers in polluting industries and affected communities – is strong in the US.

The local Black Mesa groups are affiliated to a national movement, the Just Transition Alliance, and its education and training director, Jenice L View explains: ‘Companies will often drive wedges between workers and local communities, primarily by creating “job fear” and painting activists as the environmental bogeyman. Just transition principles bring those two parties together, building political power and identifying who the real culprits are – such as corporations and government institutions.’

The just transition movement was born out of community-based activism. Then, in 2003, mainstream NGOs and big unions in the US took some of these principles and formed the Washington-based coalition, the Apollo Alliance, under the banner of ‘Three Million New Jobs, Independence from Foreign Oil’. This raised hackles among community-based campaigners concerned that the new coalition’s concept of just transition was not necessarily progressive.

According to Tom Goldtooth of the environmental justice group, Indigenous Environment Network: ‘Apollo Alliance’s main focus has been on jobs and energy independence. It’s very white and very top-down. This is a common problem with policy organisations that have no accountability to the communities that are directly impacted by polluting industries.’

‘Just transition is a process, a principle and a practice, not a focused campaign,’ says Jenice L View. Missing from the Apollo Alliance are those key elements of practice and process – a failing that could equally apply to climate initiatives in the UK. On this side of the pond, just transition is barely on the radar of climate campaigners. As Ashok Sinha, director of the recently formed Stop Climate Chaos coalition – whose members include the UK’s largest environmental groups – accepts, ‘Just transition is not at the forefront of our lobbying efforts.’ Stop Climate Chaos has prioritised policy goals by focusing on getting the government to commit to a 3 per cent reduction in carbon emissions per annum.

While environmental groups give just transition low priority, unions have taken on-board some of the ideas, inspired in part by the movement in the US. Philip Pearson of the Trade Union Congress (TUC) explains: ‘Just transition is at the heart of our policies on climate change and we want to develop a UK model. To us, just transition means developing industries around renewable energy to create job opportunities. But you have to have strong grassroots engagement. Action on climate change won’t work if it’s top-down.’

The US debate around just transition is well-developed, in sharp contrast to the level of discussion in the UK. Even so, grassroots activists do see its relevance. Norman Philip, a community organiser based in Grangemouth, a major Scottish petrochemical town, says: ‘This is where America does it so much better. When NGOs don’t use processes like just transition, communities and workers who are at risk from polluting industries while being economically dependent on them, feel ignored and isolated. That doesn’t inspire them to sign up to campaigns on climate change.’

‘Climate change is fought and lost in Grangemouth every day,’ he continues. ‘People here are on the front-line of the main source of the problem, the petrochemical industry. If we don’t have communication and solidarity between fenceline communities, workers and environmental NGOs, then any work on climate change may fail the people most impacted.’