The world is in turmoil marked with deep and overlapping crises. Politically, the language of an impending world war has re-entered public discourse. Socially, societies are marked by growing inequality, distrust, and rising violence. Environmentally, climate collapse threatens the very conditions of life which might end the world. Culturally, many describe this era as Kalyug^[1], a time of moral decay, greed, and injustice. While these descriptions may appear alarmist, they reflect a deeper collective realisation: the dominant economic and social systems that once promised progress are now producing instability, exclusion, and ecological destruction.

Yet, this is not a moment to surrender to despair. If human actions have driven the planet to the brink, humans also possess the capacity to imagine, create, and sustain alternative futures. Long before modern capitalism, societies lived in closer harmony with nature, recognising interdependence rather than dominance. This way of life may now seem idealistic or romanticised, but it was once a functional system grounded in care, reciprocity, and restraint. What has become destructive is not humanity itself, but the economic systems that reward extraction, accumulation, and inequality. Rebuilding a livable future therefore requires not merely reforming the economy, but fundamentally rethinking how we define value, progress, and prosperity.

The world is finally waking up to a hard truth: fossil fuels are one of the biggest drivers of climate change (Daley and Lawrie 2022). As a result, countries across the globe are beginning to shift towards cleaner and more sustainable sources of energy. This transformation of the global energy system feels urgent and necessary (REN21 2024).

But as this shift gains momentum, an important question emerges: is switching to clean energy enough?

At first glance, the transition to renewable energy looks like a clear solution, not just to the climate crisis, but also to building a safer and more peaceful world. However, the reality is more complex (Global Witness 2025). Simply replacing fossil fuels with renewable energy does not automatically make the system fair or just (WILPF 2025).

Today’s energy systems are still shaped by long-standing structures like patriarchy, racism, colonialism, and militarism. These systems have historically exploited both nature and marginalized communities. If we don’t challenge them, we risk creating a future where “big oil” is simply replaced by “big renewables” – with the same inequalities, just under a different name.

This is why the conversation needs to go beyond technology. A true energy transition is not just about solar panels or wind turbines, it’s about rethinking how power and resources are distributed, who gets to make decisions, and whose voices are heard.

What we need is a deeper transformation of the energy system – one that centers care, relationships, and justice. This is where the idea of a Feminist Just Transition becomes important. It shifts the focus from only technological solutions to people and well-being. It reminds us that climate action is not just about reducing emissions, but about building a fairer and more inclusive world for everyone.

In my paper, “Towards a Feminist Just Transition: A Pathway to Inclusive Climate Action,” I lay out a set of core values that can guide how we think about and design this transition. These values are not just abstract ideas – they offer a practical lens for policymakers, practitioners, and researchers to evaluate and reshape energy systems so that they are fair, inclusive, and people-centered.

At the heart of this framework is inclusivity, ensuring that everyone, across gender, caste, class, race, age, disability, sexuality, and other identities, has a meaningful voice in decision-making (WEDO et al. 2022). Alongside this, is the idea of decentralised and shared power, which calls for shifting control away from large, centralised institutions and placing it in the hands of communities and local systems (QUNO 2024).

Another key value is ecological stewardship. It reminds us that the planet is not an endless resource to exploit, but a living system that we are responsible for protecting (Lovelock, 1979). Similarly, circular resource justice pushes us to rethink how we use materials, focusing on reuse, recycling, and responsible management, especially when it comes to critical minerals needed for renewable energy (Daly, 1996).

A feminist just transition also calls for building a care-centred economy, one that values well-being, health, and human relationships over profit and constant productivity  (Narayan 2023). This connects closely with the core value of degrowth. Here, degrowth does not mean reducing quality of life; instead, it means cutting down on unnecessary production and consumption, reducing luxury emissions, and prioritising collective well-being over endless economic expansion (Hickel 2020).

​​The idea of degrowth offers a glimpse into the kind of future we should be aiming for. While it may sound like a new buzzword in the climate conversation, at its core, it is actually about going back to basics, rethinking what we truly need, consuming less, and living in a way that is more balanced with people and the planet (Kallis et al. 2018).

Unpacking degrowth within a feminist just transition begins with valuing indigenous and traditional wisdom. For generations, communities shaped their economies around local geography, climate, and ecological limits. There was no single model of development. Each region grew in its own way.

This changed with capitalist and imperial growth models, which imposed a uniform idea of progress. This one-size-fits-all approach ignored local realities and weakened both cultural identity and ecological balance (Escobar 2018). Today, cities are starting to look the same. Glass buildings, air-conditioned spaces, flyovers, and concrete roads dominate. In this pursuit of growth, we have lost the uniqueness of places.

Degrowth challenges this sameness. It asks us to ground development in the realities of each region. It focuses on local needs, limits, and strengths. This becomes critical in the energy transition. Instead of standardising solutions, we must ask what energy sources make sense in a place and how much is enough (IEA 2021)

This opens up diverse and locally rooted energy possibilities. In the Central Himalayan region of India, pine needles, once treated as waste, are now being used to generate electricity through biomass (Kala and Subbarao 2017). In all, Degrowth promotes local and grounded solutions which are aligned with both people and the planet.

Furthermore, the value of degrowth becomes clearer when understood alongside other core values of a feminist just transition, especially a care-centred economy and circular resource justice. Historically, societies divided labour based on physical strength and caregiving roles. Men were largely associated with income-generating work, while women were expected to take on care responsibilities. Over time, economic contribution became closely tied to respect, independence, and decision-making power. In this process, care work was pushed to the margins and undervalued (Federici 2012).

This shift has come at a cost. In the pursuit of economic growth, we have overlooked the central role of care in sustaining families and societies. Care work ensures nutrition, health, and overall well-being, yet it remains largely invisible in economic systems. The value of degrowth in feminist just transition framework brings this imbalance into focus. It recognises that human well-being and ecological health are deeply interconnected (Agarwal 1992), and that any energy transition must support both, rather than reproduce existing social and environmental harms  (Hickel 2020)

This understanding also connects to the idea of circularity. Degrowth asks us to reflect on how much we consume and the resources required to sustain that consumption. As societies continue to extract and use natural resources, there is a need to prioritise reuse, repair, and longer lifecycles of products (Ellen MacArthur Foundation 2013). These practices are not new. They were once part of everyday life, shaped by cultural values, respect for labour, and an awareness of limits. When resources were scarce, consumption was more mindful and rooted in necessity (Manchanda et al. 2023).

Reviving this mindset is critical in addressing today’s energy and ecological crisis. It encourages a more responsible relationship with materials and reduces the pressure on natural systems  (Olufemi et al., 2012).

In this way, a feminist just transition goes beyond simply changing energy sources. It calls for a deeper shift in how we define value, organise our economies, and relate to nature. By centering care, recognising limits, and promoting responsible resource use, it offers a pathway that is not only sustainable, but also just and regenerative.

^[1] In Hindu philosophy, the fourth and current age in the cycle of cosmic eras (yugas).