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New analysis by the Tax Justice Network shows that governments could raise an additional $2.6 trillion each year by applying a modest wealth tax to the richest 0.5% of households and ending corporate tax abuse.
As the climate crisis accelerates, global fault lines are widening. Wealthy nations are gutting aid budgets while pouring fortunes into their militaries. Their climate finance commitments ring empty, masked by claims that public funds have run dry. But the reality is different: The money is there, and a bold tax justice agenda can unlock it. Reclaiming tax sovereignty—the power to decide how wealth is taxed and where it goes—can shift resources away from billionaires and corporate giants to fund real climate solutions.
This isn’t a funding gap. It’s a sovereignty gap.
New analysis by the Tax Justice Network shows that governments could raise an additional $2.6 trillion each year by applying a modest wealth tax to the richest 0.5% of households and ending corporate tax abuse. That would be more than enough to meet global climate finance needs and still leave most countries with billions to invest in care, education, and green jobs at home.
Extreme wealth fuels climate inaction, rising debt, and inequality. In a world on fire, refusing to tax those who profit most is no longer neutral—it’s a global risk.
The climate crisis is accelerating. Floods, heatwaves, and crop failures are pushing more people into precarity. The costs of climate adaptation, mitigation, and loss and damage are projected to reach $9 trillion per year by 2030. Yet the global community is still scrambling to honor a $100 billion pledge first made over 15 years ago.
As the Bonn climate talks come to a close and attention turns to the fourth Financing for Development conference in Seville, climate finance remains a structural void that policy declarations alone cannot fill. On the road to COP30 in Belém, governments face a critical choice: Keep chasing inadequate voluntary climate finance handouts, or finally confront the rigged tax systems that let the superrich and big polluters amass obscene wealth while the planet burns.
Tax Justice Network reveals that fair taxation of extreme wealth combined with measures to curb cross-border tax abuse by multinational corporations could raise $2.6 trillion each year—enough to more than double the $1.3 trillion annual climate finance goal that United Nations member countries are aiming to reach by 2030. The real issue isn’t where new money will come from, but why governments keep letting existing public resources leak through the cracks of a broken tax system.
By applying a minimal annual wealth tax of 1.7-3.5% and reclaiming tax revenue from multinationals that underpay tax, countries could unlock additional tax revenue equivalent to 2.4%of global GDP. This is money that could be raised today if governments stopped letting it slip away through loopholes and inaction.
We modeled what countries could raise and contribute based on historic responsibility for emissions. The results are striking. If countries were to contribute to a global climate finance fund sized at $300 billion—the lower end of the current debate—then 89% of countries could cover their share and still have billions left over for public services. Even if the fund were scaled up to $1.5 trillion, 58% of countries would still contribute their fair share and have billions to spare.
Take the United States. It could raise enough additional revenue to contribute $365 billion a year toward climate finance and still be left with $412 billion to spend at home. China, India, the United Kingdom, and Brazil follow the same pattern.
This is the core message of our climate finance slider tool. Taxing extreme wealth and curbing tax abuse does not pit climate justice against development. It enables both. The interactive tool shows how much countries could raise and how much they could contribute if tax rules were rebalanced in favor of people and planet.
So why are countries still acting like climate finance is unaffordable?
The answer lies in decades of eroded tax sovereignty. Countries have signed away their taxing rights through outdated and unfair treaties, allowed wealth to flow into secrecy jurisdictions, and catered to corporate demands for tax cuts and incentives—often under conditions of debt dependence and economic coercion. In the process, governments have weakened their ability and willingness to tax those most responsible for fuelling the climate crisis.
Today, 61% of countries were found to have an “endangered” level of tax sovereignty or worse—meaning they are failing to collect tax revenue worth at least 5% f what they already raise, largely from their richest households and from multinational corporations that underpay tax. Nearly a fifth of countries (19%) fall into the “negated” category, missing out on the equivalent of 15% or more of their annual tax revenue. These are not natural constraints. They are political outcomes shaped by an unequal global financial system.
Across the Global South, the consequences are particularly acute. Many governments face impossible tradeoffs—between education and adaptation, between debt service and disaster response. As United Nations independent expert Attiya Waris has warned:
Across the Global South, care and climate responses are being sacrificed to servicing debts that dwarf the funds we need for a just transition. These sacrifices reflect an international financial order that prioritises creditor claims over human and planetary well-being.
Climate finance cannot be separated from this wider context of fiscal injustice. When governments are forced to borrow for every disaster or rely on discretionary aid pledges, they lose both agency and time. The race to build resilience becomes a race against the clock—one they cannot win without revenue.
It is time to reframe the debate. Climate finance must not rely on broken promises or voluntary pledges. It must be embedded in systems that are fair and redistributive. That means tax systems—ones that reflect both capacity to pay and responsibility for emissions.
The upcoming U.N. Tax Convention offers a once in a generation opportunity to rebalance global tax rules. If done right, it could help all countries reclaim the power to tax their richest residents and corporations fairly. It could end the era of tax havens, profit shifting, and billionaire impunity.
But we do not need to wait for negotiations to conclude. Countries can act now by introducing wealth taxes, renegotiating exploitative tax treaties, increasing transparency, and aligning fiscal policies with climate goals. These reforms are not only possible. They are popular. Polling consistently shows widespread support for taxing extreme wealth to fund public goods.
Extreme wealth fuels climate inaction, rising debt, and inequality. In a world on fire, refusing to tax those who profit most is no longer neutral—it’s a global risk.
By reclaiming tax sovereignty, governments can do what markets and private finance have failed to deliver: fund climate solutions at scale, protect the most vulnerable, and make those most responsible pay their fair share. Refusing to tax isn’t sovereignty—it’s surrender to the idea that tax is a tool for catering to the desires of the superrich, rather than a tool for protecting people’s well-being, the planet, and our collective survival.
By capturing and investing the economic value of fossil fuel extraction, SWFs can support social equity and climate resilience for generations to come.
As the world confronts the climate crisis, the question is no longer whether we transition to a green economy—but how. For many, a “just transition” means ensuring fossil fuel workers aren’t left behind. But a broader vision is needed: one that includes the unemployed, Indigenous peoples, youth, and communities in the Global South who are most vulnerable yet least responsible for climate change.
A new paper by Patrick Brown and Tomás Paes de Carvalho proposes a compelling solution: a Global Commons Fund—an international Sovereign Wealth Fund (SWF)—that redistributes carbon revenues through a Universal Basic Income (UBI) and targeted climate investments. At the heart of this proposal is a reimagining of SWFs as tools not just of national savings, but of global justice.
Sovereign Wealth Funds are typically created by governments to manage income from nonrenewable resources. But Brown and Carvalho argue they can do more: By capturing and investing the economic value of fossil fuel extraction, SWFs can support social equity and climate resilience for generations to come.
Instead of asking how can we afford a just transition?, it shows how we can design it to pay for itself—and for everyone.
In Brazil, the cities of Maricá and Niterói have shown how local SWFs funded by oil royalties can sustainably finance basic income programs. These funds serve as buffers against the volatility of fossil fuel revenues and ensure long-term support for vulnerable populations. But while inspiring, these examples are hard to replicate without access to similar resources.
That’s where the Global Commons Fund comes in.
The Global Commons Fund is the backbone of the “Cap and Share” model developed by the nonprofit Equal Right. This proposal calls for:
This fund would operate like a traditional SWF but with an explicit justice mission: investing in global climate solutions while distributing cash dividends equally to all people. Initial payments would start at around $30 per month and grow over time, with projections estimating up to $5 trillion in annual revenue. A portion of the fund would also support climate grants targeted to the most affected communities.
By anchoring the just transition in a global financial structure, the Global Commons Fund democratises the proceeds of decarbonization. It transforms what is now a source of corporate profit and environmental destruction into a shared public good.
The brilliance of this approach lies in its long-term logic. Unlike short-lived aid or compensation schemes, SWFs—especially when transparently governed and ethically invested—create intergenerational equity. They ensure that today’s transition doesn’t come at the expense of tomorrow’s stability.
Brown and Carvalho’s proposal turns the usual climate finance conversation on its head: Instead of asking how can we afford a just transition?, it shows how we can design it to pay for itself—and for everyone. The Global Commons Fund makes clear that SWFs, retooled for justice and sustainability, could be the key to a fairer climate future.
Why does the world do less for climate the more data we have? Insights from data journalism reveal that scientists and the media have to change the way they tell the climate story.
Not even two months in office and President Donald Trump has slashed U.S. climate partnerships and aid to developing countries, notably from USAID. Expected? Yes. International anomaly? No.
Last November's COP29 conference on climate finance showed the widespread vapidity of global action. Inger Andersen, executive director of the United Nations Environment Program, revealed 1,200 notifications went out about significant gas leaks over the past two years to governments and businesses around the world. Only 1% responded. The U.N. acknowledged "capacity issues, technical barriers, and a lack of accountability," but failed to acknowledge another contributing factor. People are fundamentally not incentivized to care—because the climate crisis is consistently poorly communicated.
Publications like The New York Times typically report climate change like this: "Emissions soared to a record 57 gigatons last year." The U.N. Emissions Gap report's front page has this seething call to action: "Limit global warming to 1.5°C, struggle to adapt to 2°C, or face catastrophic consequences at 2.6°C and beyond." The media skews toward this numerical doom-and-gloom for two main reasons: One, journalists are often taught people pay attention to negative information. Two, scientists are often taught numbers speak for themselves. Logically then, numbers with negative consequences should make people care…
Instead of telling governments to fix a leak because the "data says so," we need to emphasize the positive impact on people.
No. As someone with training in data journalism and storytelling, I advise considering the underlying psychology. In 2023, a Pew Research Center survey revealed 7 in 10 Americans feel "sad about what is happening to the Earth" after seeing climate change in the news. Despite that negative frame, only about 4 in 10 Americans feel "optimistic we can address climate change" when they see news on the topic. And only about 1 in 10 Americans feel activism is "extremely or very effective at getting elected officials to act on the issue." Sadness, fear, and anxiety don't often translate to motivation.
"Climate change" and "greenhouse gases" are simply too abstract. When former U.S. President Joe Biden said climate change is an "existential threat to all of us," it felt like a hypothetical issue. When the media reduces climate change to facts and numbers—to "emissions" and "gigatons" and "degrees Celsius"—it feels like a psychologically distant entity devoid of humanity and ineligible for our care.
How then should we communicate? Maybe the solution is emphasizing the negative consequences on human beings… showing images of wildfires destroying communities and people suffering from drought. Nonprofits, for example, traditionally use negative imagery of emaciated children, often Black and brown, to get donors' attention. And many studies show this "poverty porn" works. After Haiti was severely damaged by an earthquake in 2010, for example, the negative images of victims was criticized by the media. But it led to the second biggest success in the organization's fundraising history.
Destroyed Houses during Haiti's Earthquake in 2010. (Photo: ECHO/Raphaël Brigandi via Flickr).
These conclusions, however, lack nuance and ethics. Negative imagery may inspire pity and a donation out of guilt in the short-term. But it can lead to decreased care in the long-term. By portraying people in an undignified light, as "others" in need of "saving," we fetishize their suffering and infantilize their agency. Research demonstrates we attribute less respect and less agency to those in helpless, suffering outgroups, and are less likely to back policies that support them.
If negative data, "poverty porn," and "disaster porn" all aren't the answer, what then is? In my TEDx talk on data communication, I emphasize how emotion guides our decision-making. Research has found people gave the most money to charity after hearing simple stories that start with sadness and end on hope. Yes, negative frames do grab attention and elicit sympathy. But evidence of success emotionally inspires us to act.
Consider the U.N.'s 1% response rate to gas leak notifications. According to the executive director, "We are quite literally talking about screwing bolts tighter in some cases." Our current approach can't even get governments to screw in a bolt. If we want global leaders to keep their COP29 promise of $300 billion in annual funding for developing countries (which the U.S. certainly isn't helping with anymore), we desperately need to pivot.
Instead of telling governments to fix a leak because the "data says so," we need to emphasize the positive impact on people. How will decreasing your abstract methane emissions lead to better health for human beings? How will donating trillions to some abstract goal of "1.5°C" benefit people in your local community that you personally care about? If we want the climate crisis to be seen as not just an "existential" environmental problem, but a horrifically human one happening right now close to home, we need to stop sharing negative stats and start telling hopeful stories. Especially with staunch resistance from a second Trump administration, we need to communicate the climate crisis in a much more human and much more ethical way if we are to inspire global action.