When the idea of carbon markets first gained traction, I’ll admit I was cautiously optimistic.
The concept sounded almost too perfect: companies could offset their emissions, and communities protecting forests, wetlands, and grasslands would get rewarded. A beautiful exchange, right? Preservation is funded by pollution repair.
In theory, at least.
But the reality on the ground? It’s messier than the smooth, clean graphs and glossy brochures suggest.
Over the past few years and especially after attending events like the Mazingira Odyssey organized by Earth Now I’ve realized how complex (and honestly, disheartening) this whole system can be.
Especially when you start asking: who’s benefiting?
A System Built on Good Intentions…Sort of
At the core, carbon markets are supposed to incentivise conservation.
A forest left standing absorbs carbon dioxide. An untouched peatland keeps millions of tons of carbon locked safely underground.
So, theoretically, when a community agrees to conserve rather than exploit their natural resources, they’re providing a service to the world and should be compensated for it.
The problem is that the compensation rarely matches the value provided.
And often, the compensation barely reaches the people doing the protection at all.
I’ve heard it described, maybe a little cynically, but not inaccurately, as a system where middlemen (sometimes called “brokers”) pocket the lion’s share of the profits, while local communities are left navigating confusing contracts, unclear promises, and deeply unequal relationships.
You’d expect due diligence to protect them. In theory, project developers and NGOs are supposed to guide communities fairly, making sure everyone involved understands the risks, rewards, and long-term commitments.
But again, that’s theory.
In practice, transparency isn’t always the priority.
The Fine Print No One Talks About
Maybe it’s just human nature to focus on the immediate benefits.
When a project first approaches a community, offering potential income and promises of “support for development,” it’s understandably appealing. Who wouldn’t want funding for a school or a health clinic?
But carbon projects aren’t quick deals. They’re multi-decade commitments.
The land has to stay conserved, and communities lose access to using it in other ways, often with restrictions they hadn’t fully grasped.
And here’s the kicker: the value of the credits generated by their sacrifices? It fluctuates wildly. Meanwhile, brokers or companies further up the chain often negotiate deals worth millions, all while the original community gets a fixed, much smaller amount.
There’s a persistent gap not just financial, but informational.
Many community members don’t fully understand the long-term consequences when they sign up. And can you blame them?
The language used in contracts is often technical, sometimes even deliberately opaque.
Is There Any Success Story?
You might wonder: Are there any carbon credit projects working well for communities?
There are a few that get cited repeatedly, like the Wildlife Works REDD+ project in Kenya.
At first glance, Wildlife Works seems like a positive example: community employment, education projects, and direct benefits.
But even there, critical voices argue that despite some successes, the complexity of benefit sharing and long-term land use restrictions still leaves significant concerns.
Success, it seems, is relative.
And it raises a difficult question: should we celebrate “better” if it’s still not truly “fair”?
The Hidden Costs of Carbon Credit Processing
Another thing rarely discussed is the hidden, sometimes heavy, cost of creating a carbon credit in the first place.
For the sellers (local communities), there’s a need for expensive technical support satellite monitoring, biodiversity studies, legal advice, and verification audits.
These services don’t come cheap. Ironically, paying for them often means communities remain dependent on external actors the same ones who profit from facilitating the credit sales.
For the buyers (companies offsetting emissions), the costs are different.
Buying carbon credits is relatively cheap compared to the cost of actually transforming their operations to be truly sustainable.
Which begs the question: are carbon markets sometimes used to delay real climate action?
I think the answer is at least partly yes.
It’s easier and cheaper for a company to say, “We’re carbon neutral” because they bought offsets, rather than cutting emissions at the source.
In that sense, carbon markets can unintentionally enable climate inaction, not leadership.
Whose Side Is the Law On?
At Mazingira Odyssey, another conversation that stuck with me was around the upcoming Carbon Markets Framework Bill being debated in Kenya’s Parliament.
The bill is supposed to regulate carbon trading — a good thing, in principle.
But depending on who you talk to, it’s either a tool to empower local communities… or a loophole designed to make it easier for brokers and project developers to operate with fewer checks.
It’s probably a little of both.
Maybe more of the second, if we’re being honest.
Again, it’s that dissonance between the beautiful language of the bill and the hard realities of power dynamics that makes me cautious.
And I think we should be cautious.
Communities deserve not just to be protected by legislation, but to have agency over it.
To understand it, question it, reshape it.
So, Where Do We Go From Here?
Honestly, I don’t have a perfect solution.
I wish I did.
Maybe it starts with transparency.
Maybe it’s about insisting that local communities be co-authors of the projects, not passive participants.
Maybe it’s about simplifying the process, not making it so technical that only lawyers and consultants understand it.
Or perhaps it’s even more fundamental: acknowledging that land, for many Indigenous and rural communities, is not just an asset to be monetised, it’s identity, heritage, and life.
We can’t treat it as just another commodity to be “offset.”
Final Thought
Carbon markets could still be part of a better future.
But only if we stop pretending the system as it stands is working for everyone.
We need more listening.
More slowing down before signing deals.
More real partnership, not token participation.
Otherwise, we risk making the very people who’ve protected the Earth the longest bear the burden of fixing a crisis they didn’t create and reaping the least from it.
And that, frankly, would be a tragedy dressed up as progress.
