The carbon credit economy is booming. Once a niche mechanism for climate finance, it has rapidly become a multi-billion-dollar global market. As of 2024, the global carbon credit market is valued at approximately US$1.4 billion, with projections suggesting it could expand to US$7–35 billion annually by 2030, and as much as US$250 billion by 2050.
Amidst this global momentum, Africa, home to the world’s richest biodiversity and vast carbon sinks has emerged as a central player. Yet, it is a paradoxical presence. The continent accounts for just 3.9% of global carbon emissions, but it hosts over 100 carbon credit projects across more than 20 countries. Despite this, Africa’s current share 11 to 16% of the voluntary carbon market is a modest from US$164 million, a fraction of its potential. Estimates suggest the continent could generate US$6 billion annually by 2030 and US$120 billion by 2050 if it effectively harnesses its natural assets.
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The African Carbon Markets Initiative (ACMI), launched with the support of the United Nations and major development banks, envisions a robust carbon economy that both combats climate change and accelerates development. But the question remains, at what cost?
The numbers paint a picture both promising and problematic. In 2022, African nations supplied an estimated 90 million tonnes of CO₂-equivalent offsets through voluntary carbon markets. Kenya emerged as a frontrunner, issuing high volumes of credits purchased by major global corporations such as Apple, Netflix, Shell, and Air France–KLM.
Meanwhile, the African Development Bank reports that African countries received US$43.7 billion in climate finance between 2021 and 2022, a 48% increase from 2019–2020. Yet this remains well below the US$250 billion annually that the continent requires to meet its climate and development goals.
What raises eyebrows is the pricing disparity. African carbon credits often sell for US$1 to US$3 per tonne, while in regulated markets like the EU, prices exceed €200 per tonne. This vast gap reveals a systemic undervaluation of Africa’s natural resources, echoing familiar patterns from its colonial past.
When Green Becomes Grey
In Kenya’s Northern Rangelands, a sprawling 4.7 million-acre carbon project is restoring grasslands and managing cattle grazing with the goal of generating offset credits. It has attracted international acclaim and buyers, but not without controversy. Local communities, including the Maasai and Borana, allege they were never consulted. Their ancestral lands are now governed by third parties, with little benefit returning to the people. Some villagers report displacement and claim women face exploitative work conditions under the guise of sustainability.
Forests, Funds and Frustration in Zimbabwe
The Kariba REDD+ project in Zimbabwe is another cautionary tale. Touted as a model for community-based conservation, it has reportedly generated over €100 million in credits since 2011. Yet those living in the region continue to experience poverty, lack of access to basic services, and underdevelopment. Critics argue the profits were siphoned by project developers and foreign intermediaries, with little transparency or accountability.
In Liberia, the government’s preliminary agreement to lease around 10% of its forested territory to a foreign carbon trading firm sparked national outrage. Though temporarily suspended, the plan drew widespread criticism for bypassing indigenous land rights, ignoring existing conservation laws, and lacking consultation with affected communities. It prompted a legislative review and exposed the fragility of Africa’s institutional frameworks in the face of billion-dollar carbon deals.
Sovereignty, Ethics and Economics
The carbon credit model, as it stands today, risks becoming a modern variation of resource extraction. While African nations provide the land, trees, and soil, the lion’s share of revenue flows elsewhere, towards financial firms, technology companies, and sustainability funds based in the Global North. This dynamic has raised concerns about a green neocolonialism, where Africa’s environmental sovereignty is commodified and sold for bargain prices.
Frameworks like the Paris Agreement and Article 6 of the UNFCCC, which allow for international trading of emissions reductions, provide a legal basis for these markets. But implementation has largely favoured wealthier nations and private actors. Many African states lack the institutional capacity to ensure transparency, negotiate fair contracts, or monitor projects effectively. The result is an uneven playing field, where Africa enters deals with poor leverage and uncertain benefits.
Even more troubling, independent evaluations of voluntary carbon markets suggest that as many as 25% of all issued credits may lack environmental integrity. If credits do not represent real, additional, or permanent emission reductions, they serve only to delay meaningful climate action by major polluters.
Can Africa Keep the Flame?
Some governments are beginning to push back. Kenya’s 2024 Carbon Market Regulations introduced new standards requiring that at least 40% of land-based project revenues be returned to local communities. Additionally, the rules mandate that all projects be registered nationally, adhere to international best practices, and include local consultation.
This is a step towards protecting environmental sovereignty and ensuring that Africa does not repeat the mistakes of its past. The African Union’s Agenda 2063 echoes this vision, calling for a climate-resilient and resource-secure Africa, driven by its own people.
The African Carbon Markets Initiative, in partnership with entities like the African Development Bank and the UN Economic Commission for Africa, is also aiming to create a high-integrity carbon ecosystem. Its goals include generating 30 million jobs by 2030, advancing at least ten Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), and improving regulatory alignment across African states.
A Dilemma Forged in Green
Africa’s carbon market is a field of both promise and peril. The potential is real: access to climate finance, jobs, green infrastructure, and ecological restoration. But so too is the risk: opaque contracts, unfair pricing, weakened sovereignty, and greenwashing under the banner of development.
The pathway forward requires structural reform, clear national policies, transparent benefit-sharing frameworks, and strong local participation. More importantly, Africa must speak with one voice, ensuring that carbon credit markets evolve with Africa, not around it.
Global frameworks like the UN Sustainable Development Goals, the Paris Agreement, and Agenda 2063 must be translated from diplomatic language into national policy and legal safeguards. Only then can carbon credits become an asset that uplifts the continent, rather than one that undermines its autonomy.
The boom in carbon trading presents Africa with a difficult balancing act. At its best, it is a financial lever for climate justice and sustainable development. At its worst, it risks becoming a carbon compromise, trading away rights and resources in return for scraps from the global green economy.
This is not merely a question of economics. It is a test of Africa’s ability to negotiate from a position of strength, to protect its people and ecosystems, and to define its own green destiny. Whether carbon credits become a boon or a burden will depend not on the market alone, but on Africa’s will to govern it on its own terms.
