Thwarted

An increasingly successful strategy has taken hold: not an outright “no,” but a constant “not yet.”

First better technologies. First global solutions. First economic stability. Each demand sounds reasonable on its own. Taken together, they push decisions further into the future—often by years.

The shift in mood came surprisingly quickly. Only a few years ago, climate policy seemed to enjoy strong political momentum. Scientific warnings and visible changes close to home reinforced each other. The Fridays for Future marches produced images that were hard to ignore. Those who questioned the basic goals had a difficult time.

Today, the tone is different. Inflation, economic stagnation and geopolitical tensions have moved to the forefront. Priorities shift. That is normal. Politics thrives on balancing competing interests.

And yet it would be naïve to explain the changing mood simply as a reshuffling of crises. In climate policy in particular, it is easy to observe how traditional lobbying and disinformation operate—through different means, but often reinforcing each other. Climate policy is not purely a technical project. It is also a field of organized influence.

Lobbying does not have a good reputation. Yet it is part of democracy. Companies, industry associations and civil society organizations try to influence political decisions in their favor. They produce studies, draft amendments, hold conversations with members of parliament and accompany legislative processes. Climate policy involves enormous economic interests and major societal choices. Intense contestation should come as no surprise.

Influence does not stop in parliament. It also targets the public. Campaigns set the agenda, studies provide arguments and key terms shape the debate. Language helps determine what appears reasonable.

Things become problematic when the logic changes—when the aim is no longer to improve a law or soften regulation, but to systematically amplify doubt and undermine trust. That is where disinformation comes into play. Unlike lobbying, it is not part of democracy—on the contrary, it jeopardizes it.

Social media are its main playing field. Platform dynamics reward polarization and emotional content. Such messages spread more widely and appear more significant than they actually are. The result is often the impression of broad public support, even when only a loud minority is speaking.

Not every objection is disinformation. Questions about costs, distributional effects or technical details belong in political debate. But when uncertainties are deliberately exaggerated, contexts ignored and counterarguments discredited, the entire debate begins to shift.

The debate over Germany’s so-called “heating law” illustrated this clearly. A law that was admittedly overly complex and poorly communicated quickly turned into a symbol of state expropriation. On social media, claims circulated that heating systems would have to be replaced almost overnight. The economics minister was portrayed as practically standing in people’s basements. Transitional periods, funding programs and exemptions barely featured in the outrage. The public reaction far exceeded what the legislation actually said.

A similar dynamic appears in the electricity price debate. It is often suggested that the energy transition is the main driver of rising prices. In reality, electricity prices in the European market are typically set by the most expensive power plant still needed to meet demand—often a gas-fired plant. When gas prices soared following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, electricity prices rose as well. Renewable energy, within this system, actually tends to dampen prices. Yet the dominant narrative blames it for driving them up.

Or consider the claim that heat pumps do not work properly in winter. In Scandinavia they have been standard for years—precisely in places where temperatures are particularly low. This fact rarely features in the debate. Legitimate questions about a relatively new technology are turned into a sweeping doubt about its viability.

These dynamics are not limited to national actors. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, numerous attempts have been documented to deliberately influence energy debates in Europe. Narratives about “energy poverty caused by sanctions,” looming “deindustrialization,” or economic decline driven by climate policy align closely with Russian fossil interests—and are amplified accordingly.

Right-wing populist actors across Europe pick up such messages, adapt them to national contexts and push them further. Energy policy becomes identity politics. Concrete reforms turn into symbolic battles.

Lobbying operates within a system whose rules it uses—disinformation attacks those very rules. And yet the two often interact. Lobbying shapes arguments and narratives. Disinformation radicalizes them and spreads them widely. Conversely, disinformation can create an environment in which certain lobbying positions gain easier traction.

But while lobbying seeks to influence political decisions, disinformation aims at something else. It targets trust itself. The goal is not a better proposal or a stronger argument. The goal is doubt. If climate science, media and public institutions appear fundamentally unreliable, any political decision becomes suspect—regardless of its substance.

The result is a climate of growing uncertainty. Trust erodes—in science, media and public institutions. This is precisely what research bodies such as the International Panel on the Information Environment (IPIE) warn about. When even basic facts become contested, political decision-making becomes far more difficult.

The dynamic is particularly visible in the constant “not yet.” Ever-new doubts, supposedly imminent technologies or exaggerated risks ensure that decisions are postponed. Each delay raises the political costs of acting later—and makes ambitious policies increasingly unlikely.

When every reform becomes an ideological battleground and every uncertainty turns into a permanent doubt, what remains is a constant “not yet.” And that is enough to put the brakes on politics—and with it the ability to shape the present and prepare for the future.