Over 30 national jurisdictions around the world have adopted a carbon tax. The tax rate is one of the key aspects of the design of carbon taxes, determining environmental effectiveness,
competitiveness, carbon leakage risks and revenue raised. This article sheds new light on the criteria countries use to set the tax rate in their domestic instruments. To do so, we first outline a taxonomy of criteria that governments can use in setting the tax rate and then provide a comparative analysis of the criteria actually used by 13 jurisdictions to set this rate.
We find that empirically driven criteria, such as marginal abatement cost curves (MACCs) and the social cost of carbon (SCC), are rarely used to determine the tax rate. Few countries use
MACCs to set their carbon tax rate and such use is always combined with other criteria. Overall, carbon tax rates are mostly set based on evaluations that transcend purely empirical estimates. In addition, the Nobel Prize-winning idea of the SCC is not used in any documents published by the countries analysed, despite the fact that it can be adapted to suit political preferences. The common description of carbon taxes as instruments that primarily aim to internalise externalities does not reflect their implementation in practice. A corollary of this finding is that scholarship that criticises carbon taxes for embedding a cost-benefit analysis approach to climate policy simply condemns these instruments for being something they are not. Our analysis also indicates that emulation and competition play an important role in setting the tax rate, as governments copy price levels implemented in other jurisdictions or supranational carbon pricing instruments. This has implications for the design of carbon taxes in the current geopolitical situation, as changes in the tax rate in one jurisdiction may spill over into others.
Over 30 national jurisdictions around the world have adopted a carbon tax. The tax rate is one of the key aspects of the design of carbon taxes, determining environmental effectiveness,
competitiveness, carbon leakage risks and revenue raised. This article sheds new light on the criteria countries use to set the tax rate in their domestic instruments. To do so, we first outline a taxonomy of criteria that governments can use in setting the tax rate and then provide a comparative analysis of the criteria actually used by 13 jurisdictions to set this rate.
We find that empirically driven criteria, such as marginal abatement cost curves (MACCs) and the social cost of carbon (SCC), are rarely used to determine the tax rate. Few countries use
MACCs to set their carbon tax rate and such use is always combined with other criteria. Overall, carbon tax rates are mostly set based on evaluations that transcend purely empirical estimates. In addition, the Nobel Prize-winning idea of the SCC is not used in any documents published by the countries analysed, despite the fact that it can be adapted to suit political preferences. The common description of carbon taxes as instruments that primarily aim to internalise externalities does not reflect their implementation in practice. A corollary of this finding is that scholarship that criticises carbon taxes for embedding a cost-benefit analysis approach to climate policy simply condemns these instruments for being something they are not. Our analysis also indicates that emulation and competition play an important role in setting the tax rate, as governments copy price levels implemented in other jurisdictions or supranational carbon pricing instruments. This has implications for the design of carbon taxes in the current geopolitical situation, as changes in the tax rate in one jurisdiction may spill over into others.
Noch bevor der Vertragstext bekannt wurde, erklärte US-Präsident Donald Trump, die USA dürften fortan tun, was immer nötig sei, um Grönland zu verteidigen. Zurückhaltender äußerten sich die dänische Ministerpräsidentin Mette Frederiksen und der grönländische Ministerpräsident Jens-Frederik Nielsen: Das Abkommen stärke die gemeinsame Sicherheit in der Arktis und sei »gut für die NATO und für Europa«, erklärte Frederiksen. Der »Deal« erkenne, so Frederiksen weiter, die Souveränität und territoriale Integrität des Königreichs sowie das Recht des grönländischen Volks auf Selbstbestimmung an. »Es nützt uns allen«, sagte Nielsen.
Das Abkommen ergänzt und erweitert das Verteidigungsabkommen von 1951. Es erleichtert die Umsetzung notwendiger Maßnahmen (Art. I). Neben der Pituffik Space Base wollen die USA zwei weitere Militärbasen (»Defense Areas«) auf Grönland errichten (Art. IV). Sie sollen in Narsarsuaq im Süden und in Mestersvig an der Ostküste entstehen, wo bislang dänische Soldaten für die SIRIUS-Schlittenhund-Patrouille stationiert sind. Darüber hinaus dürfen die USA weitere Basen zu errichten, deren Errichtung und Erhaltung so weit wie möglich grönländische Unternehmen übernehmen – ein Zugeständnis von amerikanischer Seite.
All dies hätte von Anfang an auch ohne die Drohung der USA mit einer Annexion Grönlands oder einer Militärintervention verhandelt werden können. Kopenhagen und Nuuk haben allzu große Zugeständnisse und eine Eskalation verhindert, die unter Umständen zu einem Bruch der Nato geführt hätte. Das Abkommen nützt allen Beteiligten, wäre aber einfacher zu erzielen gewesen. Trump hat einen Konflikt beendet, den es ohne ihn nicht gegeben hätte. Zugleich eröffnete es eine Chance für die Zukunft.
Mehr Verantwortung für die VerbündetenDie sogenannte GIUK-Lücke erstreckt sich entlang einer Linie von Grönland über Island bis nach Großbritannien. Dieses Seegebiet bildet den Verbindungskorridor zwischen dem Nordatlantik und dem Europäischen Nordmeer sowie dem Arktischen Ozean. In den operativen Planungen der Nato spielt es eine wichtige Rolle, um russische Aktivitäten einzudämmen. Zuletzt hat ein deutscher Seefernaufklärer P-8A Poseidon bei Northern Viking 2026 den multinationalen Übungsverband der NATO bei der U-Boot-Jagd vor Island unterstützt. Allerdings waren dabei erstmals keine US-Schiffe oder Flugzeuge beteiligt.
Die Trump-Regierung betrachtet den neuen Grönlandvertrag als wichtig für die nationale Verteidigung und das Abwehrsystem Golden Dome, das in der Präambel genannt wird. Das Interesse der Allianz sollte dagegen im Sinne eines stärkeren Engagements in der Arktis (Art. II) darauf gerichtet sein, die Grundlagen für die Bündnisverteidigung zu verbessern. Die Nato kann so das Königreich bei seinen Vertragspflichten (Art. VII) unterstützen und die bislang von den USA getragenen Verpflichtungen übernehmen (»burden shifting«). Dazu eignet sich Mestersvig als Nato-Stützpunkt an der Ostküste. Als Basen für Seefernaufklärer kämen neben Narsarsuaq auch Kangerlussuaq infrage. Dadurch kann die Maritime Sicherheitspartnerschaft mit Dänemark, Kanada und Norwegen ausgebaut und ein neuer Übungsbetrieb zum Zusammenwirken bei der Luftverteidigung mittels F-35-Kampfflugzeugen und Drohnen etabliert werden.
Die USA haben im Vertrag zugestimmt, die Umwelt und die Lebenswelt der grönländischen Bevölkerung zu achten (Art. VI). Sie haben zwar Bewegungsfreiheit zwischen den Basen und freien Zugang (Art. VI), sie dürfen aber keineswegs alles tun, »was immer nötig« ist. Neu ist das explizite Verbot militärischer Aktivitäten (Art. IX) und von Investitionen aus Staaten, die weder der Nato noch der EU angehören (Art. X). Bisher lag die Entscheidung darüber allein im Ermessen der zuständigen Regierungen. Der Vertrag bleibt im Falle der Unabhängigkeit Grönlands vom Königreich gültig, und Grönland soll im Nato-Bündnis bleiben (Art. XI).
Citizen participation, in various forms, has long played a part in African societies, with mixed results. In line with recent constitutional/decentralization reforms, Morocco and Kenya have shown political will and institutional commitment to invest more in participation. The chapter analyzes the two countries’ participatory approaches as a political agenda that is closely tied to decentralization politics and therewith to power plays between different stakeholders, including donors. Based on a comparison of the two cases, the chapter examines how the newly introduced spaces enable or disenable citizens to challenge power structures. The chapter finds that, despite positive effects in terms of citizen mobilization and partial accountability, the limited scope and scale of participatory institutions means that the outcomes of the approach are procedural rather than politically transformative. At the same time, the different trajectories of the two countries illustrate the importance of embedding the assessment of each case in the history of participatory practices and local political economy.
Citizen participation, in various forms, has long played a part in African societies, with mixed results. In line with recent constitutional/decentralization reforms, Morocco and Kenya have shown political will and institutional commitment to invest more in participation. The chapter analyzes the two countries’ participatory approaches as a political agenda that is closely tied to decentralization politics and therewith to power plays between different stakeholders, including donors. Based on a comparison of the two cases, the chapter examines how the newly introduced spaces enable or disenable citizens to challenge power structures. The chapter finds that, despite positive effects in terms of citizen mobilization and partial accountability, the limited scope and scale of participatory institutions means that the outcomes of the approach are procedural rather than politically transformative. At the same time, the different trajectories of the two countries illustrate the importance of embedding the assessment of each case in the history of participatory practices and local political economy.
Citizen participation, in various forms, has long played a part in African societies, with mixed results. In line with recent constitutional/decentralization reforms, Morocco and Kenya have shown political will and institutional commitment to invest more in participation. The chapter analyzes the two countries’ participatory approaches as a political agenda that is closely tied to decentralization politics and therewith to power plays between different stakeholders, including donors. Based on a comparison of the two cases, the chapter examines how the newly introduced spaces enable or disenable citizens to challenge power structures. The chapter finds that, despite positive effects in terms of citizen mobilization and partial accountability, the limited scope and scale of participatory institutions means that the outcomes of the approach are procedural rather than politically transformative. At the same time, the different trajectories of the two countries illustrate the importance of embedding the assessment of each case in the history of participatory practices and local political economy.
This chapter is an overview of artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning (ML) in food science and bioprocesses. This comprehensive work introduces the subject of AI to new readers, focusing on the important applications and progress of this technology in food science and related areas such as bioprocess. Food science involves examining the biological, chemical, and physical makeup of food, understanding what leads to food spoilage, and grasping the principles behind food processing Bioprocessing on the other hand, is loosely defined as the production of value-added materials to industrial scale from a living source such as living cells. AI has revolutionized many industries, altering operational frameworks to offer innovative solutions to longstanding challenges. This book chapter first provides an overview of the food science and bioprocess industries and comprehensively describes the various AI and ML applications in food science and also emerging applications in the bioprocess development. Limitations of AI are then discussed before concluding with the final section of the chapter, which emphasizes the futuristic perspective of AI and ML in food science and bioprocess development.
This chapter is an overview of artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning (ML) in food science and bioprocesses. This comprehensive work introduces the subject of AI to new readers, focusing on the important applications and progress of this technology in food science and related areas such as bioprocess. Food science involves examining the biological, chemical, and physical makeup of food, understanding what leads to food spoilage, and grasping the principles behind food processing Bioprocessing on the other hand, is loosely defined as the production of value-added materials to industrial scale from a living source such as living cells. AI has revolutionized many industries, altering operational frameworks to offer innovative solutions to longstanding challenges. This book chapter first provides an overview of the food science and bioprocess industries and comprehensively describes the various AI and ML applications in food science and also emerging applications in the bioprocess development. Limitations of AI are then discussed before concluding with the final section of the chapter, which emphasizes the futuristic perspective of AI and ML in food science and bioprocess development.
This chapter is an overview of artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning (ML) in food science and bioprocesses. This comprehensive work introduces the subject of AI to new readers, focusing on the important applications and progress of this technology in food science and related areas such as bioprocess. Food science involves examining the biological, chemical, and physical makeup of food, understanding what leads to food spoilage, and grasping the principles behind food processing Bioprocessing on the other hand, is loosely defined as the production of value-added materials to industrial scale from a living source such as living cells. AI has revolutionized many industries, altering operational frameworks to offer innovative solutions to longstanding challenges. This book chapter first provides an overview of the food science and bioprocess industries and comprehensively describes the various AI and ML applications in food science and also emerging applications in the bioprocess development. Limitations of AI are then discussed before concluding with the final section of the chapter, which emphasizes the futuristic perspective of AI and ML in food science and bioprocess development.
Autoritäre und sich autokratisierende Staaten widmen ihrer Diaspora zunehmend Aufmerksamkeit. Die sechs in dieser SWP-Studie untersuchten Fälle zeigen, dass Diasporapolitik immer strategischer und systematischer betrieben wird und auf eine Identifizierung auch postmigrantischer Generationen mit dem Herkunftsstaat zielt. Die Beweggründe staatlicher Diasporapolitik reichen von der Machtsicherung herrschender Eliten oder einer politischen Strömung über wirtschaftliche, regionale und globale Interessen sowie Nation Branding bis hin zur Abwehr politischer Herausforderungen durch Diasporaakteure. Dabei variieren die jeweiligen Schwerpunkte und Instrumente erheblich: Russland begreift Diasporapolitik als Teil seiner Kriegsführung, für China und Indien ist sie eng mit globalen wirtschaftlichen Ambitionen und dem technologischen Wettbewerb verbunden. Der Türkei geht es um postkoloniale Ordnungsvorstellungen und regionale Ansprüche. Für Marokko stehen territoriale Souveränität sowie die Maximierung von Rücküberweisungen und Investitionen im Vordergrund. Eritrea wiederum strebt nach Ertragssteigerungen aus Auslandssteuern zur Stabilisierung des Staatshaushalts. Die Reaktionen der oftmals sehr heterogenen Diaspora fallen nicht immer nach Wunsch aus. Die Politik des Herkunftsstaats kann auf Desinteresse oder gar Widerstand stoßen und Spannungen in der jeweiligen Diaspora begünstigen. Für Deutschland eröffnet Diasporapolitik einerseits Chancen: außen- und entwicklungspolitisch, teilweise auch mit Blick auf Integration und soziale Mobilität. Andererseits ist sie mit Herausforderungen verbunden, insbesondere hinsichtlich transnationaler Repression. Im Umgang mit Diasporapolitik und ihren Auswirkungen sollte Deutschland sich vorrangig an Rechtsstaatlichkeit orientieren. Eine effektive Nutzung der Chancen setzt überdies ein genaues Verständnis der Motivation, Instrumente und Grenzen dieser Politik voraus. Pauschalisierende und ausgrenzende Diskurse gegenüber Diasporagruppen können hingegen destruktiven Strategien von Drittstaaten das Feld bereiten.
After two years of limited high-level exchanges during which Europe and Africa found themselves on different sides of principal geopolitical fault-lines, 2025 brought about a partial reset in EU–Africa relations, centred on pragmatism and investment rather than political convergence. The year carried symbolic weight: it marked a quarter-century since the inaugural Africa–EU summit in Cairo in April 2000. This anniversary added impetus to the convening of the seventh summit between the AU and the EU in Luanda, Angola, on 24 and 25 November. This is not to say that this year strengthened political convergence between the two groupings on the divisive issues of Gaza and Ukraine, or a clear course of action on the ongoing civil war and ethnic cleansing in Sudan. Nor did it see a breakthrough in ongoing disputes on EU policy frameworks such as its Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism. Yet at the summit, continuing the pattern started at the previous Brussels summit of 2022, signs were visible of a more pragmatic approach to partnering. The preceding AU–EU Business Forum underlined that even though a rights-based agenda and commitments to peace and security still mattered to the partnership, the primary focus was now on promoting investment and economic development. This was in line with the global trend of further aid cuts and an increased focus on business relations. The same dynamics could be seen in the latest Africa strategies and guidelines adopted in Germany and Spain, which, just like the prominent Mattei Plan of Italy, stressed the promotion of mutual (economic) benefits and investment. The abrupt cutting of the USAID budget was in part justified by similar logics, referring to a corrupt and inefficient aid sector and the strength of business partnerships in fostering economic development. Another important highlight concerned the European Commission’s publication of its legislative proposals for the next EU budget covering the period 2028–34. As part of this package, the Commission proposed a budget of € 200 bn for an overarching Global Europe Instrument. The Commission proposed that out of this total budget for the Instrument, there should be € 60.5 bn for cooperation with sub-Saharan Africa, as well as € 42.9 bn for the Middle East and North Africa region, which includes the North African states. However, unlike in the current budget, the funding reserved for Africa is listed as indicative, without legal text guaranteeing them as minimum spend, leaving it more vulnerable to changes in priorities and unforeseen challenges.
After two years of limited high-level exchanges during which Europe and Africa found themselves on different sides of principal geopolitical fault-lines, 2025 brought about a partial reset in EU–Africa relations, centred on pragmatism and investment rather than political convergence. The year carried symbolic weight: it marked a quarter-century since the inaugural Africa–EU summit in Cairo in April 2000. This anniversary added impetus to the convening of the seventh summit between the AU and the EU in Luanda, Angola, on 24 and 25 November. This is not to say that this year strengthened political convergence between the two groupings on the divisive issues of Gaza and Ukraine, or a clear course of action on the ongoing civil war and ethnic cleansing in Sudan. Nor did it see a breakthrough in ongoing disputes on EU policy frameworks such as its Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism. Yet at the summit, continuing the pattern started at the previous Brussels summit of 2022, signs were visible of a more pragmatic approach to partnering. The preceding AU–EU Business Forum underlined that even though a rights-based agenda and commitments to peace and security still mattered to the partnership, the primary focus was now on promoting investment and economic development. This was in line with the global trend of further aid cuts and an increased focus on business relations. The same dynamics could be seen in the latest Africa strategies and guidelines adopted in Germany and Spain, which, just like the prominent Mattei Plan of Italy, stressed the promotion of mutual (economic) benefits and investment. The abrupt cutting of the USAID budget was in part justified by similar logics, referring to a corrupt and inefficient aid sector and the strength of business partnerships in fostering economic development. Another important highlight concerned the European Commission’s publication of its legislative proposals for the next EU budget covering the period 2028–34. As part of this package, the Commission proposed a budget of € 200 bn for an overarching Global Europe Instrument. The Commission proposed that out of this total budget for the Instrument, there should be € 60.5 bn for cooperation with sub-Saharan Africa, as well as € 42.9 bn for the Middle East and North Africa region, which includes the North African states. However, unlike in the current budget, the funding reserved for Africa is listed as indicative, without legal text guaranteeing them as minimum spend, leaving it more vulnerable to changes in priorities and unforeseen challenges.
After two years of limited high-level exchanges during which Europe and Africa found themselves on different sides of principal geopolitical fault-lines, 2025 brought about a partial reset in EU–Africa relations, centred on pragmatism and investment rather than political convergence. The year carried symbolic weight: it marked a quarter-century since the inaugural Africa–EU summit in Cairo in April 2000. This anniversary added impetus to the convening of the seventh summit between the AU and the EU in Luanda, Angola, on 24 and 25 November. This is not to say that this year strengthened political convergence between the two groupings on the divisive issues of Gaza and Ukraine, or a clear course of action on the ongoing civil war and ethnic cleansing in Sudan. Nor did it see a breakthrough in ongoing disputes on EU policy frameworks such as its Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism. Yet at the summit, continuing the pattern started at the previous Brussels summit of 2022, signs were visible of a more pragmatic approach to partnering. The preceding AU–EU Business Forum underlined that even though a rights-based agenda and commitments to peace and security still mattered to the partnership, the primary focus was now on promoting investment and economic development. This was in line with the global trend of further aid cuts and an increased focus on business relations. The same dynamics could be seen in the latest Africa strategies and guidelines adopted in Germany and Spain, which, just like the prominent Mattei Plan of Italy, stressed the promotion of mutual (economic) benefits and investment. The abrupt cutting of the USAID budget was in part justified by similar logics, referring to a corrupt and inefficient aid sector and the strength of business partnerships in fostering economic development. Another important highlight concerned the European Commission’s publication of its legislative proposals for the next EU budget covering the period 2028–34. As part of this package, the Commission proposed a budget of € 200 bn for an overarching Global Europe Instrument. The Commission proposed that out of this total budget for the Instrument, there should be € 60.5 bn for cooperation with sub-Saharan Africa, as well as € 42.9 bn for the Middle East and North Africa region, which includes the North African states. However, unlike in the current budget, the funding reserved for Africa is listed as indicative, without legal text guaranteeing them as minimum spend, leaving it more vulnerable to changes in priorities and unforeseen challenges.