November 2025, Belém, Brazil, the Amazonian gateway dubbed "Bethlehem" for its fleeting nod to biblical solemnity, serves as the perfect stage for the climate cult's latest pilgrimage. Here, amid the humid haze and echoing calls of howler monkeys, EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen mounts the podium, her voice a siren's song of salvation through sacrifice. Tripling global renewables by 2030, doubling energy efficiency, slashing CO2 emissions by 90 percent across the bloc by 2040, these aren't policies; they're prophecies, delivered with the fervour of a televangelist peddling indulgences. Europe, she proclaims, is "on track," a shining exemplar ready to export its "advantages" to a warming world. The applause from the assembled faithful, NGO apparatchiks, green-tinted diplomats, and media scribes hungry for the next apocalypse headline, drowns out the inconvenient rustle of reality: China's coal plants sprouting like bamboo, America's deregulated energy renaissance under Trump, and a European economy wheezing on subsidies and slogans. Von der Leyen wants more money, rivers of it funnelled through carbon taxes, special funds, and "crystal-clear commitments" from beleaguered member states. But this harvest of hubris will amount to dust in the wind, scattered by the globalist program's own fatal contradictions, a command economy masquerading as compassion, dooming itself to the scrapheap of failed utopias.
The scene in Belém is a masterclass in detachment, a homecoming for Chancellor Friedrich Merz among his transnational tribe. While back home his advisor, economist Clemens Fuest, sounds the alarm in Bild am Sonntag of a creeping "shortage economics " echoing the rationed miseries of socialist relics, with labour gaps, regulatory strangulation, and a green transition that's less evolution than self-amputation, Merz jets across the Atlantic to pledge €6 billion in German taxpayer euros for Brazilian rainforest "protection." It's a gesture as symbolic as it is futile, funnelled into a Tropical Forest Forever Facility that's already netting billions from Norway and Indonesia, yet promises little more than enrichment for eco-entrepreneurs and their well-connected clans. Von der Leyen's sermon amplifies the absurdity: Renewables now generate nearly half of Europe's electricity, she boasts, positioning the EU as the vanguard of virtue. But peel back the panels, and the picture darkens, energy prices that cripple competitiveness, industries like BASF and Evonik howling for relief from the very CO2 documentation that's turning factories into filing cabinets, and a Bundestag that's just greenlit billions for Carbon Capture and Storage to bury emissions under the North Sea seabed. Subsidies for sinking capital into the abyss: East German economics, rebranded with an eco-soundtrack.
This isn't governance; it's green gospel, a narrative that transmutes every human footprint into carbon sin, blackmailing the middle class into compliance through perpetual panic. Von der Leyen's fairyland journey, dreamy, green-tinted, and utterly unmoored, ignores the global chorus of scepticism. China, the world's factory, erects coal-fired behemoths at a clip that mocks tripling renewables, prioritising power for its AI data centres and EV empires over Brussels' bedtime stories. America, post-Trump, has quit the Climate Inc. circus altogether, unleashing a deregulated market where fracking and fusion chase demand, not dogma. Even within Europe, the cracks spiderweb: Germany's "dramatic" decline, as Fuest terms it, verges on Italianesque stagnation, flat GDP, pension black holes, and a bureaucracy that Fuest urges slashing with a six-month reform scalpel. Yet the faithful press on, dismissing industrial CEOs as "conflicted" heretics, proposing state-guaranteed "industrial electricity prices" as balm for the bleeding heartland. Merz's delegation, exhaling 65 tons of CO2 on their rainforest redemption tour, embodies the farce: Preaching temperance from private jets that run on neither sunflower oil nor good intentions.
At its core, von der Leyen's money grab is the globalist program's death rattle, a symphony of self-sabotage conducted from Brussels' echo chamber. The contradictions are terminal: A "transition" that demands tripling intermittent wind and solar while dismantling reliable nuclear and gas, birthing shortages Fuest foresees as the new normal. A moral monopoly on virtue that blackmails taxpayers for "special funds" while asset giants like BlackRock pivot to fossil-fuelled realities, aligning ETFs with the energy hunger of exploding data centres and autonomous machines. A pretended universalism that fractures along national lines, Germany's €6 billion pledge a drop in the Amazonian bucket, siphoned from a populace already crushed by levies that promise to "keep global temperatures in check," but deliver only higher bills and hollowed factories. The media, that great gatekeeper of existence, amplifies the myth: Apocalypse sells, from Belem's boat rides with piranhas, to Berlin's tragicomic stages where CO2 gets sunk like yesterday's sins. But Fuest's buzzkill reminder, that years of stagnation are birthing a planned economy's playbook, exposes the rot. Central planning, whether in Mao's communes or von der Leyen's verdant visions, allocates by loyalty, not logic; invests in ideology, not innovation.
The program's doom is etched in these fissures, a house of cards collapsing under its own weight. Von der Leyen's call for more, more taxes, more transfers, more "sharing" of Europe's dubious "experience," is a beggar's plea from a bloc that's already exported its deindustrialisation to Asia's smokestacks. The faithful may cheer the climax, but the audience, taxpayers, workers, the forgotten heartland, senses the farce. Shortages loom not from climate phantoms, but from policies that prioritise virtue signals over voltage. Subsidies will flow, forests will be "saved" on paper, and the middle class will bleed until the contradictions consume the cult. Ursula wants more money, but in the end, it'll be dust in the wind, scattered relics of a globalist fever dream that history will file under follies, right beside the five-year plans it so eagerly emulates. Enlightenment, as Fuest might whisper, demands choosing freedom over fairyland. The faithful can keep their pilgrimages; the rest of us will light the way with something that actually works: reality.
https://www.americanthinker.com/articles/2025/11/ursula_von_der_leyen_wants_more_money.html