Green Hydrogen from Morocco: European Decarbonization by Recolonization

New Directions

AUTHOR: Ouafa Haddioui

Green Hydrogen from Morocco: European Decarbonization by Recolonization

Ouafa Haddioui

  

In recent energy discourses, green hydrogen has emerged as a pivotal element and has been put forward as the ever-awaited fix to phase out fossil fuels. Yet the phrase “green hydrogen” is fraught and requires more nuance. Hydrogen is presented in a set of color tags that indicate its carbon footprint and production processes, with current hydrogen production relying heavily on fossil fuels.[1] Green hydrogen is produced via water electrolysis, a relatively simple process—passing an electric current through water to split it into oxygen and hydrogen—making fresh water an integral component of green hydrogen production. It derives the “green” label from the use of renewable electricity for its production, like solar and wind, thus tying it to these abundant resources. However, this abundance is not without limits. The production of green hydrogen requires significant water resources, and the land required to plant solar and wind infrastructures is considerable.

For some, green hydrogen technology holds great promise in addressing pressing climate challenges. Yet, presenting it as a universally applicable solution to complex energy problems reflects a broader tendency to seek techno-fixes to fundamentally political issues. Such techno-optimism operates under the assumption that it can bypass the deeper structural problems rooted in colonial history. A telling example is the European Union’s (EU) decarbonization project, with plans to import 10 million tons of green hydrogen by 2030, which is also meant to stimulate economic growth within supplier countries.[2] While these plans can be framed within a mutually beneficial narrative, they often tend to hide unilateral advantages. The current dynamics between the EU, along with its member states, and Maghreb (Tamazghan) countries exemplify this interplay, as both sides have eagerly embraced green hydrogen projects, each aiming to secure a strategic foothold within this emerging industry, however, with different objectives. This discourse often creates a situation where money and technology shape the terms of strategic policies and agendas, pushing for solutions that may not be suitable for all.

A transition such as the ongoing one to green hydrogen can be contemplated as a vector of movement with distinct starting points and destinations. This vector, however, tends to follow a trajectory that reflects historical colonial pathways. It originates in resource-rich sites, typically former colonies which accumulate the costs of exploitation, and terminates in industrial centers of the West, which accumulate the profits of the production outcomes. These trajectories have persisted throughout history, with colonialism reforming itself while creating the illusion of a change—or a transition. Such reforms serve as tactics of self-preservation, maintaining control over regions cast as abundant in resources and not fully exploited, justifying the depletion of resources and stripping people of these regions of their dignity for a transition happening elsewhere.

This analysis employs decolonial lenses to situate Morocco’s green hydrogen agendas, emphasizing the persistence of colonial dynamics in contemporary energy strategies. Malcolm Ferdinand’s (2019) “Decolonial Ecology” offers a central framework for understanding how colonial exploitation logic continues to shape environmental relations today.[3] He identifies the “colonial habitation” as a violent way of inhabiting the earth, subjugating lands, humans, and non-humans to the desires of the colonizer. Arturo Escobar (1995) critiques development discourse as a mechanism for maintaining colonial control,[4] while Sabelo J. Ndlovu-Gatsheni (2013) provides insights into how colonial power endures in postcolonial Africa.[5] Vandana Shiva (2005) further emphasizes that resource commodification can create “sacrifice zones” that disproportionately burden local communities while benefiting industrialized nations.[6] Grounded within this framework, this article discusses the historical evolution of colonial infrastructures into modern resource corridors, positioning green hydrogen within this ongoing trajectory. Central to this analysis is Morocco’s dual-extractivist role in facilitating the flow of African resources to Europe. The examination of EU-Morocco trade and energy relations uncovers the structural dependencies and power asymmetries underpinning green hydrogen initiatives. Through a case study of the Noor Ouarzazate solar project, the article highlights patterns of land dispossession, water depletion, and governance inequality in modern energy transition schemes. Ultimately, the article advocates for a decolonial reimagining of energy transitions; one that prioritizes equity, sustainability, and local agency as core principles.

A Pipeline Route to Europe

Green hydrogen plans serve as a reminder of what modern energy discourses choose to disremember: legacies of colonial history. Colonial history in the Maghreb bears imaginaries of domination, both symbolic and material, over lands, resources, and peoples. One of these is the erotization of Maghrebi women during the French material colonization; [7] this was not an isolated perversion, but a constructed narrative of superiority and control. Fanon quotes the strategy of the French colonial operation in Algeria as “if we [French colonial authorities] want to destroy the structure of Algerian society, its capacity for resistance, we must first of all conquer the women, we must go and find them behind the veil where they hide themselves.”[8] This narrative extended beyond Maghrebi women’s bodies to encompass various structures that served the French colonial enterprise, including the establishment of trade routes in the region. This manifested in infrastructure such as L’impérial,[9] a railway that linked Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia to serve France’s economic and politico-strategic interests. This infrastructure entrenched a configuration where the Maghreb played a pivotal role in the industrial growth of the French colonial project.[10]

This pipeline helps illustrate a triangular configuration of three locations with different roles: an extraction site in Algeria, a transit site in Morocco, and destination sites in Europe, where resources find their final markets. As a transit site, Morocco has facilitated the flow of resources from Algeria to Europe, earning revenue in the form of transit fees and gas at stable prices.[11] Concurrently, Moroccan phosphates have long penetrated European markets,[12] positioning the country as both a transit and extraction site. This setup embeds Morocco—and, by extension, other African countries—into a configuration that would sustain the flow of African resources towards Europe, even after the end of direct colonization. This same structure risks forming the foundation for the current energy transition towards green hydrogen. As this transition unfolds, while positioning Morocco as a strategic player, it may maintain the same hegemonic paradigms, failing to fundamentally change the underlying dynamics of exploitation. In fact, this transition may merely repackage the existing dynamics in a language of economic and technological growth and ecological sustainability.[13]

Green hydrogen further illustrates Morocco’s dual-extractivist function as both an extraction and a transit site. Morocco has positioned itself as a major player in this sector, leveraging its abundant sun and wind, its strategic proximity to Europe, and the resulting low export costs. Green hydrogen can be shipped from ports in southwestern and northern Morocco or channeled through the existing gas pipeline infrastructure linking Morocco to Spain and Portugal.[14] Additional connections with Europe are underway, including one linking Morocco to Italy across the Mediterranean and the Nigeria-Morocco gas pipeline which will transit 14 extraction sites in African countries along the Atlantic coast.[15] Whether gas or hydrogen, the flow is set to follow the same route via Morocco to Europe. Morocco is thus poised not only to ensure its energy independence, but to position itself as a key player in the global energy market. Such narratives, presented as a step towards regional leadership, tend to hide Morocco’s dual-extractivist function,[16] potentially leading to the proliferation of sacrifice zones, areas offered to unbridled exploitation, within and outside the country’s borders. These plans would amplify colonialist legacies, feeding into authoritarian rule, and benefiting already dominant local elites. For local peoples, such development may hold anything but progress.

An Excerpt of Morocco-EU Relationship

In 2021, Morocco set its sights on emerging as a strategic hub for green hydrogen and its derivatives such as green ammonia, with plans to install 8 gigawatts of renewables by 2030 to produce hydrogen and export over 70% of it to Europe.[17] Given that Morocco is one of the world’s largest phosphate suppliers, the local element of this strategy is to produce up to one million tons of green ammonia, including in Tarfaya, Laâyoune and Boucraa—some of the world’s most important phosphate deposits.[18] These areas, along with Dakhla, are particularly attractive for export-oriented investments due to their wealth in natural resources and near-zero taxation policies. For instance, 85% of agricultural production and 60% of seafood exports are already directed to Europe via Moroccan ports such as Agadir.[19] To accommodate green hydrogen and ammonia production, plans are underway to allocate one million hectares of land, the majority of which is located in these areas.[20]

This highlights Morocco’s double-extractivist nature, wherein the country not only extracts raw materials like phosphates but also exports processed green hydrogen and ammonia to Europe through its ports. This poses contentious questions about local sovereignty over lands and resources.[21] This configuration is rooted in trade relations between Morocco and the EU that date back to the 1970s, spanning sectoral areas like agriculture, fishery and energy. These relations were formalized through the Association Agreement in 1996. While the rhetoric of these agreements is based on a bilateral terminology, a more critical reading shows power imbalances and unilateral advantages. European companies have been granted privileged access to Moroccan markets, creating competitive burdens that Moroccan industries struggle to withstand. This has resulted in a trade structure where Morocco exports low-value raw materials and imports high-value manufactured goods.[22]

The energy sector became an area of focus in EU-Morocco relations in 2004 with the European Neighborhood Policy (ENP), driving technical and financial support to Morocco under European conditionalities. These relationships grew in importance when Morocco obtained Advanced Status in 2008 within the ENP, and was required to develop sectoral and political strategies under terms favorable to EU objectives. A key element of this cooperation involved producing renewable energy in Morocco and integrating it into EU markets.[23] In the same year, the EU adopted its Climate and Energy Package, operationalizing the Kyoto Protocol with concrete targets for reducing gas emissions by increasing shares of renewables. Shortly thereafter, Morocco launched its energy strategy in 2009, setting the ambitious target to have 42% of its energy production be renewables by 2020.[24] As a country dependent on imported fossil fuels with volatile prices, Morocco has pressing reasons to shift to renewable alternatives, which it has great potential for.[25] However, the focus on export could divert attention and resources from addressing Morocco’s energy requirements.

The EU became increasingly anxious about leading the green agenda, with its political and financial bodies championing the cause of decarbonization in global climate discussions. For example, the European Investment Bank (EIB), the EU’s financial body, which has been commonly referred to as the “climate bank” since 2019,[26] plays a pivotal role in implementing the European Green Deal (EGD). Its commitment to mobilizing one trillion euros by 2030 exemplifies its dedication to achieving the EU’s decarbonization targets.[27] The EDG involves engaging in Green Partnerships with non-EU countries to advance the green transition. The first partnership signed with Morocco ahead of the COP27 in 2022 included a EUR 200 million loan from the EIB,[28] underscoring the strategic role of Morocco as a regional partner.[29]

While the discourse is painted green, the EU itself failed to uphold its EGD, for example by rolling back environmental regulations and directing massive funds into the fuel industry during the COVID-19 lockdown, as part of the economic recovery package.[30][31] The Russo-Ukrainian war further complicated the EU’s decarbonization project, leading to increasing coal consumption to mitigate the immediate energy crisis caused by reduced gas imports from Russia. How the EU operated during these crises demonstrates a tendency to prioritize immediate economic growth over its decarbonization project.[32] Before REPowerEU came into effect, thrusting massive hydrogen imports—accounting for 10 million tons—into a matter of political urgency,[33] Morocco had already garnered significant attention in European energy agendas. The European Commission sought cooperation with countries like Morocco in its 2020 hydrogen strategy. In fact, this strategy mirrors plans of Hydrogen Europe, a lobbyist consortium founded in 2012. This consortium now boasts 506 players in the hydrogen ecosystem, including oil giants like TotalEnergies, Shell and Eni.[34] Morocco is the only non-EU country within Hydrogen Europe, represented through the Moroccan Hydrogen Association (AMHYD), which acts as a local promoter of green hydrogen. This lobby group plays a leading role in the green hydrogen agendas, transforming renewable potential, particularly in Tamazgha[35], into a lucrative business avenue.[36]

Morocco's energy architecture has been significantly influenced by external actors and marked by persistent dependency on foreign expertise, technology, and funding, potentially undermining the country's sovereignty and ability to self-determine its energy directions.[37] The Germano-Moroccan energy partnership,[38] signed back in 2012, has been instrumental in directing the green hydrogen agenda. Under this partnership, the German Agency for International Cooperation (GIZ), a key player in Morocco’s institutional architecture, has assessed the green hydrogen potential in the country since 2018. Accordingly, the GIZ commissioned feasibility studies from major German advisory firms, including Frontier Economics (2018) and Fraunhofer (2019). [39] These assessments suggested that Morocco could export over 60% of its green hydrogen and derivatives, such as ammonia, to the EU. The country’s competitive edge lies in its low costs along the entire value chain, including labor compensations, positioning the country as a prime source of hydrogen imports.

Figure 1: Hydrogen production, export, and cost forecasts.[40]

Based on these forecasts, the GIZ formulated Morocco’s green hydrogen roadmap. Despite the “green” tag, this roadmap also includes synthetic fuel and methane production.[41] This roadmap, designed to align with EU needs, tends to obscure the underlying structure of Western hegemony and Morocco’s dependency. According to Escobar (1995), development is not a neutral or technical process but a discourse that legitimizes western interventions and dictates what is deemed rational, modern, and beneficial.[42] GIZ's involvement in Morocco's energy sector transcends technical assistance, extending into shaping policies to align with the EU’s interests. This influence manifests in agenda-setting, facilitating funding, and training policymakers in governance and regulatory frameworks informed by EU-centric ones. This reinforces external dominance in Morocco’s policymaking processes, embedding foreign priorities into national energy strategies. Simultaneously, Morocco's reliance on EU funding, markets, and expertise deepens its structural dependency, which constrains its ability to pursue alternative, locally grounded development pathways. Ndlovu-Gatsheni’s critique fits well in this context: such systems entrench global hierarchies, subordinating formerly colonized nations to external interests under unfulfilled commitments to progress in alignment with western narratives.

Colonial Imagery and Empty Spaces

The idea of tapping renewable energy in other lands to cater for Europe dates back to the material colonial epoch. It was seen as a promising avenue to fuel colonial industries and eventually reduce coal and oil bills. It was Frank Shuman, a businessman and inventor from Philadelphia, who epitomized this idea during the British empire. Northeast Africa saw the genesis of Shuman’s solar prototype pumping water from the Nile to British-controlled cotton fields. The cost-competitiveness of his project caught the attention of both British and German authorities, leading to further explorations in their respective colonies, Sudan and Namibia. Even more, he suggested that covering a “tiny” fraction of African deserts would replace all fuel needs at this time, marking a crucial moment where solar energy began to gain interest in colonial rivalries. However, the onset of World War I, and subsequent discovery of cheap oil reserves shifted priorities.[43]

Shuman’s dream found a new breath with Gerhard Knies, a German scientist, who saw in Saharan deserts a powerhouse for the entire world. Knies formalized this vision with the inception of the Trans-Mediterranean Renewable Energy Cooperation (TREC) in 2003, which later evolved into Desertec in 2009. The core idea behind Desertec was to establish large-scale renewable energy infrastructures in the deserts of Southwest Asia and Tamazgha (SWATA). Its stated objective was to ship the sun from the SWATA region to Europe via transcontinental networks, satiating Europe's appetite for energy.[44] Before green hydrogen discussions officially took off with the introduction of REPowerEU in 2022,[45] Ad van Wijk, a Dutch environmental scientist and hydrogen advocate, boldly posited that 8% of Saharan tracts could power the entire world. Van Wijk argued that Europe could clinch cheap and clean energy by importing hydrogen from Tamazghan region. More than just a techno-optimistic idea, van Wijk's proposition carried a geopolitical twist. He envisioned a scenario where the green hydrogen industry could stem the tide of migration to Europe by creating a wealth of economic opportunities in Tamazgha.[46] This optimistic vision was perfectly attuned to European political aspirations, combining ecological ambition with strategic foresight.

Van Wijk’s vision is rooted in a familiar colonial narrative of casting Saharan deserts as “barren” and “uninhabitable.” Another colonial specter, framed as “green,” views deserts as vacant lands—a vast territory without owner(s), ready to be “discovered” and exploited by those with technological and financial means.[47] In what he terms “Saharanism,” Brahim El Guabli critiques such imagery, which has historically been used to justify the material exploitation and epistemic domination of Saharan regions.[48] Similarly, Ibrahim Al-Koni challenged these depictions, highlighting the spiritual and ecological richness of Saharan deserts and their profound connections to the people and cultures that inhabit them. Such imagery encapsulates what can be termed a “green occupation” where renewable energy projects function as dual mechanisms of material dispossession of land and resources, and epistemic domination, particularly in desert areas with significant renewable energy potential. Just as colonial settlers imposed their control and extracted resources under the guise of civilization, renewable energies can similarly impose control and extract resources under the guise of development. Drawing on Escobar’s critique of development and Ndlovu-Gatsheni’s coloniality,[49] renewable energy projects in regions like the Maghreb may operate as tools of recolonization, by which material dispossession of land and resources is accompanied by epistemic domination, sidelining local knowledge systems in favor of external development agendas.

Legacy of Land Dispossession

Land, Tamurt in T’mazight or arḍ in Arabic, does not only represent soil and stones; it holds inherent value that transcends economic and technical calculations, encompassing both ancestral and spiritual significance. In Palestine, land pulses as the heartbeat of identity, the cornerstone of dignity, and the essence of selfhood. This land, marked by ancestors’ legacy and present resistance, embodies a history of struggle for liberation.[50] Similarly, peoples of the Moroccan desert have maintained these values with complete disdain to commodification of their lands. “Because it was not commodified, communal land ownership practices ensured that everyone had a parcel of land to build a home, and homelessness is unheard of.”[51] However, investors may find land a cheap asset, ripe for exploitation. For green hydrogen, Morocco has made a significant offer, providing one million hectares to companies investing in this industry.[52] This is not just a spontaneous gesture; it dates back to 2011, when the Ministry of Energy and the Ministry of Industry hashed out an incentive package aimed at attracting renewable energy investors.[53] This declared spatial configuration is rooted in the country’s colonial history, persisting to this day through renewable energy and green hydrogen ambitions. The French colonial strategy split the map based on productivity: Maroc utile (useful Morocco) and Maroc inutile (useless Morocco).[54] The “useful” was fertile; the “useless” was not.

Al-arāḍī al-sulāliyya, vast expanses of collective lands, are located in regions long subjected to geographic marginalization, systemic inequality, poverty and inadequate infrastructure. Following material colonial rule, these lands were placed under the control of Majlis al-wiṣāya, the authority body of the Ministry of Interior.[55] This administrative framework has proven to be highly lucrative, leading to substantial tracts of agricultural lands being granted to private companies. This was underpinned within a broader neoliberal setting that has prepared, legitimized, and firmly entrenched this structure within the Moroccan policy fabric. In 1964, the World Bank commissioned Johan W. Beyen, a Dutch diplomat and liberal figure, along with 11 European representatives, to chart Morocco’s economic pathways.[56] This mission marked the rise of the neoliberal agenda in Morocco, which was later formalized through structural adjustment programs that stirred privatization and export-oriented economy. The introduction of public-private partnerships (PPPs) in 2004 injected large private capital into strategic sectors, encompassing agriculture and energy. This move triggered a fervent scramble among private actors to acquire cheap land under the concession regime.[57] This framework prepared the groundwork for renewable energy in 2010 with the enactment of Law no. 13-09 authorizing private companies to produce, commercialize, and export energy using public infrastructures. It effectively set the stage for private companies to compete with the public utility institution Office National de l'Électricité et de l'Eau Potable (ONEE). Meanwhile, the state-owned company Moroccan Agency for Sustainable Energy (MASEN) was established, with prerogatives to accumulate state-backed debts and to integrate public infrastructures, hydro-sources, and lands into renewable energy projects.

Figure 2: Public-private-partnerships in renewable energy sector. 

The year 2010 marked the inception of the first mega-solar complex in Morocco, Noor Ouarzazate. Covering 3,043 hectares of land, the complex is hailed as the most significant commitment to shift to renewable energy. This narrative might resonate with outsiders, but for local communities, it tells another story. Most of this land once belonged to Aït Ougrour and Ahl Ouarzazate communities and their herds. Between 2010 and 2013, both communities lost 2, 515.13 hectares to accommodate this project.[58] Without their consent, the state purchased these lands for 2.4 million Euros,[59] placed into a fund managed by the Ministry of the Interior ostensibly to benefit local communities.[60] However, despite the project’s international acclaim, local residents have seen a reversed improvement in their living conditions.[61]

In Guelmim-Oued Noun in southwest Morocco, the Moroccan state allocated 159,602 hectares to the British company Xlinks to supply Great Britain with 8% of its clean energy needs.[62] Additionally, projects by CWP Global and TotalEnergies are set to cover respectively 550,000 and 187,000 hectares for green hydrogen production. These allocations, totaling between 837,201 and 907,201 hectares, echo the earlier patterns of dispossession in Noor Ouarzazate but on a far larger scale. Local communities, rooted in ancestral agricultural and pastoral traditions, would face a future where their land—and with it, their livelihood and cultural heritage—are stripped away.[63]

Paying for Water You Cannot Drink?

Water has shaped life, enabling food, trade, travel, migration, fishing, energy, and now, emerging as an integral source of green hydrogen. Yet, it is becoming increasingly rare in Morocco, exposing deep governance issues, especially in the southern regions. These semi-arid regions, long burdened by poor groundwater reserves, hold a testament of human ingenuity to harness groundwater. Without energy, the Khattaras, the interconnected underground water system, supplied enough water to meet local needs, offering great lessons in sustainability and common will.[64] Modern governance has eroded this system by favoring global trade demands that require high water inputs.[65]

Noor Ouarzazate exemplifies these dynamics. The primary water source in the region, Al-Mansour Eddahbi manmade reservoir was used for cleaning solar reflectors and cooling turbines. This prioritization of industrial needs over local livelihoods resulted in acute water scarcity for residents. As one resident poignantly noted, “It (the complex) never lacks water so that its mirrors are always clean, its offices and staff too. But we, we lack water.”[66] This statement highlights the inequitable distribution of water resources, favoring industrial use over undeniable peoples’ rights to water. Similar concerns arise with the push for green hydrogen in Guelmim-Oued Noun, which involves extensive plans to exploit the region's strategic maritime front for hydrogen transport and desalination. While desalination is locally presented as a solution to water scarcity in this semi-arid region, its purpose has diverted the industrial demands of hydrogen production.[67] The water-intensive nature of green hydrogen is particularly stark: producing one kilogram of hydrogen requires 35 kilograms of desalinated water.[68]

Given the consecutive water shortage in the country, diversion of desalinated water for industrial use could further exacerbate financial inequalities. The process is energy-intensive,[69] and its costs frequently exceed those of conventional water supply options. For example, export-oriented agro-industries in the Souss region have been able to absorb these costs, unlike small-scale farming. Beyond these socio-economic challenges, the desalination process generates saline waste and brine, which are typically discharged into coastal waters. This practice increases marine salinity, disrupts ecosystems, and introduces hazardous chemicals that threaten aquatic life.[70] These consequences underscore the limitations of desalination as a truly sustainable solution, and reflect broader governance failures that prioritize short-term, industrial-driven solutions over systemic reforms. As Marcel Kuper noted, policies that “fail to listen to the crisis” perpetuate the very models they aim to address.[71] This approach, characterized by “rushed” parametric adjustments like desalination, serves to uphold established approaches rather than addressing the root governance models fueling water crisis.[72]

Local Exclusion

When introducing a new industry to stimulate economic development, it is imperative to evoke and stress the agency of local peoples within its structure. At which level will they feature in the value chain of this industry? What will they do in the development paradigm? How do they participate in the decision-making? Did they consent formally and willingly? And crucially, are they even aware of the nature of the project? Strikingly, Eurocentric narratives legitimize a familiar colonial exercise, omitting and subjugating the dignity of local peoples and ecosystems. In the case of Noor Ouarzazate, the proposed development omitted local communities' inputs and instead offered mobile medical caravans, temporary jobs, and holiday camps for children.[73] The project’s paperwork reduces local communities to metrics, segregated by age and gender to satisfy loan conditionalities. They were inadequately consulted, and were not aware of the project until it set the first pillars.[74]

This paternalistic approach embeds patterns of impoverishment and subjugation, ignoring the essence of what “development” is meant to be, one that positions local communities as active agents of its design and implementation, ensuring their rights and agency are reflected. Top-down social engineering methods have systematically neglected the actual priorities of local communities, restricted their activity, and excluded them from decision-making processes. The Moroccan government established an incentive framework for green hydrogen investments, “Morocco Offer.” It welcomes investors with one hectare of land to be made available for green hydrogen projects and offers an attractive incentive package, exempting investors from value-added tax on goods and duties, therefore providing them with more confidence to buy into the scheme.[75]

This strategy is marketed as a strategic development element for the country that will steer growth in hosting sites and employment through the entire value chain of the green hydrogen industry. However, it lacks detailed provisions on how local communities will be integrated into the green hydrogen value chain at hosting sites, raising concerns about equitable resource distribution and risks sidelining communities from this emerging industry. These issues are compounded by the provisions of the new investment charter of 2022, which underpins the “Morocco Offer” while stipulating that companies must create permanent jobs with contracts lasting at least 18 months.[76] Such framing embeds a short-term focus on employment, obscuring serious questions about job sustainability for the local workforce, which provides an already cheap labor for foreign companies.

Spatial Reconfiguration

Green hydrogen infrastructures will necessitate substantial land for solar and wind farms, crucial for generating the renewable electricity required. These high-value assets demand extensive security measures such as checkpoints and surveillance systems. Consequently, these large-scale infrastructures can become sites of pervasive surveillance and control. “Residents experience this securitized frontier during their daily movements between villages and on commutes to Ouarzazate—the city of their work, market activities, education, and healthcare.”[77] Ostensibly aimed at protecting infrastructure, these securitarian measures also regulate and restrict the movement of both human and non-human subjects.

Boundary demarcations can extend beyond the project's stated areas, effectively transforming pasture lands into controlled zones equipped with surveillance systems and checkpoints. The development of desalination and ports, essential for the green hydrogen value chain, can add a securitarian dimension to renewable energy infrastructures. Green hydrogen requires marine fronts for water desalination and transport. This could lead to not only the dispossession of land, but also of coastal areas, disrupting existing uses and livelihoods, particularly for local residents, who are dependent on these spaces. The necessity of protecting these high-value infrastructures involves strict security measures, including controlled zones with restricted access, checkpoints, and surveillance systems.

Advocates for green hydrogen argue that this industry could reduce migration to Europe by creating economic opportunities in Tamazgha.[78] Within this context, the EU's green hydrogen plans may extend beyond energy security to encompass broader geopolitical objectives. Considering that the northwest African coastline is a major migration route to the Canary Islands,[79] the strategic placement of desalination facilities along the Atlantic coastline becomes significant. Morocco, as both origin and transit for migration, holds a prominent role in the EU’s border control regime.[80] This positioning reflects the EU’s broader strategy of externalizing migration control to West African countries.[81] The recent EU-Morocco partnership, across multiple sectors, including migration and energy transition, exemplifies this alignment, with the largest share of funding allocated to border control.[82] Morocco’s role extends to reinforce an anti-migration scheme through the development of infrastructures across main migration routes, such as desalination facilities and ports. The EU’s support for green hydrogen projects in Morocco can be seen as a dual-purpose strategy: advancing the EU's renewable energy goals while enrolling Morocco in the EU’s border-externalization agenda by involving private companies operating in desalination facilities and ports as guardians of the borders in northwest Africa.

Conclusion: Reimagining the transition

The transition to green hydrogen can reflect the dual symbolism of ships: vessels of salvation for some, yet instruments of devastation for others. Malcolm Ferdinand invokes the metaphor of Noah’s Ark,[83] a traditional symbol of salvation, to expose the hidden dimensions of this narrative: Who was saved? Who was left behind? And under whose terms did this salvation unfold? Much like the Ark, the green hydrogen transition risks becoming a selective vessel, steering the EU toward its decarbonized future, all while subjugating resources, dignity, and sovereignty of regions cast as the Global South. In Morocco, the consequences of this transition are already stark: land dispossession, water depletion, and the erosion of local agency. These dynamics, rooted in colonial history, persist today, locking Morocco into both a resource-periphery and a pipeline of African resources toward Europe. Ferdinand’s reference to the Zong massacre, where enslaved Africans were thrown overboard for insurance claims, serves as a stark reminder that profit-driven logics continue to sacrifice those deemed expendable. This logic is plain to see in modern energy configurations, wherein countries like Morocco remain subordinated to the demands of the West; their lands, peoples, and ecosystems reduced to mere variables in the pursuit of Europe’s energy transition.

This discrepancy between salvation narratives and exploitation realities compels everyone interested in this topic to confront who reaps the benefits of this energy transition. If left unchallenged, it will reproduce historical patterns of accumulation by dispossession, where Europe sets the terms of energy transition while Morocco, along with other peripheral zones, bears the costs. Breaking from this trajectory requires a reimagining of the current energy systems, not as a path to salvation, but as a new architecture of cohabitation, where all peoples chart their own energy future, on their own terms. Such transformation demands the systematic dismantling of infrastructures of domination, the deconstruction of colonial frameworks embedded in energy policies, and the rise of genuinely locally-driven alternatives that reflect the needs and aspirations of those historically forced to the margins. This cannot happen without a profound epistemic and structural reimagination of the current energy systems, one that places justice above profit, dignity over domination, and inclusion over exclusion. If green hydrogen is to embody a truly energy alternative, it cannot remain a Western greenwashing exercise. Instead, it must chart a model of cohabitation, where rights, dignity, and sovereignty remain intact, ensuring that no one is left to drown in the wake of yet another imposed transition.

[1] Corporate Europe Observatory, The Hydrogen Hype: Gas Industry Fairy Tale or Climate Horror Story? (Brussels: Corporate Europe Observatory, December 2020), https://corporateeurope.org/sites/default/files/2020-12/hydrogen-report-web-final_0.pdf.

[2] European Commission, Communication from the Commission to the European Parliament, the European Council, the Council, the European Economic and Social Committee and the Committee of the Regions: REPowerEU Plan, COM(2022) 230 final, 18 May 2022. https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=COM%3A2022%3A230%3AFIN; European Commission, Proposal for a Regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council on the greenhouse-gas emissions trading system, 2023/0156 ( COD ): Explanatory Memorandum. COM(2023) 156 final, April 2023. https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/ALL/?uri=COM:2023:156:FIN.

[3] Malcom Ferdinand, Une écologie décoloniale. Penser l’écologie depuis le monde caribéen (Paris: Le Seuil, 2019).

[4] Arturo Escobar, Encountering Development: The Making and Unmaking of the Third World (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995).

[5] Sabelo J. Ndlovu-Gatsheni, Coloniality of Power in Postcolonial Africa: Myths of Decolonization (Dakar: CODESRIA, 2013).

[6] Vandana Shiva, Earth Democracy: Justice, Sustainability, and Peace (Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 2005).

[7] Pascal Blanchard et al.,eds. Sexe, race & colonies: La domination des corps du XVe siècle à nos jours (Paris: La Découverte, 2018).

[8] Frantz Fanon, A Dying Colonialism (New York: Grove Press, 1965), 35–67.

[9] The Imperial, in English, is the name given to the trans-Maghreb railway during the French direct rule.

[10] Jean-Claude Allain, “Les chemins de fer marocains du protectorat français pendant l’entre-deux-guerres.” Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine 34, no. 3 (1987): 427–52 ; Natalia Starostina, “Ambiguous Modernity: Representations of French Colonial Railways in the Third Republic.” In Proceedings of the Western Society for French History, vol. 38 (Ann Arbor, MI: Michigan Publishing, University of Michigan Library, 2010).

[11] Jonas Rosenthal, “In Reverse: Natural Gas and Politics in the Maghreb and Europe,” Intern Corner, Foreign Policy Research Institute, June 27, 2023, https://www.fpri.org/article/2023/06/in-reverse-natural-gas-and-politics-in-the-maghreb-and-europe/.

[12] Gruskin, Rebecca. “The Value within Multiform Commodities: North African Phosphates and Global Markets in the Interwar Period.” Journal of Global History 16, no. 3 (2021): 315–35.

[13] David Harvey. The New Imperialism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003).

[14] Corporate Value Associates (CVA), Africa’s Extraordinary Green Hydrogen Potential (Luxembourg: European Investment Bank, 2022), https://www.eib.org/attachments/press/africa-green-hydrogen-flyer.pdf; Rik van Rossum, Jaro Jens, Gemma La Guardia, Anthony Wang, Luis Kühnen, and Martijn Overgaag, A European Hydrogen Infrastructure Vision Covering 28 Countries (European Hydrogen Backbone, April 2022), https://ehb.eu/files/downloads/ehb-report-220428-17h00-interactive-1.pdf.

[15] Jean Marie Takouleu, “Exporting Green Hydrogen from Africa to Europe: Italy Makes Its Move,” Afrik21, February 1, 2024, https://www.afrik21.africa/en/exporting-green-hydrogen-from-africa-to-europe-italy-makes-its-move/; EJAtlas, “Nigeria–Morocco Offshore and Onshore Gas Pipeline,” 2022, https://ejatlas.org/conflict/nigeria-morocco-offshore-gas-pipeline.

[16] Tunisia plays a similar role given its proximity to Italy. It hosted the first segment of Gaz Maghreb-Europe in the 1970s as the Italian ENI had more facilities to implement this project at this time. Today, Tunisia is hosting a green hydrogen pipeline to Italy, Austria and Germany. See: TotalEnergies, “Green Hydrogen: TE H2 Partners with VERBUND on a Large Project in Tunisia,” Press Release, May 28, 2024, https://totalenergies.com/news/press-releases/green-hydrogen-te-h2-partners-verbund-large-project-tunisia.

[17] Ministry of Energy. Feuille de route Hydrogène Vert. 2021. https://www.mem.gov.ma/Lists/Lst_rapports/Attachments/36/Feuille%20de%20route%20de%20hydrogène%20vert.pdf.

[18] OCP Group, “OCP Group Launches a $13 Billion Green Investment Strategy,” OCP Group News, December 16, 2022, https://www.ocpgroup.ma/news-article/ocp-group-launches-its-new-green-investment-program-2023-2027.

[19] European Commission, Report on the Benefits for the People of Western Sahara on Extending Tariff Preferences to Products from Western Sahara 2023, SWD(2024) 57 final (2024), https://taxation-customs.ec.europa.eu/report-impacts-and-benefits-eu-morocco-agreement-extending-tariff-preferences-products-originating_en.

[20] Ministère de l’Économie et des Finances (Maroc), Projet de loi de finances pour l’année budgétaire 2024: Rapport sur le foncier public mobilisé pour l’investissement (Rabat, 2024), https://www.finances.gov.ma/Publication/db/2024/Rapport-FoncierPublic_Fr.pdf.

[21] Western Sahara Resource Watch (WSRW), “New Conflict Element: ‘Green’ Hydrogen,” May 3, 2023, https://wsrw.org/en/news/new-conflict-element-green-hydrogen; Western Sahara Resource Watch (WSRW), “Moroccan Government Reveals Energy Gigaplans in Occupied Territory,” November 3, 2023, https://wsrw.org/en/news/moroccan-gov-reveals-energy-gigaplans-in-ot.

[22] Aziz Elbehri and Thomas W. Hertel, “A Comparative Analysis of the EU–Morocco FTA vs. Multilateral Liberalization,” Journal of Economic Integration 21, no. 3 (September 2006): 496–525, https://doi.org/10.11130/jei.2006.21.3.496.

[23] Ministry of Economy and Finance (Morocco), “The Launching in Rabat of Morocco-EU Institutional Twinning Project,” July 12, 2011, https://www.finances.gov.ma/en/Pages/detail-actualite.aspx?fiche=2887.

[24] Conseil économique, social et environnemental (CESE), Avis du Conseil économique, social et environnemental: Accélérer la transition énergétique pour installer le Maroc dans la croissance verte, Auto-saisine no. 45/2020 (2020), https://rb.gy/e2kn2.

[25] Ibid.

[26] D. Mertens and M. Thiemann, “The European Investment Bank: The EU’s Climate Bank?” (2023), https://doi.org/10.4337/9781789906981.00016.

[27] Counter Balance, The EIB as EU Climate Bank: Only Halfway There: An Analysis of the New EIB Climate Roadmap and the Way Forward (December 2020), https://tinyurl.com/kbdne9he.

[28] European Investment Bank (EIB), The EIB Group Climate Bank Roadmap 2021–2025 (Luxembourg: European Investment Bank, December 14, 2020), https://doi.org/10.2867/503343.

[29] European Commission, “The EU and Morocco Launch the First Green Partnership on Energy, Climate and the Environment Ahead of COP27,” October 18, 2022, https://tinyurl.com/yc2h46f6.

[30] The European Central Bank alone channeled 7.6 billion Euros into oil and gas companies.

[31] Greenpeace, Bankrolling the Climate Crisis: European Central Bank Injects over €7 Billion into Fossil Fuels since COVID-19 Crisis (2020), https://www.greenpeace.org/static/planet4-eu-unit-stateless/2020/06/20200603-Report-ECB-coronavirus-bond-purchasing-bankrolls-fossil-fuels.pdf.

[32] Caroline Kuzemko, Mathieu Blondeel, Claire Dupont, and Marie Claire Brisbois, “Russia’s War on Ukraine, European Energy Policy Responses & Implications for Sustainable Transformations,” Energy Research & Social Science 93 (2022): 102842, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.erss.2022.102842; Hui Huang, Jingying Zhao, Haibin Liu, et al., “Research on the Crisis Propagation in the Global Coal Trade under the Russia–Ukraine Conflict,” Scientific Reports 13 (2023): 15954, https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-023-42643-8.

[33] European Commission, REPowerEU Plan.

[34] Hydrogen Europe, “Members: Meet Our Members,” n.d., https://hydrogeneurope.eu/members-locations.

[35] We should note the use of Tamazgha for the North African region.

[36] Jesse Pinster, “How One Professor Made the EU Fall in Love with Hydrogen,” Follow the Money, January 6, 2023, https://www.ftm.eu/articles/samsom-van-wijk-and-the-hydrogen-lobby.

[37] Jawad Moustakbal, “The Moroccan Energy Sector: A Permanent Dependence,” Transnational Institute, December 28, 2021, https://www.tni.org/en/article/the-moroccan-energy-sector.

[38] This partnership, PAREMA, is part of a large energy cooperation program that supports 17 non-EU countries, including Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia, to develop their energy strategies: https://tinyurl.com/y9584era.

[39] Frontier Economics, International Aspects of a Power-to-X Roadmap: A Report Prepared for the World Energy Council Germany (2018), https://tinyurl.com/2su8pbx2; Wolfgang Eichhammer, Stella Oberle, Michael Händel, et al., Study on the Opportunities of “Power-to-X” in Morocco: 10 Hypotheses for Discussion (Fraunhofer ISI, 2019), https://www.efuel-alliance.eu/fileadmin/Downloads/N-565333.pdf.

[40] Jan Frederick Braun et al., Clean Hydrogen Deployment in the Europe–MENA Region from 2030 to 2050: A Technical and Socio-Economic Assessment (Fraunhofer CINES, 2023), https://doi.org/10.24406/publica-1763.

[41] Ministry of Energy (Morocco), Feuille de route Hydrogène Vert (2021), https://www.mem.gov.ma/Lists/Lst_rapports/Attachments/36/Feuille%20de%20route%20de%20hydrog%C3%A8ne%20vert.pdf.

[42] Escobar, Encountering Development.

[43] Geoffrey Jones and Loubna Bouamane, “Power from Sunshine: A Business History of Solar Energy,” Harvard Business School Working Paper, no. 12-105 (Boston: Harvard Business School, 2012).

[44] Delf Rothe, “Energy for the Masses? Exploring the Political Logics behind the Desertec Vision,” Journal of International Relations and Development 19, no. 3 (2014), https://doi.org/10.1057/jird.2014.17.

[45] European Commission, REPowerEU Plan.

[46] Ad van Wijk and Frank Wouters, “Hydrogen—The Bridge between Africa and Europe,” in Shaping an Inclusive Energy Transition, ed. Margot P. C. Weijnen, Zofia Lukszo, and Samira Farahani (Cham: Springer, 2021), https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-74586-8_5.

[47] Brahim El Guabli, “Experimental Saharanism: Exploiting Desert Environments,” The Architectural Review, October 5, 2023, https://www.architectural-review.com/essays/keynote/experimental-saharanism; Ibrahim al-Koni, Al-Majus (Beirut: Dar al-Tanwir, 1992).

[48] Ibid.

[49] Ndlovu-Gatsheni, Coloniality of Power in Postcolonial Africa.

[50] Ahmed Idrees, “Review of On the Meaning of Land: Reclaiming the Palestinian Selfhood, by Salameh B. A.,” Al-Muntaqa: New Perspectives on Arab Studies 6, no. 3 (2023): 120–25, https://www.jstor.org/stable/48750076.

[51] Brahim El Guabli, “Reconciling Ouarzazate with Solar Energy in Our Desert Town,” The Markaz Review, January 15, 2024, https://themarkaz.org/reconciling-ouarzazate-with-solar-energy-in-our-desert-town.

[52] Government of Morocco, Circular from the Head of Government on the Morocco Offer, March 11, 2024, https://www.mem.gov.ma/PublishingImages/Lists/Lst_Actualites/AllItems/Circulaire_H_vert_-_En.pdf.

[53] World Bank, Ouarzazate I Concentrated Solar Power Plant Project: Project Appraisal Document, Report No. 64663-MA (Washington, DC: World Bank Group, 2011).

[54] Mona Atia and Said Samlali, “Government Efforts to Reduce Inequality in Morocco Are Only Making Matters Worse,” Middle East Report Online, March 24, 2021, https://merip.org/2021/03/government-efforts-to-reduce-inequality-in-morocco-are-only-making-matters-worse.

[55] Ibid.; Zakia Salime, “Life in the Vicinity of Morocco’s Noor Solar Energy Project,” Middle East Report Online, April 6, 2021, https://merip.org/2021/04/life-in-the-vicinity-of-moroccos-noor-solar-energy-project/.

[56] World Bank, The World Bank Group in Morocco (Washington, DC: World Bank Group, 1967), https://documents1.worldbank.org/curated/es/151871482751003247/pdf/109702-WP-Box396323B-The-World-Bank-Group-In-Morocco-01-1967.pdf.

[57] Mohamed Mahdi, “Devenir du foncier agricole au Maroc: Un cas d’accaparement des terres,” New Medit 13, no. 4 (2014): 2–10.

[58]MASEN, Plan d’acquisition de terrain (2011), https://www.masen.ma/sites/default/files/documents_rapport/Masen_NOORo_LAP1_July_2011_d2Zcrll.pdf; MASEN, Plan d’acquisition de terrain pour l’adduction d’eau brute (2014), https://www.masen.ma/sites/default/files/documents_rapport/Masen_OZZ_WaterESIA_LAP_gjms6UE.pdf.

[59] The first stage of the sale amounted to MAD26,532,142 and MAD25,000,000 in the first stage and MAD1,532,142 in the second stage. According to the AfDB completion reports, the project’s fixed exchange rates were EUR1 = MAD11.1535 and EUR1 = MAD11.144.

[60] World Bank, Ouarzazate I Project Appraisal Document.

[61] Amin Belghazi and Mohammed Sammouni, “Morocco’s Mirage of Socioeconomic Change,” Zenith, December 6, 2020, https://magazine.zenith.me/en/society/noor-power-station-ouarzazate; Oumaima Jmad, “À Tasselmante, les femmes démystifient l’énergie solaire,” in Maroc: justice climatique, urgences sociales, ed. Hicham Houdaïfa, Casablanca: En toutes lettres, coll. “Enquêtes,” 2021.

[62] Ministry of Economy and Finance (Morocco), Report on the Mobilisation of Common Land for Investment (2023), https://tinyurl.com/bdhu6xv8.

[63] Ali Amouzai and Ouafa Haddioui, Green Hydrogen in Morocco: Just Transition or Greenwashing Neocolonialism? The Case of Guelmim-Oued Noun (Transnational Institute and Siyada Network, October 2023), https://www.tni.org/files/2023-10/Green%20Hydrogen%20in%20Morocco_Online_0.pdf.

[64] Mohamed Beraaouz, Mohamed Abioui, Mohammed Hssaisoune, and Jesús Martínez-Frías, “Khettaras in the Tafilalet Oasis (Morocco): Contribution to the Promotion of Tourism and Sustainable Development,” Built Heritage 6, no. 1 (2022): 24.

[65] Tony Allan, The Middle East Water Question (London: I.B. Tauris, 2001).

[66] Jmad, “À Tasselmante, les femmes démystifient l’énergie solaire.”

[67] KfW Development Bank, “Energy of the Future: Sustainable Production of Hydrogen,” Project information: Renewable energy sources in Morocco, updated January 2024, https://www.kfw-entwicklungsbank.de/Global/North-Africa-and-Middle-East/PI-Hydrogen-Morocco.

[68] Philip Miltrup, “A First Look at Water Demand for Green Hydrogen and Concerns and Opportunities with Desalination,” International PtX Hub, February 2, 2024, https://ptx-hub.org/a-first-look-at-water-demand-for-green-hydrogen-and-concerns-and-opportunities-with-desalination.

[69] Ibid.

[70] Himmich and Hatimy, “Dessalement: solution à la pénurie d’eau?,” Nechfate, January 6, 2023, https://nechfate.ma/dessalement-solution-a-la-penurie-deau; Matt Simon, “Desalination Is Booming. But What About All That Toxic Brine?,” WIRED, January 14, 2019, https://www.wired.com/story/desalination-is-booming-but-what-about-all-that-toxic-brine.

[71] Mehdi Michbal, “L’eau au Maroc: ‘Il faut écouter la crise’ recommande le chercheur Marcel Kuper,” Médias24, 13 novembre 2022, https://medias24.com/2022/11/13/leau-au-maroc-il-faut-ecouter-la-crise-recommande-le-chercheur-marcel-kuper.

[72] Ibid.

[73] African Development Bank, NOOR Ouarzazate Solar Complex Project—Phase I (NOOR Ouarzazate I Power Plant): Project Completion Report (2019), https://www.afdb.org/en/documents/document/morocco-noor-ouarzazate-solar-complex-project-phase-i-noor-ouarzazate-i-power-plant-pcr-107754; African Development Bank, NOOR Ouarzazate Solar Complex Project—Phase II (NOOR Ouarzazate II Power Plant): Project Completion Report (2020), https://www.afdb.org/en/documents/morocco-noor-ouarzazate-solar-complex-project-phase-ii-noor-ouarzazate-ii-power-plant-project-completion-report; African Development Bank, NOOR Ouarzazate Solar Complex Project—Phase III (NOOR Ouarzazate III Power Plant): Project Completion Report (2021), https://www.afdb.org/en/documents/morocco-noor-ouarzazate-solar-complex-project-phase-iii-noor-ouarzazate-iii-power-plant-project-completion-report.

[74] Belghazi and Sammouni, “Morocco’s Mirage of Socioeconomic Change;” Jmad, “À Tasselmante, les femmes démystifient l’énergie solaire.”

[75] Government of Morocco, Circular on the Morocco Offer.

[76] Moroccan Investment and Export Development Agency (AMDIE), Framework Law No. 03–22 on the Investment Charter (2023), https://tinyurl.com/39r8nzme.

[77] Salime, “Life in the Vicinity of Noor.”

[78] van Wijk and Wouters, “Hydrogen—The Bridge.”

[79] Frontex, “Risk Analysis Reports,” n.d., https://www.frontex.europa.eu/what-we-do/monitoring-and-risk-analysis/risk-analysis/risk-analysis.

[80] Abolish Frontex, “Frontex in Africa,” 2023, https://abolishfrontex.org/blog/2023/10/31/frontex-in-africa; Council of the European Union, Background Document on EU–Morocco Cooperation on Migration. WK 2411/2024 INIT (April 22, 2024), via Statewatch, https://www.statewatch.org/media/4403/mocadem-morocco-wk-2411-2024.pdf.

[81] Meijers Committee, Comment on Frontex’s Status Agreements with Senegal and Mauritania (June 2023), https://www.commissie-meijers.nl/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/CM2307.pdf.

[82] European Commission, “EU Launches New Cooperation Programmes with Morocco Worth €624 Million: Green Transition, Migration and Reforms,” March 2, 2023, https://neighbourhood-enlargement.ec.europa.eu/news/eu-launches-new-cooperation-programmes-morocco-worth-eu624-million-green-transition-migration-and-2023-03-02_en; Council of the EU, Background Document on EU–Morocco Cooperation on Migration.

[83] Ferdinand, Une écologie décoloniale.

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Volume 4 • Issue 1 • Fall 2025
Pages 68-84
Language: English