Reparation for Climate Change: The Successes and Limits of Litigation

Josephine van Zeben

Chapter 16: Establishing Corporate Climate Citizenship — Regulation and/or Reparations?

1.The Contours of Corporate Climate Liability

Climate litigation against corporations has taken flight in recent years. Whereas early corporate climate litigation was mostly deregulatory in focus — brought by corporations to prevent or soften the regulatory impact of new environmental and climate standards¹ —, the past decade has seen an increase in litigation focused on holding corporations to account for their share in the climate crisis. The successful claim in the first instance against Royal Dutch Shell (RDS) in 2021² raised expectations on the use of private law as a vehicle for drawing attention to the perceived economic, social, and moral responsibility of corporations for climate change damage across jurisdictions, as expressed through legal liability.³ This avenue is considered particularly important in lieu of binding international law obligations for corporate actors,⁴ which have not materialized despite the fact that, already seven years ago, studies showed that just 100 companies are responsible for 71% of global emissions since 1988.⁵

Much has been written about the phenomenon of climate change litigation against public and private actors, and how the involvement of courts, through public and private law, is changing the regulatory landscape of climate change mitigation and adaptation.⁶ There is a general sense of optimism regarding the potential of litigation to break through some of the stalemate in international and national climate policy negotiations, and for holding public and private actors to account for their actions, and inactions, on climate policy.⁷ Climate change litigation has also forced legal doctrines to grapple with changing perceptions of harm, damage, causation, risk, and compensation due to climate change.⁸ Moreover, the inter- and transnational nature of these claims has brought jurisdictional questions under private international law to the fore (eg scenario 8 on climate adaptation, and scenario 10 involving the US Alien Tort Statute).⁹ Similarly, the role of climate science, and courts’ role in interpreting and applying that science, has had to be reflected on,¹⁰ especially as the issue of “climate change attribution” — the extent to which certain aspects of climate change can be linked to specific behaviors — continues to develop.¹¹ Against the backdrop of this rapidly developing area of legal and interdisciplinary research, this chapter will reflect on two dimensions of corporate climate liability that could, and arguably should, shape the use of litigation for corporate climate reparations: first, the absolute and relative role of — civil — litigation vis-à-vis regulation with respect to corporate responsibility — S. 323 —for climate change damages; and, second, the impact of the public/private distinction with respect to corporate climate change responsibility.

The litigation versus regulation dimension builds on existing research in legal and law and economics scholarship on the institutional strengths and weaknesses of courts and legislatures. While the theory behind this debate pre-dates the questions of this chapter, and its implications are well-known, the practice of corporate climate litigation provides new avenues for reflection on these strengths and weaknesses. The public/private dimension interacts with this institutional discussion insofar that policy choices as to the public and/or private nature of corporate activity go to the heart of questions of corporate responsibility and reparation. As corporations fulfill a growing number of “public” roles,¹² more explicit engagement with this distinction in climate policy is needed.

This chapter will start by providing a short and purposefully incomplete overview of recent corporate climate litigation to flag questions of feasibility and success of litigation that frame this chapter (section 2). These questions will be developed in reference to the scenarios discussed throughout this volume. It continues by reflecting on the institutional dimension of corporate climate litigation and regulation (section 3) and the implications of the public/ private distinction in climate policy (section 4). It concludes by considering the interaction between these two dimensions and the implications for future climate policy (section 5).

2.Litigating Corporate Climate Liability

The question of the legal feasibility of corporate liability for climate change is — unsurprisingly — one that varies between jurisdictions and areas of law. Nevertheless, the overall expectation as to the “success” of this growing number of claims is high, even though many cases continue to be unsuccessful. Common obstacles include lack of standing;¹³ failure to establish causality; and, lack of suitable remedies — an issue also raised in scenario 5, which in addition highlights the potential tension between individual and collective remedies, and more generally the need for collective remedies. These obstacles are common to all forms of climate change litigation, against corporations — S. 324 —as well as against governmental actors. However, one could argue that those litigating against corporations are faced with several additional challenges, including the vast resources of certain large corporates, which can overwhelm individual plaintiffs and smaller organizations. This power imbalance complicates litigation, as does the often abstract nature of corporate decisionmaking, where actions are dispersed across multiple departments or levels of management, making it difficult to pinpoint direct responsibility. The issue of corporate personality also complicates matters: because corporations are legal fictions, identifying who or what is “guilty” can be elusive, and the accountability for wrongdoing can be diluted among a multitude of stakeholders, from shareholders to executives.

In parallel to challenges to bringing successful claims, there is the question as to how “success” can, and is, measured when claims do lead to judgments. Thus far, the reduction of greenhouse gas (GHG) emitting activities has been a key focus in climate change litigation against corporations, and the forced reduction of such emissions has been a principal remedy. However, as the urgency of adaptation is overtaking the need for, and possibilities of, mitigation in an increasing number of jurisdictions, remedies in the form of monetary compensation for (irreversible or intangible) harm are becoming more common.¹⁴ There are clear practical constraints to remedying certain types of climate harm; once a species is extinct, restitution, ie de-extinction, is no longer an option. Though problematic from an ecological and philosophical perspective, such practical constraints are not unique to climate harm. Through monetization, the law has found a workaround for many irreversible harms, such as death or the loss of limbs. The question is whether finding corporations financially liable for the disappearance of a species can, and should, be seen as a “success” in the context of climate litigation.

A holistic understanding of success would require us to engage with value judgments that arise at various stages of litigation. This includes questions of valuation of the harm caused by climate change, such as those linked to loss of life, health risks and property (such as those discussed in scenarios 1 and

3)that inform remedy requests. In addition, one may consider intangible losses specific to climate change, also referred to as “solastalgia” — the feeling of loss and distress caused by negative environmental changes.¹⁵ This may extend to losses related to the disappearance of cultural heritage and ancestral ecosystems, such as those mentioned in scenarios 2 and 5. As our understanding — S. 325 —of these experiences of loss grows, there is a need to engage with the “future” or forward-looking aspect of these losses — a harm done by the knowledge that some things will be lost, even if they have not yet been. Though this type of loss is experienced by current generations, it invites reflection on the impacts on future generations and how we may quantify or value the losses that they will experience.¹⁶ Most of these types of losses, especially the ones that involve complex puzzles of timing, both in terms of the causation and materialization of the harms, are not easily accommodated in the legal system.¹⁷ This is true for the recognition of the harm itself as legally relevant “harm” or “damage” but also for the types of remedies that can be awarded.

As to the broader aim of the litigation and the remedies awarded, general deterrence is a clear goal of many climate change litigation cases: the idea that establishing liability for corporate climate change action would result in a different cost-benefit analysis for corporations, which would then result in lower emissions across the board, also from corporations who themselves have not yet been subject to litigation. Whether this effect indeed exists is a factual question that cannot be answered in the scope of this contribution.¹⁸ Lessons may be learned here from the role liability has played, and continues to play, in regulating other environmental risks, such as nuclear power and oil drilling.¹⁹ Taking stock of global environmental quality, one may argue that the general deterrence of both regulation and litigation in these areas has not resulted in a level of environmental quality that is sustainable or safe.²⁰

However, within climate litigation, the plaintiffs or applicants seem to place their faith not only in the general deterrent effect of monetary damages, but also in the ability of such cases to bring about social change. This can be seen in the expansive media campaigns that have accompanied most strategic climate litigation.²¹ There has been a clear shift within climate litigation to — S. 326 —more strategic and cooperative behavior among plaintiffs where the sharing of resources, insights and strategies has become commonplace. Organizations such as the Climate Litigation Network assist local groups to bring cases against their national governments and corporations.²² In the remainder of this section, the landmark case of Milieudefensie et al v Royal Dutch Shell²³ will be used as an illustration of how some of these issues — specifically the question of damages and remedies, and what is perceived as “success” — are playing out in practice.

The climate litigation against Royal Dutch Shell, the parent company of a global network of subsidiaries involved in the production and distribution of oil and gas, started in 2019. Milieudefensie, a Dutch environmental NGO, filed a class action on behalf of itself, six other NGOs and over 17,000 Dutch citizens. The plaintiffs argued that RDS has an obligation based on Dutch tort law, specifically the unwritten standard of care pursuant to Book 6 Section 162 of the Dutch Civil Code, to contribute to the prevention of dangerous climate change.²⁴ In the eyes of the plaintiffs, RDS was not currently fulfilling this obligation, rather they considered RDS’s corporate policy as “hazardous and disastrous,” and “in no way (…) consistent with the global climate target to prevent a dangerous climate change for the protection of mankind, the human environment and nature.”²⁵ They requested the court to order RDS to reduce its CO emissions with 45% by 2030, as compared to 2019,²⁶ including emissions

2

based on its own business operations (so-called “scope 1 and 2 emissions”) but also those created through sales of its energy products (“scope 3 emissions”).²⁷

On 26 May 2021, the District Court of the Hague, which decided the case in the first instance, held in favor of the plaintiffs and ordered RDS to cut its global CO emissions by 45 percent by 2030, as compared to 2019 levels.²⁸ The

2

decision was grounded in the Court’s interpretation of RDS’s duty of care under Dutch tort law in light of international soft law, including the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights,²⁹ and other soft law responsibilities of States and society.³⁰ This judgment represented the — S. 327 —first imposition of a specific mitigation obligation on a private company over and above reduction targets set by existing “cap-and-trade” regulations and/ or other governmental mitigation policies.³¹

On 12 November 2024, RDS successfully appealed the verdict, with the Hague Court of Appeal setting aside the District Court’s judgment.³² The Court of Appeal rejected the reasoning that the 45% reduction target, taken from IPCC reports, should be considered “an average for all sectors and all places in the world.”³³ As such, it could not be read as applying to “every country and every business sector individually.”³⁴ As Milieudefensie’s litigation strategy has focused exclusively on this argument, the Court was not able to consider other potential avenues for corporate liability, such as the wrongfulness of investment in new oil and gas fields in view of RDS’s standard of care or an obligation to reduce scope 3 emissions.³⁵

More generally, while the verdict could be considered a setback in what was considered a promising and symbolic change of the tides regarding climate change litigation against corporations, commentators have been quick to point at the openings that the judgment provides for future litigation strategies. As argued by André Nollkaemper,³⁶ the Court provides several additional avenues towards corporate climate responsibility by emphasizing that there is a shared responsibility of states and private actors regarding climate change — referring also the UNGPs³⁷ and the horizontal effect of human rights³⁸— even if these responsibilities are differentiated.³⁹ The takeaway from the Shell case, therefore, may well be that it is not a question of “if” but rather “when” climate litigation against corporations will result in the award of damages, injunctions, or specific performances for corporations.

The Shell litigation shows that success is, at least partly, in the eye of the beholder. Corporations are likely relieved about RDS’s successful appeal, but the judgment provides enough legal “hooks” for future litigation strategies to provide hope for the plaintiffs. With respect to harm and remedies, the District Court’s view on Shell’s contribution to climate change harm was not followed by the Court of Appeal, which consequently set aside the remedy that would have forced a reduction in emissions from RDS. An open question is what the role of historic emissions in climate litigation may be, both against corporations and against states (see also scenario 7).

3.Litigation versus Legislation

The desirability of litigation for corporate climate change damage and the absolute and relative role of — civil⁴⁰— litigation vis-à-vis regulation has received relatively little attention, as compared to its practicalities. This section builds on institutional research to consider whether courts are particularly well or ill-suited to decide climate change-related questions. This question will be answered differently depending on how we categorize questions arising from such litigation; some are questions of compensation for established damage with clear causation, others are questions of risk of future damage of activities which may have certain social and private benefits for a variety of actors. These types of dilemmas hold distinctly different challenges for courts and regulators in their decision-making. From an institutional, law and economics-based, perspective, litigation and the courts have other strengths and weaknesses in the face of climate change risks as compared to government regulators (see Table 1).

The picture that emerges from the above table is one not of alternatives but rather of (imperfect) complements, where both regulatory intervention by a governmental agent and the imposition of liability through litigation by courts can, and arguably should, play a role in regulating climate change damage and risks.⁴¹ The “optimal” balance between litigation and regulation on this topic is due to change as climate policy, at the national and international level, changes; one could imagine that as international and/or national policies weaken, litigation increases to try to fill in resulting ambition gaps. Similarly, if this ambition gap is replaced with an enforcement gap, litigation may continue apace but now aimed at ensuring compliance with legislative climate obligations.

Regulator Factor Judiciary Strengths Governmental agent Strengths

Type of risk Private risks (where discretion is Uniform private risks;

needed as to level of care); Systemic risks

“New” risks

Type of harm Concentrated; Immediate; Geographically or temporally

Clear causality dispersed; Irreversible; Latent; Catastrophic

Information Incomplete information Full information

Type of injurer Identifiable injurer(s) — with joint “Litigation proof” injurers

or several liability

Type of victim Identifiable individual or group Dispersed or disenfranchised

victims

Table 1: Strengths of judicial and/or governmental risk regulation 42

Most cases thus far have focused on imposing liability on corporations in order to force them to mitigate their GHG emissions beyond, or in the absence of, regulatory minimums. In these cases, one could compare the intended deterrent function of liability with the ex ante nature of regulation; litigation and regulation are both intended to prevent future behavior and/or change existing behaviors. However, as the window for preventative action becomes smaller and climate change adaptation becomes more necessary, these cases are likely to increasingly take on a reparation focus, no longer asking for mitigation actions but requesting damages for harms already suffered (such as under scenario 8).

Under such circumstances, the ability to provide tailored redress in specific cases is undoubtedly a strength of tort law, which may be hard — though not impossible — to match under a regulatory scheme. However, this strength could also be considered a weakness as it favors strong plaintiffs over weaker ones. “Strength” here is measured not in reference to the nature or validity of their claim but in terms of plaintiffs’ resources and ability to bring a case.⁴³ The inability to account for this imbalance can mean that tort law ultimately also deprives certain individuals of a route of redress. Examples of this can be found in the Deepwater Horizon incident, where the lack of coordination between different liability regimes and the existence of statutory caps to liability left some victims of the oil spill under-compensated and others over-compensated.⁴⁴

From a constitutional perspective, questions of corporate responsibility for climate change may be considered of a magnitude that they fall within socalled “political question” doctrines — as some courts themselves have argued.⁴⁵ Especially regarding questions of climate risk, rather than climate damage, there has been a broad contestation and politicization of many aspects of risk management, including the nature of knowledge,⁴⁶ the acceptability of risk,⁴⁷ the distinction between perceived and actual risk,⁴⁸ and the impact of the timespan during which risks may materialize.⁴⁹ Given the unelected nature of judges (in most jurisdictions), leaving these questions in the hands of the elected legislature could render a more legitimate result.⁵⁰

By extension, in the specific case of climate change litigation based on tort law, one could argue that tort law — as an area of private law — should not govern decisions with such clear third-party effects as climate change litigation cases. A counter-argument presented by Doug Kysar sets out that tort law, and by extension, the courts, are uniquely capable of addressing the claims that underlie climate litigation given that “[r]eceiving a remedy through statutory or regulatory means is simply not equivalent to the personal and distinctively liberal achievement of persuading a judge and a jury of one’s peers that a wrong has been committed which demands repair.”⁵¹ Put differently, despite the complexities of adjudicating climate change harms, to ignore the role of tort law, and by extension private law more generally, in addressing the negative impacts of climate change, would be to deprive individuals of a route of redress that is uniquely suited to remedying specific harms — especially given the inability of regulators to regulate climate change risks comprehensively.⁵²

Apart from the reference to different types of justice, this line of argument (correctly) presumes that the legislature is unable to comprehensively and/ or successfully regulate climate change mitigation and adaptation. Notwithstanding this constraint, it has been argued that litigation may “distract” from legislation, for example by reducing public and political demand for legislative solutions, or by taking up finite governmental resources. In the KlimaSeniorinnen case,⁵³ Judge Eicke dissented on the basis that he believed

[T]here is a significant risk that the new right/obligation created by the majority (alone or in combination with the much enlarged standing rules for associations) will prove an unwelcome and unnecessary distraction for the national and international authorities, both executive and legislative, in that it detracts attention from the on-going legislative and negotiating efforts being undertaken as we speak to address the — generally accepted — need for urgent action.⁵⁴

In Eicke’s view, the Court’s decision to support the plaintiffs’ application by finding that the Swiss government was not taking sufficient action on climate change and would have to adopt new legislation to address climate change more effectively would diverge essential resources away from governmental action on that same issue.

The social and economic costs of climate change will only increase over the coming decades and the concern over resources is a real one. However, to successfully argue that litigation is a costly (ie ineffective) distraction from legislative efforts, the counterfactual of (equally ambitious) legislation without (the threat of) litigation would have to be shown, or at least be credible. This counterfactual is far from proven with respect to the climate obligations of nation states, and perhaps even less so with respect to corporations, who are not subject to international climate obligations. In the absence of such legislation, it is hard to see litigation as anything other than a complement to, or replacement of, incomplete or ineffective legislation.

There are, however, other potential threats to the potentially fruitful interaction between litigation and legislation: when judgments are routinely ignored by defendants, either state or private actors, the credibility of the courts will be undermined. The Swiss Parliament, for example, recommended that the government reject the KlimaSeniorinnen judgment, a clear show of defiance of the European Court of Human Rights’s ruling.⁵⁵ Though corporations could — S. 332 —be held accountable for non-compliance with judgments in ways that governments cannot, this also depends on governments’ willingness to enforce them.

Finally, one can imagine situations, as with the appeal in Shell, when legislation is adopted during litigation, and courts are placed in a potentially difficult position. On 25 July 2024, before the ruling on Shell’s appeal, the EU’s Directive on Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence (CSDDD) entered into force.⁵⁶ This means that there is now a legal obligation under European law for corporations to adopt and implement climate transition plans that are compatible with Paris’s 1.5°C goal.⁵⁷ Notwithstanding the judgment, therefore, RDS will be bound to reduce its emissions in line with international climate change policy, even if that does not necessarily translate into a 45% reduction.⁵⁸ As a result of the CSDDD, the legal reality since the initial ruling had changed to the point that the need for such a ruling was perhaps less urgent than it had been before. One may speculate whether this impacted the Hague Court of Appeal’s decision to overturn the District Court’s holding.

Despite the changes brought about by the CSDDD, corporations remain largely free from obligations to align their practices with international climate change policy, even though some corporations have contributed more to climate change than some nation-states. As corporations fulfill a growing number of public mandates, it bears considering whether this division between public and private actors in climate policy should hold, both in litigation and in legislation. The next section will reflect on these questions.

4.The Public/Private Distinction

The corporate form was created in order to provide a legal fiction that allows individuals to pool resources, take collective action, and limit their personal liability while pursuing business objectives.⁵⁹ This form has enabled businesses to scale, innovate, and drive economic growth on a global scale. The separation of ownership and control — along with the ability to transfer ownership through shares — has given rise to powerful entities capable of shaping industries and economies. Additionally, the corporate veil provides protection to shareholders, insulating them from many of the risks associated with the corporation’s activities. The corporate structure has undeniably reshaped — S. 333 —the modern economic landscape and society at large. This success, however, comes with distinct challenges. In many cases, corporations have become so large and influential that their operations, or lack thereof, have far-reaching social, environmental, and political consequences.⁶⁰ In particular, corporations’ legal and financial structures allow them to evade accountability, also when their actions conflict with the public interest or ethical considerations.

There are two public/private distinctions that are particularly relevant for our discussion: the categorization of corporations as private, as opposed to public, actors with private and/or public mandates; and the distinction between public and private law and how these bodies of law relate to and feature in climate litigation.

5.Climate Accountability of Public/Private Corporations

One response to the growing role of corporations in society has been the interpretation of private law duties through public law principles, especially in areas like human rights and environmental regulation.⁶¹ In cases where corporate actions intersect with public law, such as under the European Convention on Human Rights or the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights, the legal analysis shifts from strictly private interests to broader public policy concerns. Corporations, particularly multinational ones, often operate across jurisdictions, which has led to efforts to interpret and enforce private law duties through the lens of international public law, as in the Shell case.

Thus far, corporate climate litigation has targeted privately owned corporations. However, one can easily envisage cases involving state-owned corporations, especially in industries like energy or infrastructure. State-owned corporations are often shielded by sovereign immunity or operate with the backing of government policies, making litigation against them more challenging. Moreover, the intersection of corporate governance with state interests raises complex questions about the separation between government and business, particularly in the context of climate litigation. A potentially pioneering case in this context is that of Greenpeace Italy and several other NGOs against — S. 334 —ENI, an Italian utilities company.⁶² The case was brought against ENI, but also against its two majority shareholders, the Italian Ministry of Economy and Finance and the Cassa Depositi e Prestiti, both state entities. The plaintiffs claim that ENI, as well as its majority shareholders, are liable for violating fundamental rights through their climate contributions. The respondents have questioned the court’s jurisdiction, which means that the Italian courts will have to decide on the procedural admissibility of climate litigation cases in Italy.

6.Public and Private Law in Corporate Climate Litigation

One possible path forward for addressing corporate liability, particularly in the context of climate-related harms, may lie in the coordination of national private law responses through public international law. A model already exists in the realm of nuclear liability, where international conventions like the Vienna Convention on Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage seek to harmonize national legal frameworks to ensure that victims of accidents can seek redress.⁶³ Similarly, climate-related litigation might benefit from a more unified approach to corporate liability, where states could align their legal responses to ensure consistency across borders and increase pressure on carbon-intensive corporations.⁶⁴

In parallel, the interaction between criminal and civil liability in corporate climate law cases is an area of growing significance. Traditionally, corporate liability has been dealt with under civil law, where the primary focus is on compensating victims. With the increasing severity of environmental damage and its connection to human rights abuses, there is a growing push for criminal accountability in the corporate sector. However, the complexity of prosecuting corporations under criminal law — particularly when it involves proving mens rea or corporate intent — raises practical challenges.⁶⁵

The potential piercing of the corporate veil would be one avenue towards greater accountability of corporations and their leaders.⁶⁶

One promising interaction between the public and the private has been the rise of shareholder-led litigation — also discussed in scenario 9 — where shareholders bring a case against a corporate actor, or its board of directors, on climate (in)action. Corporations have fiduciary duties to their stakeholders, which often necessitate internal cost-benefit analyses of the environmental risks and impacts of their actions. For instance, installing pollution-control technologies requires weighing the financial costs against the environmental and reputational benefits. These analyses can be shaped, or even mandated, by legislation, but even absent legal requirements, corporations’ financial decisions are influenced by their environmental risk assessments. Psychological and economic biases, such as the tendency to undervalue environmental risks relative to more tangible risks, and discounting long-term effects, can distort these decisions.⁶⁷

In many jurisdictions, the litmus test for sound corporate decision-making lies in resulting profits for shareholders. Shareholders are constrained by relatively high standards of proof in questioning the judgment of a corporation’s board of directors. For example, the claim in Greenpeace v Shell’s Board of Directors was dismissed on the basis that it is the corporate executive’s prerogative not to adopt a credible climate strategy, even if this strategy may pose a threat to the long-term survival of the corporation.⁶⁸ Similarly, shareholders have unsuccessfully tried to hold corporations accountable for anti-climate policy lobbying behavior,⁶⁹ and successfully brought cases to hold boards of directors accountable for environmental decisions.⁷⁰

These challenges raised by the public/private divide are not only legal but deeply political and ethical, as they involve balancing the interests of business with those of the global community, including vulnerable populations most affected by climate change. As such, the future of corporate liability, particularly in relation to climate change, will likely require innovative legal frameworks that bridge the gap between private interests and public responsibility.

7.Conclusions

To unite the different dimensions of corporate climate change liability discussed in this chapter, these concluding remarks introduce the overarching concept of “corporate climate citizenship” with a view to approaching a more holistic understanding of corporate social responsibilities. The concept of corporate citizenship refers to the “degree to which firm culture promotes or inhibits a moral commitment to society.”⁷¹

Extending this concept to climate change, a working definition of corporate climate citizenship would read as “the extent to which corporate culture promotes or inhibits contributions to the mitigation of, and adaption to, climate change, as reflected in its corporate strategy.” In this regard, corporate climate citizenship moves beyond the concept of corporate social responsibility, which typically involves voluntary actions aimed at improving a company’s reputation or complying with legal norms. Climate citizenship calls for businesses to take proactive steps in reducing their carbon footprints, advocating for climate policies, and ensuring that their business models are aligned with long-term sustainability goals. It also envisions corporations engaging in public discourse on climate change and contributing to global efforts such as the Paris Agreement.⁷² By adopting a climate citizenship model, corporations would be encouraged to view their actions through a wider lens — one that incorporates the collective well-being of society rather than focusing solely on profit maximization. Corporate climate citizenship aligns with the growing emphasis on Environmental, Social, and Governance criteria as key metrics for corporate accountability and long-term value creation. This is exemplified by initiatives like the Task Force on Climate-related Financial Disclosures (TCFD), which encourages businesses to disclose the financial risks associated with climate change and their strategies for managing them.⁷³

Moreover, corporations adopting climate citizenship principles might pledge to meet science-based targets for carbon emissions reduction, divest from fossil fuels, or invest in climate adaptation measures. Notably, the concept also reflects a shift toward corporate activism, where businesses participate in broader societal issues, often advocating for stronger climate regulations and fostering collaboration across sectors to create a more sustainable — S. 337 —future.⁷⁴ Through such actions, corporate climate citizenship not only positions businesses as key players in the global climate crisis but also underscores the interconnectedness of corporate success and planetary health. This is also a clear driver of the EU’s CSDDD, which puts in place mechanisms to internalize such corporate social responsibilities.

As these legislative parameters of corporate climate citizenship continue to develop in certain jurisdictions, there continue to be many places where such legislation is absent or falls short. And even in those jurisdictions where legislation is ambitious, there may be an implementation or enforcement gap. In these circumstances, there continues to be a clear role for climate litigation aimed at corporate accountability.

While the concept of corporate climate citizenship may help us focus our legislative and litigious practices, it is no panacea for some complex climate policy questions. For example, corporations play a central role in the transition to a low-carbon economy. As illustrated by the growing amount of litigation around this issue,⁷⁵ also highlighted in scenario 4, low-carbon transitions can augment existing inequities and create new ones. To deliver this transition in a “just” manner, environmental and socio-economic sustainability must be balanced.⁷⁶ A just transition must consider theories of environmental, climate, and energy justice,⁷⁷ when considering both the aims and the means of achieving the necessary changes.⁷⁸ The sheer complexity of sectors, aims, processes, and regulatory interactions will undoubtedly result in sub-optimal policy coordination with respect to the role of public and private actors in this space.

Judging by recent developments in jurisdictions such as the United States, corporations feel increasingly confident in playing an overt role in political and social life. Corporate (climate) citizenship may serve as a reminder that the privileges of citizenship come with concurrent obligations.