In July 2025, the International Court of Justice issued a landmark advisory opinion declaring that states have legal obligations to combat climate change and protect the environment for present and future generations. But what struck me most wasn't the decision itself—it was that the case was inspired by young people fighting for their climate future. Young people learn a lot about climate change, enough to make them worry or avoid the topic altogether. But they rarely get the chance to have a say in the mitigation measures that are debated and eventually implemented, the very decisions that will shape their world.
We wanted to flip this script. In this study, we set out to answer: what energy systems would young people actually design if given the chance?
Through educational workshops, we transformed Norwegian high schools into energy planning laboratories. Students aged 15-16 became energy planners for a day. They debated renewable technologies in mock town halls, negotiated climate justice scenarios representing different countries, and made concrete choices about Norway's future zero-carbon electricity systems.
We then translated student preferences into an electricity system model, creating scenarios that reflected what informed Norwegian youth actually want for their energy future.
The results were surprising in several ways. Only about 30% of students supported new onshore wind development. Their opposition to wind turbines in agricultural, residential, and forested areas cut Norway's land-based wind potential by more than half. Offshore wind—which they strongly embraced—completely replaced what would have been 40% onshore deployment in a cost-optimized scenario. This reflected their commitment to nature preservation. As one student explained during feedback: "I am more anthropocentric and would like to not build it in residential areas, but I also think we need to protect nature."
The student-envisioned systems were about 25% more expensive, potentially increasing electricity costs by 10% in 2050 compared to cost-optimized alternatives. When we presented these cost implications during feedback sessions, responses varied. Some reaffirmed their choices: "Offshore and solar make sense to me." Others appeared to reconsider: "Though we have aesthetic and environmental demands, the cost is too high to consider all of these." Originally, cost efficiency was not the participants’ top priority; environmental stewardship was.
Operationalizing energy justice by meaningfully engaging young people requires careful design due to the complexity of energy systems. We conducted pilot workshops at a nearby school, discovering which concepts resonated and which confused, and then revised the workshop content accordingly before running the formal workshops. Our participatory modelling framework bridges quantitative energy system modelling and qualitative social science, in which the preferences of participants are translated into modelling constraints. For instance, when students say "protect forests," that becomes a spatial restriction; "prioritize offshore wind" becomes a capacity share limit in the model. This approach builds on existing energy system models rather than reinventing the wheel, integrating social dimensions into established techno-economic frameworks. Given the timeframe for achieving decarbonization targets within the planet's boundaries, we can't afford to start from scratch—we need to make our current tools more socially responsive.
Our insights indicate that the net-zero energy system envisioned by young people does not necessarily deviate substantially from policymakers’ perspectives, as the Norwegian government’s plan to install offshore wind capacity of 30 GW by 2040. This suggests youth empowerment as a critical strategy for fostering broader community support and mitigating the growing negative sentiment towards renewable energy.
Of course, stated preferences through workshops are not a crystal ball. Preferences expressed in deliberative settings can differ from responses when wind turbines are actually proposed nearby. We observed this tension during workshop sessions: students acknowledged renewable energy creates jobs, yet worried these jobs wouldn't materialize locally. Despite supporting the energy transition in principle, they might oppose projects in their own communities, preferring to rely on stable employment in the oil and gas industry. This gap between stated and revealed preferences is real and important.
Our framework is not perfect, but it is a beginning. It provides a way forward for operationalizing energy justice and social acceptance, and for bringing inclusive solutions to climate change. The International Court of Justice says states must protect future generations' climate. This study suggests one way to honor that obligation: empower young people by including them in energy planning debates. Our educational workshop-based framework provides a replicable pathway for systematically integrating stakeholder perspectives—particularly underrepresented groups like youth—into technically rigorous energy planning. What we learned in Norwegian classrooms might help other countries build energy transitions that are not only technically sound and economically viable, but also socially legitimate because those most affected helped design them.
I am grateful to all my co-authors for their active collaboration and encouragement, and to the reviewers for their constructive feedback throughout the publication process.