Aonther climate conference, another failed climate conference.
That is the sense you might get from the anguished statements emerging at the close of the COP30 meeting in the Brazilian city of Belem at the weekend. Hopes that the final communique would incorporate a roadmap to transition away from fossil fuels were dashed. A planned US$125 billion fund for forest protection ended up with just US$6 billion or so committed.
However, that assessment confuses where we are going wrong on climate — and what we are getting right.
Illustration: Mountain People
Take the weird refusal to mention fossil fuels in the agreement. That is not quite the disaster it appears to be. Given the ability of oil exporters to veto every word of the text, it is quite remarkable that such references ever made it through the drafting process. The fact that petroleum producers are now balking more aggressively at naming the problem we all face is a sign not of the failure of the energy transition, but of its success.
The International Energy Agency’s central expectation for fossil fuel consumption in 2050 has been cut by 12 percent since the F-words were first officially mentioned at COP26 in Glasgow, Scotland, four years ago. Consumption of coal in the two biggest users, China and India, has fallen this year. These are far more substantive outcomes than the terminology of a UN document.
That is not to tell a triumphal story about the progress of climate policy this year — only to say that the real problems are far away from the conference halls in Belem.
If you want to understand what we are really doing wrong, look instead at an obscure page on a UN Web site where governments lodge their emissions-reduction plans, known as Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs). Better still, go to Climate Action Tracker, a project that tries to translate these jargonistic documents into something approximating plain English.
The NDCs are arguably the most important element of the Paris Agreement — the 2015 deal in which every country, for the first time, agreed to limit their greenhouse pollution. They are meant to set clear, verifiable targets that can be measured against the best available science and get progressively more ambitious. As we have written, there is good evidence that governments that actually commit to such goals achieve them.
The latest list of plans, laying out where emissions will be in 2035, were intended to be a centerpiece of COP30. They fall far short of what is needed. Of the 10 biggest polluters accounting for three-quarters of carbon emissions, just two — the EU and Japan — have submitted documents with any hope of being enacted. The administration of former US president Joe Biden put in a US plan six weeks after US President Donald Trump was elected, rendering the entire effort futile on delivery. India, Iran, Saudi Arabia and South Korea still have not come up with their proposals. China, Russia and Indonesia have presented roadmaps so timid that they would be able to increase their emissions substantially from current levels and still claim they hit the mark.
The lackluster effort is in keeping with the tenor of politics today. Whether they are promising sanctions in retaliation for TV advertisements, threatening to behead a foreign leader, invading their neighbors or bombing apartment blocks into rubble, the authoritarians in charge of the major powers do not like to sign on to anything these days that constrains them.
It is citizens who will ultimately decide the path of the future, though — and there, the picture is far brighter.
At times, they are taking the energy transition into their own hands — whether it is Pakistani households quitting a fossil-fired grid to use cheaper solar instead, or Turkish drivers switching to electric vehicles faster than Americans or Australians.
At other times, they are the ones responsible for implementing policies, delivering far more positive outcomes than their leaders would have you believe. For all you might have read about phalanxes of gas turbines and coal plants being lined up to power the US’ data-center explosion, some 10 months into the Trump administration, just 11 percent of the generating capacity under construction is based on fossil fuels.
At still other times, they are finding themselves in the path of the devastating effects of climate change itself.
Most of the technology we will need to solve this problem is already in our hands and cheaper than the alternative, if only we would remove the morass of barriers and regulation we have erected to slow its advance. Our problem is that the world’s leaders are some of the last to see that.
Plenty of people of all generations are aware of the benefits of action to halt climate change, but with an average age of 69, the headstrong leaders of the 10 big emitters have rarely had less of a stake in the state of things when the current crop of NDCs matures in 2035. Almost half of the world’s population is younger than 30. It is up to the rest of us to guide the world to a better course.
David Fickling is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering climate change and energy. Previously, he worked for Bloomberg News, the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times. This column reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.
A gap appears to be emerging between Washington’s foreign policy elites and the broader American public on how the United States should respond to China’s rise. From my vantage working at a think tank in Washington, DC, and through regular travel around the United States, I increasingly experience two distinct discussions. This divergence — between America’s elite hawkishness and public caution — may become one of the least appreciated and most consequential external factors influencing Taiwan’s security environment in the years ahead. Within the American policy community, the dominant view of China has grown unmistakably tough. Many members of Congress, as
The Hong Kong government on Monday gazetted sweeping amendments to the implementation rules of Article 43 of its National Security Law. There was no legislative debate, no public consultation and no transition period. By the time the ink dried on the gazette, the new powers were already in force. This move effectively bypassed Hong Kong’s Legislative Council. The rules were enacted by the Hong Kong chief executive, in conjunction with the Committee for Safeguarding National Security — a body shielded from judicial review and accountable only to Beijing. What is presented as “procedural refinement” is, in substance, a shift away from
The shifting geopolitical tectonic plates of this year have placed Beijing in a profound strategic dilemma. As Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) prepares for a high-stakes summit with US President Donald Trump, the traditional power dynamics of the China-Japan-US triangle have been destabilized by the diplomatic success of Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi in Washington. For the Chinese leadership, the anxiety is two-fold: There is a visceral fear of being encircled by a hardened security alliance, and a secondary risk of being left in a vulnerable position by a transactional deal between Washington and Tokyo that might inadvertently empower Japan
After declaring Iran’s military “gone,” US President Donald Trump appealed to the UK, France, Japan and South Korea — as well as China, Iran’s strategic partner — to send minesweepers and naval forces to reopen the Strait of Hormuz. When allies balked, the request turned into a warning: NATO would face “a very bad” future if it refused. The prevailing wisdom is that Trump faces a credibility problem: having spent years insulting allies, he finds they would not rally when he needs them. That is true, but superficial, as though a structural collapse could be caused by wounded feelings. Something