Cookies help us run our site more efficiently.

By clicking “Accept”, you agree to the storing of cookies on your device to enhance site navigation, analyze site usage, and assist in our marketing efforts. View our Privacy Policy for more information or to customize your cookie preferences.

An All-Female Crew Sailed 1,000 Miles in a Traditional Voyaging Canoe to Help Save Humpback Whales

News Feed
Thursday, September 26, 2024

The Hinemoana Halo Waka Moana Initiative recruited 12 crew members from the Cook Islands, New Zealand, Samoa and Tonga. Tee Wells “My people are called the whale riders,” says Māori conservationist Mere Takoko. Whales not only hold cultural and spiritual significance for the Māori, the Indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand, but they are also often seen as ancestors. “Whales symbolize strength, wisdom and resilience, and they are deeply respected as guardians of the ocean,” says Takoko. Each year in June and July, humpback whales will pass New Zealand as they migrate north from Antarctica to the warmer waters of Tonga to mate, give birth and nurse their calves. They will stay there until October before they return south. The humpback population that uses New Zealand’s waters once stood at 20,000, but whaling at the turn of the century saw it drop to a few hundred. Since New Zealand whalers harpooned their last whale in 1964, it has steadily risen to 10,000. As a keystone species, they play a large part in the ecosystem. The nutrients they release fertilize a food web. Each year in June and July, humpback whales will pass New Zealand as they migrate north from Antarctica to the warmer waters of Tonga (shown here) to mate, give birth and nurse their calves. Steve Woods Photography/Getty Images “My community would see them more regularly when I was younger,” says Takoko, a Gisborne resident who is now in her 40s. “It’s very difficult to see them now, as they don’t come as close to the coast. The migratory patterns have been changing.” In 2023, Takoko was part of a team who helped bring together an all-female Pacific crew, which would sail 1,000 miles along the humpback highway from New Zealand to Tonga to help raise awareness of the plight of the whales. Along the way, the Hinemoana Halo Waka Moana Initiative crew would collect environmental DNA (eDNA) data, namely mucus, larvae, feces or skin cells, which researchers could then use to confirm what species are present or are missing from the water. The Hinemoana Halo Waka Moana Initiative recruited 12 crew members from the Cook Islands, New Zealand, Samoa and Tonga. It included veteran sailors, such as Aunofo Havea, the first Tongan woman licensed as a sea captain, and Fealofani Bruun, the first Samoan woman to qualify as a yacht master, as well as a new generation of voyagers. The youngest crew member was 14-year-old Ana Ngamoki from the Te Whānau a Apanui iwi (tribe) in New Zealand, which partnered with the expedition. The team knew that if this marine conservation project were to be truly Indigenous, it would need to feature a waka hourua. The traditional, wooden, double-hulled ocean-going canoe typically has two sails and measures nearly 60 feet long. Polynesians have used the vessels for voyaging for thousands of years. “The voyaging canoes are the heartbeat of Polynesian culture; they are really what helped us to connect deeply with nature,” says Takoko. “From the understanding of the movement of the tides, to the stars and the winds, we can’t really talk about ocean conservation in a way that’s truly authentically Polynesian-led without including waka hourua.” While the journey’s aim was to help save the whales, it would also help heal, in some small part, one country’s voyaging history. The history of voyaging in New Zealand The first people to arrive in New Zealand are thought to have traveled from Hawaiki (Polynesia) between 1200 and 1300 C.E. They navigated the ocean by the tides, moon and stars. “They were oceanic people. The ocean is their highway—it’s not a barrier,” says Lisa Matisoo-Smith, an anthropologist at the University of Otago in New Zealand, who is not involved with the project. Early New Zealanders would make a very systematic exploration of the Pacific. Using the consistency of the trade winds, they would sail from west to east across the ocean. While voyaging was male-dominated, if better land were found, women and children would also make the journey to set up new communities. “Routes [between the new land and homeland] were maintained until the new society was established and complicated enough politically that those links weren’t useful anymore,” says Matisoo-Smith. The earliest evidence of voyaging in New Zealand is a 600-year-old waka that was found buried in Golden Bay in 2012. While it was made from native New Zealand wood, it featured an intricate carving of a turtle on the hull, reminiscent not of Māori culture, but of Polynesia. In 1769, a Finnish explorer sketched a drawing of a waka off the coast of New Zealand. Yet, Matisoo-Smith says: “There’s no evidence that they were continuing to voyage those long distances. They didn’t need to anymore. They developed their own culture; they became people from Aotearoa [a Māori-language name for New Zealand].” Takoko says: “We don’t exactly know when the practice ended [long voyaging], but we know the waka hourua was a victim of that, and colonization ensured we didn’t practice it again.” The team restored a nearly 50-foot-long waka hourua, a double-hulled ocean-going canoe, which they named Hinemoana II after the Māori goddess of the ocean. Linda Bercusson The past 15 years have brought a resurgence in voyaging in New Zealand. This was largely done thanks to Micronesians who shared what they knew about the tradition and pioneers, such as the late Hekenukumai Busby. The Māori navigator and traditional waka builder helped promote education about the vessels. People started to crew the wakas that Busby built. Around the same time, voyaging societies launched in Fiji, Samoa and Tonga. The Cook Islands Voyaging Society was established earlier, in 1992. The voyaging societies started to build wakas using ancient techniques. Voyages are now taking place to retrace ancestral routes, strengthen connections between Pacific communities, highlight environmental issues and help teach the next generation traditional navigation skills. Restoring a canoe In August 2023, one of the sailors of the all-female crew heard there was a traditional waka more than 3,000 miles away in the Marshall Islands. The vessel was in a dilapidated state, but they really didn’t have another option. If they were to build a traditional double-hulled voyaging canoe from wood, it could take up to four years to complete and cost up to $1.6 million. “It was a leap of faith,” says Takoko. It took six months for the nearly 50-foot-long waka hourua, which they named Hinemoana II after the Māori goddess of the ocean, to be shipped to New Zealand. The team sought sponsorship for the cost of the waka from individual philanthropists and companies such as Rolex. The Tonga Voyaging Society and Te Whānau a Apanui iwi in New Zealand became the canoe’s guardians. The team finally started to restore the double-hulled canoe this February. An artisan restored the whakairo (carvings) in the steering paddle, while the crew helped patch the holes in the boat and restring the catamaran-like netting. It took six months before it was seaworthy. An artisan restored the whakairo (carvings) in the steering paddle. Tee Wells Whilst they were working on the waka, Conservation International connected them to Citizens of the Sea, a charity co-founded by the Cawthron Institute. Citizens of the Sea taught the crew members how to gather eDNA for research. The crew collected the eDNA with a torpedo-shaped device that is fitted with a 20-micron nylon filter, which collects plankton, biofilm and eDNA. Each day they would need to drag it behind the waka for five minutes at a time to sample the biodiversity of the ocean. “The eDNA will be going into the bigger pool of data for the region, seeing what species are present and absent,” says Schannel van Dijken, a marine biologist and Conservation International’s marine and heritage senior director. Whales not only digest and store large quantities of carbon-rich prey, but they also exhale very little carbon dioxide back into the atmosphere. This means they can act like a carbon sink and help protect against climate change. According to the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, one whale can capture 33 tons of carbon dioxide over its lifetime. The women would need to set sail during the Southern Hemisphere’s winter if they wanted to arrive in Tonga in time for the whales’ arrival from Antarctica in July. The crew made sure they were as prepared as they could be. Those who weren’t already qualified sailors took their day skipper exams. They would help break up the monotony of studying with Tongan folk songs that helped them remember what they had learned. “It helped keep things fun, but song is the way we’ve always passed down information,” says Māori crew member Tee Wells. At the beginning of July, the crew managed to complete a four-day, 144-mile sea trial from Tauranga to Auckland. A swell hit, lifting the boat to 45 degrees and one of the experienced sailors, Wells, slipped on the deck and fractured her ribs, which meant she wouldn’t be able to join the main voyage. The waka handled the trial with ease. The only issue they had was a modern one, as the internet system they installed went down. The voyage begins As the waka departed from Auckland on the morning of July 22, Takoko offered a Māori prayer from the shoreline. “It was so beautiful. It was a leaving chant to safeguard us along the waters,” says co-captain Joelene Busby Cole from New Zealand. “I replied to her with, ‘One footstep, one heartbeat, one waka …’” Over the next ten days, the crew would follow the humpback highway from New Zealand, along the Kermadec Trench, through the Kermadec Islands to Tonga. The waters of these volcanic islands are one of the few places in the Pacific Ocean where whales, particularly humpbacks, gather. “There was huge element of uncertainty crossing the Kermadecs. It’s a big deal that they even undertook the voyage at the time of year that they did,” says Takoko. The crew worked tirelessly in shifts throughout the nights. But on some nights, the 16- to 22-foot swells crashing down on the deck meant that none of the crew got any sleep. More inexperienced members of the crew, who were yet to find their sea legs, battled seasickness in the first couple of days. Busby Cole, an accomplished sailor who was taught how to sail by her great uncle, Hekenukumai Busby, distracted the less experienced members of the crew with techniques on how to read the signs in clouds or stars, which could be used for navigation, while her co-captains steered. Some signs are spiritual, while others are practical. An albatross shows that you’re on the right track and your ancestors are along with you on the journey, Busby Cole explains. A ngoi bird would show the crew they were about 250 nautical miles off land. “At dusk, he’ll make a beeline straight for land,” she says. At every important landmark on the journey they would see a humpback whale breaching, a reminder of why they were making the trip. Alarmingly, it looked as if their journey might come to an end when their steering paddle broke toward the end of their voyage. However, the three co-captains were able to lash it together and make some rudimentary repairs at sea, which held it in place until they made it to shore. On August 1, the Hinemoana II finally arrived in Nukuʻalofa, Tonga, where a welcome party, including family, friends and people from Tonga Tourism, waited. The sailors were gifted garlands as they came ashore. For the crew from Tonga, it was a homecoming. For the other members of the group, it was a chance to create new bonds. The crew are now preparing the boat for the return journey in November, when they will capture eDNA as the whales migrate. When the waka arrives in New Zealand, it will be used as a floating classroom and research platform that will conduct citizen science, eDNA research, and species monitoring of whales and other marine mammals. And once licensed, visitors will be able to join them onboard. But this is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Pacific Islanders helping to protect the whales. Māori and Pacific leaders are calling for the whale to be given legal personhood. The data gathered from Hinemoana II will help paint a full picture of the threat to the whales. The proposal, which was put forward by the Hinemoana Halo and backed by the late Māori king Tūheitia Pōtatau Te Wherowhero VII, would give whales rights, including freedom of movement and a right to continue to enjoy their habitats free of pollution. The Māori have already shown how nature can receive personhood in law. In 2017, after a decades-long fight, the Māori gained legal personhood for New Zealand’s Whanganui River. Once the whale is identified as a person, a ship could then be penalized for maiming, hurting or killing that person. The Hinemoana II is the beginning of this vision. The aim is to use more wakas to help promote the restoration of whales as ecosystems. Takoko believes that if they can help save the whales, the whales could then help save the island communities. “As Indigenous people who are most vulnerable to climatic changes, no one is coming to save us,” says Takoko. “We have to come up with our own ways of being able to adapt to these huge changes that are going to [impact] our communities. Our survival is at stake.” Get the latest Travel & Culture stories in your inbox.

The team traveled from New Zealand to Tonga along a humpback highway to collect environmental DNA and raise awareness of the plight of the marine mammals

crew of Hinemoana II
The Hinemoana Halo Waka Moana Initiative recruited 12 crew members from the Cook Islands, New Zealand, Samoa and Tonga. Tee Wells

“My people are called the whale riders,” says Māori conservationist Mere Takoko.

Whales not only hold cultural and spiritual significance for the Māori, the Indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand, but they are also often seen as ancestors. “Whales symbolize strength, wisdom and resilience, and they are deeply respected as guardians of the ocean,” says Takoko.

Each year in June and July, humpback whales will pass New Zealand as they migrate north from Antarctica to the warmer waters of Tonga to mate, give birth and nurse their calves. They will stay there until October before they return south.

The humpback population that uses New Zealand’s waters once stood at 20,000, but whaling at the turn of the century saw it drop to a few hundred. Since New Zealand whalers harpooned their last whale in 1964, it has steadily risen to 10,000. As a keystone species, they play a large part in the ecosystem. The nutrients they release fertilize a food web.

A humpback whale and its calf in the waters of Tonga
Each year in June and July, humpback whales will pass New Zealand as they migrate north from Antarctica to the warmer waters of Tonga (shown here) to mate, give birth and nurse their calves. Steve Woods Photography/Getty Images

“My community would see them more regularly when I was younger,” says Takoko, a Gisborne resident who is now in her 40s. “It’s very difficult to see them now, as they don’t come as close to the coast. The migratory patterns have been changing.”

In 2023, Takoko was part of a team who helped bring together an all-female Pacific crew, which would sail 1,000 miles along the humpback highway from New Zealand to Tonga to help raise awareness of the plight of the whales. Along the way, the Hinemoana Halo Waka Moana Initiative crew would collect environmental DNA (eDNA) data, namely mucus, larvae, feces or skin cells, which researchers could then use to confirm what species are present or are missing from the water.

The Hinemoana Halo Waka Moana Initiative recruited 12 crew members from the Cook Islands, New Zealand, Samoa and Tonga. It included veteran sailors, such as Aunofo Havea, the first Tongan woman licensed as a sea captain, and Fealofani Bruun, the first Samoan woman to qualify as a yacht master, as well as a new generation of voyagers. The youngest crew member was 14-year-old Ana Ngamoki from the Te Whānau a Apanui iwi (tribe) in New Zealand, which partnered with the expedition.

The team knew that if this marine conservation project were to be truly Indigenous, it would need to feature a waka hourua. The traditional, wooden, double-hulled ocean-going canoe typically has two sails and measures nearly 60 feet long. Polynesians have used the vessels for voyaging for thousands of years.

“The voyaging canoes are the heartbeat of Polynesian culture; they are really what helped us to connect deeply with nature,” says Takoko. “From the understanding of the movement of the tides, to the stars and the winds, we can’t really talk about ocean conservation in a way that’s truly authentically Polynesian-led without including waka hourua.”

While the journey’s aim was to help save the whales, it would also help heal, in some small part, one country’s voyaging history.

The history of voyaging in New Zealand

The first people to arrive in New Zealand are thought to have traveled from Hawaiki (Polynesia) between 1200 and 1300 C.E. They navigated the ocean by the tides, moon and stars.

“They were oceanic people. The ocean is their highway—it’s not a barrier,” says Lisa Matisoo-Smith, an anthropologist at the University of Otago in New Zealand, who is not involved with the project.

Early New Zealanders would make a very systematic exploration of the Pacific. Using the consistency of the trade winds, they would sail from west to east across the ocean. While voyaging was male-dominated, if better land were found, women and children would also make the journey to set up new communities. “Routes [between the new land and homeland] were maintained until the new society was established and complicated enough politically that those links weren’t useful anymore,” says Matisoo-Smith.

The earliest evidence of voyaging in New Zealand is a 600-year-old waka that was found buried in Golden Bay in 2012. While it was made from native New Zealand wood, it featured an intricate carving of a turtle on the hull, reminiscent not of Māori culture, but of Polynesia.

In 1769, a Finnish explorer sketched a drawing of a waka off the coast of New Zealand. Yet, Matisoo-Smith says: “There’s no evidence that they were continuing to voyage those long distances. They didn’t need to anymore. They developed their own culture; they became people from Aotearoa [a Māori-language name for New Zealand].”

Takoko says: “We don’t exactly know when the practice ended [long voyaging], but we know the waka hourua was a victim of that, and colonization ensured we didn’t practice it again.”

waka hourua
The team restored a nearly 50-foot-long waka hourua, a double-hulled ocean-going canoe, which they named Hinemoana II after the Māori goddess of the ocean. Linda Bercusson

The past 15 years have brought a resurgence in voyaging in New Zealand. This was largely done thanks to Micronesians who shared what they knew about the tradition and pioneers, such as the late Hekenukumai Busby. The Māori navigator and traditional waka builder helped promote education about the vessels. People started to crew the wakas that Busby built.

Around the same time, voyaging societies launched in Fiji, Samoa and Tonga. The Cook Islands Voyaging Society was established earlier, in 1992. The voyaging societies started to build wakas using ancient techniques. Voyages are now taking place to retrace ancestral routes, strengthen connections between Pacific communities, highlight environmental issues and help teach the next generation traditional navigation skills.

Restoring a canoe

In August 2023, one of the sailors of the all-female crew heard there was a traditional waka more than 3,000 miles away in the Marshall Islands. The vessel was in a dilapidated state, but they really didn’t have another option. If they were to build a traditional double-hulled voyaging canoe from wood, it could take up to four years to complete and cost up to $1.6 million.

“It was a leap of faith,” says Takoko.

It took six months for the nearly 50-foot-long waka hourua, which they named Hinemoana II after the Māori goddess of the ocean, to be shipped to New Zealand. The team sought sponsorship for the cost of the waka from individual philanthropists and companies such as Rolex. The Tonga Voyaging Society and Te Whānau a Apanui iwi in New Zealand became the canoe’s guardians.

The team finally started to restore the double-hulled canoe this February. An artisan restored the whakairo (carvings) in the steering paddle, while the crew helped patch the holes in the boat and restring the catamaran-like netting. It took six months before it was seaworthy.

carvings on the steering paddle
An artisan restored the whakairo (carvings) in the steering paddle. Tee Wells

Whilst they were working on the waka, Conservation International connected them to Citizens of the Sea, a charity co-founded by the Cawthron Institute. Citizens of the Sea taught the crew members how to gather eDNA for research. The crew collected the eDNA with a torpedo-shaped device that is fitted with a 20-micron nylon filter, which collects plankton, biofilm and eDNA. Each day they would need to drag it behind the waka for five minutes at a time to sample the biodiversity of the ocean.

“The eDNA will be going into the bigger pool of data for the region, seeing what species are present and absent,” says Schannel van Dijken, a marine biologist and Conservation International’s marine and heritage senior director.

Whales not only digest and store large quantities of carbon-rich prey, but they also exhale very little carbon dioxide back into the atmosphere. This means they can act like a carbon sink and help protect against climate change. According to the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, one whale can capture 33 tons of carbon dioxide over its lifetime.

The women would need to set sail during the Southern Hemisphere’s winter if they wanted to arrive in Tonga in time for the whales’ arrival from Antarctica in July. The crew made sure they were as prepared as they could be. Those who weren’t already qualified sailors took their day skipper exams. They would help break up the monotony of studying with Tongan folk songs that helped them remember what they had learned.

“It helped keep things fun, but song is the way we’ve always passed down information,” says Māori crew member Tee Wells.

At the beginning of July, the crew managed to complete a four-day, 144-mile sea trial from Tauranga to Auckland. A swell hit, lifting the boat to 45 degrees and one of the experienced sailors, Wells, slipped on the deck and fractured her ribs, which meant she wouldn’t be able to join the main voyage. The waka handled the trial with ease. The only issue they had was a modern one, as the internet system they installed went down.

The voyage begins

As the waka departed from Auckland on the morning of July 22, Takoko offered a Māori prayer from the shoreline. “It was so beautiful. It was a leaving chant to safeguard us along the waters,” says co-captain Joelene Busby Cole from New Zealand. “I replied to her with, ‘One footstep, one heartbeat, one waka …’”

Over the next ten days, the crew would follow the humpback highway from New Zealand, along the Kermadec Trench, through the Kermadec Islands to Tonga. The waters of these volcanic islands are one of the few places in the Pacific Ocean where whales, particularly humpbacks, gather.

“There was huge element of uncertainty crossing the Kermadecs. It’s a big deal that they even undertook the voyage at the time of year that they did,” says Takoko.

The crew worked tirelessly in shifts throughout the nights. But on some nights, the 16- to 22-foot swells crashing down on the deck meant that none of the crew got any sleep.

More inexperienced members of the crew, who were yet to find their sea legs, battled seasickness in the first couple of days. Busby Cole, an accomplished sailor who was taught how to sail by her great uncle, Hekenukumai Busby, distracted the less experienced members of the crew with techniques on how to read the signs in clouds or stars, which could be used for navigation, while her co-captains steered.

Some signs are spiritual, while others are practical. An albatross shows that you’re on the right track and your ancestors are along with you on the journey, Busby Cole explains. A ngoi bird would show the crew they were about 250 nautical miles off land. “At dusk, he’ll make a beeline straight for land,” she says.

At every important landmark on the journey they would see a humpback whale breaching, a reminder of why they were making the trip.

Alarmingly, it looked as if their journey might come to an end when their steering paddle broke toward the end of their voyage. However, the three co-captains were able to lash it together and make some rudimentary repairs at sea, which held it in place until they made it to shore.

On August 1, the Hinemoana II finally arrived in Nukuʻalofa, Tonga, where a welcome party, including family, friends and people from Tonga Tourism, waited. The sailors were gifted garlands as they came ashore.

For the crew from Tonga, it was a homecoming. For the other members of the group, it was a chance to create new bonds. The crew are now preparing the boat for the return journey in November, when they will capture eDNA as the whales migrate. When the waka arrives in New Zealand, it will be used as a floating classroom and research platform that will conduct citizen science, eDNA research, and species monitoring of whales and other marine mammals. And once licensed, visitors will be able to join them onboard.

But this is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Pacific Islanders helping to protect the whales. Māori and Pacific leaders are calling for the whale to be given legal personhood. The data gathered from Hinemoana II will help paint a full picture of the threat to the whales. The proposal, which was put forward by the Hinemoana Halo and backed by the late Māori king Tūheitia Pōtatau Te Wherowhero VII, would give whales rights, including freedom of movement and a right to continue to enjoy their habitats free of pollution. The Māori have already shown how nature can receive personhood in law. In 2017, after a decades-long fight, the Māori gained legal personhood for New Zealand’s Whanganui River.

Once the whale is identified as a person, a ship could then be penalized for maiming, hurting or killing that person.

The Hinemoana II is the beginning of this vision. The aim is to use more wakas to help promote the restoration of whales as ecosystems. Takoko believes that if they can help save the whales, the whales could then help save the island communities.

“As Indigenous people who are most vulnerable to climatic changes, no one is coming to save us,” says Takoko. “We have to come up with our own ways of being able to adapt to these huge changes that are going to [impact] our communities. Our survival is at stake.”

Get the latest Travel & Culture stories in your inbox.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Climate Realism Is a Delusion

By shooting for 3 degrees Celsius of warming, the world could slide toward a more cataclysmic 4 degrees.

This year’s Conference of the Parties, the annual United Nations meeting meant to avert catastrophic climate change, was subject to a ham-fisted metaphor. On Thursday, the Brazilian venue hosting the conference burst into flames from what was likely an electrical fire. In its 30 years, COP has frequently been a ritual in frustration and futility, ending with a set of pledges and promises that have rarely gone as far as scientists say they need to, followed by weeks of postmortem finger-pointing and self-flagellation. And yesterday, once again delegates landed on a heavily compromised text that does little to materially steer the planet off fossil fuels.Many of the fingers pointed toward an empty chair and the absence of the largest oil-and-gas producer on planet Earth (the United States). Meanwhile, delegates from drowning, subsistence-farming volcanic archipelagos in the South Pacific humbly pleaded with countries such as Saudi Arabia and Russia to pledge to someday stop pumping their oceans of oil, the most profitable commodity in the world. It didn’t work.“We know some of you had greater ambitions for some of the issues at hand,” COP30 President André Corrêa do Lago sheepishly told the assembly.Every year, environmental NGOs, climate scientists, concerned citizens, and government ministers alike register confusion and despair over the fact that after so many cycles of these meetings, industrial civilization erupts more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere than ever before. This year, it reached a staggering new peak with 38.1 gigatons of the stuff—two orders of magnitude more than is put out by all of the volcanoes on Earth combined each year, and a pace that is virtually unprecedented in all of geological history.Even if all other emissions from fossil fuels halted tomorrow, CO2 emissions from the global food system alone could eventually push us past 2 degrees Celsius in warming, half a degree higher than the always-aspirational 1.5 degrees Celsius goal set forth in the 2016 Paris Agreement. At this point, reaching that goal would require an impossible slashing of global emissions by a quarter every year for the next four years until they reach zero. As things stand, the UN projects that current policies will result in almost 3 degrees Celsius of warming by 2100. Unfortunately, that 1.5-degree benchmark wasn’t selected at random. As one landmark paper puts it, the “Earth may have left a safe climate state beyond 1°C global warming,” and even 1.5 degrees would possibly invite inexorable ice-sheet collapse, coral-reef die-off, and permafrost thaw.  All of this grim news has given way to a new kind of cynical resignation to this future, and a vision in which the world scales back its climate ambitions and accepts an all but permanent and prominent role for fossil fuels in the global economy. This forfeit, recently championed by Bill Gates, flies under the banner of “climate realism” or, more sunnily, “climate pragmatism.” In this view, the trade-offs between minimizing global warming and pursuing other goals for humanity are too steep, and the consequences of somewhat-checked warming will be manageable. If climate negotiators were naive about the political economy of the energy transition when COP started 30 years ago, though, then the purveyors of this kind of “pragmatism” are downright oblivious to the implications of a 3 degrees–warmer world that they’ve made conceptual peace with.If warming the planet beyond 1 degree Celsius isn’t safe, then 3 degrees is madness. Forget coral reefs: This collapse would cascade into the broader ocean as the sea succumbs to merciless heat waves, oxygen loss, and acidification, and entire ecosystems—seagrass beds, kelp forests, mangroves—fall away. On land, this vanishing act might extend to the Amazon rainforest, which—already relentlessly pared back by deforestation—could submit to a runaway drying. In the human world, migration could be measured in billions of people, as familiar rains that water staple crops depart for distant latitudes and unprecedented heat waves in eastern China and the Indus River Valley surpass the limits of human physiology. Even the U.S. Midwest would begin to see deadly hot and humid conditions, today experienced only in extraordinarily rare heatwaves in places such as the Persian Gulf and inland Pakistan.“In the United States, just 3 degrees Celsius of warming conditions in simulations tend to be hotter—when humidity is factored in—than heat waves in North Africa today,” the Purdue climate scientist Matthew Huber wrote in the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists. “These heat waves of the future could devastate US livestock yields, if they don’t kill the animals outright.” Humans, being animals, would also be killed by the heat. One recent study showed that in a 3 degree–warmer world, deaths resulting from a week-long exceptional heat wave, like the one that struck Europe in 2003, would rival peak-COVID mortality rates, killing 32,000 people in Europe.This would be only one in a cascade of problems facing humanity. By 2030, the global demand for fresh water is expected to outstrip supplies by 40 percent, and the shortage would be made more dire in the following decades when mountain glaciers that supply drinking water to more than 2 billion people begin to vanish at the same time that underground aquifers fail to recharge. (The recurrent droughts would push farmers to draw those aquifers down faster.) Meanwhile, as flooding and hurricanes ravage the coasts, and wildfires, flooding, and severe storms strike inland, insurance markets may all but collapse—even in supposed climate refuges such as Minnesota. Erratic weather and volatile yields will drive food prices persistently higher, and communities—whether at the municipality scale or entire countries—may go bankrupt while trying to patch up battered and strained infrastructure amid higher borrowing costs and closed lines of credit. The entire financial system, including government bonds and mortgages, is premised on the idea that tomorrow will look something like today. In a world that’s 3 degrees warmer, it assuredly will not.That is, if 3 degrees warmer is indeed where we’re headed. Although many climate stories quote temperature estimates for the year 2100 down to the tenth of a degree, this betrays an unrealistic level of precision in climate forecasts. Not only is there uncertainty in our predictions about just what level of carbon emissions a specific policy might ultimately lead to, there are also uncertainties in our estimates of the climate’s sensitivity to greenhouse gases—and potentially even more worrying uncertainties about how the Earth’s carbon cycle will respond to higher CO2 and warming.  The carbon cycle involves the exceedingly complex and restless planetary give-and-take of carbon as it moves among the crust, oceans, and atmosphere, and through life itself. It could be that carbon-loaded reservoirs, such as soils and permafrost, will exhale more carbon dioxide and methane back into the atmosphere than we expect in response to warming. The uncertainty around this potentially menacing feedback only becomes greater, and more worrying, the harder we push on the Earth system. The carbon sinks that have been mopping up our mess may not comply with our continued gavage of CO2, either, as forests burst into flames and the upper ocean has its fill.All of this means that, by shooting for a limit of 3 degrees Celsius, we very well may end up warming the planet by 4 degrees instead. Indeed, the same widely quoted recent UN estimate that predicts warming of 2.8 degrees Celsius under current policies also has an uncertainty range up to a perhaps unlikely but truly unthinkable 4.6 degrees Celsius. There is “no certainty that adaptation to a 4°C world is possible,” as even the starchy World Bank has warned. “The projected 4°C warming simply must not be allowed to occur.” Humanity might not roll snake eyes with the climate in this way—2.8 degrees in theory could end up meaning 2.8 degrees in practice. Still, this is an actuarial risk you wouldn’t take with a new house, much less with the only known habitable planet in the universe.COP itself has become an annual punching bag and synecdoche for climate inaction more broadly. But, obviously, we need an international body to convene and coordinate around such a dire planetary challenge. The problem is that far more powerful forces are driving global industrial civilization than can be meaningfully countervailed by a yearly meeting of bureaucrats at the UN. Today, as was the case 30 years ago, more than 80 percent of industrial civilization is powered by fossil fuels. As a species, we now have to switch treadmills going 100 mph, to a new global industrial metabolism based on sunlight, wind, water, the heat of the Earth, and the atom itself.Slowing this metabolic planetary transformation are the provincial, self-interested, and mutually incompatible demands from society, in a world carved up by economic inequality, varying vulnerabilities to future climate change, and the uneven accidents of geologic endowment. At COP30, the titans of fossil-fuel production and consumption that did bother to show up—China, India, Saudi Arabia, and Russia—still opposed a roadmap to get off fossil fuels, which was struck from the final text. And, unless compensated by the developed world, economically poor but oil-rich countries are unlikely to forgo selling the most profitable commodity in the world. Replacing fossil energy with renewables will require a level of mining that might be somewhat smaller than the footprint for fossil fuels but that many in the climate world are frankly in denial about. Tasks such as updating the U.S. grid at the scale needed for decarbonization would likely cost more than building the entire interstate highway system did, even when adjusted for inflation.At this point, it’s a clichéd refrain among more pessimistic climate commentators that humanity has never managed an energy transition before, only energy additions. (To wit, people still burn about as much wood as they ever have.) China, the world’s biggest emitter, has embarked on a mindboggling project of decarbonization, producing three-quarters of the world’s solar panels and wind turbines—but it still evaporates 1,500 Great Pyramids of Giza’s worth of coal into the atmosphere each year, four times more than the United States did at its peak.Everything you’ve read above, the relentlessly dour litany of climate threats and the meditation on the intransigence of climate politics, has also been spun—by commentators availed of the same set of facts—as a success story. China’s emissions may soon peak, or perhaps already have. And it is true that our estimates of future warming have come down, even in the past decade, from truly apocalyptic forecasts to merely disastrous levels of warming, but still outside the range experienced in the evolutionary history of Homo sapiens. For that we owe meetings such as COP no small debt of gratitude.The Earth, of course, is indifferent to what’s politically possible, and where it’s headed is still dangerous for humanity. The planet has seen entire living worlds wiped away by warming many times before, and there’s no reason to think it’s sentimental about organized industrial society. Getting emissions to near zero will be incredibly, maddeningly difficult. It will be ugly. There will be losers. Ultimately, though, there will be many more winners. Until that day, it remains the case that we are embarking on—in fact, accelerating—the biggest chemistry experiment on the planet in 66 million years, and one of the fastest derangements of the carbon cycle in the age of animal life.

Many Hoped UN Climate Talks in Brazil Would Be Historic. They May Be Remembered as a Flop

For years, Brazilian President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, along with many climate experts, had high hopes for the U.N. climate talks that just finished in Brazil

This year’s U.N. climate conference in Brazil had many unique aspects that could have been part of an historic outcome.COP30, as it’s called, was hosted in Belem, a city on the edge of the Amazon rainforest, a crucial regulator of climate and home to many Indigenous peoples who are both hit hard by climate change and are part of the solution. It had the heft of Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, an influential and charismatic leader on the international stage known for his ability to bring people together. And encouraged by Lula’s rousing speeches in the summit’s beginning days, more than 80 nations called for a detailed road map for the world to sharply reduce the use of gas, oil and coal, the main drivers of climate change.In the end, none of that mattered.The final decision announced Saturday, which included some tangible things like an increase in money to help developing nations adapt to climate change, was overall watered-down compared to many conferences in the past decade and fell far short of many delegates' expectations. It didn't mention the words “fossil fuels,” much less include a timeline to reduce their use. Instead of being remembered as historic, the conference will likely further erode confidence in a process that many environmentalists and even some world leaders have argued isn’t up to the challenge of confronting global temperature rise, which is leading to more frequent and intense extreme weather events like floods, storms and heat waves.The criticism was withering and came from many corners.“A climate decision that cannot even say ‘fossil fuels’ is not neutrality, it is complicity,” said Panama negotiator Juan Carlos Monterrey Gomez. “Science has been deleted from COP30 because it offends the polluters.”Even those who saw some positives were quick to say they were looking toward the future.“Climate action is across many areas, so on the whole it is a mixed bag. They could have done much, much more,” said Lidy Nacpil, coordinator of the Asian Peoples’ Movement on Debt and Development.“All eyes are already turning to COP31,” added Nacpil, referring to next year's conference, which will be held in Turkey. High expectations for COP30 Saturday's final resolution was the culmination of three years of talk, from measured optimism to hoopla, about a Conference of the Parties, as the summit is known, that could restore confidence in the ability of multilateral negotiations to tackle climate change. It was even called a “COP of truth.” From the time Lula was reelected in October 2022, he began pitching his vision of hosting a climate summit for the first time in the Amazon. By 2023, the U.N. had confirmed Brazil's bid to host it in Belem. The choice of Belem, a coastal city in northeast Brazil, raised many questions, both in Brazil and in many countries, because Belem doesn't have the infrastructure of other Brazilian cities such as Rio de Janeiro or Sao Paulo.For Lula, that was the point: This was a chance for the world to get a taste of the Amazon, truly understand what was at stake, and a chance for thousands of Indigenous peoples, who live across the vast territory shared by many South American nations, to participate.By the time the conference began Nov. 6 with two days of world leaders' speeches, Lula was able to change the subject from Belem, in large part by laying out a vision of what the conference could be. “Earth can no longer sustain the development model based on the intensive use of fossil fuels that has prevailed over the past 200 years,” Lula said Nov. 7, adding: “The fossil fuel era is drawing to a close."Words like those, coming from the leader who has both curbed deforestation in the Amazon and unabashedly supported oil exploration in it, raised hopes among many delegates, scientists and activists. Here was Lula, the ultimate pragmatist from a major oil-producing country, which gets most of its energy for domestic uses from renewables like hydropower, pushing a major change. Previous naming of fossil fuels In late 2023, during COP28 in Dubai, the final resolution declared the world needed to “transition away” from fossil fuels. The past two years, though, nothing had been done to advance that. Indeed, instead of phasing away, greenhouse gas emissions worldwide continue to rise. Now at COP30, there was talk of a “road map” to fundamentally changing world energy systems. A few days before the talks concluded, there were signs that even Lula, arguably Brazil's most dominating political figure of the past 25 years, was tempering his expectations. In a speech Wednesday night, he made the case that climate change was an urgent threat that all people needed to pay attention to. But he was also careful to say that nations should be able to transition to renewable energies at their own pace, in line with their own capacities, and there was no intention to “impose anything on anybody." Negotiators would lose much of Thursday, as a fire at the venue forced evacuations. An outcome that many nations blasted By Friday, the European Union, along with several Latin American and Pacific Island nations and others, were flatly rejecting the first draft of a resolution that didn't identify fossil fuels as the cause of climate change or have any timeline to move away from them. “After 10 years, this process is still failing,” Maina Vakafua Talia, minister of environment for the small Pacific island nation of Tuvalu, said in a speech Friday, talking about the decade since the 2015 Paris Agreement, which set international goals to limit temperature rise. After an all-nighter from Friday into Saturday, the revised resolution, which U.N. officials called the “final,” did not include a mention of fossil fuels. Environmental activists decried the influence of major oil producing countries like Saudi Arabia, which historically have fought against proposals that put a timeline on reducing oil. When delegates met Saturday afternoon for the final plenary, COP30 President André Corrêa do Lago gaveled in the text while also promising to continue the discussion of fossil fuels and work with Colombia on a road map that could be shared with other countries. Technically, Brazil holds the presidency of the climate talks until the summit in Turkey next year. That was little consolation for several dozen nations that complained, including some, such as Colombia, that flatly rejected the outcome. “Thank you for your statement," do Lago would say after each one. "It will be noted in the report.”Associated Press reporters Seth Borenstein, Melina Walling and Anton Delgado contributed to this report. Peter Prengaman, AP's global climate and environment news director, was previously news director in Brazil. The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Nov. 2025

A Surprisingly Powerful Tool to Make Cities More Livable

This story was originally published by Grist and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration. If you’ve spent any time on a roof, you know that it’s not especially pleasant up there—blazing in the summer, frigid and windy in the winter. Slap some solar panels up there, though, and the calculus changes: Shaded from gusts […]

This story was originally published by Grist and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration. If you’ve spent any time on a roof, you know that it’s not especially pleasant up there—blazing in the summer, frigid and windy in the winter. Slap some solar panels up there, though, and the calculus changes: Shaded from gusts and excessive sunlight, crops can proliferate, a technique known as rooftop agrivoltaics. And because that hardware provides shade, evaporation is reduced, resulting in big water savings. Plus, all that greenery insulates the top floor, reducing energy costs. Long held in opposition to one another, urban areas are embracing elements of the rural world as they try to produce more of their own food, in community gardens on the ground and agrivoltaics up above. In an increasingly chaotic climate, urban agriculture could improve food security, generate clean electricity, reduce local temperatures, provide refuges for pollinators, and improve mental and physical health for urbanites, among other benefits.  “This summer we had cucumbers that were the size of baseball bats, that were perfectly suited to the green roof.” With relatively cheap investments in food production—especially if they’ve got empty lots sitting around—cities can solve a bunch of problems at once. Quezon City in the Philippines, for instance, has transformed unused land into more than 300 gardens and 10 farms, in the process training more than 4,000 urban farmers. Detroit is speckled with thousands of gardens and farms. In the Big Apple, the nonprofit Project Petals is turning vacant lots in underresourced neighborhoods into oases. “You have some places in New York City where there’s not a green space for 5 miles,” said Alicia White, executive director and founder of the group. “And we know that green spaces help to reduce stress. We know they help to combat loneliness, and we know at this point that they help to improve our respiratory and heart health.” That makes these community spaces an especially potent climate solution, because it’s getting ever harder for people to stay healthy in cities due to the urban heat island effect, in which the built environment absorbs the sun’s energy and releases it throughout the night. Baking day after day during prolonged heat waves, the human body can’t get relief, an especially dangerous scenario for the elderly. But verdant patches reduce temperatures by releasing water vapor—essentially sweating into the neighborhood—and provide shade. At the same time, as climate change makes rainfall more extreme, urban gardens help soak up deluges, reducing the risk of flooding.  Oddly enough, while the oven-like effect is perilous for people, it can benefit city farms. On rooftops, scientists are finding that some crops, like leafy greens, thrive under the shade of solar panels, but others—especially warm-season crops like zucchini and watermelon—grow beautifully in harsh full-sun conditions. “Most of our high-value crops benefit from the urban heat island effect, because it extends their growing season. So growing food in the city is actually quite logical,” said horticulturist Jennifer Bousselot, who studies rooftop agrivoltaics at Colorado State University. “This summer we had cucumbers that were the size of baseball bats, that were perfectly suited to the green roof.” Plants grow on a roof at Colorado State University.Kevin Samuelson/CSU Spur That’s not all that’s thriving up there. Bousselot and her team are also growing a trio of Indigenous crops: corn, beans, and squash. The beans climb the corn stalks—and microbes in their roots fix nitrogen, enriching the soil—while the squash leaves shade the soil and reduce evaporation, saving water. In addition, they’ve found that saffron—an extremely expensive and difficult-to-harvest spice—tolerates the shade of rooftop solar panels. Water leaving the soil also cools the panels, increasing their efficiency. “We’re essentially creating a microclimate, very much like a greenhouse, which is one of the most optimal conditions for most of our food crops to grow in,” Bousselot said. “But it’s not a system that needs heating or cooling or ventilation, like a greenhouse does.”  Growers might even use the extreme conditions of a rooftop for another advantage. Plants that aren’t shaded by solar panels produce “secondary metabolites” in response to the heat, wind, and constant sunlight that can stress them. These are often antioxidants, which a grower might be able to tease out of a medicinal plant like chamomile—at least in theory. “We are sort of exploring the breadth of what’s possible up there,” Bousselot said, “and using those unique environments to come up with crops that are hopefully even more valuable to the producer.” Down on the ground in New York City, Project Petals has seen a similar bonanza. Whereas agricultural regions cultivate vast fields and orchards of monocrops, like grains or fruit trees, an urban farm can pack a bunch of different foods into a tight space. “If you could grow it in rural areas, you could grow it in the city as well,” White said. “We’ve grown squash, snap peas, lemongrass. In our gardens, I’ve seen just about everything.” Workers tend to crops in Queens, New York.Project Petals That sort of diversification means a cornucopia of nutritious foods flows into the community. (Lots of different species also provide different kinds of flowers for pollinators—and the more pollinators, the better the crops and native plants in the area can reproduce, creating a virtuous cycle.) That’s invaluable because in the United States, access to proper nutrition is extremely unequal: In Mississippi, for example, 30 percent of people live in low-income areas with low access to good food, compared to 4 percent in New York. This leads to “silent hunger,” in which people have access to enough calories—often from ultraprocessed foods purchased at corner stores—but not enough nutrients. Underserved neighborhoods need better access to supermarkets, of course, but rooftop and community gardens can provide fresh food and help educate people about improving their diets. “It’s not only about growing our own veggies in the city, but actually too it’s a hook to change habits,” said Nikolas Galli, a postdoctoral researcher who studies urban agriculture at the Polytechnic University of Milan. In a study published last month in the journal Earth’s Future, Galli modeled what this change could look like on a wide scale in São Paulo, Brazil. In a theoretical scenario in which the city turned its feasible free space—around 14 square miles—into gardens and farms, every couple of acres of food production could provide healthy sustenance to more than 600 people. Though the scenario isn’t particularly realistic, given the scale of change required, “it’s interesting to think about that, if we use more or less all the areas that we have, we could provide the missing fruits and vegetables for 13 to 21 percent of the population of the city,” Galli said. “Every square meter that you do can have a function, can be useful to increase the access to healthy food for someone.” Without urgent action here, silent hunger will only grow worse as urban populations explode around the world: By 2050, 70 percent of humans will live in cities. Urban farms could go a long way toward helping feed all those people, and could indeed benefit from rural farmers making the move to metropolises. “They’re able to pass it on to the community members like me from New York City, who maybe didn’t have the expertise,” White said, “and helping them to find their way in learning how to garden and learning how to grow their own food.” Whether it’s on top of a roof or tucked between apartment buildings, the urban garden is a simple yet uniquely powerful tool for solving a slew of environmental and human health problems. “They’re serving as spaces where people can grow, where they can learn, and they can help to fight climate change,” White said. “It’s so good to see that people are starting to come around to the fact that a garden space, and a green space, can actually make a bigger impact than just on that community overall.” 

Indigenous People Reflect on the Meaning of Their Participation in COP30 Climate Talks

At United Nations climate talks billed widely as having a special focus on Indigenous people, those people themselves have mixed feelings about whether the highlight reel matches reality

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — Indigenous people filled the streets, paddled the waterways and protested at the heart of the venue to make their voices heard during the United Nations climate talks that were supposed to give them a voice like never before at the annual conference. As the talks, called COP30, concluded Saturday in Belem, Brazil, Indigenous people reflected on what the conference meant to them and whether they were heard. Brazilian leaders had high hopes that the summit, taking place in the Amazon, would empower the people who inhabit the land and protect the biodiversity of the world’s largest rainforest, which helps stave off climate change as its trees absorb carbon pollution that heats the planet.Many Indigenous people who attended the talks felt strengthened by the solidarity with tribes from other countries and some appreciated small wins in the final outcome. But for many, the talks fell short on representation, ambition and true action on climate issues affecting Indigenous people.“This was a COP where we were visible but not empowered,” said Thalia Yarina Cachimuel, a Kichwa-Otavalo member of A Wisdom Keepers Delegation, a group of Indigenous people from around the world. Some language wins but nothing on fossil fuels Taily Terena, an Indigenous woman from the Terena nation in Brazil, said she was happy because the text for the first time mentioned those rights explicitly.But Mindahi Bastida, an Otomí-Toltec member of A Wisdom Keepers Delegation, said countries should have pushed harder for agreements on how to phase out fuels like oil, gas and coal “and not to see nature as merchandise, but to see it as sacred.” Several nations pushed for a road map to curtail use of fossil fuels, which when burned release greenhouse gases that warm the planet. Saturday's final decision left out any mention of fossil fuels, leaving many countries disappointed. Brazil also launched a financial mechanism that countries could donate to, which was supposed to help incentivize nations with lots of forest to keep those ecosystems intact.Although the initiative received monetary pledges from a few countries, the project and the idea of creating a market for carbon are false solutions that "don't stop pollution, they just move it around,” said Jacob Johns, a Wisdom Keeper of the Akimel O’Otham and Hopi nations.“They hand corporations a license to keep drilling, keep burning, keep destroying, so long as they can point to an offset written on paper. It's the same colonial logic dressed up as climate policy," Johns said.“What we have seen at this COP is a focus on symbolic presence rather than enabling the full and effective participation of Indigenous Peoples," Sara Olsvig, chair of the Inuit Circumpolar Council, wrote in a message after the conference concluded.Edson Krenak, Brazil manager for Indigenous rights group Cultural Survival and member of the Krenak people, didn't think negotiators did enough to visit forests or understand the communities living there. He also didn't believe the 900 Indigenous people given access to the main venue was enough.Sônia Guajajara, Brazil's minister of Indigenous peoples, who is Indigenous herself, framed the convention differently. “It is undeniable that this is the largest and best COP in terms of Indigenous participation and protagonism,” she said. Protests showed power of Indigenous solidarity While the decisions by delegates left some Indigenous attendees feeling dismissed, many said they felt empowered by participating in demonstrations outside the venue. When the summit began on Nov. 10, Paulo André Paz de Lima, an Amazonian Indigenous leader, thought his tribe and others didn’t have access to COP30. During the first week, he and a group of demonstrators broke through the barrier to get inside the venue. Authorities quickly intervened and stopped their advancement.De Lima said that act helped Indigenous people amplify their voices.“After breaking the barrier, we were able to enter COP, get into the Blue Zone and express our needs,” he said, referring to the official negotiation area. “We got closer (to the negotiations), got more visibility."The meaning of protest at this COP wasn't just to get the attention of non-Indigenous people, it also was intended as a way for Indigenous people to commune with each other. On the final night before an agreement was reached, a small group with banners walked inside the venue, protesting instances of violence and environmental destruction from the recent killing of a Guarani youth on his own territory to the proposed Prince Rupert Gas Transmission Project in Canada.“We have to come together to show up, you know? Because they need to hear us,” Leandro Karaí of the Guarani people of South America said of the solidarity among Indigenous groups. “When we’re together with others, we’re stronger.“They sang to the steady beat of a drum, locked arms in a line and marched down the long hall of the COP venue to the exit, breaking the silence in the corridors as negotiators remained deadlocked inside. Then they emerged, voices raised, under a yellow sky.The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. The AP is solely responsible for all content. Find the AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Nov. 2025

Takeaways From the Outcome of UN Climate Talks in Brazil

After two weeks of negotiations, this year’s United Nations climate talks have ended with what critics are calling a weak compromise

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — After two weeks of negotiations, this year's United Nations climate talks ended Saturday with a compromise that some criticized as weak and others called progress.The deal finalized at the COP30 conference pledges more money to help countries adapt to climate change, but lacks explicit plans to transition away from the fossil fuels such as oil, coal and gas that heat the planet.But that disappointment is mixed with a few wins and the hope for countries to make more progress next year.Here's what you need to know about the outcome. Leaders tried to nail down specifics on fighting climate change Leaders have been working on how to fight the impacts of climate change, such as extreme weather and sea level rise, for a decade. To do that, every country had the homework of writing up their own national climate plans and then reconvened this month to see if it was enough.Brazil, host of the climate conference known as COP30, was trying to get them to cooperate on the toughest issues like climate-related trade restrictions, funding for climate solutions, national climate-fighting plans and more transparency on measuring those plans' progress. More than 80 countries tried to introduce a detailed guide to phase out fossil fuels over the next several decades. There were other to-do items on topics including deforestation, gender and farming. Countries reached what critics called a weak compromise Nations agreed to triple the amount of money promised to help the vulnerable countries adapt to climate change. But they will take five more years to do it. Some vulnerable island countries said they were happy about the financial support. But the final document didn't include a road map away from fossil fuels, angering many.After the agreement was reached, COP President André Corrêa do Lago said Brazil would take an extra step and write their own road map. Not all countries signed up to this, but those on board will meet next year to specifically talk about the fossil fuel phase out. It would not carry the same weight as something agreed to at the conference.Also included in the package were smaller agreements on energy grids and biofuels. Responses ranged from happy to angry “Given what we expected, what we came out with, we were happy,” said Ilana Seid, chair of the Alliance of Small Island States.But others felt discouraged. Heated exchanges took place during the conference’s final meeting as countries snipped at each other about the fossil fuel plan.“I will be brutally honest: The COP and the U.N. system are not working for you. They have never really worked for you. And today, they are failing you at a historic scale,” said Juan Carlos Monterrey Gomez, a negotiator for Panama.Jiwoh Abdulai, Sierra Leone’s environment and climate change minister said: “COP30 has not delivered everything Africa asked for, but it has moved the needle.” He added: "This is a floor, not a ceiling.”The real outcome of this year’s climate talks will be judged on “how quickly these words turn into real projects that protect lives and livelihoods,” he said. Talks set against the Amazon rainforest Participants experienced the Amazon’s extreme heat and humidity and heavy rains that flooded walkways. Organizers who chose Belem, on the edge of the rainforest, as the host city had intended for countries to experience firsthand what was at stake with climate change, and take bold action to stop it.But afterward, critics said the deal shows how hard it is to find global cooperation on issues that affect everyone, most of all people in poverty, Indigenous people, women and children around the world.“At the start of this COP, there was this high level of ambition. We started with a bang, but we ended with a whimper of disappointment," said former Philippine negotiator Jasper Inventor, now at Greenpeace International. Indigenous people, civil society and youth One of the nicknames for the climate talks in Brazil was the “Indigenous peoples' COP.” Yet some in those groups said they had to fight to be heard. Protesters from Indigenous groups twice disrupted the conference to demand a bigger seat at the table. While Indigenous people's rights weren't officially on the agenda, Taily Terena, an Indigenous woman from the Terena nation in Brazil, said so far she is happy with the text because for the first time it includes a paragraph mentioning Indigenous rights.She supported countries speaking up on procedural issues because that’s how multilateralism works. “It’s kind of chaotic, but from our perspective, it’s kind of good that some countries have a reaction,” she said.The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.This story was produced as part of the 2025 Climate Change Media Partnership, a journalism fellowship organized by Internews’ Earth Journalism Network and the Stanley Center for Peace and Security.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Nov. 2025

Suggested Viewing

Join us to forge
a sustainable future

Our team is always growing.
Become a partner, volunteer, sponsor, or intern today.
Let us know how you would like to get involved!

CONTACT US

sign up for our mailing list to stay informed on the latest films and environmental headlines.

Subscribers receive a free day pass for streaming Cinema Verde.
Thank you! Your submission has been received!
Oops! Something went wrong while submitting the form.