Category Archives: 1.5 degrees

The Belém Blues: What COP30 Delivered (And What It Absolutely Didn’t)

Stepping off the plane last night, I still felt the faint trace of Amazon humidity clinging to my skin, as if the rainforest hadn’t quite let me go. It’s strange; I went to COP30 with the weight of Palau, who I represented, in my hands, and I came home with the weight of the world on my heart. Belém was verdant, alive, vast, a city perched between river and forest, between ancient ecological wisdom and urgent planetary crisis. It was the perfect place to host a climate conference that demanded courage.

And yet, as always, what we needed and what we achieved were not always the same.

Much like Miami, the air both inside the negotiating rooms and outside in the sweltering heat was thick with urgency. Though now, I have swapped the deep green pulse of the Amazon rainforest for our own salty, humid reality back here in Miami and have been reflecting on what COP30 accomplished, what it didn’t, what it all means for South Florida, and what’s next.

What COP30 Accomplished

For those of us living on the front lines of sea level rise and monster storms, the big wins were all about survival and fairness.

1. A Stronger Global Mitigation Pledge

For the first time, nearly every major emitter agreed to submit enhanced 2035 Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) by next year (2026), and to align those targets with the 1.5°C pathway. This is a milestone that many of us, especially those representing vulnerable nations, have been fighting toward for years.

While the language was carefully negotiated (as always), the commitment is real enough to matter: a global push to accelerate the phase-out of coal and limit new fossil-fuel permitting. Not a full ban, but a turn in the right direction

2. A Renewed Adaptation Goal With Actual Numbers

This was one of Palau’s top priorities, and I am proud of what we secured: a dedicated adaptation finance floor — not just a wish list, but a real number. Parties agreed to a political signal to triple adaptation finance by 2035. For small island states, this means reliable resources for seawalls, freshwater protection, food security, and coastal resilience.

While 2035 is not soon enough, it sets a clear, global expectation to scale up resources. For SIDS and coastal communities, this is a much-needed signal that the world acknowledges the damage is here and requires real money.

3. New Protections for Indigenous Communities of the Amazon

Given where we met, this felt deeply symbolic. For the first time, Indigenous Peoples, whose land and knowledge are literally saving the world’s most vital ecosystems, participated in greater numbers than ever before. Brazil announced new Indigenous territories, and amajor new forest finance facility was launched, partly dedicated to supporting Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

Being in Belém, on the Amazon’s doorstep, made it clear that protecting nature protects people. The recognition of Indigenous land rights as a climate solution is critical, and we need to remember that lesson in Florida as we fight to protect our own vulnerable ecosystems, from the Keys to the Everglades. 

4. A Just Transition Mechanism

The parties agreed to establish the Belém Action Mechanism (BAM) for a Global Just Transition. This formalizes the idea that climate action must be fair, especially for communities and workers who suffer the most (but historically have contributed the least to climate change).

This is a big win for climate justice advocates. It means the global shift toward clean energy isn’t just about technology; it now has a formal UN home to coordinate assistance, protect workers, and ensure that developing countries can grow their economies without polluting the way the G-20 (countries of major economies, collectively contributing to 85% of global GDP and 73% of fossil fuel emissions) did.

What COP30 Did NOT Accomplish

1. A Full Fossil Fuel Phase-Out

Despite more than 80 countries advocating for a global roadmap to “phase out” fossil fuels, the final text of the Global Mutrião (meaning “collective effort”) decision failed to include any binding commitment or roadmap to phase out, or even phase down, fossil fuels. The word “fossil fuels” was effectively scrubbed from the final decision.

This was the heartbreak of Belém. The science is screaming at us. We are already acknowledging the likelihood of overshooting 1.5°C of warming (and have done so temporarily). Yet a powerful coalition of wealthy, oil-rich nations (including the United States, which was conspicuously absent) successfully blocked any meaningful commitment to address the crisis’s root cause. It’s unconscionable. Petrostates weaponized the entire negotiating process to protect their profits over our future.

2. Loss & Damage Funding Still Lags Far Behind Reality

Despite progress last year, the COP30 replenishment round fell significantly short of the scale scientists say is necessary. For nations like Palau, whose present-day losses are existential, this shortfall cuts deep.

Imagine asking a family losing their home to rising seas to “wait for the next fiscal cycle.” That’s the message they hear.

3. Weak Accountability Mechanisms

Yes, countries agreed to submit improved national climate plans. No, there are no strong enforcement tools if they fail.
We left with a framework, but not with teeth.

4. Forest Commitments Without Enforcement

Despite the Amazon’s symbolic importance at this COP, the failure to agree on a binding global roadmap to halt deforestation was deeply disappointing. We need clear, enforceable rules, not just new finance mechanisms that lack accountability. The Amazon is one of the Earth’s two lungs. Without a binding global agreement, we’re essentially leaving our life support system vulnerable to the highest bidder. Being in Belém should have been the final, definitive moment for forest protection, but instead, it ended in compromise.

The Bottom Line for Miami & What Comes Next

Representing Palau was as humbling as it was heartbreaking. When I sat in rooms full of negotiators, I carried the stories of families who live meters from shorelines that shrink every year. I thought about the coral reefs I’ve studied since childhood, reefs now bleaching, weakening, dissolving. I thought about the children I’ve met who already talk about relocation, as if their homeland’s expiration date is written in tide charts.

COP30 was a mixed bag of necessary technical progress and catastrophic political failure.

But it did deliver momentum, and sometimes, in the climate fight, momentum is the currency of hope. We secured better tools for adaptationand formalized the concept of a fair transition. That’s the good news.

The truly terrifying news is that the powerful fossil fuel lobby (the same actors who block clean energy laws here in Florida) is still successfully vetoing global climate action. In fact, fossil fuel lobbyists outnumbered every single delegation at COP30, except for Brazil’s. They are holding our cities, our coral reefs, and our future hostage.

The fight isn’t over. In fact, it just got harder. We can’t wait for the next COp; we must turn up the pressure on our own elected officials to enact mitigation that the global stage failed to deliver. The next time I post, I hope it will be about how we plan to use the Belém wins to push for local change, because our survival depends on it.

A Day in the Life at COP30

If you’ve been following my work for a while, you know that the annual UN Climate Conferences (COPs) aren’t exactly glamorous. They’re inspiring, stressful, frustrating, hopeful, exhausting, and energizing all at once.

Here at COP30 in Belém, Brazil, I’ve been working for the small island state of Palau, and the conference has, true to form, been all of these things rolled into one, and I thought you might find the daily details of what happens at these unique meetings interesting.

My work this year has had me deep in the weeds of climate finance negotiations, the alphabet soup of COP, where terms like NCQG (New Collective Quantified Goal), SCF (Standing Committee on Finance), GEF (Global Environment Facility), GCF (Green Climate Fund), AFB (Adaptation Fund Board), FRLD (Fund for responding to Loss and Damage), and Article 2.1(c) (all finance acronyms/terms) get tossed around like everyone was born speaking the unique United Nations language that intends to save Earth from burning. These discussions ultimately decide whether frontline communities, including small island states like Palau, will actually receive the financial support they need to survive a warming planet. Palau and developing nations like it around the world contribute nearly nothing to the cause of our climate crisis, yet are subject to its warming oceans, elevated temperatures, and rising sea levels in alarming, disproportionate ways that place their nations and the people who live there at dire risk. So yes, the stakes are high… and the hours are long.

Daily Schedule: 8 AM – 9 PM (or Later)

Most mornings start with a quick breakfast eaten while scrolling through overnight draft negotiation texts and tracking which paragraphs have magically appeared, disappeared, or multiplied. By 8:00 AM, I’m heading through security on my way to the Alliance of Small Island States’ (AOSIS) morning coordination, where small island nations coordinate their positions on different agenda topics to align as a larger group of 39 countries.

After that, and maybe grabbing another cup of coffee, it’s time to sit through, some days, four or five negotiations in a row (Article 9.5 transparency, the Standing Committee on Finance (SCF), Global Environment Facility (GEF) replenishment guidance, Adaptation Fund negotiations), and so forth. Each one with its own tone, tensions, and tiny battles hiding in the footnotes.

It is during these meetings that you hear nations argue over whether the COP will “invite,” “request,” or “urge” countries to contribute to a fund (yes, this matters). Developing countries will fight to keep language, ensuring that all developing nations, not just a select few, have access to the funds they need to protect themselves. Developed countries will insist on deleting paragraphs that micromanage the fund’s Board. Small Island Developing States (SIDS) and Least Developed Countries (LDCs) will try to hold the line on adaptation finance and the New Collective Quantified Goal on Climate Finance (NCQG) target. Everyone will bracket everything (bracketed text is not agreed upon or official until the brackets are removed).

By late afternoon or, on many days, evening, the room temperature is usually warm (or unusually cold this year, especially for Brazil), the coffee is flowing, and the interventions start getting pointed. Sometimes even loud. In the hallways, leaders, negotiators, diplomats, and civil society huddle to strategize and support one another in a battle whose stakes are, in many cases, survival. These are the moments you realize international climate diplomacy is equal parts politics, persistence, and people.

This is the COP rhythm: intense, purposeful, and powered by caffeine, urgency, and a belief that we must do better.

A Rare Day Off: Breathing in Belém

The annual COP meetings take place over about two weeks, and participants work six days straight, taking off Sunday. Amid the choreographed chaos of COP, on my one day off, I wanted to step into a different world and spent the day at Parque do Utinga, just outside Belém, wandering along leafy trails surrounded by the symphony of the Amazon Rainforest. And honestly, it was magical.

Amazonia, long a symbolic, hopeful location for this COP meeting, is stunningly beautiful. As I strolled through Parque do Utinga, monkeys were swinging overhead from tree to tree, butterflies the size of my hand drifted by like living confetti, and birds of every color imaginable were saying hello in, I assumed, Portuguese from the canopies or while wading in tall grass. As far as you can see, there is an endless array of plant life, vines, flowers, and towering trees so tall that they reminded me exactly what we’re fighting for inside those windowless negotiation rooms back at the conference center.

For a few hours, I wasn’t thinking about brackets or paragraphs or whether “mobilize” should be replaced with “channel.” I was thinking about the Amazon, about places like Miami and Palau, about our ocean, about the ecosystems and people whose lives depend on these negotiations landing in the right place.

Why I Keep Coming Back

The work is long, and the days are longer at these conferences. And yet, moments in Parque do Utinga and in the plenary when countries stand up for justice, equity, and survival in the only international climate forum we have on earth remind me why I do this and why I love doing it.

Communities like mine in South Florida don’t have the luxury of waiting for perfect politics. Neither do SIDS, LDCs, or anyone living on the frontlines of rising seas, intensifying storms, and unbearable heat. No matter the hours or the imperfections in the process, we have no choice but to continue fighting until we solve this ever-so complex global problem.

And so, it is. Aside from the travel, long hours, and nonstop challenges of trying to get nearly 200 nations to agree on how to fix and finance the solutions needed, I plan to keep showing up. Whether tracking paragraphs, translating jargon, endlessly negotiating, or pushing for real financial answers to protect those most vulnerable, and all the rest that happens in a blur at a COP. The work is worth it for places like Miami, small island states like Palau, and, most certainly, the “lungs of the Earth,” as the Amazon has been called, to thrive, let alone survive.

Why We Must Continue Fighting for 1.5°C

I’m writing this post from Bonn, Germany, where I’m attending the UNFCCC’s 62nd session of the Subsidiary Bodies (SB62) – a critical mid-year climate negotiation aimed at helping the world stay on track to meet its climate goals (read more about my trip in a recent blog here). But, after the most recent scientific updates and a stunning rollback of U.S. environmental protections, I’m left asking myself: “What will it take for those in power to finally take the climate crisis seriously?”

According to a significant update presented here in Bonn by Climate Analytics to the Alliance of Small Island States (AOSIS) negotiating bloc, the Earth is now truly, dangerously close to breaching the 1.5°C global warming threshold. According to the World Meteorological Organisation, the world is predicted with 70% certainty to top 1.5°C between 2025 and 2029, sometime within the next three years. The data illustrate that 2024 was already close to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels, and that unless we drastically cut emissions starting now, we are likely to overshoot 1.6°C or more, with devastating consequences for ecosystems, economies, and communities.

Let me be blunt: 1.5°C is not just a number, it’s a lifeline, especially for vulnerable places like my home in South Florida and for low-lying nations across the Caribbean and Pacific. Overshooting this target will lock in multi-meter sea level rise over the coming centuries, submerge coastal cities, devastate coral reefs, collapse ecosystems such as the Amazon Rainforest, and expose billions of people to lethal heat and water stress.

And yet, in this moment of scientific clarity and political urgency, the United States (one of the world’s largest emitters of fossil fuels that are causing our climate change crisis) just did the unthinkable. On June 12th, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) announced that it will no longer regulate climate pollution from power plants, effectively gutting one of the few federal policies aimed at reducing greenhouse gas emissions from the energy sector. I shouldn’t have to, but I do want to note that this department is titled the “Environmental Protection Agency,” not the “Energy Proliferation Agency.”

This is more than just a political decision; it’s a climate crime. It defies science, future generations, frontline communities, and decades of advocacy. And it flies in the face of decades of U.S. knowledge: even back in 1986, President Reagan’s own EPA Administrator acknowledged the need to act on global warming in an article written for the New York Times:

So, why are we moving backward?

From the science presented here at SB62, the message is crystal clear:

1. The rate of warming has doubled since the 1970s.

2. Natural carbon sinks (like forests and our oceans) are failing to keep up, reducing the Earth’s ability to absorb carbon dioxide.

3. Sea level rise is accelerating, disproportionately affecting small island nations and coastal regions, such as Miami-Dade and Monroe County, as two local Florida examples.

4. Current policies are leading us to 3°C of warminga world of disaster and displacement.

But there is still hope.

The Climate Analytics briefing made it clear that limiting warming to 1.6-1.7°C is still achievable if we act now. And global net zero greenhouse gas emissions by the 2070s could bring temperatures back under control by the end of the century.

This isn’t about blind optimism. It’s about fact-based science, holding polluters accountable, accelerating the transition to renewable energy, and standing in solidarity with the world’s most vulnerable, who have contributed the least to this crisis but are suffering the most.

We cannot give up on 1.5°C. Giving up would be the ultimate betrayal of Small Island Developing States, such as those I am working with here at SB62, as well as global youth and every single future generation forever and ever. It would mean walking away from the most science-based and equitable goal the world has ever agreed upon, undermining net-zero targets and climate justice commitments, and legitimizing fossil fuel expansion at the exact moment we must phase them out.

1.5°C is not dead, but time is running out.

1 2