Category Archives: #AlwaysBelieve

Reynolds v. Florida Public Service Commission Update

As the year comes to a close, I want to share an update on the lawsuit that I filed with five other young Floridians in October 2024 against the Florida Public Service Commission (PSC), the state agency that regulates Florida’s electric utilities.

On Tuesday, the State of Florida heard oral arguments in Reynolds v. Florida Public Service Commission. In this case, my fellow plaintiffs and I are asking Florida’s judicial system to deny the PSC’s motion to dismiss and allow our case to proceed to trial. We seek the opportunity to present evidence that the PCS has a longstanding practice of automatically rubber-stamping the electric utilities’ fossil-fuel-friendly Ten-Year Site Plans, which lock Florida into decades of unnecessary pollution and climate harm. In doing so, we argue that the PSC is violating the fundamental right to life of all of Florida’s youth.

During the hearing, our attorney, David Schwartz, admirably presented our arguments to Judge Angela Dempsey in the Second Judicial Circuit Court in Tallahassee. Judge Dempsey was deeply engaged throughout the proceedings, taking extensive notes as we explained why this case deserves to be heard, in hopes that we can expose the PSC’s far too utility friendly (a strange approach for an organization who by their very title is supposed to service the public, not the utilities) systemic approach to approving whatever it seems the electric utilities want. Following the hearing argument, Judge Angela Dempsey thanked everyone, explained that she would take the matter under advisement, and directed each party to submit proposed orders for her consideration by January 6, 2026. A ruling is expected in early 2026.

“We are grateful to the Court for hearing our arguments today and carefully considering the important issues in this case. The law supports Florida’s youth getting an opportunity to show that the Florida PSC’s continued approval of fossil-fuel-dependent energy plans is not only worsening the climate crisis but violating their constitutional rights. Allowing this case to proceed is essential to protecting their lives and their future.”
– David Schwartz, Plaintiff Attorney

I would like to echo David’s comments and thank Judge Dempsey on behalf of my fellow plaintiffs and young people across Florida. For far too long, Florida’s electric utilities have polluted our atmosphere and oceans while exerting outsized influence over our state’s political and regulatory systems. Their exorbitant rates, prodigious pollution from the fossil fuels they rely on to generate Florida’s power, and lack of true competition should worry every Floridian, especially those of us who will live with the long-term consequences of today’s energy decisions.

I will continue to keep you updated as the case moves forward. Until then, I remain hopeful that Judge Dempsey will rule in our favor and allow this case to be fully heard in open court: the one place where the PSC and the utilities it regulates cannot hide behind closed-door processes and technical jargon. Florida’s youth having their day in court would undoubtedly be a powerful way to begin a new year.

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.

1 2 3 31