Belém in the heat of decision: a river city holding the world to account
The air in Belém hangs heavy with humidity and expectation. Boats ply the creeks that feed the Amazon, market stalls spill mango and manioc onto cracked sidewalks, and a distant drumbeat — a sound that is both protest and prayer — ripples through crowds gathered outside the glass-and-steel pavilions where diplomats argue about the fate of the planet.
Inside, the COP30 negotiations move at a clip both feverish and fragile. Outside, Indigenous leaders, students and activists chant and sing, demanding that the world finally match words with action. It’s the kind of scene that makes you feel the stakes: not abstract numbers, but the lifeblood of a region that global warming threatens in very concrete ways.
From law to lungs: Mary Robinson’s insistence that climate is a legal duty
Mary Robinson, the former president of Ireland and a member of the Elders, has been in Belém since last weekend. She speaks with the cadence of someone who has spent decades reading treaties, arguing in courtrooms and holding leaders to account.
“This is not only political theatre,” she told me in a hallway interview, pausing to take in a tableau of negotiators clustered around a whiteboard. “The International Court of Justice has made it explicit: nations have legal obligations under the Paris Agreement and under international law to align with the 1.5°C limit. That changes the terms of this debate. It’s no longer optional.”
Robinson points to a concrete demand driving momentum here: roughly 85 countries — from small island states to Ireland — have joined what she calls an Oil and Gas Alliance, pressing for a clear roadmap to phase out fossil fuels. “People imagine diplomacy as slow and staid,” she said. “But there is an unstoppable momentum toward renewables and away from fossil dependency. The question is whether we will have the political courage to write that into the agreement.”
Law, money and the moral ledger
What makes Robinson’s position striking is how she frames climate action as an issue of legal obligation rather than mere aspiration. “You must, by law, align with 1.5°C. You must, by law, start cutting emissions. You must, by law, stop subsidising the fossil fuels that harm us,” she said, citing the near-$2 trillion a year in global fossil fuel subsidies that policymakers and economists have long criticized as perverse incentives.
“When you put legal language on the table, the room changes,” she added. “People start thinking about liabilities, about human rights, about the future claims of young people and communities on the frontline.”
Negotiations tightening — and fraying — at the edges
Minister Darragh O’Brien, Ireland’s climate minister, described the scene inside the negotiating rooms as “intense.” His team has been working on adaptation finance, and he says Ireland increased its adaptation commitment to €11.6 million — a figure he emphasized as larger than several peers. “We’ve stepped up,” he said. “But the challenge now is collective.”
Finance is precisely where the fissures run deepest. Delegations from developing nations insist that any credible climate deal must include substantial, predictable support for adaptation: money to fortify coastlines, to shift agriculture, to build early-warning systems and to help communities relocate when necessary. Richer nations, burdened by recessionary pressures and rising debt, have been reluctant to pledge large new sums.
“We say the money has to be there,” said Ana Lucía Ñamandu, an Indigenous leader from the Xipaya community, resting after a long march through Belém’s avenues. “In our villages, the rivers rise earlier, the fish disappear, and women are the ones who gather what remains. It is not charity. It is justice.”
The road to a roadmap
At the heart of the debate is language about a “roadmap” to phase out oil and gas. For some, the word is symbolic — a sign that the diplomacy is finally naming the problem. For many oil-producing states, it is existential. “Whether you call it a roadmap or another term, the essence is the same: we need a plan,” said EU climate commissioner Wopke Hoekstra at a press briefing. “The wording matters, but the commitment matters more.”
France’s ecological transition minister, Monique Barbut, was less sanguine: “No, there will not be a COP decision today,” she told reporters, cautioning that countries were still far apart. Yet she admitted that movement was visible — a faint arc of compromise forming in the room.
Lula’s late arrival and the weight of hosting
Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s arrival in Belém felt like more than ceremonial gravitas. He has staked political capital on this COP, promising a “COP of truth” and urging negotiators to reach agreement sooner rather than later.
“The Amazon is not a backdrop,” a Brazilian civil society organizer told me as we watched delegates hurry by. “It is the beating heart of why this negotiation must succeed. There’s theatre in Lula’s presence, yes, but also pressure. He knows how much is riding on this.”
André Corrêa do Lago, the COP30 president, has urged round-the-clock talks to bridge the gaps between wealthy nations, developing countries and oil-rich states. The clock is unforgiving: COP30 was slated to end on Friday, but as anyone who has covered UN summits knows, deadlines are often porous.
Gender, justice and the invisible spoilers
Another thread woven into the negotiations is the Gender Action Plan — a UN framework designed to ensure that climate policies account for gendered impacts. Robinson accused some parties of “spoiling” the plan, warning that without meaningful gender integration the response will be weaker and less just.
“Women and children bear disproportionate burdens from climate disasters,” she said. “If we ignore gender in climate solutions, we will miss the human element that makes those solutions work.”
- Key demands on the floor: a roadmap to phase out fossil fuels; increased adaptation finance; meaningful gender integration into climate policy.
- Momentum players: ~85 countries in the Oil and Gas Alliance; the EU and island states pushing for stronger language.
- Sticking points: trade implications of climate measures, funding commitments, and how to phrase fossil fuel phase-out.
Why this matters — and what it asks of all of us
We are watching a global conversation about who pays for yesterday’s emissions and who pays for tomorrow’s resilience. The debate is legal and moral as much as it is financial and technical. If current national pledges are not tightened, the world could be headed toward a 2.3–2.5°C rise — a range that climatologists warn would bring catastrophes far beyond the kind of slow adjustments societies can absorb.
So what should worry you, sitting thousands of miles away from Belém? Consider this: coastal communities in the Pacific already plan for permanent relocation. Farmers in the Sahel must change crops mid-season. Arctic ice loss is accelerating feedback loops that no negotiation can directly stop once set in motion. These aren’t distant problems; they’re interconnected with our supply chains, food prices and migration patterns.
“This conference will be judged not on speeches but on whether it produces a credible plan to get off fossil fuels and properly funds adaptation,” said Dr. Maya Patel, an environmental economist who studies climate finance. “Lawyers like Mary Robinson are right to stress the legal angle — it strengthens accountability. But money, technology transfer, and political will are the levers that must move in tandem.”
Belém’s lesson
Negotiators will huddle into the night. Indigenous drummers will continue to beat rhythm into the dense Amazonian air. Leaders will flirt with compromise and retreat into the safety of old positions. Yet the moral arithmetic is simpler than the diplomatic choreography: communities already suffering demand help, young people want a livable future, and scientists warn that time is short.
Will the world choose a roadmap with teeth — or a compromise that kicks the hardest parts down the road? That is the question Belém is asking on behalf of the Amazon, the islands, the farmers and the city-dwellers whose summers are growing longer and harsher.
As you read this, I invite you to pause and imagine the river that bisects Belém. Imagine the chants of protestors, the faces of negotiators, the weight of a document yet unsigned. What role will your country, your community or you play in ensuring the final text reflects urgency, fairness and justice? The answer, after all, is not only in Belém’s halls — it’s in the choices we make every day, at the ballot box, the bank, and the dinner table.
