Dec 10, 2009 – the anniversary of the signing of the declaration of human rights
It isn't easy to find the Canadian Delegation briefing. It is not advertised but news of its existence creeps word of mouth through the NGO lines. It starts at 8 but the UN has decided to prevent observers from entering the premises until 8, which means we are all bound to be late as we have to go through security first. Clearly marked as observers by our yellow badges we huddle in the rain by the entrance, watching as the official parties glide by in an orderly line, each delegate flashing a pink striped badge to gain admittance.
When finally allowed in we surge through the entrance and are herded into a series of lanes. We jostle along, three and four to a lane, more sheep than humans, carefully contained within neat rope barriers. Once through the X Ray machines the mass disperses, each person in a mad rush to get to whatever meeting awaits them. To get to the Canadian briefing you must wind through the entire conference centre – past the displays, document distribution points, three cafes, the main atrium, and both plenary rooms. You finally find yourself in a portable rabbit warren of small, white walled rooms. The map tells you to go past Mexico, take a left at Switzerland, pass Australia and turn just after Poland. However, be warned! It is oriented the wrong way, and following it can easily send you on a wild goose chase past the entire continent of Asia. The only indication that you have successfully reached your destination is a small sign that says 'Canada' in nondescript letters (Mexico has decorated their name plate with many colours, ours is plain black lettering). A security guard stands to one side and examines everyone's badges briefly. You do not have to demonstrate your citizenship to be here.
Six Canadian flags decorate the wall behind two male bureaucrats sitting rigidly and expressionless in the glare of the TV spotlights. They are either personality-less, intimidated or exhausted – or perhaps some combination of the three. Thirty chairs are arranged facing them and are filled primarily with two groups. First, men in suits. Second, youth, mostly young women, wearing brilliant orange T-shirts with “Don't bracket our Future” scrawled across the back and, “How old will you be in 2050” emblazoned on the front. Today the international youth coalition is focussing on intergenerational equity and they are determined to be noticed. Almost 1000 youth are scattered throughout the conference centre, unmissable in their brilliant outfits. I am one of the few women in the room not part of the youth delegation. Another female researcher sits beside me, and two other activist-academics lean against the back wall.
The session starts with an official briefing. The older, tenser bureaucrat outlines the agenda for the day's negotiations and lists the items that will be discussed in each meeting. We all have this information already as it is distributed to all delegates but we all politely listen. We all know that this reading of the agenda is not why we are here. We are here for the questions.
He knows this too – the tense bureaucrat at the front of the room in the glare of the lights. His briefing is short and then he opens the floor, tiredly, to the audience. The men in the suits are first to ask questions. They use acronyms to ask technical questions about the details of negotiations. They ask about rumours that Russia will forgo its surplus from the first commitment period of the KP. They suggest improved mechanisms for the control of HCFC22, they inquire about the status of the AWG-LCA. They know the bureaucrat and address him by name. He addresses them by name. They do not agree but do speak the same language and wear the same suits.
Soon the young women in the orange T-shirts stand up. The first asks the older bureaucrat how old he will be in 2050 and what he thinks about intergenerational equity. He tells her that her question is politically incorrect but that he is 48 and so will be about 90 in 2050. He is less obliging with her second question and suggests that he can only really respond if she has a policy relevant point. Not a timid young woman, one gets the impression that most of them in the orange T-shirts are not timid, she persists and asks him again. This time he has had more time to anticipate her question and assures her that the very goal of the negotiations is to ensure the longevity and wellbeing of the future generations, but also cautions her that we must “carefully consider the appropriate discount rate to be used in the cost benefit analyses that will guide our policy options”.
Hot on the heels of the first youth delegate is the second. She is 18 and this is her second COP. She informs him that she would like to tell him a story; she would like to tell him a story about yesterday. It was not a very good day. She cried twice yesterday. She cried because of her discussions with youth from Fiji and Uganda. She cried because she was embarrassed and ashamed of Canada. She cried because she was sorry, but sorry wasn't good enough. She cried because it isn't fair. She stands there and tells him this story, and as she explains why she cried yesterday she starts to cry again and sits down. The bureaucrat thanks her, taking care to use her name. The orange-shirted members of the audience clap, the men in suits shift uncomfortably, and the next question is asked. The two activist-academic women present a report outlining their findings that Canadians want an ambitious and legally binding deal to come out of Copenhagen. The young woman who cried leaves.
And the meeting goes on. The men in suits have several more questions about policy details which the older, tenser bureaucrat handily addresses. Exactly one half hour from the time it began the meeting draws to a close and we all disperse into the rabbit warren. All Canadians. All sharers of the 'fossil of the day award' for two of the three previous days of the conference. All off to participate in our own ways in this diverse effort to grapple with this creature of many faces and many names.
Oh Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
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