Again and Again

COP18 ended a few hours ago and I’m sitting with a delegate from a developing country in the Caribbean.  He has been coming to represent his country for well over a decade.  I ask him what he has learned from these years of effort.

His answer is blunt.  “Dishonesty”.  He pauses for a moment, and then elaborates.

“Developed countries said they were going to do something in 1992.  And it is 20 years later and they have done nothing but lie.  I think sometimes that I should stop coming, but I have a son.  What am I supposed to say to him?  That I stopped fighting?  That I didn’t care enough about him to keep trying?  And so I come.  Again and again.  But still nothing happens”.

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I wake just enough to register the flight’s eerie quiet; there is no chatter, no-one is watching movies, and no-one is getting up to stretch.  The Doha-London flight is full of COP delegates and they are grateful for the chance to sleep. COP18 ended 24 hours late and no-one is happy.

There is a Green Climate Fund to help developing countries adapt to climate change and reduce emissions but there is no money in it.

They have pieced together a second commitment period for the Kyoto Protocol but it has an absurdely insufficient mitigation vision. It excludes several key emitters,  such as the US, Canada, and Japan,  and does not  impose mitigation targets for others, including China, India, and Brazil.  As one European delegate tells me in frustration, “sure we saved the KP, but is it even worth saving?”

There is agreement to continue talking about the Durban Platform (ADP) with the goal of having a long-term climate deal by 2015.  However, with no signs of significantly increased mitigation efforts in developed countries and deep divides about adaptation, developing country emissions and compensation for climate damages, it is almost inevitable that the most vicious disagreements lie ahead. 

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As a relative newcomer to the climate scene, I am always humbled by those I meet who have been doing this for 10, 15, 20 years.  They have tried, and failed, and tried again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I get off my flight and stumble into a delegate who has invested years of her life trying to foster compromise positions between developed and developing countries.   She smiles but looks like she needs to cry for about a week.  She reaches out to hug me. As I’m enveloped in her diaphanous scarf, she kisses me on both cheeks and whispers in each ear, “Peace. Peace”.

I am tired because I have not had sufficient sleep, but it pales to the weariness I feel for my future.  Because what am I going to do?  Stop fighting?  Decide I don’t care enough to keep trying?

Tempting. 

But unlikely.