The climate crisis is getting worse and requires fundamental changes to societies, economies, and our global financial architecture in response. While extreme economic inequality is on the rise – the world's billionaires now hold
more wealth in the world than every country except the U.S. and China – the impacts of climate change are also unequally felt, with the poor in the Global South and North most at risk.
When world leaders now gather in Belém, Brazil for the UN climate conference, expectations will be modest. Few believe the meeting will produce any breakthroughs. The United States is retreating from climate engagement. Europe is distracted. The UN is struggling to keep relevant in the 21st century.
I have been working on climate policy since the late 1990s. I was in the room when Europe’s early carbon market discussions were shaping the architecture that would eventually underpin the Kyoto Protocol.
My recent visit to Brazil coincided partly with the Conference of the Parties (COP) 30, the 30th United Nations Climate Conference in Belém. Although I did not attend COP 30, I was very fortunate to visit the Amazon.
US President Trump’s economic strategy for his second term aims to get the rest of the world, especially its wealthy allies with greater means, to pay more to help strengthen the US economy.
As the world prepares
for the next COP30 summit, a quieter battle is raging in courtrooms.
Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPPs) are the fossil-fuel industry’s new favourite weapon, turning justice systems into instruments of intimidation.
The Second World Summit for Social Development, held in Qatar earlier this month, marked an important moment for global efforts to advance inclusive, equitable and sustainable development. Throughout the Summit, contributions from the Asia-Pacific region demonstrated that diversity is not a barrier but a strength in crafting people-centred solutions.
A report by the Global Alliance of Territorial Communities (GATC) and Earth Insight paints a stark picture of how extractive industries, deforestation, and climate change are converging to endanger the world’s last intact tropical forests and the Indigenous Peoples who protect them.
President Prabowo Subianto welcomed his counterpart Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva of Brazil to Jakarta recently to strengthen ties between the fast-growing economies.
“Has the world given up fighting climate change?” was a rhetorical question posed recently by the New York Times, perhaps with a degree of sarcasm.
It might look that way, says Christiana Figueres, a founding partner of the nongovernmental organization Global Optimism, “as US president Donald Trump blusters about fossil fuel, Bill Gates prioritizes children’s health over climate protection, and oil and gas companies plan decades of higher production.”
In late October, Hurricane Melissa, a powerful Category 5 storm, made landfall in the Caribbean, causing catastrophic damage to civilian infrastructure and a devastating loss of life. Humanitarian agencies have mobilized on the ground to deliver urgent assistance to affected communities facing widespread destruction of homes, mass displacement, fatalities, and severe shortages of essential services, including food, water, medicine, shelter, and electricity.
As world leaders prepare to gather in Brazil for COP30 next week, they will convene in the heart of the Amazon -- a fitting location for what must become a turning point in how the world addresses the intertwined crises of climate change and biodiversity loss.
At dawn in Manzese, a dusty township on the outskirts of Dar es Salaam, silence hangs where the sounds of commerce once roared. The township, usually crowded with street cooks, vegetable vendors, mechanics, and motorcycle taxis snaking through the morning rush, stood eerily empty. Shutters are pulled down, wooden stalls abandoned, and the air is heavy with the smell of burnt rubber. For five days, the township’s bustling economic life has been paralyzed—leaving residents unable to buy food or access basic services.
Three decades after the first Climate COP, the multilateral climate process – which was intended to serve as an instrument of justice and a guardian of the planet’s atmosphere – has fallen far short of its goals.
At COP15, the developing countries were calling for the temperature to not rise above 1.5 degrees and they ignored the Copenhagen Accord which agreed to 2.0 degrees
On a quiet July morning in Severo-Kurilsk, a coastal town in the East of the Russian Federation, the sea began to retreat unnaturally fast. Within minutes, tsunami sirens blared and 2,700 residents evacuated to higher ground. Waves up to five meters inundated the port and fish factory, but no lives were lost. The town’s survival reflected years of investment in early warning systems, community drills, and resilient infrastructure. The 2025 Kamchatka tsunami demonstrated what preparedness can achieve when science, governance, and community action align.
A new
global study has challenged a key assumption in climate planning: that the planet’s geological “carbon vault” is vast enough to hold all the carbon dioxide (CO₂) we might one day choose to bury underground after we remove it from the atmosphere. It isn’t.
As the world prepares for COP30 in Belém, all eyes are on Brazil’s proposed Tropical Forests Forever Facility (TFFF)—a bold plan to reward countries for keeping forests standing. It represents a vital part of the long-term vision we need for global forest protection.
It is a bleak global moment—with civil society actors battling assassinations, imprisonment, fabricated charges, and funding cuts to pro-democracy movements in a world gripped by inequality, climate chaos, and rising authoritarianism. Yet, the mood at Bangkok’s Thammasat University was anything but defeated.
Thirty years ago, world leaders gathered in Copenhagen and made a promise: people would be at the center of development. This November, Heads of State and Government will meet again in Doha, Qatar, for the
Second World Summit for Social Development or WSSD2.
Water scarcity that relentlessly hits the rural communities in eastern Guatemala, located in the so-called Central American Dry Corridor, is a constant threat due to the challenges in producing food, year after year. But it is also an incentive to strive to overcome adversities.