Copenhagen, Bella Center
After an all-nighter of international climate diplomacy, which seems be somewhat slower than the rates at which glaciers are melting, the main part of the text of the Copenhagen climate talks is back to square one.
It [Ad Hoc Working Group on Long-term Cooperative Action Under the Convention] is not only bracketed in its entirety (which means that the text is under discussion and not agreed upon yet) but many countries requested brackets on top of brackets, and some brackets on top of brackets on top of brackets with altogether new options, if that makes any sense.
Meanwhile Hugo Chavez just showed up, and heads of State from about 115 countries will all be here within the next 48 hours to hammer out a 192-country consensus, or go home with egg on their face. It is almost time to ask: do you believe in miracles?
Below is my recount of the marathon all-night session Tuesday night:
1:58 a.m.: It’s almost 2 a.m. Copenhagen time, and I am sitting amid diplomats from 190-odd countries who are milling about in a plenary hall waiting for the negotiations to resume, which if you believe the scientists, may decide the fate of humanity.
The lights are bright enough to give you a suntan—as if you are in a television studio. I am sandwiched between Tajikistan and the U.S. Some of the observers have beer bottles, and there is a certain Benetton beauty to the mosaic of people, languages and accents floating around.
The U.S. desk spots are well stocked with jujubes: the climate negotiator’s rocket fuel to survive all-night bargaining sessions.
A delegate from another country has come to chat with his U.S. colleague. The U.S negotiator says, “We are not happy. There is too much text to fix within 48 hours. Everything has to be dramatically shortened.”
Shining some insight into the difference a presentation can make, the U.S. delegate notes that he is happy to have the blue-line version of the text, as opposed to the red-line version. “The blue-line version is easier on the eyes,” he says. “It makes me feel more relaxed. It’s less stressful than the red-line version. I feel all my problems melting away.”
Both delegates agree that they are feeling the pressure of the impending arrivals of their boss. “Just saying your president is coming kind of focuses the mind,” says one.
All of a sudden, an announcement is made: G-77 [most developing countries] and China call a huddle at the front of the room. A little over 100 Africans, Asians, and South Americans converge at the front left of the room. I join the wave, but stand out a little with my Caucasian features.
At issue is whether to call it quits (on this session or the conference is not clear, as I cannot hear that well). A female G-77 delegate says: are we sure we want to do this. For the G-77 to be the reason for failure in Copenhagen. If that is that is what the group supports, I will support it. And we should go to the press right now. It is 8 o’clock in my country—we still have time to make the news.
I can’t believe it. Is this how international diplomacy is meant to work?
Then there's Michael Zammit Cutajar from Malta, the chair of the session, one of the main brains on which nations are depending on to piece together the most complex jigsaw puzzle ever imagined: a climate deal that can be agreed upon by the rich and poor world. Cutajar is a veteran climate negotiator and previously held Yvo de Boer’s job as executive secretary of the UNFCCC, and he's likely to chair the summit's final session.
Even more people are gathered around. Some stand up on the stage. There is a giant scrum.
The problem is Cutajar speaks so softly that almost no one can hear him as he goes through the negotiating text clause by clause. Everyone is straining their ears, and many delegates are snapping photos with the cellphones. Finally Cutajar decides to take the G-77 plus China crowd of negotiators to a more private place -- an enclosed room across from the plenary hall.
It’s now almost 3 a.m., and a group of delegates still left in the Plenary Hall start singing in a melodious tone: “Save the climate.”
I walk outside. Most of the couple dozen couches are occupied by snoring negotiators. While I snap a picture of this scene (which resembles a slumber party), I overhear a delegate walking and talking with a colleague: “Man. I don’t think we are going to sleep tonight and I only slept three hours last night.”
The problem is that the U.S. is quite unhappy with a large part of the text. In the fighting words of John Pershing, Deputy US Special Envoy for Climate Change, “We think it needs a fundamental revision. This does not reflect consensus.”
Pershing outlined several objections, and is incredulous that the U.S. had been snubbed on its top two priorities:
- That it not be brow-beaten by the international community to accept a greenhouse gas reduction target in excess of what it had already pledged and current U.S. legislation moving through Senate backs up (17 per cent reductions from base year 2005 by 2020)
- That major emerging countries are part of accountable for their more modest emissions commitments through a “binding” international agreement.
The revised text upped the ante on one, saying developed countries had to reduce emissions by 25-40 per cent from base year 1990, and included no similar tightening of language on two for developing countries, omitting the “binding” language so coveted by the U.S.
As chair of the meeting, Cutajar took pains to say that all the text is a package, “so it is goes by usual rule that nothing is agreed until everything is agreed.”
As the Cutajar was looking pained in his remarks, a young blond civil society representative runs up the middle of the plenary holding a sign reading: “Smile, please.”
The chair admitted that the text was back to square one with everything bracketed, and asked to be allowed to transmit this text to the big meeting Wednesday morning (in several hours) to heads of the delegates.
But things were just getting going.
Dozens of countries felt compelled to offer brackets on top of brackets, essentially just repeating long-held provincial interests that will have to be rehashed today and the next two days, as the entire text is bracketed anyway.
Sudan said it was upset with the financing provisions of the document because not enough money from rich to poor countries kicked in fast enough.
The chair, looking weary, strongly suggested things wrap up: “I have my eye on the clock and hope that these indications will be quite brief,” but it was to no avail.
Algeria intervened many times, but Bolivia, who was sitting in Bhutan’s seat, took the cake for most interventions. Bangladesh wanted additional insertions, giving special mention to the least developed countries affected by drought and for the establishment of international adaptation centres.
The chair enjoined for closure, noting, “The list is getting quite long. I can see that you might have an appetite, but it does not appear to be for breakfast. Please keep interventions brief.”
Saudi Arabia and then Bahamas intervened, seemingly oblivious to the clock.
Norway and Mexico both asked that the work they had led for a shared deal between rich and poor countries be better reflected.
Tanzania noted its disappointment that “there has been no movement on key issues to reach an agreement we have been working on for two years.”
Sweden drew a line in the sand and said the developed countries could not be treated differently and that they must be subject to “rock-solid legally binding commitments.”
India chimed in with its well-worn per-capita argument (Indians are entitled to emit the same as rich countries), which sounds fair enough, but if adopted could put the world on path to be a great ball of fire. India wanted all emissions commitments to be within a “paradigm of equal access to atmospheric reserves.”
And so it went with countries repeating their well-worn parochial positions until about 7 a.m.
The chair at one point threatened to just get up and walk out, but the talks kept going.
The Chinese wanted the word applying to developing country action to be changed from “undertaken” to just “taken”. In the only showing of statesmanship of the marathon session, the Chinese delegate called out the agreement they had been working on as something that would lead to a “groundbreaking decision” for making progress on climate change.
Finally, a little after 6 a.m., countries stopped making suggestions to what is almost a meaningless document because it is entirely bracketed, and instead turned to praising the chair, who had demonstrated heroic proportions of patience and endurance.
As country after country heaped praise on the chair, I felt like the best way to thank him, would be to shut up, and let him get a couple hours sleep before today’s activities kick-off.
After the lengthy round of countries had taken the opportunity to thank the chair, which I guess is part of the anthropology of international summitry, he gracefully thanked everyone and closed the meeting with the words: “Thank you for accepting my grandchildren as part of your sea.”
Top 10 Reasons You Know the Climate Negotiations Have Been Going too Long:
- The lady manning the camera has not had a break in 23 hours.
Diplomats are sleeping on their desks in the plenary hall.
Delegates are sitting in the other country’s chairs.
All the couches in the hall outside the plenary are occupied by snoring delegates.
Blackberry alarm clocks chime off in regular unison.
Women run down the plenary throughway carrying signs that read: smile please.
Delegates are not sure whether to say good evening or good morning.
Delegates continually catch themselves saying “tomorrow,” and correct themselves “this morning.”
Delegates start getting silly addressing the Plenary on random unrelated topics, circa Muammar Qaddafi at one his far ranging UN speeches.
The jujubes are all gone.
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