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Mads Christensen is the Executive Director of Greenpeace International.
In a year that marks the UN’s 80th anniversary and 30 years since the first UN climate summit, the global multilateral system tasked with preventing disaster remains incapable of delivering the speed and scale of change we need — even as the available carbon budget shrinks and tipping points loom.
At the heart of this paralysis lies the broken consensus model of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC). Every decision must be agreed to by all 198 Parties. In practice, this means even one country can block the rest of the world from acting — and a number often do.
We’ve seen this play out repeatedly: oil-saturated nations derailing fossil fuel phase-out language, rich nations delaying climate finance, and authoritarian regimes using geopolitics as leverage to stall negotiations. But it’s not just fossil fuel exporters or autocracies causing the deadlock.
The result is a ‘race to the bottom’ that rewards inaction, dilutes ambition, and sidelines the world’s most vulnerable. It’s time to end this cycle. It’s time for majority voting at UN climate summits and to reform what are now outdated governance structures.
System is failing vulnerable nations
The Paris Agreement, adopted in 2015, was a diplomatic breakthrough — but it lacks enforcement mechanisms. Implementation has stalled. Emissions are still rising. Fossil fuel production is expanding, and we are hurtling toward 3.1°C of warming by the end of the century.
In short: the system is not delivering and the world cannot afford another lost decade of incrementalism.
This isn’t just a technical problem — it’s a moral one. The communities most affected by the climate crisis are also those least responsible for causing it. From small island states facing existential sea level rise to millions across Africa and South Asia suffering crop failure, water stress, and energy poverty, the injustice is staggering.
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These nations have consistently called for stronger action. But under consensus rules, they are routinely overruled or ignored. Instead, decisions are held hostage by the interests of the few: fossil fuel-producing states, authoritarian governments, and wealthy nations with regressive leadership, like the US under President Trump.
Consensus has become a tool of obstruction. We need a model that actually gives climate justice a chance to prevail — one where the majority can act, and the vulnerable are empowered.
Momentum for reform is growing
The case for majority voting is not just practical — in the light of recent judicial developments, the legal and political implications are being magnified.
In July, the International Court of Justice issued an advisory opinion stating that fossil fuel licensing, consumption, and subsidization could amount to violations of international law and basic human rights. This raises the legal stakes for governments that continue to expand fossil fuel production while obstructing climate negotiations.
Simultaneously, political momentum for UN reform is growing. In a speech this month, Chinese President Xi Jinping proposed a more “just and equitable global governance system” in a pointed critique of institutions dominated by outdated rules and powerful interests.
The UN Secretary-General’s own flagship initiative for global reform, the UN80 process, underscores just how overdue these governance changes are.
The company tracking energy transition minerals back to the mines
Although key reform proposals have been delayed beyond this year’s UN General Assembly, the Secretary-General’s mandate implementation review paints a picture of systemic dysfunction: overburdened mandates, siloed agencies, and an avalanche of reporting with little impact or accountability.
If the broader UN system is struggling to deliver on its own instructions, climate governance must not remain stuck in the same bureaucratic inertia. Majority voting could be the first real test of whether the UN can shift from fragmentation to function.
Brazil’s leadership needed
We must ensure that this momentum is used to strengthen — not weaken — international climate governance and majority voting is a clear and immediate step that can deliver results. The UNFCCC’s draft rules of procedure — pending since COP1 in 1995 — already contain provisions for majority decision-making. Their adoption has been blocked for three decades by countries benefiting from the status quo.
Brazil, as host of COP30 in 2025, has already taken a leadership role by proposing innovations in climate cooperation. In a letter to Parties in May, it floated the idea of an “alignment” of actors and efforts— signals that the country is open to innovations in cooperation that go beyond the consensus trap.
That opening must be seized with the courage to act and this year’s UN General Assembly offers governments an opportunity to push for procedural reform and test majority-backed decisions.
As governments bet on carbon trading, Japan’s early scheme spotlights pitfalls
Brazil’s leadership, and support from a wide coalition of countries in Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Pacific, and progressive EU members, can tip the balance. Multilateralism that cannot function — that enables the few to obstruct the many — is no longer credible and must evolve.
While consensus can remain our preferred approach, where there are a few blockers to the majority, we must instead push ahead with science, justice and majority voting to ensure progress.
This is not unprecedented. Other international bodies, from the World Health Assembly to the International Labour Organization, use majority voting when needed. It’s time the UNFCCC caught up. The climate crisis is the defining challenge of our time.
The world’s people are demanding action, and a majority of nations are ready to respond. But a system where one or two countries — whether fossil fuel powers or political saboteurs like Trump’s America — can block the entire planet from acting is not just undemocratic, it’s deadly.
Let consensus be the starting point. But when the majority are ready, and the stakes are existential, let the majority act. Let the majority decide.
The post It’s time for majority voting at UN climate summits appeared first on Climate Home News.
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An older teaching about land acknowledgement
As I have come to understand the spirit and intention of land acknowledgement, I often return to fond memories of my grandmother and her words of wisdom. She taught that the health of the places we call home comes first, because the wellbeing of the people depends on it.
In her teaching, land acknowledgement began with the land. Long before it became a paragraph read at the start of a meeting, it was a way of recognizing a homeland: its waters, its species, its seasons, and the spirit that revealed whether the place was well.
Her teaching echoes a practice found across many Indigenous Nations. Haudenosaunee gatherings, for example, have long opened with the Ohén:ton Karihwatéhkwen, the Thanksgiving Address, often translated as “the words that come before all else.” The speaker greets and gives thanks to the people, the earth, the waters, the plants, the animals, the winds, the sun, the moon and the stars. Only after everything that sustains life has been acknowledged does the gathering turn to its own business.
That order changes what an acknowledgement is for. Its purpose was to share the story of a place with neighbours and to draw them into the work of tending it. People entered the story second, as the ones responsible for what had just been named.
Understood this way, an acknowledgement does more than open a meeting. It asks us to reconsider where we stand, and what we owe the ground beneath us.
Nations among nations
In her teaching, people are one nation among many. The salmon are a nation. So are the cedars, the bison, the medicine plants, and the pollinators. Each belongs to a place, carries its own responsibilities, and offers gifts no other nation can give.
This idea of kinship runs through many Indigenous philosophies. The phrase “all my relations,” heard in ceremonies and gatherings across Turtle Island, is a reminder that family extends beyond people to the animals, plants, waters and lands that make life possible. Some Indigenous languages carry the same understanding in their grammar, speaking of many plants, animals and natural forces as living beings rather than objects.
Sovereignty, understood through this relationship, is a kind of standing more than a form of control. Each nation belongs fully to its place and carries its share of that place’s life. No nation thrives alone, and none thrives by taking over the whole.
The land is also the source of instruction. Over generations, people watched how a river valley or a stretch of prairie kept itself well: who arrived when, who fed whom, and how much could be taken before the giving stopped. In my grandmother’s telling, those observations became instructions, and those instructions helped shape law and protocol. They guided when to harvest, where to camp, how to enter a neighbour’s territory, and what was owed in return.
Indigenous legal scholars today often describe this as law that comes from the land itself, learned by watching how living systems sustain one another. A plainer name for it is knowing how to live somewhere.
The host and the guest
One of the clearest teachings in this understanding of the world is the relationship between host and guest. My grandmother invited us to recognize that relationship in the lives of plants and animals.
A host prepares the place before anyone arrives. A beaver family dams a stream, and the pond becomes a home for fish, frogs, birds and plants. A fallen tree becomes a nurse log, feeding the next generation of seedlings as it returns to the soil.
A host offers first. A flowering plant sets out nectar. A berry bush ripens fruit. These provisions come in their own season, not whenever a visitor happens to want them.
A host also makes its presence known. Birdsong, scent and the marks left along a trail tell newcomers that a place is already inhabited. The visitor does not arrive in an empty world.
The guest has responsibilities too. A guest attends to the season and to what the place can offer. A guest does not assume that everything within reach is theirs to take. A guest leaves something that helps sustain the relationship.
A bee takes nectar and carries pollen. Read through this teaching, that exchange offers an image of visiting well: receiving a gift while helping the host continue its life.
Many Indigenous harvesting protocols carry the same ethic into daily practice: ask before taking, take only what is needed, offer thanks, and leave enough for others and for the plant or animal to recover.
None of this suggests that every relationship in nature is peaceful or generous. These are ways of seeing responsibilities that people can learn to carry.
Everyone is both
No being is only a host or only a guest.
A tree makes room for other life while depending on soil, water, sunlight, fungi, and relationships beyond itself. People, too, may welcome others into their homes while remaining dependent on the larger homeland that sustains them.
The distinction between host and guest is therefore about roles, not ranks. Everyone receives. Everyone has something to give.
The question is whether the exchange sustains the place.
A visitor who takes without restraint leaves less for those who come next. A host who neglects the place has less to offer. Both have responsibilities, and neither can fulfil them alone.
This is the heart of reciprocity, a principle found across Indigenous philosophies: relationships stay healthy when gifts move in both directions. The Haudenosaunee teaching of the seventh generation extends that exchange across time, asking that decisions made today leave the place well for those not yet born.
Mutual benefit begins here, with the recognition that different beings carry different gifts and obligations.
What people carry forward
My grandmother’s teaching connects these relationships to the ways people meet their neighbours.
The host prepares a place, offers food and rest, and explains where the visitor has arrived. The guest makes themselves known, explains why they have come, listens to the terms of the visit, and brings something in return. The gift may be material. It may also be labour, knowledge, news, or a commitment to help.
Nations around the Great Lakes carried this ethic into treaty. The Dish with One Spoon, an agreement among the Haudenosaunee, Anishinaabe and allied Nations, describes shared hunting grounds as a single dish. Everyone eats from it with one spoon, takes only what they need, leaves enough for others, and keeps the dish clean. The Two Row Wampum, between the Haudenosaunee and European newcomers, shows two vessels travelling side by side on the same river, each keeping its own ways and neither steering the other.
In this understanding, acknowledgement is more than naming the people associated with a territory. It is learning enough about a homeland to behave responsibly within it.
Whose home is this? What sustains it? What laws and agreements guide our presence? What can we receive, and what must we return?
These questions make acknowledgement a relationship rather than a recital.
They also make it diplomatic. A guest who recognizes the host’s homeland recognizes that they have entered a place with its own relationships and responsibilities. A host who welcomes the guest makes room for an encounter governed by those relationships.
Neither arrives without standing. Neither arrives without obligations.
Beginning with place
I write from the shores of the Bay of Quinte. Here, the teaching asks me to begin with the water, the shoreline, and the life they sustain. Before I describe myself, I must attend to where I am.
That does not make people or history less important. It places them within the homeland that gives them meaning. The people, their laws, their agreements, and their responsibilities all belong to the place.
In a time of longer fire seasons, troubled waters, and uncertainty about what the next season will bring, this teaching asks something difficult and useful of us: pay attention before you speak.
An acknowledgement cannot tell the story of a place if the speaker has stopped noticing it.
The land came first. Beginning there again means learning to name what sustains us, and accepting that what sustains us also asks something of us.
By Rye Karonhiowanen Barberstock
Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash
The post The Land Came First appeared first on Indigenous Climate Hub.
Carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions from fossil fuels and cement are projected to fall by around 0.4% in 2026 to 38.2bn tonnes of CO2 (GtCO2), according to new figures from the Global Carbon Project.
This guest post is by:
- Dr Zeke Hausfather, Carbon Brief’s climate science contributor
- Prof Pierre Friedlingstein, chair of mathematical modelling of climate systems at the University of Exeter and part of the Global Carbon Project team.
Carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions from fossil fuels and cement are projected to fall by around 0.4% in 2026 to 38.2bn tonnes of CO2 (GtCO2), according to new figures from the Global Carbon Project.
The 21st edition of the annual “global carbon budget” report, published today, says that this small decline is largely due to a 1.9% drop in emissions from oil and the energy shock triggered by the Iran conflict and the closure of the strait of Hormuz.
Emissions from coal continue to increase slightly.
The Global Carbon Project’s projections for fossil fuel and cement CO2 emissions in 2026 are preliminary, with a range that spans a fall of -1.5% to a rise of +0.6%.
This means a small increase in emissions can not be ruled out.
Emissions from land-use change, such as deforestation, are projected to rise in 2026.
This is primarily driven by peat fires and forest degradation in south-east Asia and is linked to the development of a strong El Niño event this year.
As a result, total CO2 emissions from fossil fuels and land use are projected to reach a record high of 43.3GtCO2 in 2026 – marginally above 42.8GtCO2 in 2025.
Research published alongside the report by the same team in Nature Climate Change finds that the growth in solar, wind and electric vehicles (EVs) now offsets around two-thirds of the emissions that would otherwise come from rising energy demand.
However, the deployment of these technologies is not yet enough to push global emissions into a sustained decline, according to the study.
The 2026 global carbon budget report also estimates that:
- Fossil emissions are projected to fall in China (-0.9%), the US (-1.3%) and the EU (-1.5%) in 2026, but rise by 4.4% in India.
- Oil emissions are projected to fall in every major region, with the largest drop in China (-4.6%).
- Land-use emissions averaged 4.9GtCO2 per year over 2016-25, around 21% lower than the decade before.
- Total CO2 emissions (fossil and land-use) grew by an average 0.3% per year over the past decade (2016-25), compared with 1.7% per year over the decade before.
- The remaining carbon budget to limit warming to 1.5C is 150GtCO2, or less than four years of current emissions.
- The land sink in 2025 was the highest on record, rebounding after being weakened during the 2023-24 El Niño. The current El Niño is expected to weaken the land sink in 2027.
- The concentration of CO2 in the atmosphere is set to reach 427.7 parts per million (ppm) in 2026, 54% above pre-industrial levels.
(For more on previous editions of the Global Carbon Project’s annual report, see Carbon Brief’s coverage in 2025, 2024, 2023 and 2022.)
Total emissions edge up as land-use emissions rise
Total global CO2 emissions, which combines fossil fuels and land-use change, are projected to reach a record high of 43.3GtCO2 in 2026, up from 42.8GtCO2 in 2025.
The increase in 2026 comes entirely from a projected rise in land-use emissions, which are more challenging to estimate than fossil emissions.
(The global carbon budget groups emissions from fossil fuels and cement production as “fossil emissions”. Carbon Brief follows this convention throughout this piece.)
If land-use emissions had stayed at 2025 levels, total emissions would have fallen slightly in 2026 to around 42.6GtCO2.
Each edition of the global carbon budget updates the historical record as new data and methods become available. The chart below shows total emissions in this year’s budget compared with the five previous editions.
This year’s estimates of historical fossil emissions are around 0.3GtCO2 per year higher than in last year’s budget.
This is largely because the report now estimates a smaller “cement carbonation” sink in the wake of research published this year in Communications Sustainability. In other words, it estimates that cement is able to slowly reabsorb less CO2 over its lifetime than previously thought.
Estimates of land-use emissions have also been revised, including a spike in 2018 – visible in the chart above – linked to updated cropland data for Colombia.
The updated numbers show that total emissions have grown by 0.3% per year over the past decade (2016-25), compared with 1.7% per year over 2006-15.
Fossil emissions grew about 0.9% per year in the past decade, compared with 1.9% the decade before. Over the same period, land-use emissions have declined.
While the slowdown reflects real progress, a plateau in emissions is still a long way from the rapid declines needed to reach net-ze