As the world’s climate clock ticks ever louder, the 30th United Nations Conference of the Parties—better known as COP30—wrapped up in Belém, Brazil, this November, leaving behind a trail of hard-won progress, dashed hopes, and a renewed call for action. The Amazonian city, perched on the edge of the world’s largest rainforest, played host to nearly 200 nations on the 10th anniversary of the Paris Agreement, the historic 2015 pact aimed at limiting global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius by 2100. Yet, despite the momentous location and the urgency of the crisis, the summit’s outcomes were a mixed bag—both in the official negotiations and in the flurry of voluntary initiatives that blossomed at its edges.
From the outset, COP30 was billed as a turning point, a shift from endless negotiation to real-world implementation. According to Science News, this year’s gathering was “arguably the most important since the 2015 meeting in Paris,” as confidence in international climate pacts has waned while global temperatures continue to rise and nations fall short of their own promises. But the geopolitical winds were not in the summit’s favor. Notably, the United States—under President Donald Trump—was a no-show, having withdrawn from the negotiations altogether. That absence cast a long shadow, given the U.S.’s status as the world’s largest historical emitter of greenhouse gases.
After days of tense, sometimes bitter negotiations, the delegates emerged with a final agreement known as the “mutirão,” or “collective effort.” The deal included a headline-grabbing pledge: $120 billion a year for climate adaptation. But there was a catch—the funding wouldn’t kick in until 2035, five years later than originally hoped. Meanwhile, the agreement sidestepped explicit commitments on deforestation, a particularly stinging omission given the Amazonian setting, and—perhaps most frustrating of all—omitted any mention of “fossil fuels.” This omission marked a retreat even from the already ambiguous language of COP28 in 2023, which had at least nodded toward a transition away from fossil energy.
“I understand that frustration,” said U.N. Climate Change Executive Secretary Simon Stiell at the closing plenary on November 22. “Many of those [frustrations] I share myself.” Still, Stiell tried to inject some hope: “Markets are moving, and a new economy is rising. The old polluting economy is running out of road.” For Stiell and many others, the annual COP remains vital: “For two weeks each year, COP brings climate to the top of the agenda. As we leave here, our job is to keep it there for another fifty.”
But for many, the real action at COP30 happened outside the official negotiating rooms. Nonprofits, industry groups, and a handful of forward-thinking nations used the summit’s global spotlight to launch voluntary initiatives that could have an outsized impact in the years ahead.
One such initiative was the Open Coalition on Compliance Carbon Markets, launched by Brazil’s Ministry of Finance on November 7. Built on research from the Global Climate Policy Project at Harvard and MIT, and joined by 18 other countries—including the European Union, China, the United Kingdom, and Norway—the coalition aims to standardize carbon accounting and create a robust global market for carbon credits. Arathi Rao, director of the Global Climate Policy Project, called it a “landmark” initiative that could help nations both produce and sell greener products, making emerging economies more competitive on the world stage. While countries like Indonesia and India haven’t signed on yet, their eventual participation is considered crucial, as they’re expected to account for much of the world’s emissions this century.
Forests, though nearly absent from the final agreement, were the focus of several new initiatives. Brazil, with help from the World Bank, launched the Tropical Forests Forever Facility (TFFF), an international endowment designed to reward countries for preserving their forests. Unlike traditional climate funds, TFFF would use investment profits to pay out rewards, aiming to attract $25 billion in seed money and up to $100 billion in private investments. So far, pledges have reached $6.6 billion, with organizers hoping to hit $10 billion by the end of Brazil’s COP presidency in 2026. France also pledged $2.5 billion over five years to protect the Congo Basin rainforest, and more than 35 governments and philanthropic organizations announced a $1.8 billion commitment to support Indigenous Peoples and local communities in securing land rights—an approach shown to reduce deforestation rates.
Ocean-based climate solutions also took center stage, even if they didn’t make it into the final agreement. Brazil appointed marine scientist Marinez Scherer as Special Envoy for the Oceans, who unveiled the Blue Package—a voluntary plan to accelerate existing marine climate solutions by 2028, including offshore wind, zero-emission shipping, and marine conservation. Brazil and France also launched the Task Force on Oceans to help countries integrate ocean-based strategies into their national climate plans, with 17 nations joining the Blue NDC Challenge. Brazil pledged to sustainably manage all its coastal waters by 2030, covering 3.68 million square kilometers—the largest in South America.
Yet, the summit’s approach to climate adaptation drew sharp scrutiny from human rights advocates. Negotiators adopted the Belém Adaptation Indicators to measure adaptation progress, including the proportion of communities and people relocated due to climate impacts. But as Human Rights Watch warned, planned relocation should be a last resort, undertaken only when all other adaptation efforts have failed—and always with respect for human rights. The group has documented how relocations, even when requested by communities, can lead to worse living standards, lost livelihoods, and new hazards, as seen in cases of flooding in Senegal, landslides in Panama, and ongoing sea level rise in the Solomon Islands.
“Adaptation ‘success’ should measure relocated people’s quality of life and whether their rights are protected after the planned relocation, not whether they move,” Human Rights Watch emphasized. An earlier draft of the indicators would have focused on developing protocols to ensure relocations are safe, voluntary, and dignified—a goal echoed by a new coalition of relocating community leaders and allies launched by Human Rights Watch in June 2025. Ultimately, as the organization insists, adaptation progress and the protection of human rights must go hand in hand.
Despite the disappointments and delays, many believe COP30’s real legacy lies in the voluntary coalitions and grassroots efforts that took shape around its periphery. As Panamanian economist and COP30 delegate Juan Carlos Monterrey Gomez put it on social media, “If there is to be a turning point, it will not come from a COP. It will come from people.”
For now, the world leaves Belém with a handful of new tools, a raft of unfinished business, and a stark reminder that the fight against climate change is as much about human rights and justice as it is about carbon and finance. The next chapter, it seems, will be written not just in summit halls, but in the daily choices of nations, communities, and individuals determined to bend the arc of the future.
