Dummy’s guide to COP29 talks on global warming

What do global climate negotiations and dowry negotiations in Kenya have in common? Both are complex, drawn-out processes that involve back-and-forth debates, reluctant concessions, and a heady mix of high stakes.

Let’s start this story here. Dowry negotiations in a room at the bride’s house. Guests are seated on opposite sides, each group eyeing the other with curiosity and caution. The air is thick with anticipation. At first, softened statements dance around the topic—a mention of how lovely the bride’s family has prepared the home, a compliment on the groom’s family’s punctuality. Then, the real engagement begins.

The stakes are clear. On one hand, the bride’s family comes with a list of demands and irreducible minimums and, sometimes, deal breakers. On the other hand, the groom’s side must decide how much they’re willing to commit. There are also moments of haranguing and tension long before any agreements are reached. That is if any agreements are reached. Voices rise, tensions ebb and flow, and now and then, someone throws in a joke to lighten the mood. Outside, there are often conversations about what is happening inside—interviews, protests, or even the signing of signatories.

Now, take that scene, multiply it by 200 countries, and add 60,000 delegates from around the globe—world leaders, negotiators, activists, scientists, and a ticking global clock.

Welcome to COP29 in Baku, Azerbaijan.

Tense dowry negotiations come close to long-drawn Conference of Parties (COP) negotiations. At COP29, for instance, delegates from nearly 200 nations are haggling over issues like who pays for climate damage, how fast emissions should be cut, and what counts as “fair.” Imagine dowry discussions that involve the entire village, distant relatives, and even the nosy neighbours—and you begin to grasp the intensity.

But unlike dowry talks, where the worst outcome might be a cancelled wedding, the stakes here involve the survival of the planet—and how to cushion individuals from extreme weather events like what Kenya has experienced in the recent past—disastrous floods, perennial droughts, and hot temperatures.

As you read this, it’s day eight of COP29. The air in Baku is thick, not just with the crisp Caspian breeze, but with the tension of unresolved issues and conflicting interests.

In the opening days, Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev set the tone with a statement that left delegates chuckling and raising their eyebrows: “Oil and gas are gifts from God.”

To understand why this meeting matters, let’s recap. The story begins in 1992 at the Rio Earth Summit, where nations adopted the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC). This landmark treaty was born from a shared goal: to stabilise greenhouse gas emissions and prevent dangerous human interference with the planet’s delicate climate system.

Three years later, in 1995, the first COP convened, signalling the start of a global journey to address climate change. Since then, the COP has become an annual tradition, where countries gather to assess progress, negotiate agreements, and forge ways to tackle the climate crisis.

This year’s COP in Baku is no different—except that the stakes have never been higher and the timelines are never tighter. Every year, countries have been coming together to assess the progress, negotiate climate agreements, and establish commitments for reducing emissions and adapting to climate impacts.

Last year, COP28 unfolded in Dubai, following COP27 in Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt. Each year, the conference shifts its geographical focus but remains tethered to a fundamental principle that has defined the COP process since its inception: common but differentiated responsibilities and respective capabilities.

This concept recognises a critical truth—while every nation has a role to play in combating climate change, not all are equally responsible for the crisis, nor are they equally equipped to address it. Wealthier nations, whose industrial histories are steeped in fossil fuels, carry the heavier burden due to their historical emissions and financial clout. For developing nations, it’s a call for climate justice.

COP negotiations are a paradox—highly structured yet brimming with chaos. The formal plenary sessions are the grand stage, where every nation makes its case, often in lofty rhetoric peppered with polite jabs. But much like dowry talks, the real action happens elsewhere. Enter the contact groups: smaller, closed-door meetings where the nitty-gritty is hashed out. These are the climate equivalent of the kitchen chats during dowry discussions—away from the prying eyes of the clan, where bargaining is unfiltered and tempers are less restrained.

Then come the informal consultations, or “huddles.” These are the climate versions of the whispering relatives, sent to charm and cajole the parties.

It’s in these huddles that alliances are forged, concessions are teased out, and breakthroughs sometimes emerge.

In every COP, at the table are the wealthy developed nations—the biggest historical polluters.

They’re the groom’s family and are expected to show their commitment to pay up for having the major responsibility for global emissions. On the other side sit the developing nations, like Kenya, which contribute less than four per cent to global emissions. They’re joined by the least developed nations and small island states—the most vulnerable to climate change’s devastating impacts. Together, they play the role of the bride’s family, demanding that the dowry (aka climate finance and reparations) reflects the reality of years of unchecked historic emissions.

For these vulnerable nations, the argument is simple: the groom’s family can’t just show up with a few goats and call it a day. The cost of repairing the damage caused by climate change—floods, droughts, rising seas—far exceeds the gestures of goodwill offered so far. And in this global dowry negotiation, no one is willing to let the groom’s side leave the room without committing to more.

Much like dowry agreements, COP discussions on various agendas must be meticulously written down, word by word, in a legally binding format. However, in the world of climate negotiations, even the tiniest details can spark hours of deliberation.

 Draft texts are presented littered with square brackets–they show areas of unresolved disputes. Each bracketed word, phrase, or even punctuation mark represents a standoff waiting to be resolved.  Take, for instance, the endless debate over phrasing: Should the text say “request” or “urge”? Should it be “shall,” with its air of obligation, or “should,” which leaves room for interpretation? Should the comma be here or there? These tiny marks can derail discussions into the night.  Many negotiators confess to being in the rooms the entire night.

At this COP, the first climate finance text was rejected, triggering yet another round of talks that eventually produced two more iterations  from the co-chairs. The third draft is out, and while the list of disagreements has shrunk to 23 from an earlier jaw-dropping 187, the tension is far from over.  

Negotiators can spend hours—or even days—battling over which bracketed words to keep or remove. Entire sentences might be rewritten, only for the dreaded brackets to reappear later. It’s a diplomatic tug-of-war where no word, however small, escapes scrutiny.  

And if consensus still can’t be reached? The brackets stay, unresolved issues get shelved, and the text is punted to the next COP. Yes, just like a dowry agreement where sticky points are left hanging until the next family meeting. 

Occasionally, when the back-and-forth becomes unbearable, the co-chairs—essentially the elders of the negotiation table—step in to make the final call.

What happens if no agreement is reached?

If COP negotiations fail, everyone packs up and goes home, and the matter is discussed when they meet next, that is, every year. 

Take the Loss and Damage Fund as an example. The idea of compensating vulnerable nations for the destruction caused by climate change has been on the table for over three decades. It was first proposed by small island nations in the 1990s, yet wealthy nations dismissed it for years, unwilling to accept liability for their historical emissions. Progress was glacial, with discussions stalling year after year.  

It wasn’t until COP27 in Sharm El Sheikh—after relentless pressure from developing countries and devastating climate impacts worldwide—that the fund was finally agreed upon. Even then, the fine print, including who will contribute and how the funds will be disbursed, remains a work in progress, dragging into COP29.

This isn’t the only issue that has languished in the climate negotiation limbo; there are also climate finance commitments. Back in 2009, wealthy nations promised 100 billion US dollars annually to help developing nations adapt to climate change. Fast forward to 2024, and this target has still not been fully met, with trust between parties fraying at every missed deadline.

Despite overwhelming scientific evidence, COP conferences have yet to produce a clear, unified agreement to phase out oil, gas, and coal. Instead, the conversation remains riddled with vague language like “phase down,” ensuring fossil fuels linger in the mix. 

The stakes at COP29, therefore, couldn’t be higher, scientists say, especially, against the backdrop of extreme weather events. 

Walkouts and sleepless nights

Every COP has its share of dramatic walkouts. At COP29, Javier Milei  President of Argentina and an ally of US President Donald Trump, a climate denier whose re-election looms over COP29, recalled his 80 representatives from the ongoing COP negotiations.

The final showdown: The closing plenary

When the texts are finally clean, that is having no areas of disagreement, they are converted into draft decisions and adopted at the closing plenary. The COP president gavels at each adopted decision. 

This is the equivalent of the dowry ceremony, where everyone claps as the agreement is announced. But even here, there can be surprises. Countries sometimes raise last-minute objections, delaying the ceremony (or in this case, the COP) for days. Also, there are compromises, promises and often postponed commitments.

As we step into week two of COP29, the air is thick with anticipation—and frustration. For the developing nations, the proverbial bride in this global dowry negotiation, there’s a growing sense of resignation. The promises, the brackets, the huddles—it all feels like deja vu, with little to show for the hours of debate and negotiating texts.

Many feel that while there will be some gains in some areas, this COP is unlikely to deliver the key ask of annual 1.3 trillion US dollars to developing countries. 

From today, the ministers take over the negotiations—stepping in as the elders of this global dowry ceremony. Their job? To settle the disputes, close the brackets, and deliver a deal.

But will this marriage finally happen, or will the bride’s family leave empty-handed? 

Stay tuned—because in the world of COP negotiations, the drama is far from over.  

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