The annual United Nations climate change summits are always a little crazy: tens of thousands of delegates from every corner of the globe descending on a far-flung city for two weeks of heated discussions on the future of global climate policy.
This time around the conference—known this year as COP29—is nothing short of surreal. In the area where countries set up pavilions, you can take a five-minute walk from the luxurious Russian pavilion where delegates sip tea on sofas amid human-size Russian dolls to the Ukrainian pavilion decorated with a solar panel destroyed by Russian armaments. At most COPs, attendees keep their eyes peeled for notable heads of state or even celebrities; in Baku, delegates are on the lookout for members of the Taliban. Midway through the first week of the conference, the Argentinian delegation returned home at the direction of the country’s right-wing president; the French environment minister decided to skip the whole thing because of a dispute with the host country. And the entire event began with a description of fossil fuels as “a gift from God” from Azerbaijan's president.
But nothing has made the conference more surreal than its timing. Opening just days after the U.S. election, the topic of President-elect Donald Trump serves as context for every conversation. The U.S. has for decades played a pivotal role in shaping the talks, brokering key agreements and, most recently, helping convince everyone that the world’s largest economy is decarbonizing. In the opening hours of the conference, John Podesta, President Joe Biden’s climate envoy, offered a blunt assessment that felt almost like an apology. “It’s clear that the next administration will try to take a U-turn and erase much of this progress,” he said. “Of course, I'm keenly aware of the disappointment that the United States has at times caused.” (He went on to make the case that the U.S. would continue climate efforts at the city and state level).
As the talks, which this year are focused on how to finance the climate transition, continue in their second week, it’s impossible to know where they will land. The organizers could eke out a brokered agreement, as often happens, or they could collapse under the strain of geopolitical pressure. Longtime COP attendees have said that these talks have at times felt closer to a breakdown than any in recent memory.
In a way, this climate moment is very dangerous. We already feel the effects of climate-linked extreme weather today, which is costing lives in communities across the globe. Clearly, a stagnation in multilateral efforts to address that issue doesn’t help. But there are also reasons for reassurance here in Baku. Decarbonization has moved from a theoretical question, delineated in bold but toothless commitments, to a phenomenon occurring in the economy—from the small enterprises adapting to sustainability requirements to multi-billion investments from some of the world’s most influential firms.
Indeed, the questions here in Baku are less about whether the international climate push will go on but about how.
One of the first things that struck me upon stepping out of the airport in Baku is how much the vehicles on the street have changed since I was last here seven years ago. At the time, white Soviet-era Ladas seemed to dominate the roads. This time around, the old-school cars were few and far between. Instead, I noticed the prevalence of Chinese electric vehicles. Nearly every time I called a car, an EV showed up.
Baku’s EVs offered a small reminder, from the outset, that the energy transition is already rapidly changing the world—and not just in major economies. In 2016, when Trump was first elected, delegates gathered at that year’s U.N. climate conference wondered if the Paris Agreement—and the decarbonization push it was meant to catalyze—could survive. That’s not a question in 2024.
To some degree, the confidence comes in part from evidence from Trump’s first term. Many businesses actually accelerated their commitment to climate action in spite of Trump. And cities and states said they would step up their decarbonization policymaking. In Baku, some of those same groups have offered similar commitments. Washington Governor Jay Inslee, citing state actions, put it to me bluntly: “Donald Trump is going to be a speed bump on the march to a clean energy economy.”
But perhaps more important is the massive investment that has begun over the course of the last eight years. Baku’s EVs are just one example. Across the globe, many of the world’s largest companies have spent billions to facilitate the buildout of clean technology infrastructure. Those investments are simply too costly to undo and the momentum too strong to stop. “No one country can stop progress,” says Catherine McKenna, a former Canadian environment minister. “I said that last time [Trump was elected], but it’s even more true because now it's in the real economy.”
But the bigger question for delegates is how the ongoing transition—not to mention the effects of extreme weather—will play out around the world. Which countries will win and lose? How will the most vulnerable fare? And will the transition happen fast enough—especially in developing countries—to avoid some of the worst effects of climate change?
Indeed, these issues have led to brawls at COP29 over everything from how climate rules play out in trade relationships to how much different countries should pay to help their counterparts to the role of oil and gas in the transition. With tensions high, in the middle of the first week of this year some of the most prominent voices in the international climate world—including former U.N. climate chief Christiana Figueres and climate scientist Johan Rockström—dropped an open letter calling for a wholesale reform of the process. Host countries should face tougher selection criteria to ensure that they’re committed to phasing out fossil fuels, and the process should be streamlined to allow faster decision making.
The post-election timing was unstated in the letter, but it wasn't coincidental. Regardless of whether Trump follows through on his promise for the U.S. to leave the Paris Agreement for a second time, the climate world will be left with a giant vacuum. Many negotiators are quick to say that the U.S. international climate posture never amounted to real climate leadership. Even under supportive presidents like Biden and former President Barack Obama, the U.S. shaped agreements with American politics in mind, even if it weakened the deals, and struggled to deliver the climate aid that others demanded. Even so, for many, the U.S. will be missed when it’s gone.
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