Student reflections from COP30
Law & Justice students supported Pacific delegations during two weeks of intense climate negotiations in Belém, Brazil.
Law & Justice students supported Pacific delegations during two weeks of intense climate negotiations in Belém, Brazil.
Three UNSW Law & Justice students worked alongside government officials under significant pressure at COP30, providing legal expertise in one of the most complex international policy environments.
COP30 was marked by late-night negotiations, intricate legal texts and major announcements. For the students, it was a unique opportunity to see international law in action and understand the realities of global climate diplomacy.
Masters of Laws student Alice Edle Von Lendenfeld reflected on the contradictions she observed at COP30.
“While speeches highlighted the urgency of global cooperation, negotiations were often inefficient and even hostile,” she said. “Yet, civil society and industry showed real passion and innovation for climate solutions. It was an intense learning experience that revealed the challenges of finding consensus among 194 parties.”
For Maggie Bell, a third-year Juris Doctor (JD) student on exchange from UC Law San Francisco, the experience underscored the grit required in international diplomacy.
“Being in the rooms where climate action is negotiated gave me a deep respect for the negotiators,” she said. “Watching textual iterations and hearing parties debate red lines helped me understand the complexity of driving progress on this critical issue.”
Fourth-year Bachelor of Laws (LLB) student Tom David described the experience as transformative, saying it gave him “exceptional insight into the work of negotiators and the legal, social and political influences that motivate actors within the international climate framework.”
Working with Fiji, he said, was particularly rewarding because it showed him “where issues of climate meet issues of international law.”
Going into COP30 I did not expect harmony or grand breakthroughs. I came expecting messy logistics, political manoeuvring, clashing interests and long and exhausting negotiations – and that is largely what I found. Still, witnessing it all from inside the negotiation rooms in Belém shifted my understanding of climate diplomacy in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I knew the process would be messy, but I hadn’t realised how deeply human, strategic and historically charged it would be until I was sitting behind the Fiji flag, watching the delegates negotiate.
COP30 took place during one of the most geopolitically tense periods since the establishment of UNFCCC. The negotiations reflected some of these tensions.
In theory, multilateralism is about collaboration and compromise, to peacefully address shared goals or challenges. Yet more and more people question whether the UNFCCC’s slow consensus-based process can deliver climate solutions within the timeframe science demands – particularly when the world’s biggest emitter chose not to participate.
Nevertheless, despite its imperfections, multilateralism remains one of the few spaces where countries sit together as formal equals, regardless of size, wealth or power. Yes, the process (and progress) is slow. But without it climate action would be even slower - or at least more fragmented.
The EU’s Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanisms (CBAM) is an example of what climate action could look like without the UNFCCC. CBAM puts a carbon price on imports of certain emission intensive goods to match the cost domestic EU producers pay under the EU’s carbon market. It was developed to prevent carbon leakage, stop unfair competition and encourage clean production and carbon pricing - using the power of trade.
Yet developing countries have criticised CBAM. They view it as green protectionism that disadvantages countries that lack the resources to measure or reduce emissions.
Perhaps this is the paradox: multilateralism is both insufficient and indispensable.
What struck me was how much of climate diplomacy is shaped not by science but by domestic politics, economic structures and historic injustices. Countries speak passionately about ambition, but only as long as ambition aligns with their economy, energy security, domestic politics, and development plans. This conflict between necessary climate action and political reality unfolded in every negotiation I watched.
Another eye-opening part was the human side of the negotiations. I had expected the process to be highly technical and professional. The professionality was diminished by the chaotic logistics, and at times the happenings in the meetings were incredibly human. Delegates made jokes, rolled their eyes, whispered frustrations, got distracted, or played prediction games about which argument other countries would use. Interestingly, some countries would speak in every session while others remained largely passive. The process underlined the influence individual negotiators' personality and passion for climate (or the lack of it) can have on the outcomes of negotiations. In the UNFCCC process the power isn’t necessarily with the biggest economies. Consensus also benefits the Small Island States, that would otherwise likely be easily overlooked.
All these traits were observed in the Just Transition Work Programme, which was the main area I followed. In principle, parties agreed in idealistic speeches that the energy transition needs to be fair and inclusive and mustn’t leave anyone behind. Yet further meetings proved how difficult it is to define “justice” when looking at it from 194 different cultural, historical and economic perspectives. For Small Island States like Fiji, justice means survival. For fossil-fuel dependent economies, it means the right to development and energy sovereignty. For Indigenous peoples, it means guaranteeing land rights, consent, and protection from exploitative mineral extraction. For developed countries it means managing job losses and energy security.
By the end of the two weeks, countries agreed on establishing a working mechanism on a just transition to coordinate support, capacity building and technology transfer. However, to nobody’s surprise but much disappointment, there was failure to agree on phasing out fossil fuels. As one negotiator put it: “There is no mitigation if we cannot discuss phasing out fossil fuels.” That is the other side of consensus - it also benefits those states blocking agreement on necessary climate action.
Despite knowing that any other expectations would have been naive, my frustration remained. Still, Belém helped me better understand the structural inequalities behind colonial legacies, economic dependencies and development gaps that hinder progress more clearly.
For me, the most inspiring part of COP30 was happening outside the negotiation rooms. At side events, pavilions, press conferences and protests I saw genuine ambition, creativity and hope. Indigenous leaders, youth activists, engineers, farmers, scientists, financiers and faith groups shared experiences and practical solutions. These events showed that real change rarely starts in negotiation rooms, but in communities, institutions, businesses and movements.
Thus, despite all the frustration I didn’t walk away hopeless. Above all, COP30 taught me that multilateralism isn’t where climate action starts, but where it’s formalised. It can accelerate change but people bring it into existence.
Attending COP30 in Belém, Brazil, has been a transformative experience—one that bridged the theoretical foundations of my legal education with the urgent realities of international climate diplomacy.
As an intern with the UNSW Centre for Sustainable Development Reform, I had the extraordinary opportunity to serve as a party delegate for the Republic of Palau, supporting one of the world's most climate-vulnerable nations at my first United Nations climate conference. What unfolded over two intense weeks has fundamentally reshaped my understanding of how international law operates and illuminated the critical stakes for global climate negotiations.
My role centered on two substantial agenda items: the Gender Action Plan and the broader gender-related conversations under the UNFCCC framework, alongside monitoring discussions on the Global Goal on Adaptation (GGA).
The Gender Action Plan work involved navigating the intricate path from informal consultations to formal negotiations. All the while tracking how language evolves and consensus builds—or falters—around issues of gender equity in climate action. Simultaneously,the GGA negotiations provided insight into how countries measure and report adaptation progress. This revealed the complex technical and political dimensions underlying what might seem like straightforward climate commitments.
Beyond these assigned portfolios, I immersed myself in understanding the legal architecture being constructed at COP30. Of particular significance was the discourse surrounding the International Court of Justice Advisory Opinion on climate obligations under international law. The AOSIS coordination meetings revealed the strategic calculations at play: parties debated whether to push for formal recognition of the ICJ opinion's binding nature, weighing the legal and political implications. Some delegation members expressed concern that introducing a second binding source might dilute commitments under the Paris Agreement, while others worried about alienating parties who might shut down crucial negotiations on other issues. These deliberations exposed how climate diplomacy requires not just legal acumen but sophisticated political judgment about when to advance legal arguments and when to prioritize diplomatic progress.
Attending COP30 as an American added an unexpected dimension to my experience. Despite working for the Palauan delegation, I felt acutely aware of the absence left by the Trump administration's decision not to send official U.S. delegates. The void was palpable in negotiating rooms and corridors alike. While no one expected American climate leadership given the administration's stance, its absence nonetheless shifted the dynamics of key negotiations in tangible ways. The United States typically plays a convening role in climate negotiations—not only articulating firm positions but also organizing informal consultations that build consensus among different countries before formal sessions. Without the American influence, other countries were left scrambling to recalibrate their strategies, seemingly uncertain whether to advance more ambitious positions or adopt more conservative stances in the absence of their usual reference point. The leadership that the United States has historically provided—however imperfect—was distinctly missed.
For small island developing states like Palau, which face existential threats from climate change largely caused by historical emissions from wealthy nations, the American retreat underscored the fragility of the multilateralist system. Witnessing this from the perspective of a Pacific island delegation while carrying my own American identity created a profound sense of dissonance and responsibility. It reinforced why international climate law must evolve to ensure that the most vulnerable nations are not left to navigate these crises alone when political winds shift in major emitting countries.
The dedication and resilience of Small Island State negotiators left an indelible impression. Palau operates with a delegation of only eight party members, yet these representatives attended sessions from early morning until late evening, day after day, fighting for their nation's survival. The contrast between their limited resources and the scale of their climate challenges illustrated the profound inequities embedded in our current system. These negotiators aren't merely discussing abstract policy—they're defending their homes, cultures, and futures against rising seas and intensifying storms. Observing their persistence and strategic skill deepened my respect for the professionals engaged in international diplomacy and highlighted the grit required to operate effectively within these multilateral frameworks.
As I return from Belém, I carry both exhaustion and exhilaration. COP30 has been challenging, overwhelming, and deeply rewarding. It confirmed my commitment to working at the intersection of law and climate justice, and strengthened my resolve to continue learning how legal tools can be wielded to protect the world's most vulnerable communities.