Why the ‘ugly duckling’ of nature conferences is about to have a coming-out party in Canada

Once upon a time in Rio de Janeiro, twin treaties were born. One was designed to halt climate change; the other to save nature — forests, rivers, oceans, prairies, bogs, tundra, and every other wild place, and all the animals that depend on them.

The “parents” of the two treaties, international delegates at the 1992 United Nations-led Earth Summit, had high hopes these sister conventions would save the planet.

The climate-change convention grew up in the spotlight. Every time delegates came together to negotiate it — most recently in Egypt last month — heads of state, civil society leaders, and the world press descended. But after 30 years of disappointment, many grew disenchanted with the treaty’s prospects of halting global warming.

The nature agreement, formally known as the United Nations Convention on Biological Diversity, received far less attention.

“I always felt like the Convention on Biological Diversity was kind of like the ugly duckling of international global policy,” says Faisal Moola, a professor at the University of Guelph and former director general of the David Suzuki Foundation environmental group.

But over the next two weeks in Montreal, the treaty is having what may be its coming-out party. More than 20,000 delegates from around the world are arriving to negotiate a new agreement that will create a road map for the next decade to stop the loss of nature — a decline so profound that researchers have said we are facing a mass-extinction event.

Canada is expected to push for an ambitious new target of protecting 30 per cent of the planet by 2030, and the government has already committed to that goal domestically. But the international agreement could still be undermined by mushy language, insufficient funding and withering political will — a potent anxiety after the still-fresh letdown of what were widely considered to be failed climate talks in Egypt.

Nonetheless, those heading to Montreal are expressing what appears to be genuine optimism.

“Can we get there? Yes,” says Aerin Jacob, director of science and research at the Nature Conservancy of Canada.

“Will we? We have to.”

Another major source of optimism, and a big part of the reason Canada has made progress toward its goals, is because of a push to prioritize Indigenous-led conservation. Millions of hectares within Canada, including swaths of intact wilderness the size of entire foreign countries, have been designated as Indigenous Protected and Conserved Areas, under the belief that the best stewards of these lands are the original ones.

“We are seeing a trend of recognition of the work by Indigenous peoples globally,” says Valérie Courtois, executive director of the Indigenous Leadership Initiative.

While the so-called “30 by 30” target is important, Courtois said, she also wants to see recognition of the rights and titles of Indigenous peoples baked into the language of every target, and something more intangible: an appreciation of the connection between people and the land.

“We care about the outcomes, because our very future as peoples is at stake when it comes to this work,” Courtois said.

The last time the parties to the convention met was in Japan in 2010. A set of 20 goals emerged from that meeting, including a headline target of protecting 17 per cent of the Earth’s lands and fresh waters by 2020 and 10 per cent of its oceans.

None of those targets were fully met internationally, and the planned followup conference was postponed several times because of the pandemic. China was originally supposed to host the delayed meeting this fall, but because of uncertainties about COVID-19 the location was switched to Montreal, where the secretariat for the Convention on Biological Diversity has been located since its inception after the 1992 Earth Summit (Canada was the very first signatory).

Canada’s own achievements in meeting those targets were mixed. The country leapt from protecting only one per cent of its oceans to covering 14 per cent, though environmental groups have argued that some of the mechanisms used for protection are too porous and leave marine species at risk.

On land, Canada is just shy of 14 per cent protection as well, well shy of the 17 per cent goal. But momentum built since 2010 — including funding for dozens of Indigenous Protected and Conserved Areas that have either been established or are being planned.

One of those is the Seal River Watershed, a vast area in the far north of Manitoba that is bigger than Costa Rica and almost completely untouched, even by roads.

“The place that I call home, that I was raised in, is a place that doesn’t really exist in a lot of places in the world. And we understand the huge importance that it holds to protect a place like this,” says Stephanie Thorassie, executive director of the Seal River Watershed Alliance.

“It’s a fully intact watershed. Every area in the watershed that the water touches is the way it’s been since my great, great, great great-grandparents used to walk and follow the caribou.”

The watershed is an excellent example of why the twin treaties to combat climate change and biodiversity loss are actually conjoined. The area is home to 23 species at risk, including polar bears, beluga whales, grizzly bears, and barren-ground caribou. Its peatlands also store two billion tonnes of carbon — the equivalent, Thorassie noted, of eight years of annual greenhouse-gas emissions in Canada.

The degradation of nature accelerates the effects of climate change, while the protection of nature provides respite from its worst consequences, experts say.

Moola noted that Canada’s Boreal Forest stores more carbon than the Amazon rainforest. It is the largest terrestrial carbon storehouse in the world, in fact, and currently holds 11 of the Earth’s total.

“We are one of the places on the planet where if you’re going to get this done right, it has to be done here in Canada,” he said.

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