In Belém, Brazil, where the Amazon River flows like a living artery and the forest stands as the planet’s last great shield, COP30 was intended to be the Implementation COP. It was meant to push global leaders beyond promises and focus on action. Instead, the conference ended with a sober reality that small island states have known for years: the world remains unwilling to act at the speed required by science, justice, and the lived experiences of vulnerable nations.
For the Caribbean, climate diplomacy has never been just a philosophical debate. It is a struggle rooted in the erosion of coastlines, the destruction of coral reefs, the loss of fisheries, and the devastation of homes and livelihoods. It is measured not in tons of carbon, but in displaced families, damaged infrastructure, and economies where the damage sets them decades behind. It marks the difference between communities that rebuild once every generation and families that rebuild every other year.
COP30 unfolded against the flash of fresh disaster. Hurricane Melissa, on the cusp of the conference, delivered a brutal reminder of what is at stake for this region. Jamaica watched its agricultural heartland collapse under floodwaters that drowned crops, displaced farmers, and silenced livelihoods across many sectors. Along with Jamaica, Cuba’s already stretched infrastructure buckled again, bridges destroyed, power grids knocked out, and entire communities plunged back into crisis-response mode. And in Haiti, already straining under political and humanitarian turmoil, Melissa tore through fragile settlements with merciless force, leaving families with neither shelter nor a state capable of rebuilding at scale.
Melissa became the unwelcome preface to COP30: a hurricane that arrived not as weather, but as testimony.
It was in this context that Her Excellency Ambassador Ruleta Camacho-Thomas, Antigua and Barbuda’s Ambassador for Climate Change, spoke to the BBC just hours after negotiations concluded. Her words, calm but clearly tinged with disappointment, cut through the diplomatic haze that often softens these moments. “There’s not been much progress,” she said, “but at least we didn’t backtrack.” It was the kind of controlled verdict familiar to experienced negotiators, indicating both the lack of ambition and the relief that the floor did not give way beneath them.
The Caribbean entered COP30 with clear expectations. Small island states needed the world to take a definitive step toward phasing out fossil fuels. Not vague references to “transitions,” but a timeline that aligns with scientific reality and the survival of nations already straining under 1.4°C of warming. They also needed a breakthrough on adaptation financing: a commitment scaled to the real cost of protecting homes, agriculture, water systems, coastal defences, and public infrastructure. For countries like Antigua and Barbuda, the question is no longer if they will need to rebuild, but how often and with what money.
And above all, COP30 was meant to be a moment of action. After years of big promises and lofty speeches, the world was expected to follow through on its commitments: cutting emissions, expanding renewable energy, providing climate finance, and making Loss & Damage mechanisms operational. Small island states, battered by storm after storm, wanted real ambition, not excuses.
What unfolded instead was a modest advance, far from the urgency demanded by frontline nations. The final text includes language about “working towards tripling adaptation finance,” a hard-fought clause that the Ambassador acknowledged only grudgingly. “That’s not enough,” she told the BBC, noting that this was not where negotiations began. Even so, she conceded that the phrase represented the upper boundary of what was politically possible in the room.
On fossil fuels, the world stepped gingerly back from the decisive action the Caribbean had hoped for. The agreement offered no timeline, no binding commitments, and no closing of loopholes that allow continued fossil fuel expansion under the guise of “abatement.” For the Caribbean, which experiences the consequences of fossil fuel dependence without reaping the wealth, this failure cut particularly deep.
Yet the process did not collapse. In a geopolitical era defined by conflict, mistrust, and fragmentation, the survival of the multilateral framework was itself a fragile victory. “The process works,” Ruleta insisted, “but it is very slow.” Slow is a diplomatic understatement: without the COP structure, global temperatures would be far higher, and small island states would already be in freefall.
Her insistence on the ongoing importance of the process was reinforced by a clear reminder: “It is the only place where the voice of developing countries and small island states is heard. And it is the only place where decisions can be binding.” The Caribbean is aware of the flaws in the COP system, but it has no other forum to present its existential concerns to the world.
What makes Ruleta’s intervention so striking is its refusal to succumb to despair or performative outrage. Instead, she placed responsibility squarely where it belongs, on the actions taken between COPs, not only within them. “Faith without works is nil,” she said, invoking both scripture and strategy. Her message was clear: ambition must now be built in the months ahead, through relentless diplomacy with the Brazilian presidency and like-minded nations, to ensure that COP31 in Turkey is not another summit of half-measures.
As the Caribbean leaves Belém, it carries the weight of Hurricane Melissa’s devastation and the slow pace of global action. Countries like Antigua and Barbuda continue to build resilience: strengthening infrastructure, diversifying the public sector revenue base, and developing mitigation strategies for the economy, but as Ruleta noted, “we cannot do this fast enough before the next storm.” The region needs partnership, financing, and a global shift from rhetoric to responsibility.
COP30 will be remembered as the COP of truth: a moment of forced honesty about the world’s trajectory and about the political constraints choking global ambition. But truth, without courage, is not enough. And courage, without resources, cannot deliver resilience.
The months between Belém and Turkey will reveal whether COP30 was a step forward or a missed opportunity. For the Caribbean, the effort continues because storms won’t wait, seas won’t pause, and the economies of small island nations can’t withstand another decade of global neglect.
The world may be running out of time, but the Caribbean is running out of options.