UN Convenes First Formal Talks on Phasing Out Fossil Fuels Amid Ongoing Deadlock

In late April 2026, delegates from roughly 60 countries filed into conference halls in Santa Marta, a Colombian port city that, not coincidentally, ships coal for a living. Their purpose was unprecedented: to hold the first international conference explicitly dedicated to planning the end of fossil fuel production [1][2]. The gathering, co-hosted by the governments of Colombia and the Netherlands, arrived at a moment of acute frustration with the United Nations climate process, where the consensus rule has given a handful of oil-producing states the power to block action for three decades [3].

The conference delivered what organizers called an "unambiguous political mandate" to begin formal negotiations for a Fossil Fuel Treaty within a year, with a follow-up conference planned for Tuvalu [1]. Twenty-four countries signed the Belém Declaration on the Just Transition Away from Fossil Fuels [2]. But the world's largest fossil fuel producers — the United States, China, Saudi Arabia, and Russia — were absent from the room [4].

How the UN Process Broke Down

To understand why Santa Marta happened, start with COP30. The UN climate summit in Belém, Brazil, in November 2025 was supposed to build on the landmark COP28 language that, for the first time in 28 years of climate negotiations, named fossil fuels as the primary driver of warming and called for "a transition away" from them [5]. Instead, the final COP30 agreement dropped the words "fossil fuels" entirely [6].

More than 80 countries had pushed for a global roadmap to guide the transition, but intense opposition from Saudi Arabia and Russia prevented consensus [7]. UN Secretary-General António Guterres publicly singled out Saudi Arabia for being obstructive [7]. The Brazilian COP presidency, caught between competing blocs, opted for a compromise "Belém political package" that promised future roadmaps but committed to nothing binding [6].

The failure was not a surprise to those who have watched the UNFCCC process. Since COP1 in 1995, every decision has required consensus — a rule that OPEC members successfully insisted on during the convention's early procedural negotiations [3]. In practice, this means any single country can block the rest of the world from acting [8].

The Consensus Trap: Procedure vs. Substance

How much of the deadlock is structural versus genuine disagreement? The answer is both, but the procedural architecture amplifies the substantive divisions.

Under UNFCCC rules, all 198 parties must agree before any decision is adopted. This gives outsized power to a small bloc of fossil fuel exporters. Saudi Arabia, Russia, Kuwait, and Iran have repeatedly used this leverage to water down or block language on fossil fuels in final COP texts [8][3].

Reform proposals exist. At COP17 in 2011, Mexico and Papua New Guinea submitted a proposal to amend the UNFCCC to allow decisions by three-fourths majority vote — a mechanism that would have bypassed the consensus requirement, since changes to the convention itself can be made by supermajority [9]. The proposal never gained enough support and has sat on the provisional agenda of subsequent COPs for over a decade [9].

Climate advocacy groups have called for additional reforms: mandatory conflict-of-interest disclosure for delegates, limits on fossil fuel industry lobbyists at COPs, and a code of conduct with transparency criteria [10]. But reforming the consensus rule itself requires consensus — a circular problem that has so far proved insoluble within the system [9].

This is why Santa Marta matters. The conference operated outside the UNFCCC entirely, as a self-described "coalition of the willing" [2]. Organizers stressed it was meant to complement, not replace, the COP process [1]. But its existence is an implicit admission that the COP system, as currently structured, cannot deliver on fossil fuels.

Who Is Blocking — and Why

Fossil fuel opposition within climate talks is not monolithic. It includes wealthy petrostates defending economic models built on extraction, developing countries dependent on fossil fuel revenue for basic government services, and geopolitical actors who see energy supply as a strategic instrument.

Saudi Arabia derives the bulk of its government revenue from oil. Russia's public revenues from fossil fuel production and consumption account for 34% of general government revenue [11]. Iraq is in an even more extreme position: fossil fuels fund approximately 90% of salaries and social benefits paid by the Iraqi government [12].

Source: IISD / UNDP

Data as of Jan 1, 2024CSV

For these countries, the objection to phase-out language is not abstract. Iraq's stated position is that it cannot transition its economy without decades of preparation and massive external financing that has not materialized [12]. Saudi Arabia has argued that the UNFCCC should focus on emissions, not the energy sources that produce them — a distinction that would protect continued fossil fuel production paired with carbon capture technology [7].

Russia's opposition operates on a different plane. Beyond economic dependence, Moscow has used energy exports as a geopolitical tool — most visibly in its gas supply relationship with Europe — and views proposals to constrain fossil fuel production as threats to its strategic position [7].

The "transition" versus "phase-out" language debate is central. At COP28, the final text used "transition away from fossil fuels," deliberately avoiding the word "phase-out" that many countries had sought [5]. At COP30, even "transition" language was dropped. The number of countries that have formally endorsed "phase-out" language — meaning a complete end to fossil fuel production — stands at roughly 60, the same group that attended Santa Marta [2]. The remaining 130-plus UNFCCC parties have either opposed it outright or declined to commit.

The Economic Case Against Rapid Phase-Out

The strongest argument made by fossil-fuel-dependent states and energy-security advocates is not that climate change is unreal, but that a rapid phase-out is economically and technically infeasible without causing severe harm, particularly to the world's poorest populations.

The numbers are substantial. A 2022 IISD study estimated that under a net-zero-by-2050 scenario, the BRIICS countries (Brazil, Russia, India, Indonesia, China, South Africa) collectively face a $570 billion annual revenue gap compared to business as usual, with the widest gaps in India ($178 billion), China ($140 billion), and Russia ($134 billion) [11]. For the average fossil fuel-exporting country, fossil fuels generate 14.3% of GDP in rents, account for more than 60% of exports, and likely represent more than a third of total government revenue [13].

Grid reliability presents another challenge. Global renewable energy capacity reached 3,372 GW in 2023, a 260% increase since 2010, but grid infrastructure has not kept pace [14]. Some 1,500 GW of renewable projects are waiting in advanced development queues for grid connection — five times the solar and wind capacity added worldwide last year [14]. New grid infrastructure takes 5 to 15 years to plan, permit, and build, compared with 1 to 5 years for new renewable generation projects [15].

Energy poverty remains acute. In 2024, emerging markets and developing economies received only 15% of global clean energy investment [16]. Countries transitioning away from fossil fuels face competing demands: growing electricity needs, high capital costs, and difficulty accessing finance for adequate power infrastructure [16]. For a country like Nigeria, where the oil and gas sector accounts for 60% of government revenue and 90% of export earnings [12], a rapid phase-out without massive external support would be fiscally devastating.

However, this argument has limits. The same IISD research noted that Indonesia's oil and gas revenues fell from 35% of total revenue in 2001 to 16% in 2019, while GDP growth and budget stability were maintained through economic diversification [11]. The costs of inaction are also large: climate damages under a no-action scenario are projected to cost the global economy far more than the transition itself, with the most vulnerable economies bearing disproportionate costs from extreme weather, agricultural disruption, and sea-level rise [13].

The Financing Gap: Promises vs. Reality

Developing countries have consistently demanded that wealthy nations — historically responsible for the majority of cumulative emissions — finance the transition. The track record of these commitments is poor.

The Loss and Damage Fund, agreed at COP27 in 2022 and formally established at COP28 in 2023, has received $817 million in pledges from 27 countries as of late 2025 [17]. Experts estimate that vulnerable nations may require $580 billion by 2030 to address climate-related loss and damage [17].

Source: NRDC / UNFCCC

Data as of Nov 1, 2025CSV

The gap between $817 million pledged and $580 billion needed illustrates the scale of the credibility problem. Not a single wealthy nation has set a binding target for loss and damage finance [17]. The United States has explicitly rejected any obligation to compensate developing countries for climate-related loss and damage [17]. The fund fell short of its $300 million annual fundraising target in both 2023 and 2024 [17].

At Santa Marta, developing-country delegates repeatedly raised this financing deficit as a precondition for meaningful engagement with phase-out timelines [2]. Their position is straightforward: countries that industrialized on cheap fossil fuels for two centuries cannot ask the global South to abandon the same resources without providing alternative economic pathways at scale.

Historical Precedents: Montreal, Paris, and the Pattern of Breakthrough

Is the current deadlock a sign of permanent failure, or a stage in a pattern that eventually resolves? History offers mixed signals.

The Montreal Protocol on ozone-depleting substances, signed in 1987, is the most frequently cited success story. From the discovery of the ozone hole in 1985 to a binding agreement took just 18 months [18]. But the comparison is misleading in important ways. CFCs were produced by a handful of chemical companies, and viable substitutes already existed. Fossil fuels underpin the entire global energy system and have no single drop-in replacement [18].

Still, the Montreal negotiations encountered their own deadlocks. The European Community and OPEC countries vigorously opposed the comprehensive controls favored by the US and Canada [18]. A special scientific conference in Würzburg, Germany in April 1987 broke the impasse by presenting evidence so compelling that holdout governments shifted position [18]. The key insight: deadlock was broken not by procedural reform but by making the cost of inaction undeniable.

The Paris Agreement followed a different path. After the top-down, legally binding Kyoto Protocol failed to achieve broad participation (the US never ratified; Canada withdrew), Paris adopted a bottom-up model of nationally determined contributions (NDCs) with no enforcement mechanism [19]. The result was near-universal participation — 196 parties — but weak compliance. As of 2025, global emissions continued to rise, and no major emitter was on track to meet its Paris commitments [20].

The July 2025 advisory opinion from the International Court of Justice added a new legal dimension. The ICJ ruled unanimously that the 1.5°C temperature target is legally binding under the Paris Agreement and that states have obligations under customary international law to take preventive and precautionary measures against climate harm — including through regulating fossil fuel production, consumption, and subsidies [21]. While advisory opinions are not directly enforceable, the ICJ's finding that continued fossil fuel licensing could constitute an "internationally wrongful act" gives legal ammunition to climate litigation worldwide [21].

Enforcement: The Missing Piece

The proposed Fossil Fuel Treaty, as discussed at Santa Marta, would aim to be legally binding — a framework with monitoring and enforcement mechanisms that carry legal consequences for non-compliance [22]. Proponents argue this is essential. Unlike non-binding commitments, binding rules help governments resist domestic pressure from fossil fuel interests and constrain future administrations from backsliding [22].

For a supply-side treaty to work, scholars have identified three requirements: stable participation from all major producers, deep commitments to substantial production cuts, and a potent enforcement system [22]. None of these conditions are currently met. The world's three largest oil producers — the US, Saudi Arabia, and Russia — are not participants. And even among willing countries, the gap between commitment and compliance is historically wide.

The Kyoto Protocol's experience is instructive. Despite binding targets for developed countries, Canada exceeded its emissions reduction obligations and simply withdrew from the treaty in 2011 rather than face penalties [19]. The Paris Agreement's enforcement mechanism consists primarily of periodic reporting and peer review — what critics call "name and shame" — with no material penalties for non-compliance [19].

Whether the Santa Marta coalition can build something stronger remains to be seen. The 24 signatories to the Belém Declaration represent a fraction of global fossil fuel production. Without the participation of major producers, any treaty would govern a small share of global supply while competitors continue extracting.

What Comes Next

The Santa Marta conference established a timeline: formal treaty negotiations to begin within a year, with a second conference hosted by Tuvalu — a Pacific island nation facing existential threat from rising seas [1]. The choice of Tuvalu as the next host is deliberate symbolism: a country whose survival depends on the decisions of fossil fuel producers thousands of miles away.

The conference also intersects with a shifting legal landscape. The ICJ's July 2025 advisory opinion gives states a new legal framework for arguing that fossil fuel production and subsidization violate international law [21]. Climate litigation is accelerating in domestic courts worldwide, and the ICJ opinion provides persuasive authority that judges may cite [21].

Meanwhile, the UNFCCC process continues. COP31 is scheduled for late 2026. Whether the Santa Marta coalition can generate enough momentum to break the consensus deadlock at COP — or whether the two tracks will diverge permanently — is the central question of international climate politics going forward.

The structural challenge remains unchanged. Sixty countries can declare their willingness to phase out fossil fuels. But without the participation of the countries that produce and consume the majority of them, and without financial commitments that make transition viable for dependent economies, declarations remain just that. The gap between the $817 million pledged to the Loss and Damage Fund and the $580 billion estimated need [17] — a ratio of roughly 700 to 1 — measures the distance between ambition and action.