
IT IS perhaps inevitably being trailed as a last chance to avert disaster. But when the world gathers in Kunming, China, later this year to finalise a much-delayed global deal on biodiversity, the fate of the universe’s only known biosphere will lie in the negotiators’ hands. “We’re in crisis mode,” says Eric Dinerstein, former chief scientist at conservation group WWF. “We have 10 years before we surpass critical tipping points that would lead to irreversible biodiversity loss.”
At the centre of the deal under negotiation is a new, ambitious target that goes far beyond previous, failed commitments to protect biodiversity. Catchily titled “30 by 30”, it would commit nations to setting aside 30 per cent of Earth’s land and seas for nature by 2030. For many conservation biologists, it is a breakthrough even to see it on the table. But nerves are also jangling. Will 30 by 30 make it through – and if it does, will the world act, and will it be enough?
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Biodiversity is important. Even if we cannot bring ourselves to preserve it for its own sake, we should at least do so for selfish reasons. Intact nature provides a range of “ecosystem services”, from life support, such as clean air and water, fertile soils and pollination, to psychological benefits and protection from climate change, extreme weather and natural disasters – not to mention a reduced risk of “spillover” diseases like covid-19. The Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services lists .
Yet we have hardly taken heed. The was set up following the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro to coordinate efforts to conserve biodiversity, and it has since been signed by every UN member state bar the US. But we have consistently missed the goals it has set. That applies to all 20 of the last lot, agreed for the decade from 2010. Called the Aichi Biodiversity Targets, they covered everything from removing subsidies from activities harmful to biodiversity to halving habitat loss and adopting sustainable farming practices.
But they weren’t a total write-off. One salvageable achievement , such as conservation sites and nature reserves. The concept of ring-fencing areas was first proposed in 1972 by ecologist brothers Eugene and Howard Odum. “It would be prudent to strive to preserve 50 per cent [of Earth],” . It has since become a cornerstone of conservation policy. “We know that protected areas, when they’re done right, are really important for preserving biodiversity,” says Paul Leadley at Paris-Saclay University in France.
The first iterations of such “area-based conservation” focused on preserving “representative samples” of all known ecosystems, on the basis that there was an ethical and practical imperative not to let things go extinct, but that room was also required for human development. This led to an initial suggestion that around should be left to nature’s devices. , but was partially upped in Aichi to 17 per cent on land and 10 per cent in the ocean by 2020. These targets were again missed, but by 2020, 15 per cent of land and 7 per cent of the sea was protected. Flushed with this sort-of success, the CBD declared the goal “partially achieved”.
Yet even as early as 2010, many biologists were arguing for far higher targets, based on a realisation that representative samples weren’t enough. Effective conservation meant keeping species in their natural distribution and abundance, building buffers against extinction and enabling the whole ecosystem to function, while keeping ecosystem services healthy and building resilience to environmental changes such as global warming.
That requires more land. “There are many studies now showing that if we want to protect not only the biodiversity and all the benefits that it provides to humanity, including carbon sequestration and storage and freshwater provision, we need about half of the planet in its natural state,” says marine biologist Enric Sala at the National Geographic Society. The CBD . Most studies settle on 50 per cent plus and some go as high as 80 per cent. A few dip below 30 per cent, but always with disclaimers. Importantly, says Stephen Woodley at the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), there are no studies showing that healthy biodiversity can be maintained with much less than 30 per cent.
That’s why the 30 by 30 ambition has become so central to the negotiations ahead of COP15 in Kunming, the latest CBD conference. It would mean roughly doubling conserved land areas and quadrupling protected marine areas. This is an extremely ambitious target, says Leadley, and there are all sorts of nagging fears: that 30 by 30 will be watered down or dropped from the final text; that if it does make the cut, it won’t be reached; and that if it is reached, it won’t achieve its stated goal of effectively protecting biodiversity.

“The 30 by 30 target is an absolute must-have for any global agreement to be successful,” says Brian O’Donnell, director of , a global coalition of conservation organisations. “It must remain in the final agreement.” The draft has already been through considerable peer review, but that doesn’t mean it will survive final negotiations among high-level government representatives. “As we get closer to signing, I suspect there’ll be some resistance,” says Woodley.
That resistance is likely to come from low-income countries where most of the planet’s remaining biodiversity resides. Their beef is that high-income nations have already wrecked their own biodiversity in pursuit of economic growth, and now want them to resist doing the same. “Countries like Brazil are saying: ‘OK, you want me to protect the Amazon – what’s in it for me?'” says Woodley. “They’re stating that rather forcefully and they’re not wrong.” The negotiations will quite possibly hinge on a sticking point familiar from climate negotiations: the readiness of higher-income countries to compensate biodiversity-rich lower-income countries for doing much of the heavy lifting. “It’s all about the money,” says Woodley.
Some money does already flow. The US aid budget, for example, rainforest . In 2015, the Seychelles had . But auguries from other multilateral international negotiations aren’t good. At the 2015 Paris climate talks, richer nations agreed to pay poorer ones $100 billion a year to mitigate the effects of climate change. The money has yet to appear in full. “When, precisely, are we peoples of the south going to be compensated for these ravages that have been caused by the northern hemisphere?” asked Madagascar’s foreign minister, Djacoba Liva Tehindrazanarivelo, at the recent , France. “Give us our money back.”
If some agreement over financing can be reached, there is just about enough pristine nature available to protect 30 per cent, says Woodley. According to Dinerstein, now at the Resolve non-governmental organisation in Washington DC, is either untouched or relatively untouched by human influence, above all in the Sahara desert, the Amazon basin, the Australian outback and the tundra and boreal forests of the Arctic (see map, above). When you add in areas home to Indigenous peoples that are generally high in biodiversity, we might even have technically reached the 30-by-30 target already.
What 30 by 30 would end up meaning, however, is open. It is currently framed as a global goal, but could become a series of national ones, with each country setting aside 30 per cent of its land and sea area. If so, extensive ecological restoration will have to be carried out in nations such as the UK , says Leadley.
But for all the pitfalls, there is growing oomph behind 30 by 30. More than 100 nations, including many low-income ones, have joined either the , which is committed to 30 by 30 on land and sea, or the , or both. “We’re excited that momentum is actually growing for this target,” says O’Donnell. That said, some large countries housing a lot of biodiversity, including Brazil, China, Russia, Indonesia and the US, have yet to sign up.
But while it seems obvious that protecting large segments of Earth’s surface will also safeguard biodiversity, there is more to it than brute numbers. For a start, protecting an area that has seen very little human influence will not necessarily do much to help biodiversity. “Biodiversity is distributed very unevenly on planet Earth,” says Woodley. It is equally important to preserve the right places, to manage them well and to connect them up where possible to increase their effectiveness.
All of these goals were in the Aichi targets and are in the draft of the new ones. This is, in part, why the 20 Aichi targets were missed, says Piero Visconti at the International Institute for Applied Systems Analysis in Laxenburg, Austria. Too many nations in places that were “disproportionately unimportant for biodiversity”, he says, such as in , and too many new areas were “paper parks” with boundaries drawn on maps but little or no management or actual protection put in place.
Indeed, even though areas under protection have increased since 2010, protection of biodiversity hasn’t increased proportionately, says Sean Maxwell at the Centre for Biodiversity and Conservation Science at the University of Queensland in Australia. The fear is that, even if 30 by 30 makes the final cut, new protected areas will be similarly toothless – and there is little that can be done to prevent it, says Woodley. Though the IUCN has laid down formal definitions of what constitutes protection, and has got better at measuring and monitoring, “it doesn’t stop countries from cheating, it can’t solve the corruption that lies at the heart of the issue”, says Woodley.
Resourcing is a real concern, says Leadley, and the danger is 30 by 30 might backfire if countries spread already-scarce resources even more thinly. Negotiators may also smuggle some cheats into the treaty, such as allowing heavily managed forests or even palm plantations carved from richly biodiverse tropical rainforests to be counted towards the target. “That’s false accounting, and that would be tragic,” says Dinerstein.
Ultimately, achieving 30 by 30 relies on so many things that have gone wrong in the past going right in the future that it would be foolish to invest too much optimism in it, he says. And it is just one of 21 targets in the draft treaty. “It is an important part, but it’s largely insufficient to achieve the overall objectives,” says Leadley. We also need to make sure other causes of biodiversity loss are managed, he says – things like climate change, pollution and invasive species that don’t respect the boundaries of protected areas.
And if the CBD process were all we had, we would be right to be worried, says Dinerstein – but it isn’t. “I think change is going to come from a coalition led by scientists, young people, Indigenous peoples and local communities and by civil society that will force governments to act,” he says. “I’m optimistic that we can save life on Earth. It takes crises for humanity to respond, but we do respond.”

Indigenous protectors
Much of Earth’s most biodiverse land surface is already extremely well-protected – it just isn’t formally recognised as such. Across the world, from the Arctic to the South Pacific Ocean, some 80 per cent of Earth’s remaining biodiversity is thought to be in territories managed and owned by Indigenous peoples.
About 7 per cent of the land listed in the maintained by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) and the United Nations Environment Programme is Indigenous, but another 17 per cent of Earth’s surface is owned, occupied or managed by Indigenous people and local communities, says Eric Dinerstein, former chief scientist at WWF. “Indigenous groups do a better job of protecting biodiversity than governments do,” he says. If you add it all up, he says, we have arguably already exceeded the crucial target of protecting 30 per cent of Earth’s land surface.
The problem is that Indigenous land claims often aren’t recognised by governments. “We should be doing everything we can to finance and empower Indigenous groups to have sovereignty over their lands,” says Dinerstein. “That would be the cheapest thing to do by far, and have the biggest effect.”
Indigenous people are often under-represented and marginalised at international environmental summits. At last year’s IUCN World Conservation Congress in Marseilles, France, an officially organised group of Indigenous communities . At the COP26 climate talks in Glasgow, UK, though, they were once again pushed to the sidelines.
Biodiversity negotiations have traditionally been more inclusive. Since 1996, the Forum on Biodiversity has had a seat at the negotiating table, and a spokesperson for the Convention on Biological Diversity says that it is “committed to the effective participation of Indigenous peoples… in recognition of their fundamental role in the successful implementation of the new framework”.
Indigenous peoples’ participation was also a key part of the Aichi Biodiversity Targets, which ran from 2010 to 2020. Along with all the others, that target was missed, though there were some isolated wins: in 2018, for example, Costa Rica enshrined a mechanism to consult its Indigenous groups over any action that would affect them. Brian O’Donnell at the Campaign for Nature says that negotiations have made progress on Indigenous rights, but there is still room for improvement. And of course, as many Indigenous people know only too well, just because a deal is signed doesn’t mean it will be honoured.