The shift away from fossil fuels could no longer be a slogan
In the Colombian port city of Santa Marta, fifty-seven nations gathered to attempt something the United Nations system has never permitted: an honest, unobstructed conversation about ending humanity's dependence on fossil fuels. By meeting outside the consensus architecture that allows any single petrostate to veto progress, these countries — representing a third of global economic output — chose speed and clarity over universality. What emerged was not merely a set of pledges, but the architecture of a new international process, one that may one day be remembered as the moment the world stopped negotiating around the problem and began negotiating through it.
- Decades of UN climate deadlock — where oil-producing nations could quietly strangle any meaningful commitment — drove 57 countries to build a parallel diplomatic track entirely outside that system.
- The absence of Saudi Arabia, Russia, and other petrostates was not a weakness but a design choice, clearing the room for concrete talk about legal frameworks, fiscal tools, and actual phase-out timelines.
- France put numbers on the table: coal gone by 2030, oil by 2045, gas by 2050 — a national roadmap that now sets a template other nations are expected to match at future summits.
- A new scientific panel under Johan Rockström will translate climate research into policy guidance, giving the process an evidence backbone that previous diplomatic forums often lacked.
- Tuvalu — a nation that may cease to exist if sea levels keep rising — will host the next summit in 2027, anchoring the process in the most urgent possible moral reality.
- A binding fossil fuel treaty, modeled on agreements that eliminated chemical weapons and ozone-depleting substances, is now within diplomatic reach, with twelve Pacific nations already pushing for it.
Last week, fifty-seven countries met in Santa Marta, Colombia, for a summit with a single, unprecedented purpose: coordinating a global end to fossil fuel dependence. The group — including Australia, Canada, Norway, and Brazil — represents roughly a third of world economic output. Crucially, major oil and gas producers like Saudi Arabia and Russia were absent, and that absence was the point. For the first time in decades, nations serious about climate action could speak freely, without petrostates using UN consensus rules to block every proposal.
The traditional UN process, which requires near-universal agreement, produced the Paris Agreement — legitimate precisely because it is global, but perpetually vulnerable to obstruction. Santa Marta offered a different model: smaller, faster, and focused on the practical machinery of transition. Colombia's environment minister Irene Vélez Torres, who chaired the talks, was direct — the shift away from fossil fuels had to become a concrete political commitment, not a recurring slogan.
The summit delivered tangible results. Working groups were formed to help countries build national phase-out plans with specific targets. France presented the most detailed roadmap: coal by 2030, oil by 2045, gas by 2050, with immediate bans on new gas boilers and aggressive electric vehicle targets. A scientific advisory panel, led by Potsdam Institute's Johan Rockström, was launched to guide policy with expertise spanning climate science, economics, and law.
Equally significant was the decision to continue. Tuvalu — a Pacific island nation whose survival is directly threatened by rising seas — will host the next summit in 2027, with Ireland as co-host. Tuvalu's climate minister Maina Talia framed it plainly: solving climate change means confronting the fossil fuel industry itself. Meanwhile, twelve Pacific nations are pushing for a binding international treaty to phase out fossil fuel production entirely, modeled on agreements that have already eliminated chemical weapons and ozone-depleting substances.
What Santa Marta created is a two-speed climate diplomacy: the UN's slower, universal lane still exists, but a faster lane now runs alongside it. The outcomes from Colombia are expected to raise the bar at the next UN climate summit in Turkey this November. The full weight of what happened in Santa Marta may only be legible in hindsight — but the structural deadlock that has held global climate action hostage for decades has, for the first time, been routed around.
Fifty-seven countries gathered last week in the Colombian port city of Santa Marta for something that has never happened before: an international summit dedicated entirely to ending the world's dependence on fossil fuels. The group, which includes Australia, Canada, Norway, and Brazil, represents roughly a third of global economic output. What made this meeting historic was not just who showed up, but who stayed home. The absence of major oil and gas producers—Saudi Arabia, Russia, and others whose economies depend on hydrocarbon sales—meant that for the first time in decades, countries serious about climate action could talk openly about how to actually do it, without a handful of petrostates using consensus rules to block every proposal.
The traditional path for global climate agreements runs through the United Nations, where nearly 200 countries must agree on every detail. That process produced the Paris Agreement in 2015, which carries enormous legitimacy precisely because it is truly universal. But universality comes at a cost: any single nation can veto progress. For years, fossil fuel producers have used that power to water down language, delay timelines, and soften commitments. Santa Marta offered a different model. Without the requirement for consensus among all nations, delegates could focus on the practical machinery of transition—the legal frameworks, the fiscal mechanisms, the economic restructuring that actually moving away from coal, oil, and gas would require. Colombia's environment minister, Irene Vélez Torres, who chaired the talks, put it plainly: the shift away from fossil fuels could no longer be a slogan. It had to become a concrete political commitment.
The summit produced several concrete outcomes. Working groups were established to help countries develop national and regional plans with specific targets and timelines for phasing out each fuel source. France, Europe's second-largest economy, unveiled its roadmap at the summit: coal gone by 2030, oil by 2045, gas by 2050. The country plans to close its last coal plant next year, electrify transportation so that two of every three new cars are electric by 2030, and replace gas heating with heat pumps in homes. It will ban the installation of gas boilers in new buildings this year. Other nations are now expected to draft similar plans and present them at future summits. A new scientific panel, led by Professor Johan Rockstrom from the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research, was launched to advise policymakers on the most effective policies, regulations, and financial tools to support the transition. The panel will draw on expertise in climate science, economics, technology, and law.
Perhaps most significantly, the summit established that this is not a one-time event. Tuvalu, a low-lying Pacific island nation whose very existence is threatened by rising seas, will host the next summit in 2027, with Ireland as co-host. That a second meeting is already scheduled signals something important: this is the birth of a new international process, not a flash of diplomatic activity that will fade. Tuvalu's climate minister, Maina Talia, framed the stakes clearly: addressing climate change means addressing its root cause, which is the fossil fuel industry itself. The Pacific island has long been a leader in global climate diplomacy, and its commitment to hosting the next summit carries weight.
There is also momentum building toward something even more ambitious: a formal international treaty to phase out fossil fuel production, modeled on existing agreements that have phased out weapons, ozone-depleting chemicals, and hazardous waste. Such a treaty would have three pillars: ending new fossil fuel expansion, phasing down existing production, and ensuring a just transition for workers and communities dependent on those industries. Tuvalu and eleven other Pacific nations are pushing hard for this. Today, fossil fuel producers are planning to extract more than twice as much coal, oil, and gas in 2030 as would be compatible with the world's climate goals. A binding treaty would change that calculus.
What emerges from Santa Marta is a two-speed system for climate diplomacy. The UN talks remain the slower lane—consensus-based, universal, legitimate precisely because nearly every nation on Earth has a seat at the table. But there is now a faster lane available to any country willing to move decisively. The outcomes from Santa Marta will feed back into the next UN climate summit in Turkey in November, raising expectations that countries will include fossil fuel phase-out timelines in their national climate plans. The full historical significance of what happened in Colombia may only become clear years from now. But what is already visible is that the deadlock that has stalled global climate action for decades has been broken—not by changing the rules of the UN, but by creating a parallel process where the rules are different.
Citas Notables
We decided that the transition away from fossil fuels could no longer remain a slogan but must become a concrete, political and collective endeavour.— Irene Vélez Torres, Colombia's environment minister
If we are to address the climate change issue, we have to address the root cause, and the root cause is the fossil fuel industry.— Maina Talia, Tuvalu's climate change minister
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter that these 57 countries met outside the UN framework? Couldn't they have just pushed harder inside the existing system?
Because inside the UN, a single country can block everything. Saudi Arabia or Russia can say no, and the whole thing stalls. Santa Marta worked because the countries that wanted to move fast could actually talk without that veto hanging over them.
But doesn't that weaken the legitimacy of what they agreed to? If it's not universal, isn't it just a club?
It's a club, yes—but a club that represents a third of global GDP and includes major economies like Canada and Australia. And the point isn't to replace the UN. It's to create a faster track that feeds back into the UN process. The working groups and timelines they developed will now shape what countries propose at the November climate talks in Turkey.
What about the countries that weren't invited—the ones that depend on oil and gas sales?
They weren't excluded; they chose not to come. And that's the whole point. If you're Saudi Arabia or Russia, a summit about phasing out fossil fuels isn't a place you want to be. But that also means the countries that did show up could have real conversations about how to actually do this without being blocked.
France's timeline seems aggressive—coal by 2030, gas by 2050. Is that realistic?
France has already closed most of its coal plants and gets most of its electricity from nuclear power, so coal by 2030 is achievable for them. Gas is harder because it's used for heating and some industry. But they're putting concrete plans in place—heat pumps, electric cars, bans on new gas boilers. It's not just a promise; it's a roadmap with specific actions.
What happens if countries don't meet these timelines?
That's the open question. Right now there's no enforcement mechanism. But the fact that Tuvalu is hosting the next summit in 2027 means countries will have to report back on progress. And there's talk of a formal treaty, which would have real teeth. That's what they're building toward.