Ocean treaty: how good is the good news?

There is good news on Climate change. After protracted wrangling and school children-like squabbling that our suited-booted, slick-and-sleek world leaders invariably display on global issues, a unified treaty to protect biodiversity in the high seas, under the auspices of the UN has been put in place. No wonder it took them two weeks of talks and discussions spanning 20 years to come to a consensus. The treaty, per se, envisages creating a new body to regulate commercial activity and ensure conservation of ocean life. After all, oceans constitute half of earth’s surface and are critical for the blue planet’s very survival: oceans that are our great carbon sinks but have been deep-mined for minerals, over-fished and treated as a large human dumping yard. The biggest one I learn is The Great Pacific Garbage Patch which is almost three times the size of France, turned into a stinking island.

Hearing of this treaty the beleaguered dolphins, whales, sea turtle and fish might be tempted to take a day off from their humdrum routines of domesticity and go for a relaxed joy-swim, and may even raise a toast or organize a joint ‘thanks-giving’ rath-yatra with a broad grin of gratitude for the humankind! (As for cheerleaders for shouts and media to sing hosannas, they may SOS my beloved Hindu Rashtra and hire them at small price or even by whispering to them just two words: ED/IT.)

But O ye denizens of the high oceans, beware! You will do well not to be overly optimistic and sanguine. There are many a slip between the cup and the lip. Consensus notwithstanding, there are still some practical knots to untangle: so goes the news. Moreover, when it was last that the Anthropocene man – more particularly the sub-species called ‘politician’ and its close cousin ‘bureaucrat’ –  has honoured such treaties and protocols? Remember the Kyoto protocol? And the Paris climate talks? And the COP 26, 27 and so on? Even many (dunces like me) amongst us humans were tricked by glib talk and clever rhetoric into euphoria generated by some of these protocols and accords. The Kyoto protocol even made us dance and sing with hope and joy. But it was like a sweet dream that turned sore in no time. Let me take you to the COP 27 meet held just recently: November last. Guess who sponsored the meet. It was one of the biggest plastic polluters strutting over the globe with high pride: Coca cola. And the host country?  Egypt: the country loved for its Nile, the Pyramids, the Pharaohs and, above all, the world’s best known seductress, queen Cleopatra, but now known more for its abysmal human rights record.

Therefore, dear marine fellas, do not yet rejoice. We, the walking apes that (mis-) rule the world, are masters in the art of doublespeak. Our utterances and actions are guided by guile and vile. We are selfish hypocrites, and rapacious exploiters of the bounties of mother Nature, and care too hoots for you or for your fellow friends scared and shocked as hell quite like you who inhabit the shrinking greens that adorn the earth. Pristine forests have been razed, mighty mountains and verdant hills have been pulverized and rivers and streams peopled by your cousins dammed and dumped with garbage. Ever heard of the Sundarbans? The exquisitely unique habitat vibrant with wildlife; the home of the proverbial lord of the jungle, the (Royal Bengal) Tiger? Man’s long, powerful (touristy), weaponised arm is busy devastating even such remote and beautiful oases of Nature. Did you not hear Kerala crying while Brahmapuram – once an oasis of green now turned into a waste dump – burns and sends toxic fumes, and has now been visited by (an acid?) rain?

Therefore, whatever this Ocean treaty might claim, take it with a pinch of salt – which happily you have got aplenty – and keep your fingers and fins crossed: for neither you nor do I know how good is the good news!  But if indeed true then all we could say is: der aayast, durust aayast … unless it is already too late.

*