Activism
Diyora Shadijanova takes us behind the scenes at one of the most important climate conferences of our time.
A tale of two cities, and a tale of two climate movements.
The first few days of the 40,000 people-strong conference were overwhelming and confusing.
I naively thought Id be inside the rooms where all the big discussions and negotiations would take place.
I imagined myself asking the real questions, and holding world leaders accountable.
What I found instead was an atmosphere of high-functioning chaos.
At times it felt like I was back at my university library during exam season.
Logical, I thought.
I also made notes of planned protests to look out for, too.
Getting into the Blue Zone before 11am was virtually impossible, so I avoided the queues until the afternoon.
Was it for the optics, or for real change?
The food too was disappointing.
The Media Centre was another building dedicated to hot-desking.
Accessibility was another huge issue.
Travel restrictions and extortionate accommodation costs meant many delegates from the Global South were unable to attend.
On Nov. 6,200,000 people gathered to demand climate justice, inviting indigenous activists to take centre stage.
At least for a moment, hope was a tangible reality.
As the protesters marched through torrential Scottish rain, they shouted loudly and held their banners and placards high.
Even terrible weather couldnt dampen their infectious energy.
The energy shift between these two organisers was unbelievable.
The COP26 Coalition inspired hope and direct action, while still carrying the message of urgency.
The question now is: Was COP26 a failure?
In truth, its complicated.
