By Dipak Kurmi
The promise of a world united against the scourge of plastic pollution collapsed once more in Geneva, where after ten days of painstaking negotiations, five plenary sessions, and countless closed-door meetings, the Intergovernmental Negotiating Committee (INC) under the United Nations Environment Programme ended its second installment of the fifth session in deadlock. The historic ambition to draft the first-ever legally binding treaty on plastic pollution, a mission that began in 2022 with the adoption of a resolution at the United Nations Environment Assembly, has once again been thwarted by deep divisions over scope, ambition, and enforcement. For the second time in eight months, the prospect of consensus was swallowed by entrenched interests, ideological rifts, and the political economy of plastics that cuts across development, trade, and environmental justice.
The negotiations in Geneva revealed not just the disagreements over specific treaty provisions but the deeper, structural crisis in contemporary multilateralism: the inability of nation-states to reconcile environmental urgency with economic dependency. While science makes clear that plastic pollution, from macro-debris to microplastics in human bloodstreams, constitutes a planetary threat on par with climate change, geopolitics once again subordinated ecological imperatives to the imperatives of commerce and sovereignty.
At the core of the collapse was the unresolved question of the treaty’s scope. The draft treaty that was on the table attempted to grapple with the entire life-cycle of plastics—ranging from production to consumption, to disposal and recycling. Yet fundamental definitions, such as what constitutes plastics, what chemicals of concern should be regulated, and whether production cuts were feasible or desirable, proved irreconcilable. The principle that governs these negotiations—“nothing is agreed until everything is agreed”—meant that even partial convergence was rendered meaningless.
The negotiations became polarized between two blocs. On one side stood the “high-ambition coalition,” an alliance of nearly 100 countries led by Norway, Panama, the European Union, and the United Kingdom. This coalition pressed for legally binding measures that would cut plastic production at source, curb toxic additives, and explicitly recognize the health impacts of plastics. They argued that since plastics are derived overwhelmingly from fossil fuels, reducing plastic production would contribute not only to ecological integrity but also to the larger struggle against climate change. Their stance sought to shift the debate away from the management of plastic waste towards a more radical re-imagination of consumption and production patterns.
On the other side stood the “like-minded countries” bloc, consisting largely of petrochemical and oil-producing states such as Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Iran, and Russia, supported by China and India. This group resisted any measures that resembled trade restrictions or threatened their developmental trajectories. For these countries, plastic production was framed as both an economic necessity and a sovereign right. They argued that plastics remain indispensable for development—from healthcare to construction, from agriculture to packaging—and that curbs on production would unfairly constrain the growth prospects of developing countries. In this vision, plastic was not merely an environmental hazard but a developmental resource.
The divisions were dramatized by the controversy surrounding the August 13 draft circulated by INC Chair Luis Vayas Valdivieso. Using the Busan draft as the baseline, the revised document shocked negotiators across the board. It eliminated references to production cuts, omitted definitions of plastics, excluded mentions of chemicals of concern, and instead placed emphasis on voluntary national actions. In effect, it diluted the ambition of the treaty into what critics derided as a glorified waste management instrument. The outcry was immediate and visceral. Delegations described it as “repulsive,” “imbalanced,” and a “betrayal” of the treaty’s founding resolution. The draft, instead of converging perspectives, seemed to alienate both blocs, collapsing the fragile scaffolding of trust that negotiations depend upon.
Responding to the backlash, the Chair attempted to rescue the process in the final 36 hours by initiating fresh consultations and releasing a new draft on August 15. This text was more explicit in recognizing the unsustainable levels of both plastic production and consumption, left the door open to production cuts, and made references to controlling chemicals of concern. While it avoided outright rejection, the new draft also failed to elicit consensus. The oil and petrochemical producers, as expected, opposed it, arguing that it imposed disguised restrictions on trade and industry. The high-ambition coalition, while relieved by some inclusions, remained dissatisfied with what they perceived as half-measures. The Geneva round, like the Busan session before it, ended without a treaty.
India’s role in the negotiations offers a revealing glimpse into the dilemmas of emerging economies caught between environmental responsibility and development imperatives. Aligning itself with the like-minded countries bloc, India opposed production cuts and resisted the inclusion of any global product phase-out lists. This was significant because Annex Y of the Busan draft had proposed the elimination of items such as single-use straws, cutlery, carry bags, rinse-off cosmetics, and microbeads—items that India has domestically already banned or restricted. Yet at the global stage, India opposed such lists on the grounds of national sovereignty, emphasizing the “right to development” of member states.
In Geneva, India reiterated its position that the treaty must not overlap with existing multilateral environmental agreements, and that all decisions must be made by consensus, not voting. It argued that the treaty’s scope was too wide and carried economy-wide implications, and that imposing production cuts or phase-out lists without financial and technological support for developing countries would be inequitable. India also raised the issue of means of implementation, underscoring that without ambitious provisions for finance, technology transfer, and capacity-building, ambitious treaty obligations would merely shift the burden onto the global South. Together with Cuba and Malaysia, India pressed the argument that equity and differentiated responsibilities must underpin any global plastics treaty, echoing the debates that have long haunted climate negotiations.
This insistence on equity points to the larger paradox of environmental diplomacy. The global South is disproportionately impacted by plastic pollution, from clogged rivers to public health crises. Yet it also relies heavily on affordable plastics for development and poverty alleviation. Any attempt to impose uniform global rules thus risks deepening inequalities unless matched by equally ambitious support mechanisms. The Geneva talks failed in part because they could not square this circle: ambitious obligations were not matched by credible commitments of finance and technology transfer.
The failure of Geneva has implications that extend far beyond plastics. It is symptomatic of the wider fragmentation in global environmental governance. Just as climate talks remain gridlocked over issues of finance, loss and damage, and historical responsibility, the plastics treaty negotiations are paralyzed by the same north-south divide. The promise of multilateralism—to reconcile global solidarity with national interest—seems increasingly out of reach.
Yet the urgency of action cannot be overstated. Plastic production has quadrupled in the last three decades, and if current trends continue, it is projected to double again by 2040. Microplastics have been detected in Arctic ice, in placentas, and even in the human bloodstream. The environmental, health, and economic costs are staggering. Without a legally binding global framework, national efforts, however commendable, will remain piecemeal and inadequate. The very nature of plastics—lightweight, durable, transboundary—demands coordinated international action.
The Geneva impasse also highlights a deeper philosophical question: should humanity aim merely to manage the plastic waste crisis, or should it confront the structural drivers of overproduction and overconsumption? The high-ambition coalition insists on the latter, recognizing that waste management alone cannot stem the tide. The like-minded bloc, by contrast, prioritizes sovereignty and development over systemic transformation. Between these positions lies the fragile hope of compromise—a hope that, so far, has proven elusive.
The road ahead remains uncertain. The INC process is not dead, but its credibility has been shaken. Future rounds will have to wrestle with the same unresolved questions, but the window of opportunity is narrowing. Every year of delay allows plastic production to expand, entrenches corporate interests, and magnifies ecological harm. Whether multilateralism can rise to the challenge remains an open question.
The broken promise of a global plastics treaty is not merely about plastics. It is about the crisis of collective action in an era where planetary boundaries are colliding with national boundaries. It is about the politics of inequality that haunt every environmental negotiation. And it is about the choices humanity must make—between convenience and sustainability, between sovereignty and solidarity, between short-term growth and long-term survival. Geneva’s failure, in that sense, is both a setback and a warning. The world cannot afford many more such failures.
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com)
