Ramsar is a name of city in Iran. It’s also the name of a major international treaty (or “convention” ) designed to guide the protection of wetlands, which was signed in the city of Ramsar. Every three years, Ramsar convenes a CoP (council of the signatory parties to the convention) to discuss how well the agreement still works and what needs to be updated or revised. Last November, Ramsar was in Changwon, South Korea, which is a small city near the southern coastline.

Changwon was swarmed by some 1200 delegates from the countries that have ratified the convention as well as outside groups (such as my employer) that wish to play a role in the negotiation process. Negotiations happen in all manner of ways — within the central chamber with all parties (through prepared speeches, called interventions ), within small side rooms (which tend to topical and confrontational ), and of course hallways, which are always the most important places for making real decisions.

Nonetheless, the big room is important at Ramsar. It’s where the concerned parties define their initial positions and make their grand public statements. Most of the people who really care about a particular issue signal to their audiences where they want their positions to begin. I was there in the role of someone contributing to two draft resolutions on climate change and wetlands for an important NGO, in a delegation of about 20 people. It was my first CoP of any kind, Ramsar included.

On the second day, we had gotten to the general discussion on the climate change resolutions by the country delegates. Delegates were making their interventions by the order they had approached the acting chair, running through the country delegates and then any of the NGOs. A colleague — I’ll call her X — walked up to me. I believe you will be speaking after Norway. What, I said.

You will be delivering our organization’s position on these draft resolutions on climate adaptation, said X. I see. And what is that position?

I assumed you would know, John. I believe I had a stiff smile. OK, X. How much time do I have?

About 10 minutes. I believe you follow Venezuela. I nodded. I guess I need to figure out what that position is. Quickly.

I took a sheet of a paper and went to the lead position for our section. The room was vast — several football fields, and much wider than long, with dozens of rows of seats and tables facing a raised podium. Ramsar’s staff and leadership sat there, and special honored speakers could talk from to face the room. The rest of us sat behind desktop microphones spaced every two chairs. Each microphone had a small light that turned red when you pressed the base. An enormous old-fashioned TV camera with a huge zoom lens stood to the left of the podium, so that when a speaker was called upon to make an intervention, she or he activated the microphone the cameraman scanned the room for the red light. Then the speaker’s face appeared on two massive screens at the front of the room — each screen about 80 square meters.

I glanced at these screens. A blonde woman from the Brazilian delegation was speaking on the screens very forcefully, with obvious pride. I couldn’t focus on what she was saying but turned to another colleague. Can you tell me how to formally begin and end my intervention? She quickly told me. I scribbled these down in much shakier handwriting than I usually have. About 8 more minutes by my watch.

I outlined several key points, scratched one out. X leaned over. Are you OK, John? Yes, I think so. Remember, you are speaking for us and for our partner organization W. You are representing both of our views. Alright. Thanks, X.

Leaning back down, I tried to focus. This doesn’t matter. It’s OK, man. Nobody lives or dies on this. But fuck, this is Ramsar. You’re a lawyer at freshwater’s Supreme Court. There isn’t anything higher than this, dude. Focus.

Scratching out my earlier points, I started my second (or third?) draft. This was OK. I leaned over the head of W, a woman famous in her own right. Are you comfortable with me making these four points? Yes, I can live with that. Have you thought about this issue too? Good idea. I’ll add that, J. Head down again, I inserted her thought. I heard the chair call on Australia. I looked at screens — his head looks really big up there. Both of his heads, actually. In front of the 1200 delegates. Maybe I’ll look smaller. Smaller head, farther back in the room, right? My pen felt very moist in my hand.

My page looked like a mess and I saw a couple of colleagues glance over the scrawls nervously. Is this your first intervention? Yes, it is. I began adding numbers to the formal, stylized pieces of the intervention, then the order of the points I wanted to make. This did not improve the appearance of the page. Venezuela, I heard the chair say.

I read back over the sheet, this time in order. Three drafts in ten minutes is pretty good. I adjusted my tie, slowed my breathing. Venezuela sat forward of me and to the right. He was wearing a guayabera, with a great beard and an angrily passionate voice. I could have picked up the earpiece to hear the translation, but watching him calmed me somehow. He spoke for a minute, then thanked the chair. My hand crept to the microphone’s button. Norway, the chair called. I looked far ahead to where the chair was. She saw me and nodded. I studied my intro again. Norway ended. Thank you, Norway. She called our organization.

There seemed to be a long pause, but I know it could have been no longer than a second or two as my hand moved forward. The US delegation was immediately in front of us, and a young lawyer was leaning back far enough that her neck was only a few inches from my mouth. Yesterday, we had chatted about sushi and she wanted to visit a restaurant I had found nearby with me. I pressed the microphone, and the red light went on. There seemed to be no change in the room, only an expectancy. The hairs on the back of the lawyer’s head alternated between light and dark brown … I could feel the eye of the camera scanning across the room, looking for me. Thank you, madam chair, I began.

I read my statement slowly, pausing for emphasis. I could see the light pink of her scalp, then her neck tighten and flinch as she realized I was behind her, speaking. And that she was appearing on the screen as well. I remember thinking, I want them to know that I am as passionate about this as Venezuela, that we care as much. I spoke to the lawyer’s neck even as it sank lower in the chair. I did not look at the screens.

The intervention was short — perhaps two or three minutes. Thank you, madam chair, I ended. My comments will be submitted in written form following my intervention. I clicked the mic and the light went off. Glancing right to J, she smiled and gave me a thumbs up. X showed me her teeth through her big smile. My lawyer suddenly turned — sorry about last night. Could we try to get together again today?

Tags: ramsar, asia, korea, climate adaptation, policy