48 | New Scientist | 16 April 2022

Features

I

T IS perhaps inevitably being trailed as

a last chance to avert disaster. But when

the world gathers in Kunming, China,

later this year to finalise a much-delayed

global deal on biodiversity, the fate of the

universe’s only known biosphere will lie in

the negotiators’ hands. “We’re in crisis mode,”

says Eric Dinerstein, former chief scientist at

conservation group WWF. “We have 10 years

before we surpass critical tipping points that

would lead to irreversible biodiversity loss.”

At the centre of the deal under negotiation

is a new, ambitious target that goes far beyond

previous, failed commitments to protect

biodiversity. Catchily titled “30 by 30”, it would

commit nations to setting aside 30 per cent

of Earth’s land and seas for nature by 2030.

For many conservation biologists, it is a

breakthrough even to see it on the table. But

nerves are also jangling. Will 30 by 30 make

it through – and if it does, will the world act,

and will it be enough?

Biodiversity is important. Even if we cannot

bring ourselves to preserve it for its own sake,

we should at least do so for selfish reasons.

Intact nature provides a range of “ecosystem

services”, from life support, such as clean

air and water, fertile soils and pollination,

to psychological benefits and protection

from climate change, extreme weather and

natural disasters – not to mention a reduced

risk of “spillover” diseases like covid-19. The

Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform

on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services lists

18 separate benefits of biodiversity.

Yet we have hardly taken heed. The

Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) was

set up following the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio

de Janeiro to coordinate efforts to conserve

biodiversity, and it has since been signed by

every UN member state bar the US. But we have

consistently missed the goals it has set. That

applies to all 20 of the last lot, agreed for the

decade from 2010. Called the Aichi Biodiversity

Targets, they covered everything from

removing subsidies from activities harmful

to biodiversity to halving habitat loss and

adopting sustainable farming practices.

But they weren’t a total write-off. One

salvageable achievement was on “protected

areas”, such as conservation sites and nature

reserves. The concept of ring-fencing areas

was first proposed in 1972 by ecologist

brothers Eugene and Howard Odum. “It would

be prudent to strive to preserve 50 per cent

[of Earth],” they argued. It has since become

a cornerstone of conservation policy. “We

know that protected areas, when they’re done

right, are really important for preserving

biodiversity,” says Paul Leadley at Paris-Saclay

University in France.

The first iterations of such “area-based

conservation” focused on preserving

“representative samples” of all known

ecosystems, on the basis that there was an

ethical and practical imperative not to let

things go extinct, but that room was also

required for human development. This led

to an initial suggestion that around 10 to

12 per cent of Earth’s surface should be left to

nature’s devices. A target set by the CBD of at

least 10 per cent by 2010 was missed, but was

partially upped in Aichi to 17 per cent on land

and 10 per cent in the ocean by 2020. These

targets were again missed, but by 2020,

15 per cent of land and 7 per cent of the sea was

protected. Flushed with this sort-of success,

the CBD declared the goal “partially achieved”.

by

30

A bold plan aims to set aside 30 per cent of global land

and sea area for nature by the end of the decade.

Can it work, asks Graham Lawton