Here affects there.
1) What happened last week
From 5–15 August 2025 in Geneva, delegates reconvened the fifth negotiating session on a UN plastics treaty. This was INC-5.2—the second half of the same session that began in Busan (25 Nov–1 Dec 2024, INC-5.1). Same meeting, resumed from the existing working text. Once again, talks ended without consensus or a final text. The fault line.
By the numbers (per day, order-of-magnitude)
Plastic residues in a turtle – Kelonia
2) What the agreement aimed for—and why
The UN mandate is for a legally binding treaty that covers the entire life cycle of plastics: design (re-use, repairability, recycled content), production (limits on virgin volumes; control of problematic polymers/additives), consumption(phasing out the most harmful items), end-of-life (collection, recycling, EPR, trade in waste), and microplastics. The ambition is simple: without new policies, production and waste climb steeply toward 2060, and leakage to nature rises with them. Caps and chemical controls are the upstream levers many countries want on the table. 
Choose a mug over plastic cups
3) In practice, at sea: risks & consequences
Lagoon fish in Mayotte feeding on a plastic bag
FAQ — Plastics & the OceanDo plastics dissolve in the ocean? How long does a plastic bottle take to break down?Plastics don’t “dissolve.” Most (like PET bottles) fragment under UV and abrasion into micro- and nanoplastics. Estimates for a plastic bottle at sea range from ~100 to 500+ years, highly dependent on sun, heat, waves, and biofouling. The fragments persist and can circulate indefinitely. What are the main harms of ocean plastics to wildlife?
What are microplastics and nanoplastics?Microplastics are plastic particles <5 mm; nanoplastics are typically <1 µm. They come from fragmentation of larger items, synthetic fibers, tire wear, microbeads, and industrial pellets. They enter marine food webs from plankton upward. What do we know about health impacts on humans?Micro- and nanoplastics have been detected in some human tissues and fluids. Lab and animal studies suggest possible inflammation, oxidative stress, and exposure to additives (e.g., phthalates, BPA) with endocrine activity. Real-world dose–response and long-term effects remain under study; a precautionary approach is warranted. Are biodegradable or compostable plastics a solution at sea?Not reliably. Most “compostable” plastics need industrial conditions (heat, humidity, microbes) that the ocean lacks. “Oxo-degradable” plastics fragment but don’t truly biodegrade in marine settings. At sea, these materials can persist and behave much like conventional plastics. What is ghost gear?Lost, abandoned or discarded fishing gear (nets, lines, traps). Made from durable synthetics, it can continue catching and killing wildlife for years, while shedding microplastics. Which products drive most ocean leakage?Globally, the heaviest contributors include single-use packaging (bottles, caps, wrappers, sachets, polystyrene foodware), cigarette filters, and lost fishing gear. Leakage hotspots are typically near rivers, dense coasts, and regions with limited waste services. What actions reduce ocean plastic now?
4) What next? Diplomats and observers see a few paths:
What neuroscience reveals about our failure to act ?
As an underwater photographer and filmmaker dedicated to ocean conservation, I attended the UN Ocean Conference in Nice with cautious hope. What I found instead was a now-familiar pattern: elegant speeches, grand commitments… and yet, no binding decisions. I watched with unease as environmental advocates and world leaders shared a stage — the former demanding action, the latter offering timelines. 2033, they said, maybe. If all goes well.
It felt like déjà vu. I had grown up hearing about the Kyoto Protocol, then the Paris Agreement, and now these new pledges, recycled and delayed. Thirty-five years of promises — and the ocean continues to decline. So I asked myself: If I can’t change the summit, can I change the story? In this period of doubt about my own approach as a conservation storyteller, I came across the work of neuroscientist Albert Moukheiber — a clinical psychologist and researcher who studies how we form beliefs, how we resist uncomfortable truths, and why awareness often fails to trigger action. That’s when deeper questions emerged: Why do we remain passive, even when everything is burning around us? And most of all: what can we do to make our messages truly effective? 
1. Why do we remain passive, even when “the house is on fire”?
Albert Moukheiber: What makes action difficult isn’t ignorance — it’s that multiple truths coexist within us. We know climate change is serious, but we also face immediate priorities: work, family, financial stress… These competing priorities are what we call cognitive biases, especially:
Why does our brain react more to nearby danger than to distant threats?
The human brain is wired to respond to immediate danger. If a threat is abstract, far away, or delayed in time, it doesn’t trigger enough of an emotional alarm. This is called the psychological distance bias: the more distant something feels — in space, time, or personal experience — the less urgent it seems. That’s why images of melting ice caps or dying coral reefs often fail to move people, unless they’re tied to concrete consequences in their daily lives. For example, showing rising water in the Seine River or heat waves disrupting Paris’ transport system speaks more directly to a French city-dweller than a glacier breaking in Antarctica. The key is localising the issue: making global crises feel visible, tangible, and close. 
Is there a tipping point where too much emotion actually blocks action?
Yes — we call this emotional saturation or desensitisation. Too many alerts can lead to helplessness or emotional fatigue. But emotion isn’t the problem — it’s the lack of visible solutions. Emotion must be paired with actionable paths: what we can do, how, and with whom. Can beauty (of nature, of images) be a stronger trigger than fear or anger?A sense of awe and wonder is a fundamental emotional driver for memory, engagement, and motivation. Our brains retain what moves us positively. Inspiring stories often have more impact than anxious warnings. 
Does visual repetition — photo series, short videos — strengthen memory?
Yes. The brain learns through repetition and exposure. What we see often becomes more familiar, more acceptable — even more desirable. Short formats, consistent visuals, and memorable slogans help reinforce lasting impressions. How do we reach young or urban audiences disconnected from the ocean? We need stories that speak to their daily reality, not just the ocean’s. You’ll better reach a young urban viewer by talking about air quality or energy costs than by showing a coral reef. It’s about relocating the narrative. 
Why isn’t “nature” alone enough to convince people to care?
Because not everyone feels connected to “nature.” But almost everyone understands money. When we show that climate disasters cost billions, raise taxes, hurt jobs and public health — then the brain makes a link to personal life. We shift from the realm of nature to that of norms: when something is seen as abnormal, it becomes personally relevant. How can we avoid the three “escape routes” our brains use to dodge action? When faced with discomfort (like climate warnings), our brains often seek three exits:
We must avoid lecturing and instead offer entry points — not commands. 
What role does storytelling play in all of this?
Storytelling is the frame through which our brain creates meaning. It’s not the raw data that moves us — it’s how it’s told. That’s why a photo of a solitary dolphin, a heartfelt voiceover, or an immersive film can turn information into lived experience. Our brains need identification, not just information. 
FAQ — Why We Don’t Act & How Images HelpWhy do our brains ignore long-term climate risks?We discount distant threats (temporal discounting) and prefer short-term comfort. Optimism bias (“it won’t hit me”) and habituation to bad news further blunt urgency. How can images change behavior?Compelling visuals trigger emotion and attention, making abstract risks feel concrete. When paired with a simple action (“what you can do next”), images can convert concern into behavior. What is the affect heuristic?It’s a mental shortcut: we judge risks and benefits based on how we feel. Positive affect lowers perceived risk; negative affect raises it — which is why tone and framing matter.
Summary: What neuroscience can teach us about better environmental communication
Clownfish and Anemones — Symbiosis, Climate Change and Lessons of Tolerance
A fragile partnership Clownfish and sea anemones live in symbiosis. The anemone protects the fish with its stinging tentacles, while the clownfish keeps predators away and brings nutrients. Remove one, and the other suffers.
Clownfish are protected by a special mucus that prevents the anemone’s stings. In return, their constant fanning aerates the tentacles and their nitrogen-rich waste feeds the anemone’s symbiotic algae — a true nutrient exchange beyond shelter. Common hosts include Entacmaea quadricolor, Heteractis magnifica and Stichodactyla gigantea. 
Fine Art Clownfish in Anemone — Fine Art PrintBring this reef moment home. Limited edition print from the Clownfish & Anemones story. Sizes, papers and shipping details on the product page. View sizes & pricing
Key facts — Clownfish (Anemonefishes, Amphiprioninae)
Climate change and bleaching Rising sea temperatures cause anemones to bleach — turning ghostly white and losing their ability to host. Without their safe shelter, clownfish populations decline, echoing the wider reef crisis.
Anemone bleaching mirrors coral bleaching: under heat stress they lose their symbiotic algae (Symbiodiniaceae), turn white and weaken. Recovery can take months; repeated events reduce reproduction in both partners and shrink local clownfish colonies. 
Lessons for us From this, I’ve learned tolerance. If the ocean embraces change, why shouldn’t we? Nature abhors a vacuum and always finds balance. Watching these tiny fish taught me that difference is not weakness, but resilience.
These images were made over multiple seasons on Indo-Pacific reefs, working slow and hands-off: no touching, no repositioning, and minimal light to avoid stress. Conclusion Clownfish are more than cartoon icons. They are symbols of interdependence, adaptation, and the urgent need to protect reefs before their lessons disappear with them. 
How to watch clownfish responsibly
Hot wave of Climate chance
How Heatwaves Will Reshape Our Lives – And Why We Need to Talk About It Now
In a previous article, I questioned how our brain perceives—or ignores—climate change. Why so much inaction despite clear warning signs?
As a photographer committed to conservation, this question haunts me: do my images still have an impact? And if so, should they showcase beauty… or danger? Neuroscientist Albert Moukheiber reminds us: to raise awareness, we need to talk about tangible, close, and concrete events. And what’s more tangible than a heatwave? I’m also an economics teacher. And when I hear business leaders on the radio expressing concern about declining profits during heatwaves, I realize something: to talk about ecology to some people, we first need to talk about money. Maybe if we took the time to observe the real cost of heatwaves, we’d understand that climate change isn’t a distant abstraction… but a present economic, social, and human variable. And a global issue, not just a national one. 
Climate change : Where is the Nature ?
WHY IS IT GETTING HOTTER? WHERE DO MODERN HEATWAVES COME FROM ?
Since 1970, the frequency of heatwaves has increased 5 to 10 times depending on the region. 
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Choose your future
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Choose your future
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WELLBEING, MOBILITY & AN INVISIBLE LEVER
In France, the average home-work distance is 15.7 km.
That’s 31.4 km round trip, often by car. Over a year (220 working days), that's nearly 7,000 km driven per person, mainly in cities.
Let’s imagine two people doing the same job at the same salary—but living on opposite ends. They cross paths every morning in traffic. What if we hired more locally?
The French Environment Agency estimates that reducing just 10% of these daily trips would save the equivalent of 66 roundtrip flights Paris–New York in CO₂ per year, in just one urban area.
It’s not just ecological. It’s also a question of wellbeing. Shorter commutes reduce stress, absenteeism, and improve quality of life. A lever too often overlooked.
In France, the average home-work distance is 15.7 km.
That’s 31.4 km round trip, often by car. Over a year (220 working days), that's nearly 7,000 km driven per person, mainly in cities.
Let’s imagine two people doing the same job at the same salary—but living on opposite ends. They cross paths every morning in traffic. What if we hired more locally?
The French Environment Agency estimates that reducing just 10% of these daily trips would save the equivalent of 66 roundtrip flights Paris–New York in CO₂ per year, in just one urban area.
It’s not just ecological. It’s also a question of wellbeing. Shorter commutes reduce stress, absenteeism, and improve quality of life. A lever too often overlooked.
Collective transport ?
Heatwaves, Climate & Hidden Costs: The Economic Price of Global Warming :
Behind the official rhetoric, climate change often hides deep hypocrisies.
The first plays out on our roads: in the name of a cleaner planet, the most polluting vehicles are banned from major European cities like Paris through Low Emission Zones (LEZ). Yet those very same vehicles — 2CVs, Renault 4Ls, old diesel 4x4s and buses — are exported to developing countries, where they run daily. In Antananarivo, Madagascar, traffic jams are accompanied by a constant stream of black exhaust, proof that the pollution hasn’t disappeared… it has simply changed latitude.
The second hypocrisy takes to the skies. Certain regional flight routes deemed “unprofitable” are cut, forcing passengers to take far longer itineraries. A direct flight from Mayotte to Madagascar (about 724 km) has been replaced by a connection via Réunion (Mayotte–Réunion: 1,414 km, then Réunion–Madagascar: 857 km). The result: more than double the distance flown, producing roughly 2.4 times more CO₂ per passenger, solely because the direct link was removed.
Instead of undermining these “short-haul” regional routes, governments could introduce a decarbonisation incentive: subsidising airlines that commit to cutting emissions through sustainable fuels, more efficient aircraft, or carbon quotas. Conversely, penalties should apply to carriers that eliminate these links in favour of more polluting itineraries.
These contradictions show that the ecological transition cannot simply shift pollution elsewhere or hide its real cost. It demands coherent, measurable policies that deliver a genuine climate benefit.
Behind the official rhetoric, climate change often hides deep hypocrisies.
The first plays out on our roads: in the name of a cleaner planet, the most polluting vehicles are banned from major European cities like Paris through Low Emission Zones (LEZ). Yet those very same vehicles — 2CVs, Renault 4Ls, old diesel 4x4s and buses — are exported to developing countries, where they run daily. In Antananarivo, Madagascar, traffic jams are accompanied by a constant stream of black exhaust, proof that the pollution hasn’t disappeared… it has simply changed latitude.
The second hypocrisy takes to the skies. Certain regional flight routes deemed “unprofitable” are cut, forcing passengers to take far longer itineraries. A direct flight from Mayotte to Madagascar (about 724 km) has been replaced by a connection via Réunion (Mayotte–Réunion: 1,414 km, then Réunion–Madagascar: 857 km). The result: more than double the distance flown, producing roughly 2.4 times more CO₂ per passenger, solely because the direct link was removed.
Instead of undermining these “short-haul” regional routes, governments could introduce a decarbonisation incentive: subsidising airlines that commit to cutting emissions through sustainable fuels, more efficient aircraft, or carbon quotas. Conversely, penalties should apply to carriers that eliminate these links in favour of more polluting itineraries.
These contradictions show that the ecological transition cannot simply shift pollution elsewhere or hide its real cost. It demands coherent, measurable policies that deliver a genuine climate benefit.
Old car, second market...
TAXES, INFRASTRUCTURE, WHO WILL PAY ?
More frequent heatwaves mean:
So yes, climate has a financial cost. And pretending otherwise is just deferring the bill.
More frequent heatwaves mean:
- Reinforced health services
- Renovated schools and public buildings
- Urban redesign for climate resilience
So yes, climate has a financial cost. And pretending otherwise is just deferring the bill.
Happiness and consomption
WHAT CAN WE DO ?
Change our habits. Our relationship with nature. Our consumption.
Take the Vanuatu, a country among the most vulnerable to climate change (cyclones, volcanoes, rising seas) and one of the poorest economically. Yet it consistently ranks among the happiest countries on Earth, according to the Happy Planet Index.
Why? Because happiness there is decoupled from consumption. Rooted in social ties, nature, and simplicity.
Maybe our resilience also lies there: in reconnecting with what matters. In forging deeper, more joyful bonds with the living world—and with one another.
Change our habits. Our relationship with nature. Our consumption.
Take the Vanuatu, a country among the most vulnerable to climate change (cyclones, volcanoes, rising seas) and one of the poorest economically. Yet it consistently ranks among the happiest countries on Earth, according to the Happy Planet Index.
Why? Because happiness there is decoupled from consumption. Rooted in social ties, nature, and simplicity.
Maybe our resilience also lies there: in reconnecting with what matters. In forging deeper, more joyful bonds with the living world—and with one another.
What we need is Green
A PLANETARY SPIRAL
What happens here affects what happens elsewhere—and vice versa.
Bleached coral reefs in Australia or Mayotte reflect rising ocean temperatures. Urban CO₂ emissions drive acidification and disrupt marine ecosystems. Butterfly effect.
If we don't adapt our urban lifestyles, the spiral will continue. And the reminders from nature will only grow louder.
What happens here affects what happens elsewhere—and vice versa.
Bleached coral reefs in Australia or Mayotte reflect rising ocean temperatures. Urban CO₂ emissions drive acidification and disrupt marine ecosystems. Butterfly effect.
If we don't adapt our urban lifestyles, the spiral will continue. And the reminders from nature will only grow louder.
Invisible effect of our actions on nature
But another silent threat looms above us: the water crisis.
Less rainfall, strained aquifers, dried-up rivers. Extreme heat also means less water—for drinking, farming, healing. Mayotte, Spain, India, the southern US are already facing rationing. The real tipping point for humanity might not be temperature... but thirst. If we don’t anticipate this, it won’t just be our comfort at risk—it’s our stability. Our peace. Our humanity.
Should we continue supporting a system that encourages more births to fund pensions or feed consumer markets—when the planet itself is not growing? Or should we rethink the model, decouple well-being from demographics, and build a society whose wealth lies elsewhere?
Demography is a global issue, but that doesn’t prevent nations from leading by example. Some countries—through innovation, culture, or values—can act as moral compasses. We don’t have to wait. We can show that less can mean more—that happiness can thrive in simplicity.
Because the coral bleaching in Australia, Mayotte, or elsewhere is directly connected to what happens in the world’s major cities. Butterfly effect. And our responses—urban lifestyles, carbon emissions—are in turn accelerating ocean acidification, weakening marine ecosystems, triggering a downward spiral.
What we do here determines what survives there—and vice versa. Nature will remind us. Louder and louder.
We can tell ourselves that changing alone won’t matter. Or we can believe that each personal shift is the spark of a greater collective motion.
And let’s remember: ecology is neither left nor right. It shouldn’t be a political stance. It is our shared foundation. A vital, common ground that concerns us all.
Whatever your job, beliefs, or identity—we all have something to gain.
Let’s choose change. While we still can.
Less rainfall, strained aquifers, dried-up rivers. Extreme heat also means less water—for drinking, farming, healing. Mayotte, Spain, India, the southern US are already facing rationing. The real tipping point for humanity might not be temperature... but thirst. If we don’t anticipate this, it won’t just be our comfort at risk—it’s our stability. Our peace. Our humanity.
Should we continue supporting a system that encourages more births to fund pensions or feed consumer markets—when the planet itself is not growing? Or should we rethink the model, decouple well-being from demographics, and build a society whose wealth lies elsewhere?
Demography is a global issue, but that doesn’t prevent nations from leading by example. Some countries—through innovation, culture, or values—can act as moral compasses. We don’t have to wait. We can show that less can mean more—that happiness can thrive in simplicity.
Because the coral bleaching in Australia, Mayotte, or elsewhere is directly connected to what happens in the world’s major cities. Butterfly effect. And our responses—urban lifestyles, carbon emissions—are in turn accelerating ocean acidification, weakening marine ecosystems, triggering a downward spiral.
What we do here determines what survives there—and vice versa. Nature will remind us. Louder and louder.
We can tell ourselves that changing alone won’t matter. Or we can believe that each personal shift is the spark of a greater collective motion.
And let’s remember: ecology is neither left nor right. It shouldn’t be a political stance. It is our shared foundation. A vital, common ground that concerns us all.
Whatever your job, beliefs, or identity—we all have something to gain.
Let’s choose change. While we still can.
FAQ — Heatwaves & Hidden Costs
What is an urban heat island?
A city microclimate where built surfaces trap heat, raising temperatures versus rural areas. It increases cooling demand, health risks and infrastructure stress.
How do heatwaves impact the economy?
Reduced labor productivity, health costs, grid stress and damage to transport networks raise public and private expenses, with cascading effects on prices and taxes.
What helps cities adapt?
Trees and shade, cool roofs, permeable surfaces, early-warning systems, heat action plans, water access and design that prioritizes the most exposed people.
I sent a portfolio to a magazine Plongez and received the response: "You have beautiful photos, but a portfolio should have been taken at several different locations." Meaning: you need to travel.
The same magazine, through its editorial, praises our beautiful planet that must be preserved, but in reality, participates in mass tourism by selling advertising space to travel agencies specializing in trips to the other side of the world...
This leads me to a broader reflection. I see some photographers traveling across the globe in search of the "unique" shot, exploring Antarctica, the whales of Tonga, or the manta rays of Roca Partida. Ultimately, an "easy" photo, given how daily these places are touched by humans. But is this still true wildlife photography? These places are so crowded that nature has lost its raw character. By being immortalized so often, these locations have almost become movie sets, stages where wildlife has become accustomed to posing for humans.
The same magazine, through its editorial, praises our beautiful planet that must be preserved, but in reality, participates in mass tourism by selling advertising space to travel agencies specializing in trips to the other side of the world...
This leads me to a broader reflection. I see some photographers traveling across the globe in search of the "unique" shot, exploring Antarctica, the whales of Tonga, or the manta rays of Roca Partida. Ultimately, an "easy" photo, given how daily these places are touched by humans. But is this still true wildlife photography? These places are so crowded that nature has lost its raw character. By being immortalized so often, these locations have almost become movie sets, stages where wildlife has become accustomed to posing for humans.
And photography contests only fuel this mindset: winning awards in Raja Ampat, the Philippines, etc., to validate a portfolio that must absolutely be exotic... I admit, I’ve played that game myself. But in the end, I made a different choice: to stay on an island, limit my travels, and fully appreciate the lagoon, its dolphins, turtles, and corals… rather than chasing miles.
What’s the point of being offered a three-day trip to Raja Ampat when I can swim with dolphins, turtles, whales, and mantas right where I live? Why do these photographers, instead of valuing or denouncing the state of nature near them, end up playing along with this strange game orchestrated by a few magazines that need to sell advertising space?
What’s the point of being offered a three-day trip to Raja Ampat when I can swim with dolphins, turtles, whales, and mantas right where I live? Why do these photographers, instead of valuing or denouncing the state of nature near them, end up playing along with this strange game orchestrated by a few magazines that need to sell advertising space?
Is our role as photographers to showcase the beauty of the world, or to sell travel to distant lands that, in the end, would do without this mass tourism?
Well, I wanted to voice this complaint. Too bad for the magazine that rejected my photos because they come from the same location. And good for me, I can now save money on a magazine that’s gone from 4 to 12 euros in ten years... and stay true to my values.
Well, I wanted to voice this complaint. Too bad for the magazine that rejected my photos because they come from the same location. And good for me, I can now save money on a magazine that’s gone from 4 to 12 euros in ten years... and stay true to my values.
Serge Melesan
Underwater & Fine Art Ocean Photographer
Underwater & Fine Art Ocean Photographer
Specialist in Fine Art Ocean Photography. Published in Oceanographic Magazine & Earth.org. National Geographic Traveller – Portfolio Winner (2023).
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