COP30, Belém: “Nature isn’t for sale.” Nigerian climate groups push back on VP Shettima’s cash-up-the-forest pitch

by: Oluwaseun Lawal

The air in COP30, Belém hangs heavy. Rainy. Sweet with river smell. Inside a bright hall, microphones blink red. A podium waits. Nigeria’s Vice President steps up and calls for new finance tools to harness the “economic value of nature.” Big idea, he says. Smart money, he hints. It lands like a stone in still water. Ripples. Then the answers come.

Civil society does not clap. Not this time. They breathe in, steady, then speak out. They’ve seen this movie before. The ending wasn’t good. Their message is blunt. Nature is not a ledger line. Forests aren’t bank vaults. Rivers don’t exist to balance budgets. Turning living systems into financial products may sound modern. It isn’t. It’s extractive in a new suit. A worrying twist on what climate justice really means.

They call it what it is: commodification. Dress it up as “nature-based solutions,” “carbon markets,” “offsets” if you like. The core stays the same. It financialises ecosystems. It’s markets first, people later. Sometimes never. And that, they say, don’t square with justice.

The hall in Belém is far from Benue farms or Bayelsa creeks, but the consequences won’t be. History shows what happens when profit leads and protection follows. Ecosystems get shaved down to numbers. The more a forest is worth on paper, the more someone somewhere will try to control it. Sometimes that means pushing communities out. Smallholder farmers lose fields. Indigenous families lose ancestral forests. Food systems wobble. Hunger grows teeth. Rural poverty moves into city streets. We’ve seen it. We still seeing it.

The groups warn of another risk. Greenwashing. Polluters buy credits instead of cutting emissions. A receipt takes the place of a plan. Emissions keep rising while press releases smile. Companies show up at COP with shiny booths and soft music, promising climate heroics. Then a pipeline expands. Or a gas field does. The math don’t add up, but the marketing sure does.

There is sovereignty in play too. When a country’s forests, mangroves, savannahs get tied to volatile carbon markets, who truly calls the shots? Traders in far capitals? Investors with quarterly targets? The groups fear a mortgage on Nigeria’s ecological wealth, signed in a rush, denominated in someone else’s currency. That’s not independence. It’s exposure.

This is not a rejection of finance. Or innovation. It’s a refusal to let markets dictate the meaning of life. The coalface of climate justice is human. Dignity. Culture. Language. Stewardship. These are not commodities. They aren’t for auction, even politely.

So what do they want instead? A different compass. One that points to people first.

Start with energy that actually serves. Solar on schools and clinics. Wind where it works. Mini-grids that light up villages without burning futures. Clean tech that’s affordable, accessible, reliable. No one should trade a forest for a light bulb. Not in 2025. Not ever.

Back it up with agroecology. Farmers leading, seeds saved, soils fed, water respected. Food sovereignty, not dependency. Community-led conservation that keeps forests standing because communities are standing in them, caring, deciding, benefiting. This is not romantic. It’s practical. And it lasts.

And talk. Real talk. Inclusive dialogue before policies move. Government at the table. Civil society at the table. Indigenous peoples and local communities at the head of the table, not just seated near it. Listen first. Decide together. Nigeria are at a crossroads; the route should be chosen by those who walk it.

The tone from the groups is firm. Not nihilistic. They believe in Nigeria’s future. In its rivers and rain and people. They just won’t accept a shortcut that sells the thing it claims to save. True climate action must be people-centered. Rooted in justice and equity and rights. Not dictated by profit motives, or by the latest trading scheme floated in a shiny deck.

Nature, they say, is a shared trust. A kin. Not a commodity. The State has a duty here. Protect the environment. Safeguard culture. Honor dignity. Don’t pawn them for quick cash and a headline. The long game is the only game that counts.

Back in that bright hall, the microphones still blink. The Amazon hums outside like a living drum. This is COP30. Big stage. Bigger stakes. Nigeria can lead, the groups insist, but lead differently. Choose policies that keep carbon in the ground and people on their land. If finance must come, let it come with strings that tie to justice, not to speculation.

Because in the end, the question is simple. What are we saving, if we sell the thing itself on the way? The forest isn’t for sale. The river won’t be pawned. And the people? They’re watching. They’re ready. And they will remember who stood where when the rain finally came.