The High Seas Treaty was surprisingly quiet for something that took almost two decades to negotiate. In September, four nations—Sri Lanka, Sierra Leone, Morocco, and St. Vincent and the Grenadines—deposited their ratification documents at the UN, subtly raising the total to sixty. That was the cutoff point. The agreement officially went into effect on January 17, 2026. There is no fanfare, no headlines that compete with market panics or election cycles. This is merely a procedural milestone that, if successful, might change how people treat two-thirds of the planet.
The BBNJ Agreement is the first legally binding agreement created to safeguard marine biodiversity in unclaimed waters. The majority of the ocean is covered by the high seas, which start about 370 kilometers offshore. Only around 1% of that enormous area is currently protected in any way. In accordance with the Kunming-Montreal biodiversity targets, the goal is to increase that percentage to thirty percent by 2030. It’s a huge step, and very few people who have observed international environmental negotiations would say it’s likely to happen on time.
However, something has changed. Oceana’s chief scientist, Katie Matthews, coined the term “Wild West” to describe the high seas, and it has stuck because it makes sense. For many years, events that took place outside of national borders tended to remain unaccountable. Nets were dragged across seamounts by industrial trawlers. Migration corridors are traversed by shipping lanes. Attracted by the potential of nickel and cobalt for electric car batteries, deep-sea mining companies started exploring the ocean floor. The IUCN estimates that 10% of marine species are currently in danger of going extinct, which conceals significant gaps in our understanding of marine life.
The treaty provides structure. It attempts to make the sharing of marine genetic resources more equitable, especially for nations lacking the research fleets and laboratories of wealthier nations, permits the establishment of Marine Protected Areas in international waters, and mandates environmental impact assessments for planned activities. Within a year, most likely in late 2026, the first Conference of the Parties must take place. The Sargasso Sea, the Salas y Gómez and Nazca Ridges off South America, the Lord Howe Rise close to Australia, and the Thermal Dome in the Eastern Pacific are just a few of the proposed MPAs. These are not just abstract locations on a map; they are actual locations with actual ecosystems.
When it comes to ocean governance, there is always a catch: jurisdictional. The International Seabed Authority, which oversees deep-sea mining, and regional fisheries management organizations must coexist with the treaty. None of those bodies will transfer power in a dignified manner. A flaw in the text has already been pointed out by critics: nations are free to conduct their own environmental impact assessments and make their own decisions. NGOs had desired that power to be held by the COP itself. It didn’t understand. It will be interesting to see how this part plays out.
The awkward issue of who didn’t sign is another. Although it hasn’t ratified, the US has signed. A number of significant fishing nations continue to watch from the sidelines. Without their involvement, the treaty runs the risk of becoming a meaningful but incomplete club of the willing. The High Seas Alliance’s Rebecca Hubbard has been direct about it, referring to sixty ratifications as “the starting block” and advocating for what she terms “universal participation.” It’s actually unclear if that happens before COP1.
It’s difficult to ignore how infrequently multilateralism now yields results. In a fractured geopolitical moment, a treaty about the open ocean, of all things, seems almost out of step with the times. What governments do over the next two years will determine whether it results in real protection or just another framework collecting dust in Geneva filing cabinets. There is a paper. The water continues to flow.
