When delegates of the world gather in Baku, Azerbaijan, next week for the most important yearly meeting on climate change, their meetings will overlook a reeking lake, polluted by the oil fields on the other side. This city’s first oil reservoir was built on the lake’s shores in the 19th century; now nearly half of Azerbaijan’s GDP and more than 90 percent of its export revenue come from oil and gas. It is, in no uncertain terms, a petrostate.

Last year, too, the UN Conference of Parties (COP) meeting was a parade of oil-state wealth and interests. Held in the United Arab Emirates, the conference included thousands of oil and gas lobbyists; its president was an executive of the UAE’s national oil company. Baku’s COP president, Azerbaijan’s ecology and natural-resources minister, is also an ex-executive of its oil company.

Optimistically, handing influence over this conference to the UAE, and now Azerbaijan—states whose interests are, in many ways, opposed to its aim—means that leaders who depend on fossil fuels must face the costs of burning them. As host this year, Azerbaijan’s job will be to broker an agreement that secures billions—possibly trillions—of dollars from wealthy countries to help along the green transition in poorer countries. Developing nations need these funds to set ambitious climate goals, the next round of which are due in February 2025. A failed COP could set off a chain reaction of failure. The world is gambling that a country that’s shown a bare minimum of commitment to this entire process can keep us all on a path to staving off catastrophic warming.

Baku came to host COP by process of elimination. Hosting duties rotate among regions of the world; this year is Eastern Europe’s turn. Russia nixed the possibility of any European Union country, leaving only Armenia and Azerbaijan standing. Armenia retracted its bid after Azerbaijan agreed to release 32 Armenian service members from prison. (Armenia freed two Azerbaijani soldiers in exchange.)

In many ways, Azerbaijan is an extremely unlikely candidate. Joanna Depledge, a fellow at the University of Cambridge and an expert on international climate negotiations, has followed all 29 years of COP so far, and told me that Azerbaijan has “been pretty much off the radar since the beginning.” The country has hardly ever spoken during previous negotiations, and is not part of any of COP’s major political coalitions, she said. The Paris Agreement requires that, every five years, each country must lay out how it will reduce emissions in a Nationally Determined Contribution plan; Azerbaijan is “one of the very few countries whose second NDC was weaker than the first,” Depledge said. To Steve Pye, an energy-systems professor at University College London, having a petrostate host a climate meeting presents an unambiguous conflict of interest. The country has been clear that it’s looking to ramp up gas exports and has made “no indication” that it wants to move away from fossil-fuel dependency, he told me. That’s an awkward, even bizarre, stance for the entity in charge of facilitating delicate climate diplomacy to hold.

Still, in some ways, Azerbaijan “could be seen as an honest broker” in the finance negotiations, because it is neither a traditional donor country nor a recipient of the funds under negotiation, Depledge said. Azerbaijan, for its part, says it intends to “enable action” to deliver “deep, rapid and sustained emission reductions … while leaving no one behind.”

The whole point of COP is to bring diverse countries together, Depledge said; global climate diplomacy cannot move forward without petrostates on board. Last year’s COP, in Dubai, resulted in the first global agreement to transition away from fossil fuels, and was seen as a modest success. To run COP, Azerbaijan will be forced to reckon with global climate change directly; its team will have to listen to everyone, including the countries most ravaged by climate change today. That’s bound to have an impact, Depledge thinks. Ultimately, Azerbaijan will also need to adapt to a post-oil economy: The World Bank estimates that the country’s oil reserves will dwindle by mid-century. And, since being chosen to host, it has joined a major international pledge to limit methane emissions, as well as announced that its third NDC (unlike its previous one) will be aligned with the Paris Agreement’s goals—although it has yet to unveil the actual plan.  

COP also gives Azerbaijan a chance to burnish its image. After Armenia withdrew its hosting bid, Azerbaijan branded this a “peace COP,” proposing a worldwide cease-fire for the days before, during, and after the meeting. An army of bots have been deployed on X to praise Azerbaijan just ahead of the talks, The Washington Post reported. Ronald Grigor Suny, a professor emeritus of history at the University of Michigan who has written extensively about Azerbaijan, told me that he views the country’s hosting exercise as an elaborate propaganda campaign to sanitize the image of a fundamentally authoritarian and oil-committed nation—a place that last year conducted what many legal and human-rights scholars considered an ethnic-cleansing campaign in one of its Armenian enclaves. “This is a staging of an event to impress people by the normality, the acceptability, the modernity of this little state,” he said. But hope for any peace-related initiatives, including a peace deal with Armenia, is already dwindling. Climate and geopolitical experts have called the whole thing a cynical PR stunt, and Amnesty International reports that the country, which Azerbaijani human-rights defenders estimate holds hundreds of academics and activists in prison, has jailed more of its critics since the COP presidency was announced.

Azerbaijan will still need to broker a real climate deal by the end of the event for it to be declared a success. Failure would be deeply embarrassing and, more pressingly, dangerous for the planet. The world is on track for up to 3.1 degrees Celsius of warming by 2100, and total carbon-dioxide emissions in 2030 will be only 2.6 percent lower than in 2019 if countries’ current NDCs are followed, according to new analysis. Keeping to a 1.5 degree Celsius warming limit would require a lowering of 43 percent over the same time period, which many scientists now say is out of reach. Keeping warming below the far more catastrophic 2 degree limit now will take far faster and more decisive action than the slow COP process has historically produced.

Even if this COP ends in success, Pye, who has worked on the UN Environment Program’s Production Gap Report, notes that, without follow-through, what happens at the conference is merely lip service. Once the spotlight of COP was off it, the UAE, for instance, returned more or less to business as usual; this year, the state oil company increased its production capacity. Then again, the UAE is investing heavily in clean energy, too, following a maximalist approach of more of everything—much like the theory that President Joe Biden has followed in the United States, which recently became the world’s biggest oil producer and gas exporter even as Biden’s domestic policies, most notably the Inflation Reduction Act, have pushed the country toward key climate goals.

Perhaps more than Baku’s leadership, the outcomes of the U.S. election will set the tone for the upcoming COP. News of a second Trump presidency would likely neutralize any hope for a strong climate finance agreement in Baku. In 2016, news of Trump’s election arrived while that year’s COP was under way in Marrakech, to withering effect. America’s functional absence from climate negotiations marred proceedings for four years. Wherever COP is held, American willingness to negotiate in good faith has the power to make or break the climate deals. Put another way, it’s still possible to save the world, if we want to.   

Opportunity appears to be the word of the year in the Middle East. War has brought death and devastation to Gaza and Lebanon, but various players still see within it a big chance worth seizing: to end the fighting, capitalize on tactical successes, crush their foes, or (more grandiosely) remake the region. If history is any guide to the Middle East, the player with the greatest chance of success is called chaos.

Last month, Israel struck the southern suburbs of Beirut and killed Hassan Nasrallah, the secretary-general of the militant group Hezbollah, then followed up with a military campaign against Hezbollah’s infrastructure in southern Lebanon and the capital. (This had been preceded by the detonation of hundreds of pagers in the hands of Hezbollah operatives.) From a tactical perspective, Israel pulled off a stunning feat: The four-decades-old Lebanese group was the most powerful nonstate military actor in the world, and Israel decimated its top three tiers of leadership, severely weakening it and throwing it into disarray.

White House officials and American journalists suggested that Israel’s military success presented an opportunity. Hezbollah has had a chokehold on Lebanese politics for two decades. For the past two years, Lebanon’s Parliament has been unable to elect a president, because Hezbollah has vetoed all candidates but its own. Maybe now Hezbollah would pull back (it had pledged not to stop firing on northern Israel until Israel ceased its war in Gaza), while Western pressure could help unlock Lebanese politics and prop up the army at Hezbollah’s expense.

[Read: A future without Hezbollah]

Regional and local players saw openings too. Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates had shunned Lebanon since 2021 because of Iranian interference in the country’s politics and Hezbollah’s powerful role. Now those countries sent Lebanon humanitarian aid, perhaps hoping to reclaim some influence over the country’s politics and populace. Inside Lebanon, the politicians who, together with Hezbollah, had driven the country into an economic ravine now began jockeying for power: Could Amal, the other main Shiite party, seize the advantage? Was this the right moment for opposition parties to ram through a parliamentary vote and elect a president?

“For two or three days, everything seemed possible,” one European diplomat in Beirut told me.

But the reality of war set in as Israel’s fifth military campaign in Lebanon continued apace. A quarter of Lebanon’s population has been displaced; a quarter of its territory is under Israeli evacuation orders. Lebanese institutions, barely functional to begin with, are overwhelmed. Israeli strikes may be targeting Hezbollah, but they have also flattened whole villages in southern Lebanon, as well as buildings in Beirut, killing women and children. Hundreds of civilians have died. Meanwhile, Hezbollah is regrouping, putting up a stiff fight in southern Lebanon, and even sent a drone to target Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s beach residence in Caesarea, Israel.

Hezbollah as we knew it a couple of months ago has ceased to exist. But the organization remains capable of drawing the Israeli army into a ground war of attrition and sending thousands of Israelis into shelters every day. At least 37 Israeli soldiers have been killed in southern Lebanon so far, including five in a single battle. And some reports indicate that Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps has made up for the loss of so many Hezbollah leaders by getting more directly involved in running the group’s ground operations.

One American official, speaking with me on condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to speak for the government, wondered why Israel hadn’t claimed victory within a week or two of killing Nasrallah. Then, in mid-October, Israeli forces also killed Yahya Sinwar, Hamas’s military commander in Gaza. “Maybe now they claim victory?” the same official asked. The Biden administration did take the opportunity to press Netanyahu for a deal that would end the war in Gaza and allow for the return of Israeli hostages. Secretary of State Antony Blinken flew to Israel last week to deliver that message in person: “Now is the time to turn those successes into an enduring strategic success,” he said.

But that’s not what happened. Iran launched a missile barrage at Israel at the beginning of October, and last weekend, Israel attacked military sites in Iran. Afterwards, President Joe Biden again called for an end to the escalation—in other words, for Israel to take the win and focus on wrapping up its wars in Gaza and Lebanon. Iranian officials chimed in to say that Tehran had the right to respond, but would prioritize the pursuit of a lasting cease-fire in Gaza and Lebanon instead.

The Israeli government seems to see a very different moment of opportunity—a chance to defeat its regional adversaries without actually addressing the Palestinian issue that lies at the root of the conflict. The strikes on Iran were limited, but they took aim at Iran’s air defenses, potentially clearing the way for further, deeper strikes. Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir described the assault as an “opening blow.” In a statement reported in Haaretz, he said, “We have a historic duty to remove the Iranian threat to destroy Israel.” Netanyahu has taken the fight to the Iranians in Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Yemen, and Iran itself. He called the killing of Nasrallah just the first step toward “changing the balance of power in the region for years,” and said after Sinwar’s killing, “I call on you, people of the region: We have a great opportunity to halt the axis of evil and create a different future.”

Israel has had similar notions before and been mistaken. In 1982, Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin and Minister of Defense Ariel Sharon also saw an opportunity to remake the Middle East. They invaded Lebanon with the intention of evicting the Palestinian Liberation Organization, installing an Israel-friendly president, and forcing Lebanon and perhaps even Syria into a peace agreement. Tactically, this project succeeded: The PLO and its armed militants departed for Tunisia. Strategically, it failed: A Christian president was elected, only to be assassinated, and Syria and Iran launched a bloody campaign of bombings, kidnappings, and hijackings against Israel and the United States. Iran sent its Revolutionary Guards to Lebanon, where they helped establish Hezbollah. Israel occupied south Lebanon for 18 years before withdrawing unilaterally in 2000.

That was not even the most recent effort to remake the Middle East by way of Lebanon. In 2006, Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert pledged to destroy Hezbollah, and U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice declared the resulting Israeli onslaught against Lebanon the “birth pangs of a new Middle East.” Instead, the war ended in a stalemate, with Hezbollah further entrenched in the Lebanese political system, where it grew into the regional paramilitary force it was until mid-September.

Of course, few efforts to remake the Middle East by force have been more disastrous than the 2003 U.S. invasion of Iraq. Netanyahu was a big proponent of that adventure. He testified as follows before the U.S. Congress in 2002: “If you take out Saddam, Saddam’s regime, I guarantee you that it will have enormous positive reverberations on the region. And I think that people sitting right next door in Iran, young people, and many others, will say the time of such regimes, of such despots is gone.”

Instead, the U.S. invasion of Iraq removed Iran’s key foe from power and emboldened the Islamic Republic to build proxy militias in Iraq, Yemen, and Syria, even while further strengthening Hezbollah in Lebanon. Whoever wins the White House on November 5 should remember this history when Netanyahu tries to sell his latest vision for remaking the Middle East.