With his attempted annexation of Greenland, U.S. President Donald Trump has exhibited a callousness that shocked Denmark and other U.S. allies. But this kind of threatening and bullying is a mainstay of the Trump administration. A few weeks earlier, the United States undid an international shipping treaty to which most of the world’s nations—friend and foe alike – had already agreed. It did so by using many of the same tactics that it would later use with Greenland—and nailed its colors to the mast as a proponent of might over right.
This brutal version of Trump’s “America First” approach hit the maritime world over greenhouse gas emissions. Shipping accounts for around 3 percent of global emissions, and that share is rising. The sector first realized that it needed to reduce its emissions in the 1990s, and most governments agreed. But the international nature of shipping and the vagaries of flagging—the system under which nations theoretically control ships—made organization difficult. A shipping emissions treaty had been discussed for years. As always in the business world, what executives needed most was clarity so they could order fuel and ships accordingly.
With his attempted annexation of Greenland, U.S. President Donald Trump has exhibited a callousness that shocked Denmark and other U.S. allies. But this kind of threatening and bullying is a mainstay of the Trump administration. A few weeks earlier, the United States undid an international shipping treaty to which most of the world’s nations—friend and foe alike – had already agreed. It did so by using many of the same tactics that it would later use with Greenland—and nailed its colors to the mast as a proponent of might over right.
This brutal version of Trump’s “America First” approach hit the maritime world over greenhouse gas emissions. Shipping accounts for around 3 percent of global emissions, and that share is rising. The sector first realized that it needed to reduce its emissions in the 1990s, and most governments agreed. But the international nature of shipping and the vagaries of flagging—the system under which nations theoretically control ships—made organization difficult. A shipping emissions treaty had been discussed for years. As always in the business world, what executives needed most was clarity so they could order fuel and ships accordingly.
In April 2025, officials on the International Maritime Organization’s (IMO) Marine Environment Protection Committee convened for a week of negotiations to finally get a consensus on a treaty. It was a massive undertaking that involved 1,200 delegates in London and some 550 delegates online.
For five days, the delegates slugged it out. Even though they represented different nations, they all knew that shipping had to do its part to cut emissions so the planet could have a chance of survival.
Some delegates knew that the Trump administration was likely to oppose any agreement related to greenhouse gases; Trump himself has repeatedly labeled climate change as a hoax. But in the middle of the negotiations, the U.S. delegation walked out. It then sent an email to the other delegations. “The US rejects any and all efforts to impose economic measures against its ships based on greenhouse gas emissions or fuel choice,” the message said, adding that the United States “urges your government to reconsider its support for the GHG emissions measures under consideration.”
The message also contained a warning: “Our government will consider reciprocal measures so as to offset any fees charged to US ships and compensate the American people for any other economic harm from any adopted GHG emissions measures.” It was an unmistakable threat.
But the negotiators kept going. By the end of the fifth day, they had reached an agreement on every single point. The bottom line: Ships would be required to cut their greenhouse gas fuel intensity. Ships with emissions above a certain level would need to participate in carbon-trading schemes, while ships emitting below that level would receive financial rewards. Sixty-three nations—including the European Union, the United Kingdom, and China—voted in favor and only 16—including Russia and Saudi Arabia—voted against, while 24 abstained. (The United States did not vote.)
“This is a major milestone for climate policy and a turning point for shipping. Our industry has long been labelled as ‘hard to abate,’ but record industry investment and a new global measure can turn the tide on that,” Joe Kramek, World Shipping Council president and CEO, said in a statement. The world had needed a binding agreement, and now it had one. Or rather, it almost had one. The IMO Assembly, the organization’s highest governing body, would have had to approve it at a meeting that October, but it would have been a formality.
The Americans, though, did not give up. That August, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and three other cabinet secretaries issued a statement declaring, “President Trump has made it clear that the United States will not accept any international environmental agreement that unduly or unfairly burdens the United States or harms the interests of the American people.” They called the draft treaty “effectively a global carbon tax on Americans levied by an unaccountable UN organization” that “would conveniently benefit China.”
A couple days later, a leaked memo from a U.S. State Department official to Rubio showed that the U.S. government intended to punish any country planning to vote in favor of the treaty. As part of any trade deal with the United States, countries “are instructed” or “would be expected” to vote against the IMO proposal, the memo said.
Never mind that carbon dioxide reduction is necessary. Never mind that the shipping industry was willing to cut its emissions. Never mind that the treaty was not a tax on Americans. Rubio and his colleagues certainly had a right to criticize the treaty, but the signals from Washington didn’t bode well. The countries planning to vote yes realized that they faced a very realistic prospect of being punished for it.
When all the delegations arrived in London for the IMO Assembly’s October meeting (which included the greenhouse gas vote), the U.S. delegation was among them, and it was determined to not let the vote pass. “The whole week, the atmosphere … it was something else,” one of the deletes recalled. “They threw diplomacy out the window.”
Some delegates were threatened with the withholding of U.S. visas. Delegates speaking at the plenary suddenly received different instructions from their home governments, which had decided they could not weather U.S. pressure and would change their position. “The United States will NOT stand for this Global Green New Scam Tax on Shipping,” Trump posted on Truth Social.
Teaming up with the United States, Saudi Arabia tabled a motion to delay the vote by a year. Fifty-seven countries voted in favor of delay, with 49 countries against and 21 abstaining. “What’s the point of negotiating if it’s undone like this?” the delegate asked as they recounted the vote. In theory, the vote can take place this fall, but in reality, the treaty is dead. The IMO’s members know that if they make another attempt to pass it, then they will be subjected to the same pressure, if not worse.
But the need to cut greenhouse gas emissions isn’t going away. “Shipping will go on,” said Guy Platten, former secretary-general at the International Chamber of Shipping. “And technologically, it can decarbonize.” With no IMO treaty in place, countries will team up regionally to set up carbon-trading schemes.
The EU already has one, and African countries are getting started. The world of shipping had a nasty surprise last October. It turns out that it was simply ahead of everyone else. Reality, after all, won’t bend to Trump’s will; the oceans will rise and the planet will get hotter, regardless of what the U.S. president says. And like the world of shipping, the rest of the globe may decide to set up schemes that don’t require U.S. participation.
