Empty Promises in Nice: France’s Ocean Hypocrisy on Full Display
I went to the United Nations Ocean Conference (UNOC) in Nice with hope—tempered, yes, but still clinging to the idea that maybe, just maybe, France would show up as the ocean leader it claims to be.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
France had a moment. A golden opportunity to lead, to honor its legacy as a pioneer of ocean exploration, and to back up all the elegant speeches with real action. Instead, we got a performance. A very expensive, very theatrical, very well-lit performance—with little substance, but plenty of flair.
Let’s talk numbers. €47 million spent on this spectacle. That’s four times what Portugal spent on the last UNOC in 2022—a conference that at least had an agenda. This one? Not so much. It was hard to tell what we were actually doing there, other than watching France attempt to turn PR into policy.
At the center of the farce was France’s refusal to ban bottom trawling in marine protected areas (MPAs). The government says it’s leading on ocean protection—proudly waving around its supposed achievement of “30x30,” or 30% of waters protected by 2030.
Sounds impressive, right?
Well, only if you don’t look too closely. Because most of that “protected” water is thousands of kilometers away in overseas territories, far from France’s industrial fleets, public oversight, and—let’s be honest—any enforcement. Meanwhile, back in mainland France, most MPAs still allow bottom trawling. That’s right: in areas meant to be ocean sanctuaries, you can still drag a massive net across the seafloor, crushing habitats, killing marine life, and releasing stored carbon.
Très écologique.
And just in case anyone was still buying the “we’re protecting our waters” line—Oceana dropped a little reality check in late May. Their analysis found that more than 100 bottom trawlers spent over 17,000 hours fishing inside France’s six marine national parks in European waters in 2024. Yes, in the “protected” ones. That’s the equivalent of one boat fishing around the clock for nearly two years straight. Apparently in France, “protection” just means adding a fancy label and hoping no one looks too closely. (Read Report)
Damien Roux, one of the last coastal fishermen of the French Riviera, aboard his pointu (the traditional type of wooden fishing boat in Provence).
Of course, there was another option. France could have chosen to actually protect its coastal waters, support small-scale fishers, strengthen local ports, and invest in coastal resilience. A ban on industrial trawling in MPAs would have done exactly that. MPAs, when properly enforced, are known to be fountains of life. But no—too disruptive. Some industrial fleets might be inconvenienced. Never mind that many of those fleets aren’t even French. Never mind that the EU has funds specifically to help support transitions away from harmful practices.
Instead, President Macron chose door number two: siding with short-term profits over long-term protection. Ocean health? Local communities? Biodiversity? Sorry, not this season.
And when scientists and NGOs called it out? The government didn’t engage—they retaliated.
Claire Nouvian, founder of the marine NGO BLOOM and an actual expert in ocean protection, had the audacity to point out that France’s shiny new “ban” on bottom trawling in 4% of metropolitan waters was, in fact, already in place. As in: the ban was announced with great fanfare… for something that had already happened. She called it what it was: an environmental scam. The response? Minister Agnès Pannier-Runacher accused her of lying. In public. In the National Assembly.
Claire and her team have since faced threats, harassment, and what can only be described as fishing-lobby intimidation tactics. You have to ask: if what she said wasn’t true, why work so hard to shut her up?
Then came the pièce de résistance: the unveiling of a new “map” at UNOC, meant to show off France’s progress. It was colorful, it was sleek, it was… completely misleading. Scientists and legal experts quickly pointed out the areas highlighted were already trawl-free. Translation: the government drew a new map of old rules and called it innovation.
But the best line came from Macron himself. On national television, he declared that he “didn’t need lessons in ecology.” (Apparently, he’s got it all covered.) Then, on a talk show, he added: “Without bottom trawling, we won’t have any more scallops.” Yes. That’s the hill we’re dying on. Scallops.
This isn’t leadership. This is parody.
Meanwhile, the High Seas Treaty—arguably the most important global agreement we’ve had in years to protect international waters—still hasn’t entered into force. Macron stood on stage and congratulated himself for it anyway, noting that 50 parties have ratified it, and 15 more have “committed.” But a commitment isn’t a ratification. And until we reach 60, it’s not law. So, no, it’s not a win yet—and certainly not a Macron win.
This is the story of this moment:
A lot of talk. Very little action.
So President Macron, let’s keep it simple:
If a marine protected area allows industrial fishing, it isn’t protected.
If a government attacks its critics instead of listening to them, it isn’t leading.
If a treaty isn’t ratified, it isn’t in force.
France’s ocean legacy deserves better than press conferences and PowerPoint maps. This is the country that helped the world fall in love with the ocean—thanks to explorers, scientists, and storytellers like my grandfather who actually understood what was at stake. But a legacy is not a license to coast. Leadership has to be earned.
With one of the largest marine territories on Earth—spanning the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans—France has every opportunity to lead on ocean protection. It has the resources, the reach, and the influence.
So if President Macron wants to be seen as a global ocean leader, it’s time to stop staging announcements and start delivering results. That means banning destructive fishing in MPAs. That means choosing science over spin. And that means standing with those who defend the ocean—not coming after them.
Real leadership is still possible.
The world is watching.
The ocean is waiting.
And scallops are not a policy strategy.
