The failure to reach a consensus at the 11th Session of the Governing Body (GB 11) of the International Treaty on Plant Genetic Resources for Food and Agriculture—held in Lima, Peru, in late November 2025—represents a significant stall in global efforts to manage seed diversity and food security.
The deadlock stemmed from a deep “North-South” divide regarding the balance between access to genetic resources and the equitable sharing of benefits (monetary and technological) derived from them. Developed nations (the Global North) sought a “Grand Bargain” to expand Annex I—the list of crops covered by the Treaty—to include all plant genetic resources.
However, developing nations (the Global South) refused to grant expanded access without a guarantee of fair, mandatory payments. They argued that for decades, commercial entities have utilised their genetic diversity to create profitable varieties without returning even a meagre share of the profits to the communities of origin.
A primary driver of the deadlock was Digital Sequence Information (DSI). As modern plant breeding increasingly relies on digital DNA data rather than physical seeds, developing nations insisted that DSI be subject to mandatory benefit-sharing payments. Conversely, developed nations and the seed industry resisted these requirements, arguing—often without substantiation—that mandatory payments would stifle scientific research.
The draft proposal attempted to finalise the system’s structure immediately while deferring decisions on actual payment rates until GB 12 in 2027. Developing nations viewed this as a strategic trap; they would be legally obligated to open their borders to increased access now, based solely on a vague promise of future financial negotiations.
Specific procedural manoeuvres exacerbated the diplomatic breakdown. On the final day (November 29), GB 11 Chair Alwin Kopše introduced a “compromise text” to force a deal. This text was heavily criticised by scientists and civil society groups—notably “Scientists for Genetic Diversity”—who labelled it “fundamentally unjust” and “one-sided” in favour of big agribusiness. Consequently, Global South delegations rejected the text, asserting that it undermined their sovereign rights over genetic resources.
Because Treaty amendments require a full consensus, the vocal opposition made adoption impossible. The Governing Body formally decided to defer all critical decisions to the next session (GB 12). This “kick the can” outcome left the “Enhancement Package” for the Multilateral System unadopted, maintaining the Treaty in its current, non-committal state.
The failure at GB 11 highlights a systemic injustice within the current framework of international treaties. The prevailing demand on providers in the Global South is to remain the “guardians of biodiversity” by keeping their borders open to seed collectors and researchers. This expectation requires these nations to sacrifice potential agricultural expansion and industrial land use to conserve the wild relatives of essential crops.
In the absence of equitable sharing, the Global South is increasingly embracing “Seed Sovereignty.” Many developing nations now view the Multilateral System (MLS) as a mechanism for “legalised biopiracy.” The likely consequence is a move toward protectionism across Africa, Latin America, and Asia. If these nations cannot trust a global treaty to ensure fair compensation, they may choose to lock away their seed banks entirely.
This potential withdrawal poses a catastrophic threat to global food security. Modern crop breeding relies on the crossbreeding of varieties from diverse climates—a necessity that is only heightening as global climate change accelerates. If Peru ceases the sharing of potato varieties or Ethiopia halts the exchange of coffee genetics due to a lack of compensation, the global capacity for crop adaptation will stall. We risk losing the ability to develop disease-resistant and drought-tolerant crops at the very moment they are needed most.
Certain national governments, including India, have historically underappreciated the true economic costs involved in the conservation of Plant Genetic Resources for Food and Agriculture (PGRFA). Smallholder farmers in the Andes, the Himalayas, and the Western and Eastern Ghats of India maintain agricultural diversity at a personal economic loss.
Without mandatory benefit-sharing funds, these communities cannot afford to sustain their traditional conservation practices. Driven by the need for survival, they may be forced to abandon diverse native seeds in favour of commercial monocultures. This shift would result in permanent genetic erosion, erasing thousands of years of agricultural heritage and resilience.
The current deadlock of the Plant Treaty finds a striking parallel in the failure of the Global Plastics Treaty. The same structural dynamics that derailed GB 11 in Peru are currently undermining plastics negotiations, which faced a major impasse in Busan, South Korea, in late 2024. In both arenas, the “Parallel Injustice” is identical: the Global North seeks unlimited access to resources or production while externalising the associated costs.
In the Plant Treaty negotiations, developed nations demand unrestricted access to genetic resources but refuse to pay for their intrinsic value. Similarly, in the Plastics Treaty, industrialised nations and petrochemical states pursue unlimited production while refusing to account for the environmental and health costs of pollution. This creates a “Downstream Trap.” Developed nations pivot the focus toward “waste management”—treating the symptom after the damage is done—rather than “production cuts” at the source. This dynamic, forces the Global South to act as the world’s janitors, cleaning up a mess they did not profit from creating. Just as they are expected to be the unpaid “gardeners” of global biodiversity, they are now cast as the unpaid “garbagemen” of global plastic waste.
The failure in Peru has created a vacuum, leading “provider communities” to seek alternatives to stalled UN treaties. Exposed by the fragility of international consensus, these communities are realising they cannot wait for diplomatic permission to protect their heritage. If multilateralism is failing, justice must be found through legal and technological alternatives, such as private voluntary standards, blockchain-based smart contracts, and Biocultural Community Protocols (BCPs).
A BCP is not a mere contract; it is a “Community Constitution” for external engagement. Rather than waiting for national legislation that may never come, a community asserts its own charter. These documents formally define their identity (“This is who we are, and this is our territory”) and values (“These are our spiritual and ecological laws e.g., ‘We do not patent life’, and these are our Rules of Engagement.” These are the specific terms you must agree to before accessing our knowledge or seeds.”)
By using contract law rather than international treaty law, BCPs bypass UN gridlocks. If a corporation seeks a medicinal plant, it must sign a private contract adhering to the BCP. Violations can then be litigated as a breach of contract in national courts, providing a concrete legal remedy that the vague “benefit-sharing” promises of the UN lack.
The most powerful example of this agency (the BCP) in action is the Rooibos Case. For over a century, the global tea industry generated billions in revenue from Rooibos, while the Indigenous Khoi and San peoples—the original holders of this traditional knowledge received nothing.
In a landmark shift, the Khoi and San councils developed a BCP to assert their status as primary knowledge holders. Leveraging South African national law (which localises the Nagoya Protocol), they challenged the industry. In 2019, they secured a historic victory, forcing the entire Rooibos industry to sign a benefit-sharing agreement. Today, approximately 1.5 per cent of the “farm gate” price of all Rooibos sold is paid into a Trust Fund for these communities. This is not “paper money”; it represents millions of Rands annually, secured through community-led enforcement rather than a new UN treaty.
It is a technological initiative designed to end “biopiracy”—the unauthorised use of biological data by wealthy corporations without compensating the source communities. It is led by the World Economic Forum and the Earth BioGenome Project, not Amazon.com; it is named after the Amazon Basin’s biodiversity.
Currently, genetic data (Digital Sequence Information or DSI) is treated like music in the 1990s. A researcher sequences DNA from a tropical species and uploads it to a free public database. A global corporation downloads it, develops a multi-billion-dollar product, and leaves the local community with nothing. Because digital files are easy to copy and hide, proving the source of the innovation is nearly impossible under existing international treaties.
The Solution lies in ‘wrapping DNA in Blockchain’. The ABC moves genetic data from open databases onto a Blockchain ledger. This transforms the process in three steps. The first step is ‘Digital Custody’, where biological samples are sequenced and the resulting data is “locked” within a blockchain. The second step is Smart Contracts, where to access the data, a user must sign a digital contract. This contract automatically records the user’s identity and sets the terms for future payment. The third step is Traceability, where every download and use of the code is permanently recorded. If a drug or a commercial product is developed, the “code” itself proves its origin.
The key takeaways from the alternatives are as follows. The shift in agency is moving away from “diplomacy” and toward “enforcement” (whether through code, contracts, or cartels). Technological leverage, viz., the blockchain, is seen as a potential “silver bullet” for the DSI problem that the UN could not solve. The mention of a “biodiversity cartel” suggests that the Global South is beginning to realise its collective bargaining power in a world where “data is the new oil.”
Sarath Babu Balijepalli is the president of the Plant Protection Association of India and a former Principal Scientist and Head, ICAR-NBPGR, Hyderabad.
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth