“China’s financial commitments are simply more tangible and easier to grasp than those of Europe,” one delegate from an island state remarked to me on a bright spring day in late March, as we both gazed out at the East River from the United Nations Headquarters. Behind us, in airless negotiation rooms, diplomats were haggling over the so-called BBNJ treaty — a landmark new global ocean governance body that entered into force earlier this year.
As we spoke, China was running a confident and well-resourced campaign to host the treaty’s secretariat in Xiamen, a coastal city in southeastern China. The financial commitment Beijing had put on the table — the one my interlocutor was referencing — amounts to approximately $70 million, encompassing cost reductions, waived utilities for the secretariat, contributions to various funds of the treaty, and an additional $3 million earmarked to support developing countries’ participation in future meetings. By comparison, Belgium, a rival contender, has pledged €600,000 in waived secretariat rent over five years and €70,000 to the voluntary trust fund.
Should China prevail over Belgium and Chile — the treaty’s other candidate host — it would mark one of the first times a UN-affiliated body is headquartered on Chinese soil, a significant milestone in Beijing’s broader ambition to shape the architecture of global governance.
Negotiated over two decades, the BBNJ treaty is deeply embedded in the UN’s long-running North-South politics, balancing shared environmental aspirations against deeply contested questions of sovereignty and access. Among its most prominent features is a mechanism to designate marine protected areas on the high seas — an issue close to the heart of many so-called “small island, big ocean” developing states.
The treaty also establishes a framework governing access to, and the equitable sharing of benefits derived from, marine genetic resources extracted beyond national jurisdiction. For developing countries, this cuts to the core of a durable grievance: should wealthier, more technically capable nations be permitted to capture the full commercial value of the global commons, or should those gains be distributed more equitably?
China’s secretariat bid, presented at the negotiations by Vice Foreign Minister Hua Chunying, drew a mixed reception. Several developing countries — Pakistan, and the small island states of Vanuatu and Dominica — voiced support immediately following Hua’s presentation, signaling the groundwork Beijing had already laid.
Other delegates welcomed China’s willingness to step up at a moment when multilateralism is under acute strain. Yet unease was also circulating in the corridors. Delegates quietly raised questions about data and information security, diplomatic immunity protections, and the accreditation and access of civil society organizations under a China-hosted secretariat.
The three contenders still have an eight-month runway to court support from BBNJ member states before the treaty’s first full Conference of the Parties convenes in January 2026. But China’s strong prospects are already drawing attention that extends well beyond procedural questions of institutional hosting. At a particularly volatile moment in global politics, Beijing’s bid has become a litmus test for the shifting dynamics between the Global South and Global North, and for how the international community chooses to engage with China’s deepening ambition to lead some of the institutions that govern global commons issues. Three dynamics are worth watching closely:
First, the “Global Middle” paradox. On a growing number of global issues, China has come to occupy an occasionally uncomfortable but potentially powerful position between the Global North and South. Its capabilities and financial firepower now rival those of developed nations — as the BBNJ financial pledges make plain. Yet Beijing remains genuinely and tactically bound to the developing world by shared historical memory and a carefully cultivated sense of solidarity. This double-sidedness can produce an identity crisis for Beijing in multilateral forums, as China strains to straddle two increasingly divergent blocs. But it can also be turned into an asset. A secretariat hosted in Xiamen could credibly claim to sit closer to the concerns of both sides of the aisle and help bridge the differences. Whether Beijing can make that case convincingly — and govern accordingly — is the real test.
Second, China can no longer be bypassed. Even before the secretariat bid, China’s centrality to global governance was beyond dispute. In the BBNJ framework, Beijing is expected to be among the largest contributors to the treaty’s operating budget, alongside the European Union. Its active secretariat candidacy now makes the urgency of effective engagement with China impossible to defer. Conversations I had in New York with delegations from both the developed and developing worlds confirmed something striking: despite China’s enormous geopolitical weight, it remains something of an enigma to nearly everyone in the room. The question I was asked most often was the simplest one — why does China actually want to host this secretariat? That opacity, at a moment demanding trust, is itself a challenge Beijing will need to address.
Third, the South China Sea test. Perhaps no issue will prove more consequential for China’s credibility as a steward of the BBNJ than the question of marine protected areas in disputed waters. The treaty’s most watched future battleground will be whether MPAs can be designated in geographic zones subject to competing territorial claims — a question that places China in direct tension with nations such as the Philippines and Vietnam. For small island states and other high-ambition environmental parties alike, meaningful MPA designation is a core treaty priority. Managing those geopolitical fault lines while keeping the treaty’s environmental mission intact will demand a level of political finesse that Beijing has not always demonstrated in maritime affairs. If Xiamen does become the treaty’s home, that tension will be built into its very address.
Li Shuo is CGSP’s Non-Resident Fellow for Climate.
