

It was sunset in Muttrah and the sky over the corniche was brushed with hues of apricot and rose. The scent of frankincense drifted through the air as I sat at Bait Al Luban with a visiting friend, a carbon markets expert who had spent the week navigating Oman Sustainability Week. Between sips of coffee and luban-infused water; and bites of golden sambusa, our conversation turned, as it often does in my circles, to climate.
“Everyone here wants to do mangroves because they live in harsh weather,” he said.
It was a passing remark, but one that stayed with me. Mangroves have become an environmental emblem in the Gulf: tough, rooted, enduring. But increasingly, I wonder if we are asking them to do more than they were meant to.
Oman is moving fast on climate ambition. We have committed to net-zero by 2050. A national carbon credit system, complete with a registry, verification protocols and crediting frameworks, is being designed. Projects are taking shape. And nature-based solutions, especially mangrove restoration, are at the centre of it all. But in this moment of momentum, we need to pause and ask: are we clear about what success looks like?
Take mangroves. In Oman, they are vital. They protect our coastlines, provide nurseries for fisheries, support biodiversity and hold deep cultural value. Their restoration has tangible benefits for local communities and resilience. But scientifically, they are limited in what they can deliver as carbon sinks. Avicennia marina, the dominant species here, is highly salt-tolerant but slow-growing. Research in Muscat’s Al Qurum Reserve shows that annual sequestration rates rarely exceed 0.5 tonnes of CO₂ per hectare. Compare that with tropical mangroves in Indonesia or Malaysia, which can exceed six tonnes per hectare annually.
This does not make our mangroves any less worthy. It simply means they should not be asked to deliver what they cannot. The carbon market is not built on symbolism. It is built on measurable, verifiable impact. If we expect high-return credits from low-sequestration ecosystems, we set ourselves up for disappointment and diminished credibility.
This is where Oman’s climate leadership will be tested. The systems are being built. The opportunities are real. But the real challenge lies with policymakers, project developers and private investors alike: to ensure every project is designed to deliver what it promises. If mangroves are planted, let it be for resilience. If carbon credits are pursued, let them come from ecosystems or technologies that can meet the metrics. We have other options too, including inland native tree planting, salt marsh rehabilitation, seagrass restoration and industrial abatement. Nature is not a single solution. It is a portfolio. And markets will reward those who treat it as such.
That evening, as the call to prayer echoed through Muttrah’s narrow streets, I thought about how often climate action stumbles not from lack of will, but from lack of clarity. We do not need to lower our ambition. But we must align it with ecological and market realities. That is how we build trust. That is how we unlock real impact. Because in a thirsty land like ours, it is not enough to plant what survives. We must invest in what works and credit what delivers.
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