Remote, mysterious, and unfathomably enormous, the deep-sea is also a heavily contested space. To Western environmentalists, the deep sea is a treasure trove of biodiversity. To Indigenous Hawaiians and many other coastal Indigenous communities, the deep sea not is not merely a collection of valuable ecosystems, but a sacred space of deep spiritual significance. Elder and activist Solomon Pili Kahoʻohalahala explains that inthe ancient oral creation chant of Indigenous Hawaiiains, life emerges from the deep-sea with the union of Kumulipo, the first male, and Pōele, the first female and a coral polyp.[1]

The deep-sea mining industry, on the other hand, envisages the deep sea as a ‘resource frontier’; an unexplored, untapped source of precious metals such as nickel and cobalt. The industry argues that mining the deep-sea is less harmful than terrestrial mining, and necessary to secure a greener future by providing the mineral and metals to build renewable energy technologies, such as electric vehicle batteries. Indigenous activists and allied environmental groups reject these narratives, maintaining that resource extraction would destroy sacred, highly sensitive ecosystems with poorly understood consequences.

This clash of worldviews is increasingly moving into new realms. In the Pacific’s Clarion Clipperton Zone, mining companies have set their sights on polymetallic nodule beds, full of small potato-shaped geologic formations rich in rare earth metals and minerals, hoping to begin operations as early as 2026. These nodule beds have recently found themselves at the centre of quite some controversy, not merely on the precipice of a resource frontier, but of a ‘knowledge frontier’ as well.

A recent study, financed by leading mining firm The Metals Company (TMC), made headlines after suggesting that the nodules may be producing ‘dark oxygen’. After placing nodules in sealed chambers, researchers found that oxygen levels gradually increased, hypothesising that high electric charges on the surface of the nodules were splitting water into hydrogen and oxygen. This could represent a groundbreaking discovery with regards to Earth’s oxygen cycle and the development of life itself. TMC responded by quickly issuing a statement rejecting the findings of its own study and publishing a rebuttal paper. As yet, the dark oxygen findings remain an open question. But at the very least, TMC’s reaction demonstrates the extent to which questions of knowledge production are increasingly entangled with the fate of the deep-sea.

Who’s Knowledge?

Though only roughly 5% of the seabed has been mapped in detail, equivalent to the surface of Mars, evidence suggests that polymetallic nodules provide the essential basis for ecosystems on the muddy abyssal plains. By creating hard surfaces for organisms like deep-sea sponges and mollusks to anchor on, the nodules ensure that the Clarion Clipperton Zone hosts remarkable biodiversity in an extreme environment, supporting over 5,000 species, most unknown to science until recently.

While remarkable on their own terms, deep-sea ecosystems also provide a treasure trove of benefits to humans; sequestering carbon, providing food and new medical compounds. The deep-sea is also a space of intangible cultural heritage for Indigenous peoples around the world with close relationships to the ocean. A recent petition of Indigenous voices calls for a ban on deep-sea mining, stating: ‘We would no more harm the ocean than we would a member of our family. And as with our family, we depend on each other for survival.’[1]

Whether or not deep-sea mining in the Clarion Clipperton Zone will move forward will be decided in the halls of the International Seabed Authority (ISA). A UN-affiliated institution, the ISA is tasked with the contradictory mission of both securing environmental protection of the deep-sea, as well as finalising mining regulation and issuing permits for extraction. Critics are quick to point out that the ISA is not fit to carry out its mission, and has been marred by allegations of corruption. The former head of the ISA, Michael Lodge, a British lawyer closely aligned with mining interests, has appeared in a promotional video for DeepGreen – the former name of TMC.

What, and who’s knowledge of the deep-sea is granted recognition at the ISA epitomises the contest for the deep sea, shedding light on the clashing conceptualisations that underwrite the dispute. As of yet, despite the work of active observers such as Greenpeace and the Deep-Sea Conservation Coalition, the ISA does not recognize the impact of mining on the intangible cultural heritage of the deep sea.

The Production of a Frontier

In The Invisible Doctrine, George Monbiot and Peter Hutchinson convincingly demonstrate how knowledge production systems embedded in neoliberalism have led to widespread social and ecological destruction. Monbiot explains ‘What Capitalism is, is a system of colonial looting which creates and destroys its own frontiers. It creates these highly lucrative frontiers, it burns through them with extraordinary speed, and then it has to move on to find the next one (...) it’s a planet trashing machine.’[1] Monbiot and Hutchinson trace a direct line to deep-sea mining.

Anna Tsing describes the production of these ‘resource frontiers’ in more detail. Certain portions of remote and poorly understood ecosystems (from a Western perspective) are parcelled out and ‘disentangled’ from existing ecologies, then re-imagined as resources ‘ready for export’, and integrated into global commodity chains.[2] Pacific Islander societies have generations of ancestral knowledge of the deep-sea, and these are also ‘disentangled’ from such ecosystems, ignored and cast aside in the name of resource extraction. Critical ocean geographer John Childs explains how this process also leads to the ‘production’ of the seabed’ as a resource, discovered anew in the ‘novel gaze’ of Western modernity.[3]

The deep-ocean has so far been buffered from this disentangling process due to its remoteness, and the difficulty of extracting resources under such extreme conditions. Mining interests are still in the process of constructing this new frontier, but if left unchecked, the end result will likely follow this pattern of ecological destruction, leading to a massive ‘gold rush’ in the name of fantastical profits for a few wealthy individuals and corporations.

Enlisting Science for Resource Extraction

On its website TMC has a whole section dedicated to ‘facts’ and research that support its operations, and claims that they are ‘undertaking one of the most comprehensive deep-sea research programs in history.’ The TMC website makes out that the nodules are ready made ‘batteries in a rock.’ Similarly, political commentator John Oliver recently lampooned TMC CEO Gerard Baron for repeating in media appearances that the nodules sit on the seabed like ‘golf balls on the driving range’, an analogy that both screams incredible privilege and trivialises a fundamentally destructive activity.

By simplifying the narrative and positioning themselves as the benefactors of deep-sea science, TMC is attempting to shore up its claims that its extraction will be less harmful than terrestrial mining. These claims, unsurprisingly, ignore a wealth of scientific data that suggests that deep sea mining would cause effectively permanent damage on human time scales.

Neoliberalism is an ‘invisible doctrine’, according to Monbiot and Hutchinson, because it deliberately conceals the political power behind its own knowledge claims, relying on simplified narratives of resource scarcity (a looming crisis in critical mineral supply) and human competition to justify its hunger for profits. TMC funded and backed the dark oxygen study, using the work of the scientists involved to bolster their image and legitimise their extraction, until that same study led to a discovery that might threaten their operations.

In the fight for the future of the deep-sea, knowledge claims are carefully deployed by powerful interests to paint a tantalising image of a lucrative resource frontier. And yet, bringing science into the commodification process can be a double-edged sword. Though research can be guided and shaped by corporate interests, this is not a perfect process – scientists themselves, and the phenomena they study, can be less compliant than those funding the studies would have hoped, throwing up bumps in the road.

The dark oxygen study has created a glitch in the system, shining a light on neoliberalism’s invisible doctrine and its attempts to frame the deep-sea as a ready-made resource. Instead, it suggests what Pacific Islander societies have known for generations; that the deep-sea is a mysterious, powerful, and vital part of the dangerously imperilled web of life.