Across the blue Pacific, island nations are being drawn into a dangerous experiment. Beneath the surface of our oceans, companies and federal agencies are preparing for industrial-scale extraction of metals from the deep sea. They promise innovation and economic growth. But for Samoa Ātoa and the wider Pacific, what deep sea mining actually offers is irreversible environmental damage, economic entrapment, and the erosion of our cultural and food systems.
The technology being proposed is untested at commercial scale. Impossible Metals, one of the companies under consideration for exploration permits, has no industrial fleet and no track record of delivering safe seabed harvesting. Their 2024 tests using autonomous underwater vehicles already showed sediment disturbance, despite claims of “selective harvesting.”
Even limited contact with the abyssal seafloor released fine sediment clouds that drift far beyond the collection site. Sediment released through deep-sea mining travels hundreds of kilometres and rises through the entire water column, affecting ecosystems that have never been exposed to this level of disruption. It’s not just the seafloor that’s affected; it’s the life above it, from plankton to pelagic fish.
Deep-sea mining may be sold as the future of green energy, but global scientific consensus tells a different story. The Deep Sea Conservation Coalition (DSCC), a network of over 100 organisations, has published extensive data challenging the notion that deep-sea mining is necessary, safe, or sustainable. In their October 2023 Fact Sheet, they outline the irreversible ecological consequences, the absence of proper governance, and the fact that alternatives to seabed minerals already exist. The Pacific region, they argue, must not become the proving ground for an experiment whose costs will fall hardest on island nations least able to bear them.
Manganese nodules, the main target of these operations, take millions of years to form. Disrupting this process through mechanical collection removes not only the nodules themselves but the entire ecological scaffolding they support. In trial zones observed over decades, the recovery of biodiversity has been negligible. The scars are still visible after 30 or 40 years. And while companies market their intentions with words like “clean” or “green,” the reality is that no full environmental impact assessment has been filed. There is no roadmap to recovery because there is no precedent for recovery. These are permanent changes, carried out with no guarantees.
What American Samoa is being asked to consider is not just an environmental risk. It is an economic gamble with no foundation. There is no processing facility on Tutuila. There are no confirmed jobs. No infrastructure exists to support the refining or export of seabed materials. The companies proposing these operations have not pledged direct investment in the territory. This mirrors what happened in Papua New Guinea, where the Solwara 1 project promised national revenue and local jobs. Instead, PNG lost over 100 million US dollars through its investment in Nautilus Minerals, which collapsed into bankruptcy before a single gram of mineral was extracted. The debts remain. The benefits never arrived.
At a recent town hall meeting in Tutuila, Dr Sabrina Suluai‑Mahuka, Executive Director of the American Samoa Resilience Office, presented a compelling breakdown of these risks. Her presentation clarified that no economic infrastructure exists to support the proposed operations, and no regulatory or scientific assurances have been provided to protect local livelihoods or ecosystems. She challenged both the scientific validity and economic logic of proceeding with such untested ventures and emphasised the urgency of informed community action.
Meanwhile, American Samoa already supports a proven economy, one rooted in tuna. The tuna industry brings in over 500 million US dollars a year. It provides thousands of jobs and feeds families across the region. This is not theoretical. It is measurable, reliable, and essential. Yet deep-sea mining threatens the very ecosystem this industry depends on. Tuna migration relies on ancient, nutrient-rich pathways influenced by deep-sea upwelling. If the seabed is disrupted, those patterns can be altered. Juvenile tuna, as well as the plankton they feed on, are vulnerable to the chemical and physical changes triggered by mining activity. Once disturbed, these migratory systems may not re-stabilise.
What makes this even more unacceptable is the power imbalance behind the decision-making process. The Bureau of Ocean Energy Management (BOEM), a federal U.S. agency, has released a public Request for Information (BOEM-2025-0035) inviting feedback on potential seabed mining around American Samoa. Yet the agency alone retains the authority to issue or deny exploration permits in federal waters. American Samoa has no formal say in the outcome. The territory can submit comments, but BOEM is under no legal obligation to follow the recommendations or objections from island leaders, local scientists, or cultural authorities. There is no veto power. No binding mechanism. The same governance structures that allowed military developments in CNMI and Guam to proceed over local objection are now being used to greenlight mining in waters that support Samoan livelihoods.
A 2022 report by the World Economic Forum titled Decision-Making on Deep-Sea Mineral Stewardship outlines how governance frameworks around seabed mining remain dangerously underdeveloped. It warns that current legal instruments are inadequate for addressing the complexity of deep-sea ecosystems, ethical stewardship, and long-term accountability. Without a binding international agreement or shared ethical principles, decisions are made piecemeal and often prioritise short-term economic interests over ecological integrity. For regions like the Pacific, this means decisions are being made in boardrooms and capitals far removed from the communities who will bear the brunt of their consequences.
This is a breach of self-determination. It also runs counter to the principle of free, prior, and informed consent, a foundational principle in international law that has been ignored in every stage of this process. There is no co-governance. There is no seat at the table. The same colonial logic that once justified the removal of land and labour now reappears beneath the ocean. The Pacific is again being offered short-term extraction under the illusion of long-term development.
The ecological argument is even more urgent. Sediment plumes created by deep-sea mining release heavy metals such as nickel, cobalt, and cadmium, all known to bioaccumulate in fish. These particles don’t simply sink. They enter the currents, the food chain, and ultimately the human body. The people of American Samoa eat local fish. They collect palolo, fish akule, and rely on the reef and pelagic zones for nutrition and cultural continuity. These practices are not optional. They are essential to community health and heritage. If mining changes ocean chemistry or disrupts reproductive cycles, we lose not just biodiversity, but the food and cultural systems built on it.
According to a comprehensive review by Miller, Thompson et al. (2018), deep-sea mining poses major and poorly understood environmental risks, particularly regarding sediment disturbance and loss of biodiversity. Their analysis emphasises the knowledge gaps in our understanding of deep ocean systems, warning that current models may significantly underestimate the long-term consequences of these industrial activities. See the full scientific review for details.
International policy experts are also sounding the alarm. A 2025 analysis by IRIS France describes this moment as a “strategic and institutional turning point” in the history of deep-sea mining. As the race accelerates to industrialise the ocean floor, the Pacific has become a contested zone where large powers seek to shape rules in their favour before environmental safeguards are agreed upon. The report identifies a growing risk that the Pacific region will be used as a proving ground for technologies that would not pass muster in the waters of wealthier nations. For Samoa Ātoa, the cost of this experiment is not abstract; it is cultural survival, ecological stability, and the right to refuse extraction altogether.
There is also no fisheries compensation scheme. If tuna populations collapse or reef health deteriorates, the companies involved are not liable. There is no fund to restore coral, no requirement to replenish stocks, no promise of assistance. The burden of recovery, as always, will fall on the people least responsible for the damage.
There is nothing green about this. Deep-sea mining does not reduce global inequality; it deepens it. It does not serve climate justice; it undermines it. The promise of electric vehicles and battery storage is being used as a smokescreen to open up a new frontier of extractive harm in regions that have already paid enough.
Samoa Ātoa has a duty to say no. Not because we oppose development, but because this is not development. This is a dangerous experiment with unproven technology, driven by private companies and sanctioned by foreign bureaucracies that will not bear the consequences. It risks everything and guarantees nothing.
The sea sustains us. It has always sustained us. And now, it needs us to defend it with knowledge, with unity, and with voice. Let there be no confusion and no delay. Not in our waters. Not at our expense. Not for a lie sold in the name of progress.
