Sarah Patterson, February 16th 2024.1
I am a scientist by training. I enjoy the quiet solitude of my lab in the late evenings, and I find my happy place in textbooks and education. As a biochemist, my passion lies in unraveling the mysteries of life at a molecular level. I examine and carefully consider the building blocks that form our unique existence, the complex interactions between metabolism, environment, and genetics mixed with social circles, culture, and evolution which all bring us to experience our own version of the world. Recently, my reflections have taken me into a new dark consideration, no longer the night sky out of my lab but now the shadowy depths of a controversy intertwining with science, power, and ethics – Deep Sea Mining (DSM).
How does our perceived ownership of natural resources affect the environment?
This reflection takes me outside of the controlled environment of a laboratory, but far reaching into the ocean floor- a world fascinatingly almost untouched by humans. Here, hidden in vast abyssal plains lie vast deposits of rare Earth metals, metals with potential to power a more green planet in energy potential. Scientific advancements have pushed us toward the exploitation of these resources, the promise to reduce our carbon footprint and start anew. I find myself pulling away from science, instead of being rooted in scientific evidence I’m swayed to consider the irreversible environmental impact. I consider the ecosystems that will be decimated, and the tremendous biodiversity loss, and I consider it right next to a global system’s growing carbon footprint. It was not long ago I sat in the front row of my microbiology class. I zealously wrote notes as fast as I could, picking up too much information but everything felt too important not to capture. Of the numerous new things I learned in this course, two stand out as I begin to reflect on deep sea mining. One, life is diverse. Among humans, we are almost the least diverse that come. For any organic substrate there is a microbe who can use it and produce energy, and that is powerful. The complex evolution that this brings us together teaches that bacteria are extremely diverse and have been running the planet far before we got here. As I place my bacterial samples into the incubator at night, by the time I arrive again in the morning they’ve already exceeded the human population in terms of cell count. And the second is a brief tour we spent on deep sea hydrothermal vents. In these dynamic ecosystems, organisms thrive by swapping metabolic intermediates and utilizing these specific microbes’ ability to fix inorganic substrates (such as carbon dioxide or hydrogen sulfide) in organic ones for the benefit of the community.
Picture a thriving underwater realm, a complex ecosystem that has evolved over millennia, sustaining life in the crushing pressures and utter darkness of the deep sea. As a biochemist, I understand the delicate balance of this ecosystem – a balance that, once disrupted, could have cascading effects on marine life and, consequently, on our own existence.
As I reflect on the hidden narrative within this seemingly innocent choice, the coloniality of knowledge manifests itself in unexpected ways, navigating into our oceans depths. “Coloniality of knowledge” is a concept developed by Peruvian sociologist Anibal Quijano, which critiques how a eurocentric system of knowledge was imposed over colonized territories, portraying itself as the only modern and superior form of knowledge. The coloniality of knowledge, or the colonization of modes of knowing, is one more legacy of colonialism that survives and thrives within our range of knowledge. For individuals studying decolonization, the coloniality of knowledge is pivotal to the ability of the coloniality of power to be functional. The coloniality of power and knowledge is responsible for capturing colonial subjects into victims of coloniality, referring to the experiences of colonized people. Quijano found suppression of knowledge within colonized culture, coupled with annihilation of the indigenous people and their communities and practices. Quijano found significant patterns of exploitation, suppression, and imposition of power and knowledge festering during the colonial period. This manifested in racial hierarchies which persisted far after colonialism set its roots.
Deep-sea mining (DSM), is the extraction of rare Earth metals from the ocean floor. Untouched from humanity, realms of the deep sea are now beginning to enter the subject of exploitation. Nodules are concentrated layers of iron and manganese, which can be sold for their application in electronics and technology, producing significant economic gain. As the competition for valuable minerals riles up, it begins another chapter of militarized power struggles among nation-states.
Figure 1: Nodules on the Ocean floor. This picture depicts a small area of the polyatomic nodules which coat parts of the ocean floor.Source: NOAA Office of Ocean Exploration and Research
A disconcerting chapter unfolds in deep sea mining practices. Every country that signed the laws of the sea becomes a member of the International Seabed Authority (ISA), here 36 countries are voted in to review applications for deep sea mining. 26 permits have been issued for the exploration of resources on the seafloor. Once approved, 75,000 km of the seafloor is then provided, setting aside equal sizing for an emergent nation.
The Metals Company is a Canadian DSM exploration company seeking to provide green, renewable energy for electric vehicles. They sought a sponsor from Nauru, a small Pacific island nation, and together applied for an exploration license giving the company access to Nauru’s reserved area. In 2015 and 2020, the company likewise had Kiribati and Tonga sponsor them, claiming even more area reserved for emerging nations.
This practice, benignly framed as a form of equitable resource allocation, conceals a historical narrative of exploitation and unbalanced power dynamics. What was hopeful to be an economically developing opportunity for developing countries has become a transaction masked in neocolonial roots. This sponsorship process underscores the persistence of colonial legacies in resource exploitation; even within the depths of the sea, power dynamics continue to shape the fate of nations while, simultaneously, limiting possibilities for governing nature in ways other than “natural resources”.
The purchasing of ocean floor areas, which are designated for developing nations, echoes the historical patterns of colonial exploitation. This intersection of purchasing ocean floor areas by developing nations and the coloniality of knowledge raises complex issues at the nexus of economic power, environmental stewardship, and historical legacies. The acquisition of these deep-sea territories involves negotiations with more economically advanced countries, something incredibly reminiscent of historical colonial power imbalances.
The quest for oceanic resources underscores the importance of navigating environmental sustainability. It is important to continue to mindfully be aware of global politics, and their playout among other members of a global community. It’s more important to be global members, keeping environments and nature alive, than it is to be members of a nation, commonly looking for economic development. In the realm of knowledge, the lens of coloniality prompts an examination of how historical narratives and power structures shape our understanding of deep-sea territories and exploitation. A more nuanced approach can shed new light into alternative futures, which consider the equitable distribution of benefits, environment conservation, and decolonization of knowledge to ensure the ocean’s depths are managed.
It’s difficult not to be reminded of the colonial power of old corporations and nations, who with much to technological and economic gain exploited natural resources to the detriment of the environment and ecosystem until it was bare. In the home of many of the rich nodules are located in species rich environments that have yet to be well studied and understood. For marine biology, ecology, and microbiology there is great knowledge that can be gained from the complex interactions of these organisms with their inorganic environments. DSM would extract, displace, and wreck these communities. The seafloor mining sites will be cleaned of life and natural contours, affecting populations of clams, mussels, corals, tubeworms, snails, and unique microorganisms. The colonial legacy of extraction and exploitation persists, and instead of guns and flags, weaponry becomes subsea machines with flags taking the form of bare seabeds.
In DSM we continue to witness historical power imbalances shaping our world. Extraction becomes more than mineral rich areas, it’s furthering the dominance of an environment that was not previously ours. It’s taking from territory that seemed beyond the grasp of humanity and calling it ours. I can hear an echo of the colonial mindset that feels nature is to be conquered and commodified, that nature is for them [the colonialist] and their gain. It’s a disheartening, perpetuating cycle of exploitation disproportionately affecting developing nations and marine life.
My journey into the realm of deep sea mining (DSM) has been a welcomed departure from the familiar solitude of my laboratory to explore the depths of a moral and ethical issue. As a biochemist, my training has taught me to spring forward with scientific processes. I’ve been taught that the scientific process propels us towards technological advancements for a greater purpose. The promise of harvesting rare Earth metals for a greener future confronts me with a stark possibility of irreversible damage to the delicate ecosystems who have thrived without human interference. The great biodiversity loss coupled with environmental devastation which compounds with the expansion of our carbon footprint raises questions about the sustainability of our pursuits, past and present. Stepping away from the microscope, I now embrace a broader perspective. I’m ready to advocate for more conscientious approaches to scientific endeavors- ones that balance innovation with environmental responsibility and places the sanctity of our planet at the forefront of collective consciousness. My scientific passion finds a new purpose at the face of DSM: a call for introspection, collaboration, and commitment to ensure our collective quest for knowledge does not undermine the foundations of life we seek to understand.
Works Cited:
Quijano, A. (2000). Coloniality of power and Eurocentrism in Latin America. International Sociology, 15(2), 215–232. https://doi.org/10.1177/0268580900015002005
Lipton, E. (2022, August 29). Secret data, Tiny Islands and a quest for treasure on the Ocean Floor. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/08/29/world/deep-sea-mining.html
Childs, J. (2019, August 20). Greening the blue? corporate strategies for legitimising deep sea mining. Political Geography. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0962629818302828
Pauley, P. (2016, June 11). Who’s monitoring deep-sea mining? HuffPost UK. https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/phil-pauley/monitoring-deep-sea-mining_b_7543642.html?guccounter=1 Kaikkonen, L., & Virtanen, E. A. (2022). Shallow-water mining undermines global sustainability goals. Trends in Ecology & Evolution, 37(11), 931–934. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tree.2022.08.001
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