Seabed mining: a new geopolitical divide?

In addi­tion to the envi­ron­men­tal inse­cu­ri­ty caused by the cli­mate cri­sis and the ener­gy inse­cu­ri­ty caused by the war in Ukraine, there is a loom­ing min­er­al inse­cu­ri­ty that could impede Europe’s ener­gy and dig­i­tal tran­si­tions. Cobalt, cop­per, lithi­um, nick­el, rare earths, and oth­er crit­i­cal min­er­als are essen­tial for all low-car­bon tech­nolo­gies such as solar pan­els, wind tur­bines, bat­ter­ies for elec­tric vehi­cles or hydro­gen fuel cells. Hence, accord­ing to pro­jec­tions by the Inter­na­tion­al Ener­gy Agency (IEA)¹, con­sump­tion of these met­als is expect­ed to rise sharply by 2040. The met­als are now vital to all eco­nom­ic sec­tors, and are cen­tral to gov­ern­ment con­cerns, dri­ven by the glob­al push to decar­bonize, sys­temic rival­ries between pow­ers and a grow­ing aware­ness of the planet’s lim­its². In this con­text, marine min­er­al deposits are draw­ing the atten­tion of var­i­ous states and com­pa­nies. Accord­ing to Arti­cle 76 of the 1982 Unit­ed Nations Con­ven­tion on the Law of the Sea, coastal states have sov­er­eign rights over resources with­in 200 miles of their shores. Beyond this lim­it, this is “the Area” where the sea and seabed belong to no-one despite the abun­dance of resources.

These deposits come in three forms: sul­phide clus­ters, cobalt crusts and poly­metal­lic nod­ules. Poly­metal­lic nod­ules are small peb­bles lying on the seabed which are par­tic­u­lar­ly sought after for their high nick­el, cobalt, cop­per and man­ganese con­tent. The Clar­i­on-Clip­per­ton Zone is an area of par­tic­u­lar inter­est due to its high con­cen­tra­tion of nod­ules; the zone is in the mid­dle of the Pacif­ic Ocean and cov­ers approx­i­mate­ly 4.5 mil­lion km² (the size of the Euro­pean Union (EU)) (Fig­ure 1). With the Inter­na­tion­al Seabed Author­i­ty (ISA) due to meet on 15 July³, it is time­ly to exam­ine the issue of seabed mining.

Under­wa­ter explo­ration cam­paigns are cur­rent­ly under­way, but no com­mer­cial extrac­tion is on the agen­da. Deep-sea min­ing faces a sev­er­al major obstacles:

• It is tech­ni­cal­ly dif­fi­cult and cost­ly (1 to 5 mil­lion dol­lars for the extrac­tion vehi­cles alone), not to men­tion the high and uncer­tain costs of oper­at­ing and restor­ing the abyss;
• It could have sig­nif­i­cant eco­log­i­cal impacts, includ­ing loss of bio­di­ver­si­ty, major dis­rup­tion of ecosys­tems and pol­lu­tion, which are dif­fi­cult to mea­sure at present;
• Most of the min­ing poten­tial lies beyond the lim­its of nation­al juris­dic­tions, in what the Unit­ed Nations Con­ven­tion on the Law of the Sea⁵ (UNCLOS) calls “the Area”, and states are strug­gling to agree on a uni­fied reg­u­la­to­ry framework.

The Area is admin­is­tered by the Inter­na­tion­al Seabed Author­i­ty (ISA)⁶, a UN enti­ty defined by UNCLOS and cre­at­ed by the 1994 Agree­ment. ISA has the exclu­sive man­date to orga­nize and con­trol activ­i­ties in the Area for the ben­e­fit of mankind. It is there­fore up to ISA to set a frame­work for the explo­ration and exploita­tion of deep-sea min­er­al resources. Since 2014, the organ­i­sa­tion has been lead­ing nego­ti­a­tions to devel­op an inter­na­tion­al min­ing code. How­ev­er, the task has proven dif­fi­cult: while the Repub­lic of Nau­ru has been push­ing the UN body since 2021, and ISA Coun­cil and Gen­er­al Assem­bly are sched­uled to meet this sum­mer, they have already announced that final­is­ing such a reg­u­la­tion would not be pos­si­ble before 2025⁷. The draft­ing of this min­ing code thus marks a renew­al of inter-state rela­tions and brings forth  a new geopo­lit­i­cal field, with its own issues, insti­tu­tions and fault lines.

The issues sur­round­ing the exploita­tion of deep-sea min­ing resources are at the cross­roads of sev­er­al tra­di­tion­al geopo­lit­i­cal fields:

• High Seas Geopol­i­tics: The area is the focus of dis­cus­sions about free­dom of nav­i­ga­tion, def­i­n­i­tion of exclu­sive eco­nom­ic zones, the shar­ing of fish­ery resources, and strate­gic defence, sur­veil­lance and inter­ven­tion posi­tions. The high seas are a bat­tle­ground for the strate­gic inter­ests⁸ of states, par­tic­u­lar­ly coastal ones, as they try to delin­eate the perime­ter of this “Area” of uncer­tain­ty. Under­wa­ter resources are seen as a new front for assert­ing sovereignty.

• Min­ing Geopol­i­tics: Most major min­ing coun­tries have a clear-cut opin­ion on deep-sea min­ing. Pro­po­nents argue that it reduces the envi­ron­men­tal impact of land-based extrac­tion and pre­vents future sup­ply dis­rup­tions. Com­pe­ti­tion from these min­er­al resources is tak­en seri­ous­ly by the tra­di­tion­al min­ing coun­tries. Some try to lim­it the scope by advo­cat­ing a mora­to­ri­um, as Chile does, or attempt to become min­ing super­pow­ers, like Chi­na. Sim­i­lar­ly, poten­tial deposits are already includ­ed in the sup­ply secu­ri­ty poli­cies of coun­tries, as Japan.

• Cli­mate Geopol­i­tics: Ocean has recent­ly gained promi­nence as a dis­tinct sub­ject, dealt with in ded­i­cat­ed are­nas⁹ and at the core of ambi­tious texts such as the recent­ly adopt­ed High Seas Treaty¹⁰. Through this lens, under­wa­ter resources face the same ten­sion as cli­mate nego­ti­a­tions in gen­er­al: pre­serv­ing a key ecosys­tem while enabling all coun­tries to develop.

• Com­mons Geopol­i­tics: Des­ig­nat­ed as a “com­mon her­itage of mankind”, the deep seabed faces the same issues of equi­table shar­ing as oth­er res nul­lius. A par­al­lel can be drawn with Antarc­ti­ca, which was pro­tect­ed from exploita­tion by the Antarc­tic Treaty Sys­tem in 1959. Sup­port­ers of a deep-sea min­ing ban advo­cate for a sim­i­lar posi­tion, while oth­er states assert their right to appropriation.

Nego­ti­a­tions on a pos­si­ble deep-sea min­ing code thus involve these var­i­ous ana­lyt­i­cal per­spec­tives and give rise to a new geopo­lit­i­cal sphere with its own play­ers, nego­ti­at­ing dynam­ics and timetable. ISA¹¹ is the cen­tral play­er in this sphere, respon­si­ble for both reg­u­lat­ing the min­ing indus­try and pro­tect­ing the seabed. Strate­gies for influ­enc­ing deep-sea min­ing are devel­oped with­in its orbit. ISA com­pris­es 167 Mem­ber States –  and the Euro­pean Union (EU) – each with vary­ing degrees of influ­ence with­in the organ­i­sa­tion. Not all con­tribute to the organisation’s bud­get, 34 States have a per­ma­nent mis­sion to ISA, 21 hold explo­ration con­tracts in the Area, 36 serve on the ISA Coun­cil and 41 have an expert on the Legal and Tech­ni­cal Commission.

ISA is estab­lished as an omnipo­tent enti­ty, tasked both with mis­sions to pro­tect marine envi­ron­ments, and to reg­u­late activ­i­ties with­in the Area and ensure equi­table shar­ing of finan­cial and eco­nom­ic ben­e­fits among states¹². These con­flict­ing mis­sions make the ISA’s posi­tion del­i­cate and some­times at odds with oth­er UN struc­tures. For instance, UNEP¹³ warns about the uncer­tain­ties and poten­tial envi­ron­men­tal, social and eco­nom­ic risks of deep-sea min­ing¹⁴ when ISA is tasked with draft­ing a min­ing code to reg­u­late its practice.

ISA is crit­i­cised for its lack of impar­tial­i­ty between its mis­sions. For exam­ple, its fund­ing mod­el means that the organ­i­sa­tion can’t stop grant­i­ng licences with­out threat­en­ing its own con­tin­u­a­tion. Receiv­ing $500,000 for each explo­ration licence issued, as well as an annu­al fee of $47,000 per con­trac­tor, ISA relies heav­i­ly on income from the licences it grants¹⁵ for its own fund­ing. Its func­tion­ing makes it more like­ly to act as a reg­u­la­tor rather than a pro­tec­tor. Its oper­a­tional mode also favours its reg­u­la­to­ry mis­sion over its pro­tec­tive one. The organ­i­sa­tion is crit­i­cised for its lack of trans­paren­cy and its insuf­fi­cient con­sid­er­a­tion of sci­en­tif­ic advice. Par­tic­u­lar­ly con­cern­ing are the “two-year rule”¹⁶ acti­vat­ed by Nau­ru in 2021 and China’s veto¹⁷ on plac­ing a dis­cus­sion on the agen­da for ban­ning the grant­i­ng of exploita­tion licences until reg­u­la­tions are adopt­ed, rais­ing fears of poten­tial­ly silenc­ing oppo­si­tion to deep-sea min­ing with­in the ISA.

The seabed is emerg­ing as a new geopo­lit­i­cal sphere, with its own ratio­nales and fault lines

In ten years of nego­ti­a­tions on the min­ing code, the divid­ing line has shift­ed. Orig­i­nal­ly cen­tre around meth­ods of reg­u­lat­ing deep-water min­ing, the debate now ques­tions the very desir­abil­i­ty of min­ing these resources. There are two dis­tinct sides: on the one hand, coun­tries such as Chi­na and Nau­ru which are in favour of speed­ing up the approval process (fast track), and on the oth­er, coun­tries such as Cana­da and Peru that are in favour of a 10 to 15-year mora­to­ri­um, Brazil and Ire­land which sup­port a  “pre­cau­tion­ary pause”, and France which asks for a ban.

The move­ment advo­cat­ing a mora­to­ri­um on deep-sea min­ing is rel­a­tive­ly recent and grow­ing rapid­ly. It began with the cre­ation of the Alliance of Coun­tries Call­ing for a Deep-Sea Min­ing Mora­to­ri­um on the ini­tia­tive of Fiji, Palau and Samoa in 2022. It now includes 27 coun­tries and con­tin­u­ous to gain momen­tum. Sev­er­al coun­tries are active­ly engaged on this issue and want to posi­tion them­selves as spear­heads in the preser­va­tion of the deep seabed. For instance, France recent­ly signed an agree­ment with Greece¹⁸ join­ing it to the move­ment. France aims to use its role as co-organ­is­er (with Cos­ta Rica) of the Unit­ed Nations Ocean Con­fer­ence in Nice in June 2025 as the cul­mi­na­tion of the “Year of the Sea”. How­ev­er, the media cov­er­age of the mora­to­ri­um sup­port move­ment should not over­shad­ow the fact that most coun­tries have not defined a clear posi­tion on the issue and that dis­cus­sions on the sub­ject are evolv­ing rapidly.

Deep­wa­ter min­ing rep­re­sents a new divide with­in tra­di­tion­al alliances, whether eco­nom­ic (G7, BRICS+, EU), geo­graph­i­cal (CELAC, African Union, AOSIS) or strate­gic (OPEC, MSP etc.). This makes inter­na­tion­al rela­tions more com­plex, forc­ing states to form new and more ad hoc coali­tions to defend their positions.

States mobilise four types of nar­ra­tives, which clash in the media sphere to jus­ti­fy or reject seabed min­ing¹⁹. The first two empha­size the poten­tial ben­e­fits of min­ing: a) access to met­als need­ed for the eco­log­i­cal tran­si­tion by reduc­ing envi­ron­men­tal pres­sures on land, and b) prof­its cre­at­ed in the Zone that would be dis­trib­uted among devel­op­ing coun­tries, becom­ing a tool for redis­trib­u­tive jus­tice. On the oth­er hand, the next two nar­ra­tives empha­size c) our lack of under­stand­ing of the seabed and the ecosys­tem ser­vices it pro­vides to the plan­et, and d) the need for a strict pro­tec­tion pol­i­cy, favour­ing met­al recy­cling over a new extrac­tive front. As these argu­ments clash, three divide lines can be observed with­in allied blocs that illus­trate these new ten­sions: among small island states, among West­ern coun­tries and with­in what is con­sid­ered the Glob­al South.

The first group, the Alliance of Small Island States (AOSIS), made up of 44 states threat­ened by cli­mate change, suc­ceed­ed in hav­ing 1.5°C adopt­ed as a warm­ing tar­get under the slo­gan “1.5 to sur­vive”, thanks to their coali­tion at inter­na­tion­al nego­ti­a­tions. How­ev­er, they are now divid­ed on the issue of deep-sea min­ing, between the eco­nom­ic poten­tial of the resources and the risks to marine bio­di­ver­si­ty. Some, like Nau­ru and Ton­ga, want to exploit marine resources to finance their devel­op­ment. By threat­en­ing to trig­ger the two-year rule, Nau­ru is even seek­ing to press for the adop­tion of a marine min­ing code by ISA. Oth­ers, such as Van­u­atu, Palau and Fiji, sup­port a mora­to­ri­um or even a total ban on min­ing. Van­u­atu and oth­er islands in the “Melane­sian Spear­head” group²⁰ adopt­ed a mem­o­ran­dum²¹ in August 2023 reject­ing min­ing activ­i­ties in their waters and call­ing for pro­tec­tion of the seabed, sig­nalling the gap with their for­mer partners.

In the West, there is a sharp divi­sion between those in favour of exploit­ing the seabed (Unit­ed States, Nor­way, Japan, South Korea, etc.) and those advo­cat­ing a pause or even a total ban (Ger­many, Cana­da, Fin­land, France, etc.). The for­mer stress the strate­gic impor­tance of access to met­als for the ener­gy tran­si­tion and nation­al secu­ri­ty, while the lat­ter point to sci­en­tif­ic uncer­tain­ty about the envi­ron­men­tal impact. The Unit­ed States, which is nei­ther a sig­na­to­ry to the UNCLOS nor a mem­ber of ISA, can hard­ly influ­ence the devel­op­ment of marine min­ing rules, which is why a bipar­ti­san res­o­lu­tion in Novem­ber 2023 sup­ports rat­i­fi­ca­tion of the treaty²² in the name of secur­ing sup­plies of crit­i­cal met­als, par­tic­u­lar­ly from Chi­na. On the oth­er hand, Cana­da and France are defend­ing a mora­to­ri­um and a total ban on seabed min­ing respec­tive­ly. This sit­u­a­tion illus­trates the divi­sion of the West­ern allies: despite shared con­cerns about access to met­als, they are hav­ing strong dis­agree­ments over the devel­op­ment of under­sea resources.

Final­ly, the “Glob­al South”, a het­ero­ge­neous group not aligned with West­ern coun­tries, is deeply divid­ed over the exploita­tion of the seabed. Chi­na and Rus­sia are fer­vent sup­port­ers of exploita­tion: hav­ing already signed explo­ration con­tracts for all types of deposits, they would enjoy a tech­no­log­i­cal lead if approved by ISA. On the oth­er hand, Brazil opposed min­ing projects in 2023²³, cit­ing a lack of suf­fi­cient knowl­edge and call­ing for a 10-year pause in explo­ration. Chile, a sup­port­er of the mora­to­ri­um along with Cos­ta Rica, fears com­pe­ti­tion for its cop­per reserves, which cur­rent­ly account for 20% of the world’s land-based reserves. The African coun­tries, for their part, have no clear posi­tion: despite crit­i­cism, they have joint­ly called for a sys­tem of finan­cial com­pen­sa­tion²⁴ in the event of exploita­tion to off­set loss­es in their own min­ing sec­tors. No for­mal oppo­si­tion, then, but a demand for com­pen­sa­tion for their own min­ing indus­tries. So the moti­va­tions on both sides of the divide are diverse: access to new resources, tech­no­log­i­cal supe­ri­or­i­ty, a source of intel­li­gence for sup­port­ers ver­sus a risk to marine bio­di­ver­si­ty, pri­or­i­ty to pro­tec­tion and fear of eco­nom­ic com­pe­ti­tion for detrac­tors. The chal­lenge of open­ing a new extrac­tive fron­tier is cre­at­ing major rifts with­in tra­di­tion­al alliances and upset­ting the old coalitions.

In con­clu­sion, the seabed is emerg­ing as a new geopo­lit­i­cal are­na, with its own ratio­nales and fault lines. As is typ­i­cal of mod­ern geopol­i­tics, the role of states is being scru­ti­nized. Busi­ness­es have a key role to play in such a sphere. Indeed, they can push for the exploita­tion of the seabed which will ben­e­fit them direct­ly, as The Met­als Com­pa­ny²⁵ has done. But they can also restrict the eco­nom­ic inter­est of these new resources by oppos­ing their use, as demon­strat­ed by 49 inter­na­tion­al com­pa­nies that have signed a dec­la­ra­tion in favour of a mora­to­ri­um. Addi­tion­al­ly, the proac­tive role of NGOs under the umbrel­la of the Deep Sea Con­ser­va­tion Coali­tion and the mobi­liza­tion of the sci­en­tif­ic com­mu­ni­ty and civ­il soci­ety influ­ence cer­tain states, start­ing with France, to reverse their stance in favour of a mora­to­ri­um on seabed min­ing. It remains to be seen whether the forth­com­ing ISA nego­ti­a­tions this sum­mer will reflect this range of positions.