By: Paulina Barnjak and Dylan Long

The affirmative 

In the age of accelerating climate change, collapsing ecosystems and vanishing biodiversity, humanity finds itself in a familiar position: standing on the brink of disaster with a shovel in one hand and a corporate lobbyist whispering in your ear. We’ve scorched the land, polluted the skies and now — naturally — we’ve decided to take the destruction underwater. 

The deep sea is one of the last truly wild places on Earth. It’s not just “some water with rocks” – it’s a labyrinth of alien life, ancient coral gardens and microbial species. And we’ve explored less of it than we have the surface of Mars. So what’s our plan? Fire up the underwater bulldozers and hope for the best? 

Let’s be clear: this isn’t science fiction. In a few months, companies could start industrializing the ocean floor with all the grace and foresight of a toddler with a chainsaw. 

But it doesn’t have to be this way. Instead, we can implement a 10-year moratorium on mining in the international seabed to  give science, governance and maybe even common sense a chance to catch up. 

These ecosystems on the ocean floor are slow-growing, hyper-specialized, and uniquely vulnerable. Once disturbed, they may never recover. 

Deep-sea mining churns the seafloor with massive machines, kicking up toxic sediment plumes, and releasing heavy metals, and blanketing organisms in a chemical fog. According to a 2023 article in NPJ (Nature Publish Group) Ocean Sustainability, full net cost analyses reveal that deep-sea mining causes “dramatically underestimated” long-term environmental damage — much of it unknown and likely irreversible. That means when you destroy them, you’re not hitting pause on nature – you’re hitting delete. There is no undo button, no recovery timeline and no rehabilitation program. 

The risk is made worse by institutional uncertainty. As of March 2025, the International Seabed Authority still hasn’t finalized regulations. Yet Nauru has announced its intention to apply for a permit in June — meaning we are weeks away from letting companies rip into the seafloor without finalized environmental rules. If permits are granted now, we risk locking in low standards, rushed approvals and a dangerous precedent for lawless extraction in a space that’s supposed to be governed for the “common heritage of humankind.” 

A 10-year moratorium buys us time to finish the science, finalize rules and to understand what we’re about to lose. But this isn’t just a story about biodiversity — it’s about global equity. Because the rush to mine the seabed is also a rush to deepen injustice. 

Supporters of seabed mining frame it as necessary for the energy transition. They argue we need cobalt, nickel and rare earth metals for batteries and wind turbines. But this is a dangerous myth. According to a 2024 joint report from Earthworks and the Institute for Sustainable Futures, we already have enough land-based reserves and recycling potential to meet more than 90% of projected demand for energy transition minerals by 2040. 

And make no mistake — deep-sea mining doesn’t just harm ecosystems. It exports environmental risk onto the world’s most vulnerable nations. The companies pushing hardest are backed by Western financiers but hide behind permits sponsored by small island nations like Nauru – countries made economically dependent by colonial histories and now pressured to choose between economic survival and ecological ruin.

A moratorium disrupts this pattern. It forces wealthier nations to invest in ethical sourcing, robust recycling, and land-mining reform instead of treating the ocean as a geopolitical escape hatch.

We are standing at a turning point. Mining hasn’t started  yet. We still have a choice. Do we plunge into the unknown, damaging ecosystems we can’t repair? Or do we pause and proceed only when science, justice, and international law are truly ready? 

The negative 

In the face of climate breakdown, critical mineral shortages and supply chains more fragile than my roommate’s Wi-Fi, we don’t have time to hit snooze on innovation. Supporters want you to believe that a moratorium is a wise pause,  a calm, responsible deep breath. But it’s not. It’s a full-body nap at the worst possible moment. It hands the keys to authoritarian regimes hoarding terrestrial minerals like they’re the final boss in a battery-powered video game. 

Let’s be clear: the deep sea is not some mystical Atlantis with mermaids singing protest songs. It’s a legitimate solution — one that could reduce rainforest destruction, boost scientific discovery, and help us stop burning dinosaur juice. 

If we delay now, we don’t just risk the climate — we leave developing nations behind, cede critical materials to geopolitical rivals and bury the future in a bureaucratic time capsule labeled “Do Not Open Until Crisis.” We should not enact a 10-year moratorium on mining in the international seabed. 

The clean energy transition depends on critical minerals found in abundance in the Clarion-Clipperton Zone of the Pacific seabed. According to the ISA and the Metals Company, the CCZ contains more of these minerals than all known reserves on land. These nodules form over millions of years, untouched by humans, and now offer a cleaner, concentrated alternative to the land-based mining that has devastated tropical forests, displaced Indigenous communities, and fueled armed conflicts. 

Here’s the kicker: ocean nodules contain fewer toxic tailings, require no deforestation, and use less water to process. In fact, a 2022 study in Journal of Cleaner Production finds deep-sea polymetallic nodules generate 70% fewer carbon emissions per ton of nickel compared to land mining. A moratorium doesn’t protect the planet — it just shifts the destruction from ocean to land, often in places already suffering from extractive exploitation.

Delaying seabed access also makes the West more dependent on terrestrial mining monopolies – especially China, which currently controls over 70% of rare earth processing according to the US Geological Survey. A moratorium locks us out of diversification, reinforces supply chain bottlenecks, and leaves green industries vulnerable to price shocks and coercion. 

Climate change is not patient. The clock is ticking, and a 10-year moratorium isn’t a pause — it’s paralysis.

But this isn’t just about minerals; it’s about fairness. The real injustice lies in denying the potential improvement of developing nations across the seabed. 

Small island nations like Nauru, Tonga and Kiribati aren’t just passive observers in the deep-sea debate — they’re among the most active voices calling for access. Under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), the seabed is governed as the “common heritage of humankind,” meaning its resources are supposed to benefit everyone, not just the countries with the loudest environmental lobbies. 

The freeze also undermines scientific knowledge. Every exploration in the CCZ yields new data, new species and improved mining techniques. If we halt all activity for a decade, we don’t get better science — we get a research blackout at the exact moment we need more data to shape effective environmental regulations. 

And finally, claims that the system is flawed aren’t a reason to shut it down — they’re a reason to improve it. Reforming the ISA, enhancing transparency, and raising environmental standards are all viable paths forward. But a moratorium? That’s just postponing opportunity for science, for equity and for the nations that have waited long enough. 

Deep-sea mining holds risk — but so does inaction. Every year we wait, we entrench land-based extraction, delay climate targets, and withhold opportunity from the nations that need it most. A blanket moratorium is not environmental justice. It is scientific sabotage, economic exclusion and geopolitical short-sightedness.