Op-Ed: What We Know—What We Don't Know — Is Enough to Say No

(Part 2 of 4)

The debate over deep-sea mining is often framed as a choice between economic opportunity and environmental protection. But before we can make informed decisions about mining the ocean floor, we must confront a simple reality:

There is still far more we do not know than what we do know.

Scientists have studied the deep ocean for decades, yet it remains one of the least understood environments on Earth. New species continue to be discovered, and researchers are still learning how deep-sea ecosystems function, reproduce, and recover from disturbance.

What we do know is concerning.

Deep-sea mining would remove polymetallic nodules from the seafloor, destroying habitats that have taken millions of years to form. Mining operations would generate sediment plumes that could spread far beyond the mining site, potentially affecting marine life across large areas. Noise, vibration, and artificial light could disrupt species adapted to one of the quietest environments on Earth.

What we do not know may be even more important.

Scientists cannot yet predict the full ecological consequences of deep-sea mining. They do not know how far sediment plumes may travel, how mining could affect migratory species, fisheries, and food chains, or whether damaged ecosystems can recover within meaningful human timeframes—or at all.

As Samoans, we understand one thing about the ocean: currents carry everything. We see it every time debris from distant places washes ashore. If sediment and contaminants are released into the ocean, the ocean currents will carry them somewhere. No one can say with certainty where they will end up or what long-term effects they may have—but there is that possibility that they may end up on our corals.

This uncertainty would be concerning anywhere. It is even more concerning because the proposed mining area lies within American Samoa's Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), extending approximately 200 nautical miles from our shores and closest to the Manu'a Islands and Swains.

These waters are more than lines on a map. They are part of our heritage, our fisheries, our economy, and our future. The ocean feeds our families, supports our livelihoods, and sustains traditions passed down through generations.

Supporters of deep-sea mining argue that technological advances will eventually address today's environmental concerns. Even if safer technologies are developed, who can guarantee that every company seeking to mine within American Samoa's EEZ will operate under the same standards?

Once the first lease is granted, the issue is no longer about one company or one set of promises. It is about establishing a precedent that could shape the future of our ocean for generations.

Public policy should be based on evidence, not hope. The burden should not be on the people of American Samoa to prove that deep-sea mining is dangerous. The burden should be on those seeking to mine our ocean floor to demonstrate—with credible science and clear evidence—that it can be conducted safely, responsibly, and without irreversible harm.

So far, they have not met that burden.

The information available today—and the information still missing—is enough for our people and our leaders to decide where they stand. We know enough to recognize significant risks, profound uncertainty, and the possibility of irreversible consequences.

The metallic nodules on the ocean floor are not going anywhere. They have rested there for millions of years. If future science can demonstrate that they can be extracted safely, future generations can revisit the question.

But once they are removed, they are gone forever.

The science we have today—and the science we still lack—is enough to reach a responsible conclusion. When the consequences are uncertain and potentially irreversible, caution is not fear. It is wisdom.

For American Samoa, what we know—and what we do not know—is enough to say no.