Why We Must Mine the Seafloor*

Because Waiting is Inconvenient (*A Satire)

There comes a solemn moment in every civilization when we must ask ourselves: What is more important—preserving one of the least-disturbed ecosystems in Earth’s history, or keeping our upgrade cycle on schedule?

It’s not that anyone wants to pulverize deep-sea habitats older than the human concept of writing. But we must be realistic: human progress depends on metals, metals depend on access, and access depends on not letting ecosystem concerns interfere with the essential march toward slightly faster charging times.

No one is saying the ocean isn’t valuable. The ocean is majestic. Mystical. Irreplaceable. A biodiverse cathedral of evolutionary time. But so is the new iPhone Ocean Pro-Max Ultra, and this one comes in manganese nodule fog.

We Need These Metals. Full Stop.

Critics claim we could reuse and recycle existing materials, but recycling requires planning, redesign, regulation, and—worst of all—patience. If there is one trait humanity is not known for, it is patience. If there is one trait humanity is known for, it is refusing to wait when a faster, riskier, irreversible option exists.

Besides, recycling is complicated. Mining the deep sea, on the other hand, requires only an optimistic faith in engineering we haven’t tested, a regulatory environment still assembling itself in real time, a “drill baby drill” federal zeal, and a collective willingness to ignore the fact that we have not studied the ecosystems we are preparing to extract from. All it really demands is an emotional tolerance for phrases like unknown impacts and irreversible habitat removal. In other words: totally manageable.

Enter the next logical step in progress: autonomous vacuum seabed platforms.

Self-navigating. Unflinching. Designed to roam the abyssal plain with the gentle subtlety of a Roomba that got an MBA, a venture-capital deadline, and a mandate. No ecosystem too delicate. No species too undiscovered. No silence too ancient.

And best of all: it operates far below public visibility. Because if ecological collapse happens 4,000 meters down, does anyone feel responsible?

It's Not Reckless—It's Visionary

Opponents insist that because we don’t fully understand deep-sea ecosystems—how they connect to global nutrient cycling, how species interact, how long recovery might take (estimated somewhere between geologic time and never)—we should not assume they are expendable.

But that’s precisely the wrong way to think about ignorance. Ignorance isn’t a barrier. It’s a blank canvas.

How can we know the consequences unless we create them?

Yes, some point out that this approach resembles the regulatory philosophies behind leaded gasoline, PFAS, drifting nuclear waste, bottom trawling, and the brief but enthusiastic era when monoculture forestry was considered peak innovation. But history only feels like a warning if you read it closely, and most people don’t.

A Planet Should Strive to Be Useful

The deep ocean has had billions of years to do… whatever it does. Mostly hosting creatures with unsettling teeth, maintaining Earth’s climate in ways we barely understand, and generating poetic dread for documentary voice-overs.

Surely it’s time it contributed something tangible to society, something like the raw materials necessary to ensure scooters, smartwatches, and toothbrushes can wirelessly connect to each other for reasons no one can quite articulate.

Some environmentalists argue that the ocean is already contributing oxygen, climate regulation, food security, and the ongoing support of life itself. Which is true, but not as immediately gratifying as a car that accelerates to 60 mph in under three seconds while displaying TikTok.

If Not Now, When?

We are standing at the brink of a technological revolution. Renewable energy, electrification, and climate mitigation all require metals: cobalt, nickel, manganese, and rare earth elements we barely think about except when they fail to load properly in a supply-chain graphic.

Could we redesign manufacturing systems, pursue substitution, scale recycling, reduce dependency on extractive demand, or (heaven forbid) reconsider built-in obsolescence as a default business model? Perhaps.

But redesigning systems takes time. Mining the deep sea only takes reckless confidence and the ability to ignore sediment plumes the size of European nations drifting through the water column like regret made visible.

And between those two options, one is clearly faster.

Conclusion: A Necessary Mistake

No one denies that deep-sea mining could have consequences. They may be severe. They may be irreversible. They may reshape ocean life in ways we cannot predict and cannot undo. But we must be honest with ourselves: humanity has never let “possible catastrophic, permanent planetary consequences” stop us before. And consistency matters.

So yes, deep-sea mining may be a terrible idea. But it is our terrible idea—and at this stage in our cultural arc, terrible ideas with financial backing deserve their chance.

Because if we don’t mine the seafloor, we may someday be forced to confront the unthinkable: doing things smarter, slower, and with restraint.

And truly… who is prepared for that?

Postscript... No Satire Here

The deep ocean is not a blank frontier waiting for extraction. It’s one of the last intact ecosystems on Earth. Once disturbed, there is no repair, no restoration, no “undo.”

If you believe policy should follow science—not profit—please take one minute to add your name:

👉 Sign the petition to oppose deep seabed mining in U.S. territories.

Some futures are worth protecting before they’re lost.