The deep ocean debate: We have heard these promises before

By Tommy Remengesau

In July 2022, I descended over 8,000 meters into the bottom of the Palau Trench in a deep-sea submersible. Sunlight gradually disappeared until there was only darkness. After three hours, we finally reached the seafloor and began to explore a place no human had ever visited.

What I remember most about that journey is a profound sense of humility.

Despite everything we claim to know about our planet, there remains an unknown world beneath the ocean’s surface. We observed species rarely seen before. We also encountered plastic waste, proof that destructive human activity has reached even this remote landscape.

The deep ocean is not disconnected from our daily lives. It supports ocean life, influences our climate and sustains the conditions upon which we all depend. Everything is connected.

As a former president and now as a traditional leader of Palau, I have spent many years advocating for ocean conservation. Yet many of the principles underpinning modern scientific knowledge are not new to Pacific peoples. Our ancestors understood them long ago through observation, stewardship and a deep relationship with the natural world.

Our elders taught us to take only what we truly need, always ensuring there would be enough for tomorrow. They also understood that some things are simply too important to risk.

In Palau, we tell the story of Latmikaik, our ancestral mother, who emerged from the deepest ocean and gave rise to the world we inherited.

To us, the deep ocean is a place of belonging and connection. It is not a repository of minerals waiting to be extracted for short-term gain. It is part of our cultural landscape and collective memory. When we speak about protecting the deep ocean, we are not only speaking about biodiversity. We are speaking about protecting somewhere that has shaped our understanding of who we are.

Across the Pacific, many Indigenous peoples hold similar beliefs, yet these perspectives are often absent from global discussions about deep-seabed mining.

Much of the prevailing debate revolves around access to minerals, commercial opportunity and speeding up exploitation. Yet for many Pacific Islanders, the deeper question is whether humanity has earned the right to industrialize one of the least understood environments on Earth.

There is a certain arrogance in believing we can exploit an ancient ecosystem that we are only just beginning to understand.

That question feels especially urgent at a time when international mining interests are seeking access not only to international waters, but also those of neighboring Pacific nations. Although deep-seabed mining is often presented as being in the interests of our people, a growing number of Pacific nations, led by Palau, have called for a moratorium until the consequences are better understood.

Indeed, the number of Pacific nations now calling for caution significantly exceeds those actively pursuing mining opportunities. Their concerns deserve to be heard.

Recently, during a discussion about deep-sea mining, one of our high chiefs quietly said to me: “We know these men. They are the same men, but with different faces.”

He was not speaking about any individual. He was describing a pattern Pacific peoples know well. The industries may differ, the language may evolve and the faces may change. Yet the story remains familiar: those who stand to gain are often far removed from those who must live with the consequences.

Palau became the first nation to constitutionally ban nuclear weapons in our waters because we witnessed the ruinous impact of nuclear testing across our region. Pacific Islanders were promised that the dangers were understood, that adequate protections were in place, and that the interests of humanity justified the risks. Yet many of our communities continue to live with the devastating legacy of those promises today.

Those experiences taught us that caution is not weakness. It is wisdom.

The choice before us is not between deep-seabed mining and climate action.

Advances in battery technology, mineral recycling and efficiency continue to evolve at remarkable speed. We should be investing in reducing our dependence on extraction, not rushing to industrialize one of the last untouched ecosystems on our planet.

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The United Nations’ Convention on the Law of the Sea recognizes the seabed as the “common heritage of humankind”, to be “held in trust for future generations.”

That heritage belongs to all of us. It is not something that can be appropriated by a select group of nations, corporations or investors who reap the rewards while others are left to shoulder the high costs.

As chiefs, we are taught that leadership is not ownership. We are temporary custodians of places that existed before us, and must endure after us.

When I think back to the floor of the Palau Trench, I do not remember a barren landscape waiting to be developed. I remember a place teeming with life, mystery and possibility.

Before we decide the future of the deep ocean, we must first decide what kind of ancestors we want to be. This is not only a scientific or economic question. It is also a moral one.

History has given Pacific peoples good reason to be cautious. Because we have heard these promises before.

Tommy E. Remengesau Jr. is a former President of the Republic of Palau, member of Palau’s Council of Chiefs and United Nations Champion of the Earth.

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