As Norway Explores Deep-Sea Mining, a Legacy of Ocean Conservation Choices Could Shape Its Approach

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In the past, scientists, industry, and government have collaborated in unexpected, tense, and fruitful ways

Christian Elliott

April 21, 2025 8:00 a.m.

The Arctic Mid-Ocean Ridge, located off the coast of Norway, is a hotspot for unique marine life and geological phenomena. As molten rock escapes from between spreading tectonic plates, black smoker vents play a crucial role in sustaining diverse ecosystems in the abyss. Organisms such as endemic bristle worms and small crustaceans thrive on bacterial mats, while vibrant chemosynthetic tube worms create dense fields resembling underwater grass. In addition, the region is home to sponge banks that cling to underwater mountains, and over millennia, minerals accumulate in the form of sulfide deposits and manganese crusts.

These mineral resources—comprising elements like copper, zinc, and cobalt—are vital for the growing global green energy movement. In January 2024, Norway made headlines by declaring its intent to allow exploratory deep-sea mining in its waters, marking it as the first nation to embark on this venture. If everything proceeds as planned, licenses for mineral exploration would be issued by the spring of 2025. However, for many scientists dedicated to studying the geological and ecological aspects of the Norwegian seabed, this announcement felt premature, especially given the lack of comprehensive data in the designated mining area. The government’s Institute of Marine Research (IMR) criticized this decision, indicating that conclusions were being drawn from a limited research zone without consideration of the vast area now targeted for extraction.

“Our advice has been clear: we don’t possess sufficient knowledge,” states Rebecca Ross, an IMR ecologist involved with Norway’s Mareano deep-sea mapping initiative. The decision seemingly leaned heavily on geological assessments, while essential biological and ecological investigations often follow at a later stage, leaving crucial gaps in our understanding of the mining zone’s ecosystem. Ross highlights that the area likely harbors sensitive marine ecosystems vulnerable to disturbances caused by mining operations, such as light and noise pollution, along with sediment disruptions associated with mining activities. The IMR has estimated that bridging the knowledge gap in this region could require up to a decade.

A similar scenario is unfolding in the Pacific Ocean, where early-stage mining initiatives are already occurring in international waters. In previous years, industry-funded researchers conducted seabed explorations in the area, uncovering both valuable mineral deposits and various newfound species.

“I remember their conflicting feelings, realizing they were essentially laying the groundwork for potential exploitation while simultaneously expanding their understanding of the deep-sea environments,” explains Claire Armstrong, an natural resource economist at the University of Tromsø, who studied the miners’ exploratory efforts. “It’s definitely a delicate balancing act.”

Conducting research in the deep sea is inherently challenging, often involving lengthy, costly expeditions and specialized equipment that requires years of planning. Scientists typically collaborate with industries, including oil, fisheries, and mining, to access the seabed more efficiently. However, this partnership sometimes breeds conflicts of interest.

The Mareano initiative, which is now in its 20th year, boasts one of the largest efforts to chart the seabed’s geology and ecology on a national level. Born from a United Nations agreement that permits countries to extend jurisdiction over their continental shelves, the initiative has fueled a global race for seabed exploration since the 1980s. Research priorities set by the government guide where mapping expeditions occur, aimed at informing management strategies for oil, gas, wind energy, and fisheries. Although Ross acknowledges that her work enables resource extraction, she also recognizes its potential detrimental impact on marine ecosystems. The question looms: if ecological scientists do not participate in these efforts, who will gather the vital data necessary for competent environmental assessments?

Resolving the tension between scientific research and industrial aims poses significant challenges. Norway’s experience in navigating such complexities offers valuable lessons on how governments, academic institutions, industry stakeholders, and environmental advocates can effectively collaborate. As deep-sea mining approaches, some researchers argue it would be prudent for Norway to reflect on its historical experiences.

Reefs in the deep

In 1982, geologist Martin Hovland joined a research vessel operated by the Norwegian oil company Statoil (now Equinor) in the Barents Sea. While monitoring a sonar display, he identified an unusual structure: a mound measuring 150 feet in width and rising 50 feet above the ocean floor.

“I urged them to halt the ship; we needed to investigate that formation,” Hovland recounts. They deployed a coring device at a depth of about 900 feet. The mud samples that emerged were puzzling, producing a glass-like sound when they struck the metal deck.

To better understand this anomaly, Hovland sent an early remotely operated vehicle (ROV) into the depths, capturing the first color photograph of a cold-water coral reef—an ecosystem that scientists have since confirmed to exist throughout the Norwegian Sea.

During the following decade, Hovland’s ongoing access to the deep sea allowed him to gather critical data on these reefs. He frequently collaborated with university and government scientists, who admired Statoil’s ROV for its capabilities. Despite facing skepticism and sometimes being disregarded for his affiliation with the oil industry, Hovland encountered a significant dilemma in 1991. A proposed pipeline project stood to obliterate an exquisite reef. Engineers were set on following through with their initial plans.

“Witnessing this coral reef on land would have left anyone in awe,” he argued. “It resembles an aquarium— a true Eden underwater.” The coral sample he retrieved from this reef was dated to be approximately 8,600 years old, having begun its growth soon after the arrival of the first humans in Norway.

Hovland insisted that, despite the current lack of legal protections, once the public became aware of these reefs, regulatory measures would inevitably follow. He warned that Statoil would face public scrutiny for destructive practices should they proceed. As a result, the company made the decision to reroute the pipeline and implemented protective guidelines for corals that Hovland drafted, which included routine monitoring visits.

Bottom trawling begins

Simultaneously, Norway experienced a surge in bottom-trawling fishing, employing “rock hopper” gear that bulldozed the seabed while catching all marine life in its path. Coastal fishermen quickly noticed a decline in their catches, particularly near coral reefs they had historically fished using gillnets and longlines.

“They realized that trawlers had affected the cold-water corals in the region,” Armstrong notes. “This prompted them to approach the Institute of Marine Research for assistance.”

The collaboration between scientists and fishermen dates back to Norway’s early history, as elaborated by Mats Ingulstad, a historian at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology. Government-funded university research ultimately led to a ban on whaling in 1904 after biologists determined that whales were essential for maintaining coastal fisheries.

In this scenario, deep-sea ecologists at the IMR suspected trawl operations were damaging reefs but had insufficient evidence—many reefs’ locations remained unknown. Thus, they collaborated with coastal fishermen who helped identify coral reef sites. In some instances, they borrowed ROVs from Statoil to investigate areas suspected of being damaged.

“During this search, they captured striking images of the destroyed coral that made national headlines in Norway,” states Armstrong. The Norwegian public was captivated by Hovland’s coral visuals, and the release of destroyed reef images only heightened the public’s emotional response.

Responding to growing public concern, the Norwegian parliament swiftly passed legislation that restricted fishing in significant reef areas after just nine months of debate. The introduction of satellite tracking technology facilitated compliance with these restrictions. Notably, the fishing industry supported the new regulations, recognizing that adhering to them was essential for their long-term reputation. “Both the oil and fishery sectors understood the potential fallout of opposing this measure,” reveals Armstrong.

The deep-sea mining dilemma

Deep-sea mining has been a part of scientific dialogue for centuries. The HMS Challenger expedition in the 1870s saw the discovery of polymetallic nodules—mineral-rich lumps targeted by modern mining operations in the Pacific. Almost a century later, scientists identified deep-sea vents and their accompanying sulfide deposits. During this time, an idea began to take hold that the ocean harbored endless mineral riches, as noted by Ingulstad, who is involved in multidisciplinary studies regarding deep-sea mining.

Surging mineral demand driven by the Korean War prompted the U.S. to invest in foreign land-based mining operations to address domestic shortages of essential metals needed for the conflict. Simultaneously, a cover story for a secret CIA endeavor to recover a sunken submarine showcased a fictitious deep-sea mining project paid for by billionaire Howard Hughes. This led to a belief that commercial deep-sea mining was just around the corner, with some speculating about a potential reshaping of the global economic landscape based on control of marine mineral resources.

“In considering Norway’s historical context and the global view of the ocean as a resource provider, it’s critical to recognize a common pursuit: whenever food or mineral shortages arise, the ocean is perceived as a solution,” remarks Ingulstad. “If land yields inadequate resources, the ocean becomes the go-to provider.”

However, interest in deep-sea mining waned as mineral prices fell. The U.S. investments in mining operations abroad were successful enough that strategic reserves of minerals exceeded demand, prompting the government to offload excess stock. In the early 2000s, as China entered the global market and mineral prices ballooned, Norwegian scientists exploring the Arctic Mid-Ocean Ridge unearthed black smoker vents, including those known as Loki’s Castle. Since then, media and industry narratives have inflated the perceived economic and security benefits of exploiting the mineral wealth found in the ridge, which poses significant risks to its unique ecosystems.

In Norway, politics are characterized by complexity—theoretically, some politicians frame mining as a matter of European security, while others view it as a potential economic boon for coastal communities as reliance on conventional oil and gas lessens. For many years, discussions about the imminent feasibility of deep-sea mining have shaped academic training for specialists in the field, many of whom now work within the industry. The fundamental techniques and technologies required for deep-sea extraction are readily available; the pressing question remains whether society is prepared to endorse such initiatives.

After Norway’s announcement regarding the forthcoming licensing round for exploratory deep-sea mining in early 2025, a public commentary phase was initiated to allow scientists an opportunity to identify vulnerable locations—such as active hydrothermal vents—potentially barring them from exploitation. This process led to considerable criticism from the scientific community; for one, crucial data to identify at-risk ecosystems is still lacking. Thorough ecological assessments necessitate extensive video documentation and physical sampling. Furthermore, determining whether a hydrothermal vent is active is complicated due to their unpredictable dormancy cycles, which scientists do not fully comprehend. The overarching methodology—requiring scientists to substantiate reasons against mining in vast regions—without supporting data left many researchers frustrated.

While exploration does not guarantee that commercial mining will occur, should companies identify valuable mineral deposits, it would trigger additional parliamentary votes and extensive environmental evaluations before full-scale extraction could proceed. Paradoxically, industry participation and funding might be the only avenues to secure investment in detailed seabed mapping and impact studies—critical prerequisites mandated by the government ahead of any mining activities. Multiple opportunities exist for governmental entities to halt progress, but historical precedents in oil extraction suggest a likelihood that once companies invest in exploratory activities, the government might feel compelled to grant permissions for large-scale mining operations.

In December 2024, the Norwegian government shocked observers by cancelling the planned licensing round for exploratory mining following the Socialist Left Party’s block of the national budget, reflecting widespread opposition to deep-sea mining. The scientific blowback, along with legal challenges and international scrutiny regarding Norway’s intentions for seabed mining, likely influenced the government’s decision. The fate of Norway’s waters regarding mining remains uncertain after the decision was postponed indefinitely, pending further review until the upcoming elections. Nonetheless, Norway may well serve as a unique model for facilitating collaborations among industry, government, and academic researchers, paving the way for informed deliberation on deep-sea mining—its necessity and potential for sustainable practices.

Ross, the IMR ecologist, asserts that data collected by scientists is crucial for fueling public discussions and guiding governmental decisions, regardless of who finances the research. “If deep-sea mining is an inevitable reality, we must at least strive for regulation that considers future consequences,” Ross emphasizes. “It’s not just about industry sustainability but ensuring the preservation of biodiversity.”

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