Some say there is not enough evidence or data so stop, and some say well, it is from God so we must proceed, writes Thomas Tarurongo Wynne.

Nonetheless, have we been tempted, at times, to use the call for more science and research as a weapon against each other – arguing either that we must stop because we don’t have enough data or that we must proceed because we do. And amidst the cries for a green light or a red, amber patiently waits for polarised views to pause and allow the data to speak for itself.

But is this really a disagreement about science and data, or is it something much deeper?

At the UN this week, Nauru’s President, David Adeang, called for accelerating efforts around deep-sea mining, urging the International Seabed Authority (ISA) to speed up its regulatory framework. His emphasis on tapping into these resources reflects the economic aspirations of smaller Pacific nations, seeking alternatives to diversify their economies and reduce reliance on aid or traditional extractive industries like fisheries. Yet, he leverages the urgency of energy transition and climate change as a driving force for this change.

Meanwhile, the Marshall Islands took a more cautious approach, once again calling for a “precautionary” stance, warning against rushing into exploitation without fully understanding the potential environmental ramifications. This concern is rooted in the present, acknowledging the gaps in scientific data on the long-term effects of deep-sea mining, particularly in vulnerable ecosystems. Here, environmental science and the pursuit of responsible stewardship come into direct conflict with the economic needs of countries like ours – nations with record tourist numbers and income. But again, is the issue far deeper than just the polarity of economics and the environment?

At home in Rarotonga, our coral has suffered, and our reefs are not what they once were before the onset of the “golden goose” that is tourism, dating back to the 1970s. We’ve witnessed the degradation of our Moana caused by detergents seeping into our lagoon, waste and greywater pollution, a surge in housing and septic tanks, diverted culverts, and the list goes on. A simple drive to the waste site in Arorangi reveals our deficit in recycling and rubbish management, with single-use plastics piling up – 835 kilograms of waste was collected in Rarotonga alone during a clean-up day this month, more than twice the amount collected in 2023 (357kg). Out of sight but not out of mind, this waste affects the Moana we claim to love and want to protect.

How have we tackled these long-standing and pressing environmental challenges, let alone the one lying deep beneath the ocean?

Have we gathered enough data on these critical issues – on land, Moana, and reef – and if so, what has our response been to these current challenges as a people? Or do we, cap in hand, seek climate funding, hoping others don’t notice the door ajar in our own backyard? Perhaps the challenge we face is much deeper, more historical, and closer to home – or simply lies at the bottom of the ocean, or both.

Is the question for us as Iti Tangata, and for anyone who calls our country home, one of trust rather than data? Do we trust those we elect and empower to make decisions on our behalf? Do we believe they have our best interests at heart, or, as has happened globally, is trust in politicians and governments at an all-time low?

Is this an issue of equity? Even if deep-sea mining proceeds, do we believe we will share in the benefits, or – as has happened in the past – will others feast at our table while we are left with the bill? Will we only have scraps, if that, to feed our families? Or, are we content to proceed using the technology these metals enable, as long as it involves other people’s oceans, other people’s lands, and other people’s extraction – not our own?

But if this is a question of trust and equity, then let’s leave the science and data to do what they do best, and instead address the real issues. Because those issues do not lie at the bottom of our ocean; they lie in our hearts and minds. Perhaps that is the true battleground we are losing, and where the real battle is raging.