Research firm BMI’s new Metals And Mining Megatrends To 2050: Navigating A New Era Of Technology, Geopolitics And Green Transformation argues that over the next quarter century, the mining industry will increasingly venture north of the 60th parallel, kilometres below the ocean surface and, eventually, beyond Earth’s orbit.
The pull towards the arctic, the seafloor and ultimately space has many drivers. Historic reserves are maturing, ore grades are declining and the energy transition and the trillion dollar data center build-out are creating supply bottlenecks from specialty materials like indium phosphide and samarium-cobalt through to everyday essentials like copper.
Robotics will be next decade’s metals chokepoint (look for a tipping point once humanoids start building humanoids) but physical AI and autonomy are already making it cheaper to operate and explore safely in harsh and high-cost environments.
AI and subsurface intelligence are helping miners deal with deeper deposits, lower grades and long development timelines, with one example showing how AI-supported geoscience can reduce uncertainty and improve permitting confidence.
Operational AI is also moving into plants and fleets, including Vale’s AI-powered processing plant in Minas Gerais, which lifted productivity by 25%, and autonomous drilling work between Sandvik and Rio Tinto.
Higher prices can also make difficult deposits look commercially viable and government support policies like on- near- and friend-shoring can push capital toward projects that previously looked too remote, too expensive or too risky – a $200 billion government war chest would do that.
The Arctic comes first
Of BMI’s three frontier themes, the Arctic is the closest to mainstream mining. Warming temperatures and changing ice conditions are opening seasonal access to parts of the region, while geopolitics is increasing the value of mineral deposits in Canada, the US, Greenland, Russia and Northern Europe.
Greenland is the clearest example. The island has urged the US and Europe to invest in its mining sector, warning that a lack of Western capital could leave it looking to China. The strategic case is obvious: Greenland’s mineral sector involves as many as 40 items on US and EU critical minerals lists, while China accounts for about 60% of global rare earth mine supply and nearly all rare earth refining.
But Greenland also shows why Arctic mining is difficult: deposits can be large, strategically important and still face long timelines because of remoteness, infrastructure gaps, permitting risk, local opposition and policy uncertainty.
Project momentum is building. Greenland approved the indirect transfer of the mining licence for Tanbreez after Critical Metals lifted its ownership to 92.5%, with the southern Greenland asset regarded as one of the largest undeveloped heavy rare earth deposits outside China. A preliminary economic assessment valued the project at about $3 billion, based on a 4.7-billion-tonne resource.
Critical Metals has also approved a $30 million program to accelerate Tanbreez, with first ore targeted for late 2028 or early 2029 and concentrate exports expected to follow in 2029. Offtake agreements already cover roughly three-quarters of expected rare earth concentrate output – an indication that many more Tanbreezes will be needed.
Greenland Resources secured a 30-year permit for the EU-backed Malmbjerg molybdenum project, which is expected to supply about 25% of the EU’s annual molybdenum demand over its first decade. Greenland Mines has also moved to buy the Sarfartoq rare earth project from Neo Performance Materials for $35 million.
Permitting is the Arctic’s first real test
Greenland’s Kvanefjeld rare earth project shows how quickly policy can change the investment case. Energy Transition Minerals has been told that Greenland intends not to renew the project’s exploration licence, a decision tied to the country’s 2021 Uranium Act, which effectively bans uranium prospecting, exploration and exploitation.
The move has put one of Greenland’s largest undeveloped critical minerals assets in doubt. The company has warned that Greenland’s actions amount to creeping expropriation as the dispute heads to court, while local opposition and shifting policy continue to cloud the project.
Canada’s North offers another warning. Nunavut has gold, diamonds, iron, cobalt and rare earth metals, and the territory now has more control over its resources after Canada formally gave Nunavut authority over its mineral reserves. But Nunavut covers 2.1 million sq. km, has a population of only about 40,000 and faces an almost complete lack of infrastructure, making operating costs exceptionally high.
The Mary River iron ore mine illustrates the approval risk. Baffinland’s proposed expansion suffered a major setback after the Nunavut Impact Review Board advised against the project on environmental grounds, citing potential effects on marine mammals, fish, caribou and Inuit culture. The review also followed community tensions, including a protest in which hunters from Arctic Bay and Pond Inlet blocked access to the mine over concerns about icebreaking and narwhals.
Infrastructure is another constraint. Canada’s remote Arctic diamond mines depend on seasonal ice roads, but milder winters are making those logistics less reliable. The Winter Road serving Ekati, Diavik and Gahcho Kué costs about C$25 million to operate for two months, and a shortened season could make exploration-stage projects harder to justify. The region’s infrastructure deficit is so large that the economics of new critical mineral mines can depend on whether roads, power and ports arrive first.
Alaska’s Ambler district shows the same tension in the US. Trilogy Metals’ Arctic copper-zinc project has been accepted into the FAST-41 permitting program, a step that could help streamline approvals for one of the highest-grade undeveloped polymetallic deposits in the US. But the 340-km Ambler access road remains highly contentious.
Federal permits for the road were blocked under the Biden administration, then reinstated under Trump. Opponents argue the route would cut through sensitive wilderness, cross rivers and streams, affect caribou migration and threaten subsistence lifestyles. Environmental groups and Indigenous communities continue to oppose the project, with the Sierra Club saying 89 Tribes and First Nations have formally opposed the road.
That is the Arctic problem in one sentence: the minerals are strategic, but the land is not empty. Faster permitting may help projects move, but it can also intensify legal challenges and protests. Canada’s broader push to accelerate resource approvals has already faced Indigenous and environmental opposition, with some groups threatening demonstrations and legal action over legislation designed to fast-track natural resource and infrastructure projects.
Deep-sea mining moves into the regulatory fight
Deep-sea mining is less advanced than Arctic mining, but it is moving quickly into the policy arena. BMI identifies three main resource types: polymetallic nodules at depths of roughly 4,000-6,500 metres, seafloor massive sulphides at 1,000-3,500 metres and cobalt-rich crusts at 800-3,000 metres.
The mineral appeal is clear. Polymetallic nodules contain manganese, nickel, copper, cobalt and trace minerals used in EV batteries, electronics and solar panels. President Trump signed an executive order aimed at boosting the deep-sea mining industry, with the administration seeking faster access to nickel, copper and other critical minerals in both US and international waters.
More than 1 billion tonnes of nodules are estimated to lie in US waters, and administration estimates put the potential economic impact at $300 billion over 10 years and 100,000 jobs. Overblown perhaps, but even a fraction of that will make a difference to meet future demand.
NOAA then moved to streamline deep-sea mining permitting under the Deep Seabed Hard Mineral Resources Act, consolidating parts of the process and shortening review timelines. That gives companies a US pathway that could move faster than the UN-backed International Seabed Authority, which is still negotiating rules for commercial extraction in areas beyond national jurisdiction.
The Metals Company is the most visible test case. The company is advancing plans for a US-based polymetallic nodule processing hub at the Port of Brownsville in Texas, with proposed capacity of 12 million tonnes per year. It has also signed a commercial agreement with Allseas to develop and operate what the companies describe as the world’s first commercial deep-sea nodule recovery system, targeting initial offshore recovery operations by late 2027.
Other entrants are moving as well. Deep Sea Minerals’ application under the US Deep Seabed Hard Mineral Resources Act has been deemed compliant by NOAA, putting the company into the federal review process for polymetallic nodule exploration and potential recovery across a proposed 150,000 sq. km Pacific concession.
The seabed rulebook is still unfinished
The richest international seabed areas sit beyond national jurisdiction. Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, the deep seabed is treated as the common heritage of humankind, with the International Seabed Authority (ISA) responsible for regulating mineral activity there. The US has not ratified UNCLOS, and its move to permit seabed mining under domestic law has created a direct governance conflict.
That conflict is now central to the sector’s future. Trump’s seabed push has collided with the ISA framework, with critics warning that unilateral licensing in international waters could undermine multilateral ocean governance. The dispute is already visible in the clash between US permitting efforts and the UN ocean treaty framework.
The ISA also has unresolved internal problems. Legal experts argue that the authority cannot lawfully approve deep-seabed mining without benefit-sharing rules, because UNCLOS requires financial and economic benefits from mining beyond national jurisdiction to be shared equitably. That leaves seabed mining caught between pressure to commercialize and the still-unresolved question of who benefits from minerals taken from the global commons.
Environmental opposition is growing. Governments are weighing commercial mining against a global moratorium while the ISA negotiates a mining code, and about 40 countries support some form of moratorium or precautionary pause. The debate has reached a critical point as policymakers weigh whether the deep ocean should remain protected while science and regulations catch up.
The High Seas Treaty adds another layer. The agreement, formally known as the Biodiversity Beyond National Jurisdiction treaty, allows the creation of conservation zones in international waters and requires governments to cooperate with bodies such as the ISA. The treaty does not mention mining directly, but it is expected to increase scrutiny of seabed extraction and tighten the squeeze on deep-sea miners.
Norway shows how fast the politics can turn. The country became the first to open its waters to commercial deep-sea mining exploration, covering about 280,000 sq. km of Arctic seabed, but later paused its Arctic seabed mining plans after political pressure. WWF-Norway also sued the government, arguing that the opening decision failed to properly assess environmental consequences and breached national law. The lawsuit underlines how environmental groups are turning to courts to slow seabed mining.
The science remains a major hurdle. A deep-sea mining trial at 4,280 metres, using baseline data from 3,000 tonnes of polymetallic nodules, found that macrofaunal animal density fell 37% and species richness declined 32% within mining tracks over the study period. The findings added weight to concerns that commercial-scale seabed disturbance could have significant ecosystem impacts.
The industry can point to technical milestones. TMC and SGS produced the world’s first nickel sulphate from seafloor polymetallic nodules, a step toward battery-grade processing. But a successful flowsheet is not the same as a permitted, financed and socially accepted mining industry. Deep-sea mining still has to prove that it can operate commercially without triggering unacceptable ecological or legal costs.
Space remains the long-dated frontier
Lunar and asteroid deposits are thought to contain nickel, iron and platinum group metals. The challenge is that space is not remote in the ordinary mining sense. It is remote in a way that makes every kilogram, every manoeuvre and every failed component expensive.
Falling launch costs help (that SpaceX is the biggest IPO in history is not just luck), but they do not solve the whole problem. A commercial space-mining operation would still need to identify a target, reach it, dock or land, extract material, process or concentrate it, and either use it in space or return it to Earth. That is a very different business from putting satellites into low Earth orbit.
Private companies are still pushing ahead. AstroForge raised $40 million for a third mission planned as a ride-along on Intuitive Machines’ IM-3 moon mission, part of its plan to harvest precious metals from asteroids. Its Vestri probe is designed to dock with a metallic near-earth asteroid, while a later mission would attempt extraction, refining and return. The company’s roadmap shows how asteroid mining is moving from concept to early mission architecture.
AstroForge also received the first-ever FCC commercial license to operate in deep space, a precedent for private missions beyond earth orbit. The licence covered the company’s Odin mission and communications with ground partners, marking an important regulatory step for commercial activity outside the earth-moon system.
The Moon may become the first practical testing ground. NASA is looking to operate a pilot processing plant for lunar resources by 2032 under Artemis, beginning with energy, water and lunar soil before later moving toward minerals and metals. The first customers may not be metal buyers, but space operators seeking water, oxygen or fuel.
Lunar water is central to that logic. Ice trapped in regolith can be split into oxygen and hydrogen, supporting human presence and providing rocket propellant for deeper-space missions. That makes mining lunar water less of a metal-supply story and more of an infrastructure story for long-term space exploration.
Returning metals to earth remains a much harder commercial case. Using NASA’s OSIRIS-REx asteroid sample-return mission as a rough benchmark, iridium would need to rise roughly 140,000-fold for an asteroid-mining venture to break even. That does not rule out progress over several decades, but it shows why near-term asteroid mining economics remain extremely challenging.
The legal framework is also incomplete. The Outer Space Treaty bars sovereignty claims over the Moon and other celestial bodies, while private resource rights remain contested. The 1979 Moon Agreement has not been ratified by any major space power, and China and Russia have not joined the US-led Artemis Accords. That leaves major powers eyeing lunar resources in a legal environment full of gaps.
High risk, low carbon
AI-driven integration will matter because frontier projects need better exploration targeting, remote monitoring, autonomous systems, predictive maintenance and digital permitting evidence. Onshoring and supply chain diversification will matter because governments may be willing to support expensive projects if they reduce reliance on China or other concentrated suppliers.
Future-facing commodities will matter because copper, nickel, cobalt, manganese and rare earths are the metals most likely to justify frontier risk. Low-carbon mining will matter because Arctic diesel dependence, seabed ecosystem disturbance and space launch emissions will all be judged against tighter environmental standards.
China’s dominance is the strategic backdrop. The IEA sees limited progress in critical mineral supply diversification, with China leading the refining of 19 of 20 energy-related strategic minerals covered in its outlook and a potential 30% copper supply shortfall by 2035 under the current project pipeline. That explains why governments are backing new supply routes, including policy action to reduce critical mineral concentration and EU-US coordination on critical minerals supply chains.
Low-carbon operations will be part of the same competition. Fortescue’s Pilbara green grid, including solar, wind and battery storage, shows how major miners are starting to treat power systems as strategic infrastructure rather than a side issue.
The company expects to complete a system with 1.2 GW of solar, more than 600 MW of wind and 4-5 GWh of battery storage, highlighting how renewable power and storage can reduce exposure to diesel supply shocks. Frontier mines will face even greater pressure to solve that problem early.
Winners and losers
BMI’s likely winners are well-capitalized miners, first movers with strategic licences, advanced operators with data depth and specialist technology providers that can supply autonomous equipment, remote systems, subsea vehicles, vessels, sensors and low-carbon power solutions.
The likely losers are capital-constrained miners, companies tied to legacy portfolios with limited exposure to critical minerals, high-cost operators that cannot improve efficiency, and developers that underestimate permitting, Indigenous rights, environmental opposition or international law.
