Who protects the invisible oceans?

In the time of digital transition, while artificial intelligence promises efficiency and progress, there is a realm that remains at the margins of the debate: that of the oceans. Silent, deep, vital. And today, also vulnerable.

Beneath the surface, a battle is being fought that makes no noise: for life, for balance, for environmental justice. It is here that two powerful archetypes enter the scene: Neptune, ruler of the waters, symbol of justice and protection, and Captain Nemo, the visionary rebel, radical designer of a sustainable future.

They are not just mythological or literary figures. They are what is missing: an ethical governance of the digital seas and a planning capable of innovating without destroying.

Neptune and the invisible flows of the digital

Neptune, in Roman mythology, ruled the oceans with strength and justice. Today, that realm is criss-crossed by optical fibres and digital pulses, by submarine cables that connect continents and feed economies. But who really reigns over these invisible seas? The answer is disturbing: no one. Or rather, no shared governance, no environmental authority, no systemic transparency. Submarine cables are critical infrastructure, but they remain off the radar of public debate.

According to the 2025 map by TeleGeography and Corriere delle Comunicazioni, there are 597 cable systems active or under construction, with 1,712 landings and lengths exceeding 20,000 km. They carry 95% of global internet traffic, but their location, impact and management are decided by a small group of private and geopolitical players. Big tech – Google, Meta, Microsoft, Amazon – now control 71% of international capacity, up from 10% ten years ago.

Yet, these cables cross delicate seabeds, marine habitats, fishing grounds, coastal territories. They can alter ecosystems, generate noise pollution, interfere with underwater fauna. But who assesses these impacts? Who ensures that they do not become instruments of surveillance or domination? The sea, as often happens, is silent. And with it, the institutions are silent.

At a time when sustainability is a keyword, there is a lack of a sovereign figure capable of balancing innovation and protection. A digital Neptune who does not rule with trident and storm, but with transparency, ethics and systemic vision.

– Environmental governance of submarine cables, requiring impact assessments and traceability.

– A public and accessible mapping of digital marine infrastructures.

– Participation of coastal communities in decision-making processes.

– An ocean data sovereignty that is not a monopoly of multinationals.

Because digital is not immaterial. It has a body. And that body, today, crosses the sea.

Captain Nemo and ocean regeneration

Captain Nemo, the enigmatic protagonist of Jules Verne, was not just an explorer of the deep. He was a radical engineer, a silent rebel, a forerunner of sustainability. His Nautilus, a technological marvel powered by clean energy, was not a weapon: it was a refuge, a laboratory, a manifesto.

Today, in 2025, we need more ‘Digital Nemos’: designers, researchers, innovators who do not just observe the sea, but who use technology not to extract, but to repair. Not to dominate, but to guard.

And something is moving. Start-ups and research centres are developing marine drones to monitor corals, sensors to detect microplastics, algorithms to map underwater biodiversity. Projects such as MakerBay’s CoralBot use underwater robots to restore damaged coral reefs. Artificial intelligence helps track whale routes, prevent overfishing, and identify climate-risk areas.

But all this remains fragmented. Often driven by profit or military interests. Nemo reminds us that technology, to be truly innovative, must be just. It must serve life, not domination.

Because the sea does not need conquerors. It needs guardians. And the true vanguard is the one that listens to the depths, not the one that colonises them.

Digital oceans: between invisibility and impact

Talking about SDG 14 – Life Under Water – from a digital perspective means looking beneath the surface. Not only that of the sea, but also that of our technological infrastructure. Because the digital transition, often described as immaterial, has a body. And that body also touches the abyss.

Take offshore data centres. Experimental projects such as Microsoft’s Project Natick have shown that it is possible to submerge servers in underwater capsules to improve their energy efficiency. But at what price? The thermal, acoustic and chemical impact on marine ecosystems is still little studied. And the risk is that unregulated innovation will become another form of technological colonisation of the sea.

Then there is the question of the sovereignty of ocean data. Who owns the information gathered from the seabed? The coastal communities that live on those territories? The multinationals that install sensors and cables? The states that claim jurisdiction? Today, governance is opaque. And data, like resources, are in danger of becoming objects of extraction rather than sharing.

Finally, there ise-waste. According to the UN Global E -waste Monitor 2024, in 2024 alone we generated over 62 million tonnes of e-waste. Some of it ends up in coastal landfills, where it contaminates soil and water with heavy metals and toxic substances. It is a silent, invisible, but profoundly real pollution that affects us all.

And it affects us all, every time we change a device without wondering where the old one will go. It is not enough to offset emissions or plant trees for every server turned on. We need a new ethic of digital sustainability. One that does not just measure impact, but questions the very meaning of innovation.

One that has the courage to ask: “Does this technology really improve life underwater?” “Is it regenerative or just efficient?” “Is it fair or merely scalable?”

Because the real transition is not just energy. It is cultural. It is spiritual. It is the way we decide to inhabit even that which we do not see.

Surveillance or cure? The crossroads of marine AI

In 2025, artificial intelligence is everywhere: in the satellites that scan the surface of the oceans, in the drones that fly over the coasts, in the predictive models that analyse currents, migration routes and fish stocks. But the question remains: does this technology protect or control? It depends.

It depends on who designs it, how it is used, what values drive it. If AI is used to optimise industrial fishing, it can accelerate the collapse of marine ecosystems. If it is used to monitor biodiversity, it can become an ally of conservation. If integrated into maritime surveillance systems, it can serve often opaque military or commercial interests.

The difference is not technical. The difference is in the intention. It is ethical. And this is where responsibility comes in: of designers, of policymakers, of citizens. Because every algorithm brings with it a vision of the world. And when that world is the sea, fragile and interconnected, we cannot afford to take a wrong turn.

Towards a sustainability that also listens to the sea

This is not just an article of denunciation. It is an invitation. To change course, to design with awareness, to recognise that digital also has a responsibility towards the oceans.

Here are some concrete avenues for a digital sustainability that does not just compensate, but regenerates:

– Mapping the invisible: making public data on submarine cables, offshore data centres, technologies that impact the sea. Because what cannot be seen, cannot be protected.

– Involving coastal communities: integrating local knowledge into decision-making processes. The fishermen, the families, the cultures that live the sea every day have skills that technology must listen to.

– Promoting open ocean data: ensuring that the data collected is accessible, interoperable, and used for the common good. Not for the profit of a few.

– Educating for digital environmental justice: incorporating the link between technology and oceans into school and university curricula. Because awareness is also built in the classroom.

– Fund regenerative research: support projects that use technology to restore marine ecosystems, not just extract resources.

Digital sustainability is not a technical formula. It is a cultural choice. It is the way we decide to inhabit even what we do not see. And the sea, today, needs to be seen.

Neptune and Nemo: archetypes for a new course

They speak to us of power and vision. Of balance and rebellion. Of a sea that is not just a resource, but a sacred, fragile, interconnected space. Neptune reminds us that every digital infrastructure spanning the ocean should be governed with justice, not domination. Nemo teaches us that every technology can be designed to regenerate, not to extract. Both ask us to choose.

While the digital advances with speed and ambition, the sea remains silent. But not invisible. Behind every undersea cable, every offshore data centre, every algorithm touching the abyss, there are pressing questions. Do we want to be ethical sovereigns or invisible predators? Do we want to design regenerative Nautiluses or extractive submarines?

Life underwater is not a marginal issue. It is the foundation of life on Earth. And technology, if guided by values, can become an ally. It can listen, protect, give back. But it takes courage. It takes imagination.

A new course is needed. A route that is not charted with GPS, but with conscience. A route that is not measured in gigabits, but in gestures of care. Because the future is not built by code alone. It is built with vision, with respect, with the ability to see the sea even when we no longer see it. And then, perhaps, digital can truly become a bridge. Not between servers and users, but between innovation and life. Between what we touch and what we want to protect.