Pierre Paslier once engineered plastic packaging for cosmetics companies, until he realized he was part of the problem. After stepping away from corporate work to rethink his career, he returned to school and began experimenting with his co-founder Rodrigo Garcia Gonzalez in a makeshift kitchen lab. Their breakthrough came from an unexpected source: imitation caviar. The tiny seaweed membranes that give caviar its distinctive texture behaved remarkably like the plastic they were trying to replace. That discovery led to Notpla in 2014—a company name that says it all—which now produces seaweed-based takeaway boxes, flexible films, rigid cutlery, and paper products.
Notpla's journey reflects a larger shift in how capital flows toward ocean innovation. For decades, ocean conservation relied almost entirely on government funding and nonprofit donations. But as threats deepen—from plastic pollution choking marine ecosystems to coral reefs dying at an accelerating pace—a new breed of entrepreneurs and investors are asking a different question: What if protecting the ocean could also be profitable?
The numbers suggest this shift is real. Over $780 million has been invested in seaweed-based ventures globally, according to Phyconomy, a seaweed-investment tracker. That influx accelerated after Standard Chartered released a white paper in 2023 positioning seaweed as an investable asset class. The broader ocean economy shows even larger potential. J.P. Morgan estimated the "annual gross marine product"—the value of all ocean-related activity—at $2.5 trillion yearly. Ocean-climate startups have raised over $5 billion in venture funding over the past decade, mostly in early stages, suggesting significantly more capital may flow as these companies mature.
This reorientation comes at a critical moment. Governments face competing priorities and shrinking budgets for conservation. International collaboration has fractured, making ambitious ocean protection agreements harder to forge, though some successes like the High Seas Treaty have emerged. The private sector is moving into this gap—not because it's the first choice, but because it may be the only realistic one available right now.
Yet challenges remain substantial. Oceans are notoriously difficult to regulate and manage. Without clear guardrails, the private sector could determine the future of ocean protection by default rather than design. Economists like Guy Standing, author of "The Blue Commons," describe the current landscape as a "Wild West situation," where questions about which practices are truly sustainable—and who benefits—remain largely unanswered.
Notpla itself embodies both the promise and complexity of this approach. While seaweed is the company's key input, its founders are engineers and entrepreneurs rather than marine biologists. They currently source seaweed from medical supply chains, the most reliable source available. But they're eyeing a more ambitious vision: harvesting seaweed overgrowth that washes ashore in the Caribbean—a climate-driven problem caused by agricultural runoff and warming waters. Local hotels pay to remove this seaweed, which means Notpla could transform an ecological headache into a sustainable input while generating local income.
"I see Notpla as a good visible application to make the case for why it's worth spending more of our attention, brains, and dollars to the ocean space," Paslier says. "There are a lot of solutions that are going to come from it in the future." As the ocean economy matures, the real test will be whether private capital can scale solutions fast enough to match the scale of the crisis—and whether those solutions protect oceans equitably.